Stepping out of the truck and locking it behind me, I glanced around the parking lot. The remainder of the fleet of hearses were parked along the other wall, with two black vans at the end. Heading toward the back door of the crematory, I typed in the security code and entered the building. The floor lights, which were immediately activated once all the main lights were out, illuminated my path toward the back of the dwelling. When I came to the supply closet door, I opened it and stepped inside, moving straight to the back of the thirty square feet space. There, against the wall was a slender handle to a control panel. It was usually covered by the rack that had been pushed to my left, so I slid the panel up and punched in another code. This one required an additional step—my fingerprint—before giving the green light. Seconds later a soft clicking sound signaled the secret door was open. After pushing it back enough so that I could get through and close it behind me, I took the stairs down to the basement.
“Good. The gang’s all here,” I said, making my way toward the center of the spacious area.
On two of the hydraulic embalming tables, which we kept down here for occasions such as this, were the men who had decided it was a good idea to fuck with me.
I recognized Assistant District Attorney Calligan Hemmings immediately by the stupid ass ponytail he always pulled his wavy black hair into. That hair he loved to tell everyone came from his half Italian lineage was spread over the silver tabletop to one side of his face. His dark eyes bulged as he turned to watch my approach. Cal and I went way back to the night he got pissy drunk in the casino and put his hand up Maleeka’s dress. Her guards beat him until he was unconscious. When he woke up, he was in his own bed, and I was sitting in the chair beside it. Our conversation was short, and I generously left him with all eight fingers and one thumb.
On the table across from him, the man I presumed was Special Agent Jabari Thomas stared up at the ceiling. There was nothing special there, just the steel beams that some had hung from until their timely demise. But I suspected his focus heavenward had more of a say-my-last-prayers purpose.
Cal mumbled something around the gag that had been stuffed into his mouth, his eyes going even wider as I came closer to the table.
“Oh, don’t worry, Cal, I’m gonna give you a chance to speak your piece.”
His sigh of relief was visible by the deflated chest and shoulder motion but he had no reason to feel safe at my words.
Before he could blink again, I grabbed that ponytail in one hand, jerking that shit like I intended to pull the hair straight from his scalp. The knife I kept sheathed at my side was at his neck in the next instant. KC, who had been standing at the head of the table removed the gag, just as I pressed the blade into Cal’s neck and watched the drops of blood appear.
Instead of words, the first audible noise from Hemmings was a strangled gasp.
“The fuck? Fury, man …” he tried to get out, but I pressed that knife in a little deeper until tears filled his eyes.
“Now, I’m just trying to figure out when I ever gave you the impression that I’d let some bullshit like lying on me slide.”
The first tears fell as I tightened my hold on his hair. “Speak!” I stared down at him. “You’re so brave as to help that bastard over there get a warrant, you definitely got some shit you wanna get off your chest. Now’s your chance.”
Realizing it could possibly be difficult to talk with a knife slowly cutting into your neck, I eased the blade off him just a little. If it made him feel any better, I wasn’t going to slit his throat. He wasn’t leaving here alive tonight, but it wouldn’t be because he bled out on my expensive equipment.
“I … I …” He tried to cough but the sound that came was more like a wheezing baby. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“The fuck you mean you didn’t have a choice?” KC boomed.
Hemmings’ eyes went from me to KC before jerking back to me again. “He said I had to do it. I had to give the trafficking information to the feds, or he was going to kill my wife and daughter. I had to do it,” he whined, and more tears flowed.
My jaw tightened. “Who?”
From the other table, Jabari bucked against his restraints and Cam, who was dressed in the same white jumpsuit and shoe coverings as KC, pulled the cord on the chainsaw he held. Jabari stilled, and Cal peed his pants.
“You really fuckin’ pissin’ on my table, Cally?” KC asked with disgust.
I moved the knife, making a quick slice down the side of Cal’s face. “The name,” I gritted out as blood coated his cheek.
He yelled, tears mixing with the blood as his body began to tremble. “Fury, you have family, man. You wouldn’t do anything to put them in harm’s way. C’mon, you gotta understand.”
I nodded to KC.
“47895 Rocky River,” KC recited. “Right now, her silver Audi Q9 is parked in the driveway while she and your nine-month-old baby girl are sleeping in the beach house.”
“Don’t hurt them,” Cal begged. “Please.”
“I’d like to get home before dawn, Cal. Give me the name and this will be over for you.” I didn’t add that his wife and daughter weren’t in any real danger. We drew the line at children, and only those women who deserved our wrath were ever caught in our clutches.
“Atlas,” he blurted out. “It was tattooed on his arm. That’s all I know about him. He showed up at my office one day last week, showed me a picture of my wife picking my daughter up from daycare, and told me what to do to keep them alive.”
According to the file KC sent me this afternoon before I left the office, Mallory Hemmings put in for annual leave at the hospital where she worked, packed up their daughter and left town last Tuesday.
I didn’t know anyone named Atlas and from the look on KC’s face, he didn’t either. But I was betting Jabari knew.
Releasing my hold on Cal, I walked slowly toward the other table. Cam had switched the chainsaw off, but he was still holding that shit just above Jabari’s right kneecap, signaling he’d cut it off in the blink of an eye. I’d seen Cam do just that, a time or two, so I didn’t doubt him tonight.
