Ash: Devil's Crucifix MC (48 page)

Chapter 25

Simon Grim spent a great deal of effort on being invisible. Few people remembered him even after talking to him at length. He had the face of every man on the street. He was a psychic blank moving through the world untouched and unhindered. He has walked past police protection and killed men in hospital beds, and then walked away with little or no resistance. He has walked through the front door into the homes of targets, confronted them in their living rooms and shot them in the head, before the victim was sure there was a threat. He simply did not appear dangerous, or remarkable, or memorable.  

It was like they died of nothing.

Looking over the information given to him, he disregarded most of it, like known addresses, and the safe-house listed near downtown. Neil Jackson was not a killer per-se, but he was savage. He would have a predator's instincts. He was likely unconcerned with Anton or his thoughts of malice, but he would not disregard them either. He would be informed, cunning, and prepared. Neil Jackson would not be taken by surprise. He was not a man whose house Simon could simply walk into, without encountering immediate and lethal resistance, any more than he could expect to walk up to a tiger and give it a pat on the head. He was, in fact, Simon's preferred game.

According to the file, he was six-foot-four and close to three-hundred pounds. He acted as an enforcer for most of his time with the Knights, and as a drug runner as well. The image of him showed a man who could probably rip another man in half, if he was threatened enough to do so.

What made him dangerous, however, were his eyes. They were calm pools of iron. They were the eyes of someone who knew he was at the top of the food chain. They were not arrogant, simply certain. They had the certainty of long experience and a history of successful dealings with violent situations. This did not concern Simon too much. After all, he wasn't a violent man. He did not create violent situations, or pose any threat. He simply killed people. Death was not violent, quite the opposite in fact. Next to sleep, death was the most calm, non-threatening state a human being could be in.

The file suggested that he was living with both Shayla Carson and Sydney Dane, and that he protected both of them with deadly force. Looking at the images of the two women, he wondered about their relationship. According to Anton's rather indelicate description, it was rumored that Neil was the lover of both of these women, and that the relationship was more than a 
Ménage a Trois — 
there was strong suggestion that perhaps there were deep feelings involved, which interested him, as all facets of human relationships interested him.

He began his search on the phone and going through public records on the computer. Finding nothing the first day, he began to think a little creatively, and checked public records for Shayla Carson and Sydney Dane. There he struck gold. According to a new court decision, both women had recently changed their last names to Jackson. It was no wonder that Anton had not found them, he was looking for the wrong people.

Spending the rest of the afternoon hunting through other records in the County Recorder's office, he uncovered the purchase of a condo by Shayla and Sydney Jackson, which ironically, was only a few blocks from his own condo.

Loading up his car with his rifle and his hunting pack, he drove over to the area, and scouted out the streets. The condo he discovered was one of the nicer ones in the area. The large windows in front certainly looked promising. Looking behind him, the apartment complex roof top, two stories up, and protected by a facade lip-wall, gave perfect protection and vantage. The only trouble would be the mirroring reflection of the condo's windows. He would have to do this in the evening, when lights were on inside.

He spent the next hour examining the terrain, planning out his escape route, and locating access to the roof. After that, he felt that he had been in the area too long, so he would wait another day. He was in no hurry. Tomorrow, the next day, next month, it didn't matter to him. Neil Jackson was already dead. Neil just didn't know it yet.

When Simon returned to his car, he decided that tomorrow, Friday evening, around seven o'clock would be fine. While it didn't matter when, there was also no reason to prolong the event either. The sooner he was finished, the sooner he could return to writing and illustrating his children's books.

Simon slept well that night, and worked casually on his illustrations the next day in his art room. He ate an early vegetarian dinner and then walked back out to his car at six o'clock, and drove over to Neil's neighborhood. There, he took his rifle case, which looked like a guitar case, and his royal blue day pack, up the flight of stairs, to the roof access of the apartment building. He encountered two couples on his way, who forgot him as soon as he passed.

On the roof, he took out his binoculars and studied the inside of Neil's condo through the large, well-lit windows. There he found five people. Two young girls, early teens, two women, and Neil himself. They were sitting down to dinner. The women were setting the table with take-out food put into nice dishware. The girls were helping with drinks and the youngest put a vase of flowers in the middle of the table. It was all domestic. Simon was looking at a perfectly normal family evening — except for the fact that the man had two wives.

He wondered who the girls were. They were blond, but didn't resemble either Sydney, who looked like a living Barbie Doll, or a Playboy centerfold, or Shayla, who had a haunting and vulnerable beauty. After some time, he came to the conclusion that they were Neil's, but probably siblings, rather than daughters. The face of the eldest girl resembled his same studious attention, and calm assurance.

Simon paused, wondering if he should wait for tomorrow. The condo was obviously a three bedroom, at least, but he didn't believe the girls lived there with Neil. The feel and body language told Simon that this was a special occasion. A visitation with their older brother. The youngest of the girls obviously had a bit of hero worship going on with her elder brother. Simon's studied eye could see it in the way she continuously stole glances at him. She also seemed attached to Shayla. Perhaps killing Neil at such a moment would be too much violence. The death would be quick, even painless; an AK-47 round to the forehead, and one to the heart. A second at most. The tinkle of glass from the window might be heard, perhaps. But then... screaming.

Simon meditated on this violent aftermath for some time. His preference was for instant, and unexcited deaths. The less noteworthy, the better. He came to the conclusion, however, that the aftermath couldn't be avoided. Even without the two girls there, the women would still react in the same dramatic and keening way. He would just have to settle for a death so quiet and sudden, that their reactions would be after a long moment of wonder, and then shock. So he opened his case and took out the AK-47, loaded it with a clip, and then sighted through the high-powered scope.

It was less than a hundred yards, but he still took the time to estimate the cross wind speed, and settle himself into a stable and unmoving kneeling position, resting his elbow on the facade lip-wall.

Neil was facing him, at the head of the long table. No one sat at the other end. In fact there wasn't even a chair there, which was interesting to Simon. The two girls sat closest to Neil, the eldest on his right, and beside them were the two women. They were just beginning to serve up the food, which looked like it was Thai. There were lots of smiles and even some laughter. Simon, in the quiet of the Miami summer night, exhaled, stilled his body, sighted on Neil's forehead, and pulled the trigger.  

Chapter 26

Friday afternoon, Shayla was in a good mood. Better than good really. There was no sign or word from Anton, or any dark warnings from Neil's friends of impending doom. The twenty-four hour mark had passed, and then passed again, with no one showing up at the door to kill them. And, the girls were on their way over to spend the night with them.

Sydney had two older brothers, but Shayla was an only child from a home with little
 
family
 
in the house. She was sure she had grandparents on her mother's side, somewhere in Arizona, but she never met them, and knew nothing about them. But now, Shayla had a large and growing family with Neil and Sydney. The girls were a wonderful part of that family, and she was smitten with the both of them — though Sandy, the youngest, was in full possession of her heart-strings.

Sandy and her sent many text messages to each other every day and shared digital pictures of book covers, movie posters, cute boys, jewelry, sunsets, awesome cars, cute boys, painted fingernails, painted toenails, funny faces, cute boys and anything else they wanted to share with the other — and cute boys. They talked on the phone together at least three times every week, and Sandy always sent her a good-night-heart message when she went to bed.

She liked Jill, Neil's oldest sister, but Jill gravitated more toward Sydney, who — if Shayla's radar was working correctly — Jill had a bit of a crush on.

She wondered if Sydney realized this, and if she should bring it up, but so far it seemed harmless, and perhaps more of a hero thing than an actual romantic crush. She wouldn't be surprised at all to find that Sydney was oblivious to Jill's clandestine attentions. She also wouldn't be surprised to discover that Jill herself was unaware of her shy and furtive glances at her wife. She also got the impression from Jill's manner that she would be upset at the suggestion that she was gay — so Shayla kept her mouth shut. Not everything needed to be voiced or discussed.

When they got back home with Thai food, the girls were already there with Neil, and in his studio. After setting down the boxes of carry-out food, they both went in to see what the three of them were up to, and found Neil explaining how he mixed up music and then added in his guitar music. Then he played them his latest composition, turning it up so that the bass could be felt across their skin.

It was good., and when Neil's guitar began to play she got goosebumps, and began moving her hips to the rhythm.

After the song was over, she and Sydney clapped their hands and the girls and Neil turned around to find them in the doorway. Sandy ran to her and hit her in the gut with a hug.

"Shayla!" she screamed. "Did you hear that? Wasn't that great!"

"Yes I did. It made me want to dance," she agreed.

"Me too! It rocked!" Sandy agreed, then she gave Sydney a hug. "Is diner here? Can I help?"

"Sure," Sydney told her and then gave a smile to Jill who, Shayla believed, almost blushed. "Want to help too Jill?"

"Sure," Jill said, her voice and manner much more controlled than Sandy's, but not so much she didn't seem pleased at the offer.

Shayla turned on the lights in the living-room and in the dining-room, and then turned on the radio. Then she went into the kitchen with the others and helped to dish up the food into serving plates and bowls. Jill set the table with plates and ware. Sandy grabbed up a vase of flowers that Neil had brought home the day before and put them on the table.

It was a good night, and all around her was laughter and smiles and a feeling of domestic excitement — just happy to be together. It wasn't a party, or an event, or celebration — it was so much more than that. It was Friday night, with family.

Once Neil came out of his studio and sat down at the head of the table, the girls sat down at each side of him, leaving the other two chairs to her and Sydney, which felt perfect. She sat down next to Sandy, with Sydney next to Jill, and the sparkle in her eye was unmistakable, again making her wonder if she shouldn't mention something to Sydney after all.

But really, what would Sydney do? Probably be nervous, which would be the worst thing she could do, because Sydney was generally aggressive when she got nervous — so, no, she wouldn't mention anything. Just let it be.

Jill was a teen-ager and still figuring herself out and dealing with hormones that didn't need any logical or real reason to rage. Just because her body was attracted to Sydney, didn't mean anything really. Sydney was a beautiful woman, as well as strong, aggressive, and fun. Why wouldn't Jill, an aggressive soccer player, be attracted to her? If for no other reason than as a role-model, which could get all fucked up with teen-age hormones raging and messing with a girl's body chemistry.

She was just wondering if she should talk to Amanda about it though, when Sydney reached for the noodles and spilled her wine glass. She jumped up, grabbing for the glass, which was silly really, the wine was already covering the table side, when she felt a tug hit her shoulder, and then she was spinning, and crashing into Sandy who had stood up as well.

Then Hell broke free, and the world erupted into violence and screams.

A dark wind roared and lifted the long table, to stand on end, sending dishes and glasses flying to the floor. She fell into Sandy's chair and then landed on the carpet as the cold winter wind ran past her heading for the front door, with a gun in his hand. Sandy was screaming and pushing her little hands on her shoulder and yelling for Sydney. Then Sydney was there, saying "Oh my god! Oh my god!"

But Shayla's eyes were on the beast that formed out of the winter wind. In the beat of her heart Neil had changed from a calm, fun, older brother and lover, to a storm of violence. His right hand hammered into the wall beside the front door and ripped out a huge rifle, dropping the pistol to the floor. Then he threw open the front door, got down one knee bringing the rifle up the sending a thunder of bullets into the night.

The roaring stream of bullets felt like it would never end, and then there was a loud pop! A second later a massive explosion of roaring flames, and car alarms. The street, went mad. Neil ran out into the night. The rifle thundered another stream of hot lead, then popped again.

Sydney ran toward the door and scooped up the dropped pistol and then ran back to her.

"It's alright baby! I'm calling the ambulance right now," Sydney told her.

Ambulance? Why? Who was hurt?

Then she saw the blood all over Sandy's and Jill's hands from pressing the wound on her shoulder.

Another explosion rocked the night outside, followed by another stream of rifle fire.

"I love you pixie," she said to Sandy, and then the world faded to black.

* * *

Simon ran down the street. He knew Neil was behind him. He was not only sure that Neil could see him, but was certain that he could smell him as well. Never before had Simon felt so well-marked, and exposed.

Neil had reacted without a second of hesitation to his wife being shot by the bullet meant for him. It was if he were waiting for the moment. No confusion as to what had happened, what the threat was, and where it was located. His first burst of fire destroyed the facade was he was behind sending shattered wood and plaster into Simon's eyes.

How could he know?

The first 40mm grenade nearly landed in his lap, and would have if he wasn't already running.

Simon was in the best shape of his life, but Neil was gaining on him. He could hear his boots getting louder, closer, and feel his iron gray eyes on the back of his neck -- back where his skin crawled with the dread of teeth baring down on his exposed flesh.

Simon's trained mind decided on a defense and his assassin's body readied itself to respond to a grapple or a tackle, but then his rear foot was kicked so hard it tangled with the other and he fell splayed out onto the sidewalk. And with a roar Neil was on him.

With lightning fast strikes, Simon desperately hammered skilled fists into Neil's chest and throat. The iron eyes held his without a blink, as if his blows were squirts of water.

Then the eyes flared, Neil snatched both of his arms out of the air by the wrists and with a vicious twist Simon's wrist bones snapped.

"It's too bad I can't kill you twice," Neil growled and gripped Simon's head. There was a sudden, violent cracking sound, and Simon realized it was the sound of his neck breaking.

Simon Grim looked into the savage gray eyes rimmed with the gold of a tiger, and died.