In the Shadow of the Tiger (The Fighter Series Book 2) Page 9

  “Eric.”

  “Follow me.”

  Charlie gave Riley's hand a squeeze. The woman became a soft blue light that splashed outward allowing them to see as she led them deeper into the ship. They stepped down, the air began to feel heavier, and the weight overhead moaned. Riley pulled Charlie into a doorjamb her pistol posed and finger resting on the trigger when several men immerged into the corridor. The light lingered, her slender form waiting, but the guards moved on, laughing and mocking the spirit’s presence.

  “I wish they’d shut that thing off.” One of the men said.

  Riley and Charlie fell behind the light. Riley’s fears of becoming lost heightened. She needed to let Jack know their location.

  "Desert One. Do you copy?" Riley whispered. No response. They were already too deep into the ship. The darkness felt damp, and the smells grew musky and old. As her light guided them, Riley looked back to see the deep blackness they were leaving behind.

  “Where are we going?” Riley asked. She doubted Charlie would answer.

  “A little further.”

  When she stopped her light spilled across a single heavy metal door, then she turned from iridescent blue to complete blackness. Riley felt her pressing into them as if laying down a blanket of protection. A flash of artificial light spilled out into the corridor when the door swung open. Several men stepped out into the hall, and the distinct odor of alcohol and old cigars wafted in the air. Riley and Charlie were ten feet from them, difficult not to see them let alone smell them.

  “The boss doesn't even know Emmitt snagged this guy.” The taller one said with a slur.

  The shorter man paused. “Emmitt’s an asshole.”

  Riley covered Charlie's ears.

  “Psycho’s more like it.” The man laughed. “Killed more men than Hitler. He’s one of the luckiest sons’ of bitches. Frigging Shift saved his ass from the injection.”

  “Hey, Asshole. Emmitt’s going to have your head if he comes back and finds the guy dead.”

  “You did it. Not me.”

  There was a surge of angry words, and then they both went to the ground with a thud. A flashlight went flying across the hall and the distinct sound of knuckles hitting flesh resonated in the dim light. The door behind them closed shut. The men staggered to their feet drunk and then started cold cocking each other. The keys attached to the other man's pants jingled as he fought to stay afoot. The flash of a pistol exploded fire from the muzzle just under the taller man's chest. Blood sprayed outward, and the bullet passed through lodging into the ceiling above.

  “I’ll save Emmitt the trouble.” He said pushing his comrade’s body away from his. The taller man grunted trying to climb to his feet. “No offense,” he said swooping down nearly falling over before picking up the flashlight. Then in a stupor, he walked away.

  Riley waited, staring at the keys hanging from the dead man’s belt loop.

  "He's gone." Riley heard her, but she couldn't see her.

  Charlie's grip closed around her hand, and cold panic surged through her veins. There was something familiar here, something Riley knew, and something she needed to do.

  “Stay here Charlie.” She whispered in the darkness. “You and Holly stay put.”

  “Okay.” She murmured.

  Riley adjusted to the darkness. On her knees, she crawled towards the fallen man, her fingers sweeping over the warm blood still leaking from the hole in his chest. Through the darkness and dependent on her fingers to pass over the dead man's body, she searched for the keys. The smell of urine had soaked his pants, and now the familiar aroma of body fluids tainted her senses. Even his skin was still warm, but the blood soaking into his shirt was damp and sticky. Quickly, she found the keys and crawled away from him.

  “Charlie,” Riley called out to her. The little girl reached her. Riley moved them both to where the door should be. With her fingers, she reached out to feel the cold steel and finally the lock keeping whatever inside trapped. “If something happens to me, you run. Get off the ship. Someone will take you to safety. Understand?”

  “Yes.” She whispered.

  Riley felt the tremble in her hand as the key slid into the opening. The heaviness of the door wasn't just the steel but in the stale air sneaking out. The lock clicked. She pressed allowing a shower of candlelight to filter into the darkness. All she could focus on was the silhouette of the man bound to the chair head bowed. He looked more like a statue than a human figure. Thin flames flickered from the candles burning hopelessly on a table. The smell of wax and fire was Riley had already seen. The smell of struggle, pain, and death radiated. It was a repeat of her vision.

  She should've smelled him, but disbelief and terror camouflaged her senses. Drunk, a man emerged through the door face first. He caught himself by grabbing the edge of the door staring at her as he swayed. The smell of liquor seeped out of his mouth. He began to laugh loud enough to wake the dead.

  “Lady in Red won’t y…ah com…my play," he slurred heavily, "with me!" He reached out, but his hand caught air causing him to fall face first onto the floor. As he started to get back up, Riley stepped to the side and cracked him on the skull with the back of her pistol.

  The sudden silence was thick except the candles sputtering within the room as wax met flame. Then the red dressed woman reappeared inside the door and looked to Riley and then at the man sprawled out on the floor, she said nothing but instead pulled Riley back into the hallway.

  “You weren’t in my vision,” Riley said.

  “Found her.” Jack’s voice touched her ear.

  As Jack approached, the woman in the red dress faded. The steel door was no longer open closing Riley off to the room. The light faded to darkness. She blinked several times hoping the image would reappear, but there was nothing. She looked past Jack, past the dim glow of his flashlight searching for the dead man on the floor. The dead man she’d stolen the keys from was gone. What was happening to her?

  “Behind you,” Jack said.

  “I know,” she said.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Dragon sat with his hands pressed to his forehead. Outsiders had infiltrated the ship and were causing a commotion. Did his boss send them? If he had, why? His boss was lunatic enough to kill his men and steal his own money. The money was no more than a dream, a dream that someday life would change and make Ray wealthier. He'd known people like Ray, egotistical, greedy and wanting nothing more than to rule the world. Dragon, on the other hand, wanted nothing to do with ruling anything. However, he’d steal some fast cars along the way. The problem remained, who were the men on the ship and why were they here? Ray’s name kept ringing in his head.

  Dragon's first impression of Ray and his rat pack had been a solid one. The fella was a compensating for something he lacked, but he'd saved Dragon's ass. Thinking back on it now, Dragon wished he would've just thanked him and walked off. Instead, Dragon had felt like he owed Ray something.

  Dragon leaned back in his chair “Fucking mess.” he said.

  Post-shift, after the killing had slowed, Dragon went out in search of much-needed supplies. He'd never killed for gain only for self-protection and never from stealing. However, distinct treasures were waiting for the taking like the new 2014 Ford Mustang, a classic 67 Camaro and Custom Cuda that some poor soul couldn't take to heaven with him. By car number 200 he had not only refined his auto theft skills, but he'd also taken his stunt driving to the next level. No one could touch him. Stealing what he thought was a dead man's Lamborghini, which Dragon accidentally happened on while hunting for supplies, had been merely a mistake. Not able to turn away from temptation, he’d gone to Long Beach. A city where the rich prospered and the grave markers were plentiful. The Lamborghini was an elegant machine inside and out lacking nothing in power, agility, and handling at high rates of speed. The car’s engine purred wanting to perform. On the Long Beach Grand Prix course, he gave the car throttle feeling the transfer of weight underneath.

  He’d
still been pumping with adrenaline when he finished. But somewhere in the rush of speed and adrenaline, he realized someone was following him. An army of men stepped out of the shadows. The man out-front stood wearing a pair of aviator glasses, hair slicked back, and enough arrogance to be a threat. Dragon considered running, but it was already too late. Outnumbered and his pistol resting behind his back, he knew he'd made a mistake. Dragon stood his ground. Reflecting and bouncing off tall buildings was the setting sun. Light flashed off the man’s glasses.

  “That’s my car.” He said casually reaching for a cigarette in a gold case. “But you are one helluva a good driver.”

  Before Dragon could surrender the keys and apologize for the misunderstanding, the army of men surrounded him. All guns pointed at Dragon who tossed the keys to the man. The owner of the car caught them.

  “Nice ride. Thought the owner was dead.” Dragon said.

  “He is.” The man looked toward the setting sun. “I could use a guy like you.”

  “I’m not for hire.” Dragon said.

  “I didn’t say anything about hiring you, but I do feel like you might owe me.”

  “For what?”

  The first punch came from a man with a bald head, broken nose and packing a bull’s punch. Through the blinding stars trying to knock Dragon unconscious, he thought he might die there in the parking lot over a dead man's Lamborghini.

  Baldy left Dragon on the ground, and through blurred vision, Dragon watched him recover several bags from a compartment in the car. Then the man in the aviators turned, after accounting for all his drugs, leaned against his car, and watched. Both of Dragon's eyes were swelling shut and with his vision nearly gone. Through the haze, Dragon saw several figures step from around an overturned bus.

  The men beating on him turned him loose letting him fall to the ground. Seconds before he lost consciousness, he heard the echoing sound of gunfire. When he woke, the first person he’d seen was Candy. Candy tended his broken ribs and nose. She’d stitched his face up in more places than just one. Then she seduced him.

  “The boss likes you.” Candy told him several weeks after he was able to start moving around again.

  “Why?” Dragon asked.

  “He says you have nine lives.” She laughed while climbing on top of him. How could he refuse? At the time, Candy hadn’t dipped into the drugs and still looked like a Dallas cheerleader. At the time, he probably would’ve followed her anywhere.

  “He saved your ass that day. He wants you to work for him. Keep the Mary clean.” Candy purred.

  “Name?”

  “Ray. Ray is good enough.” She said taking everything off but a cherry red see-through lace bra that matched her lips.

  He'd stayed, lured to Long Beach by dreams, and now he was looking for something that was driving him forward. With nothing but time on his hands, Dragon buckled down on his tactical skills, learned everything he could about weapons and self-defense, and he began to understand he wasn't the villain. He befriended several of the men, who seemed more advanced in weapons and tactical skills, to help him. At the end of twelve weeks, signs of his intense workouts were beginning to show. Dragon, with healing and training, grew stronger physically and mentally. He found that he was lighter and faster on his feet than ever before. Though he was lean, the cuts in his muscle were just beginning to show.

  Candy, however, had misled him from the beginning telling him, Ray was forming a team to oppose the violence, save the cities and restore order. Six months later, Ray’s thugs hadn't done any of that. Now, he saw a pattern of foul play. Kids, mostly female, collected and kept on the ship. Dragon, too deep in had secretively been turning the kids free. Praying they’d stay far from the port, Dragon saw only a few return. What he needed to do was stop the.

  Dragon planned to end the kidnapping. When he was off the ship, he warned the kids he could reach out to. Ray wasn’t only capturing the kids for drug distribution, he was selling them to people who’d lost their own. He’d come to find out that Ray was just the go-between and that someone more powerful was giving the orders. Dragon doubted stopping Ray would stop much of anything; he’d have to search deeper, for the source, a lot deeper.

  In the beginning, the men appeared disciplined but swiftly changed. The drugs entering the streets were new versions of old mixes. The tempo of the men changed, and a motley crew transformed giving Dragon a chance to snoop. Candy had been a big part of the breakdown. She partied with the team making them dependent on the drug. The effects turned them into creatures of the night, sleeping out the days and nestling deep in the folds of the ship. Not all his men were on the drugs, and some were just drunks. The two who'd helped in Dragon's training wanted to change, but not this kind and had left several weeks ago leaving him mostly alone among rats. Now, months later, he wanted out, but it was relevant he stay until looking after the kids kidnapped by the crew. It was time to save whom he could and get out. Run as far as he could, run without becoming dead.

  “Boss.” The voice crackled over his radio.

  “How many?” Dragon asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Find out.” Dragon demanded.

  “Boss?”

  “Find out how many have boarded the ship?” He yelled out. He couldn’t help but hope the crossfire might take out Candy and a few of these other idiots. Candy was the messenger. With her alive, Dragon would only make it so far before evil came hunting him.

  “I’ll find her.” The man said.

  “Copy.” Dragon said thinking the chaos was at an uncontrollable tempo. Risks were necessary and he thinking about doing the inconceivable.

  Dragon made his way to the girl, his heart speeding up several beats. Those who infiltrated the ship would make his disappearance happen now. He grabbed a blanket off the counter and wrapped it around her. Thanks to Candy, the girl unconscious. He’d have to carry her out in hopes she wouldn’t wake. He gathered her in his arms seeing a thin blanket of perspiration that had broken across her forehead dampening strands of long auburn hair. A soft hint of lavender crossed under his nose. Dragon barely had her from the makeshift bed when she pushed away, shoving him backward. She swayed, toppled forward, and then stopped. Dragon seeing the look on her face leaped to his feet and grabbed the garbage can sitting off to the side. He took it to her holding the bucket and her hair as she vomited and then started dry heaving. Outside the drumming of gunfire began. They needed to get out now.

  “We need to get out of here.” Dragon whispered.

  She almost fell to the floor, but Dragon caught her and lifted her up into his arms. She moaned but didn’t fight him. They were running out of time. Dimming the light, he carried her through the door and out into the corridor.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Gunfire exploded all around them. Instinctively, Riley pulled Charlie into her. She was pointing her doll forward, directing them, but the spray of bullets pinging in metal and wood rung nearby locking them into place.

  “Could use a little help. Copy.” Jack said.

  Wedged between a block of crude machinery, Riley reloaded the pistol. The smell of gunpowder stung her nose and eyes, and with every flash of fire, shapes took a movement. Caught in the fight, Riley forgot the hostage behind the door. Behind her, Blake readied his gun. Behind him, Terminator, Piston, and Mustang approached and started taking out one threat at a time.

  Riley shielded Charlie, but bullets were pinging past them, hot chunks of metal ricocheting off metal stung exposed skin. She felt Charlie jerk. Riley pulled her to the floor just as a man fell to the front of them. Riley, on her hands and knees, had Charlie pressed behind her. Through the dancing flash of gunfire and darkness, fingers grabbed hold of her leg. Riley jerked hard, but the wounded man's fingers caught her hair and pulled her down to him. She felt him convulse, smelled a chemical seeping from his pores. His limbs trembled and then shook violently. Riley paused; the man shuddered and then gurgled. Riley unwound his fingers from her braid and lifted
Charlie up onto her side. The gunfire had seized darkness surrounded them. Then the surrounding light appeared softer than before, barely a translucent dimming glow. Charlie buried her face into Riley's chest as they moved over the dead man on the floor. Once clear of the body, Riley gave the girl the okay to look up.

  As the presence moved past, Charlie forgot her fear and waved. Her tiny fingers and dirty palm pushed upward toward the Lady in Red whose definition was no more than a swirl. Charley held up her doll Holly and pointed at the light.

  “What the hell was that?” Terminator whispered behind me.

  “Computer created spirit,” Mustang said.

  Riley rolled her eyes. “Ships haunted, Terminator.”

  "Bullshit!" Terminator said. In the dim glow, Riley turned back to see Terminator crane his head upward to get a better look. The light disappeared through a door leaving them in complete darkness.