The Lethal Bones Page 5

  “A civilian? Someone in their Branch we’ve never seen before?”

  “Not sure. He ran out of the alley and turned right. He’s carrying a package in a cardboard box. We’re going to find the package and the new guy. No excuses.”

  9

  The feeling hit Ben like a brick upside the head. He hadn't run far enough. Maybe two blocks. Whoever had killed the poor kid in the alley was still out there. Just because they hadn't caught up to him yet didn't mean they weren't still looking for him. And it was clear to him now that whatever it was Ember was involved in, and they were going to still look for him.

  The death had been an assassination. He was no expert, of course, but he figured he’d seen enough real-life dead people to know that this one — this murder — had been an actual assassination. The kid had gotten a bullet through the head, then another one to the chest. A kill shot perfectly placed and expertly fired, and then a follow-up shot that could only have been meant to seal the deal.

  Ben recalled the man’s face in his mind, pictured it. He tried to commit to memory, but, like the bear, he knew it wouldn’t take much for him to remember this man forever. He would probably already have nightmares about it.

  He realized he was daydreaming. The pattering sound of the rain on the tent had soothed him, the adrenaline washing down through his bloodstream had caused an immediate drop in energy, and he felt as though he’d been asleep for the past minute.

  As he stood under the tent next to the convenience store, holding a box of chocolates in one hand, he spun around, checking the street. Pedestrians, cars, people going in and out of the convenience store. While he didn’t see a crew of men in black leather jackets and spiked hair marching toward him, he had to assume they were coming. He would be crazy to assume they’d let him witness a murder and not try to find him.

  He picked a direction away from the alley he'd escaped from and started sprinting again. It was harder this time. Must have depleted all his stores of adrenaline between the fight with Carl at the diner and nearly getting killed in an alley. He pushed his feet against the street, hands swinging. For some reason, he still clutched the chocolates. Maybe there was a hidden bottom in the box, withholding a secret message, or the chocolates weren't actually chocolates. If there was something dangerous in the box, he couldn't leave it out for some innocent person to find.

  Part of him wanted there to be something more to the chocolates. For the kid to have died for something. But, even though he’d examined the box through a veil of blurry adrenaline and shaking nerves, he seemed to think it was just that — nothing but a box of chocolates.

  No time to think about it right now.

  Before he came to the next corner, Ben turned and gazed back in the direction he’d come.

  His inner senses told him what he wanted to know before the synapses in his brain had connected it. Fear convulsed through him.

  Far away, standing at a crosswalk, were four men. And one of them was the leather jacket guy with the spiky black hair and eerie brown eyes.

  He looked right at Ben, a crooked smile on his smug face.

  Ben swallowed and planted a foot to escape to the right. They’d seen him. They were after him.

  The current street he was on was more of the same. Red brick buildings, traffic. Pedestrians. Ben weaved between the walkers on the sidewalk, most of them with eyes down at their phones. He bumped into a few and made apologies. Some people didn’t even seem to notice. Maybe they’d notice if the people after him took out their guns and started blasting. Then again, maybe they wouldn’t.

  Occasionally, he checked behind him, and the men were always back there. Not running, but keeping up a solid pace.

  As Ben set his sights on taking a left at the next intersection, he pushed himself hard so he could get there before the pedestrian crossing signal changed at the crosswalk. He wouldn’t make it. The stoplight perpendicular to this street changed to yellow.

  Screw it. Ben leaped out into the street to cross now. An oncoming car blared its horn, and Ben held up a hand to try to ward the car off, in hopes it wouldn’t hit him. He jumped to the other lane and then landed on the opposing sidewalk. A big splash from a puddle in a low spot on the road drenched his jeans in rainwater, but he didn’t even feel it.

  Ben glanced back, and the men chasing him weren’t there, but they’d probably heard the horn honk. They would have to assume it was him. No chance to stop yet. Had to keep going.

  He pushed his legs and gave a glance back, then he did see the four men on the other side of the street. A tall chainlink fence to his left barred him from escaping the sidewalk, so he raced toward the intersection and diverted left, onto the next street. He had to take some comfort in the thought they wouldn't shoot with cars and pedestrians about, but Ben didn't know that for sure.

  Are there no police in this town? he thought. He still wasn’t sure that talking to the police was a good idea, but he figured he could at least hide behind a squad car or something if he saw one, but he didn’t. The roads were packed with commuters, also all looking down at their phones as they waited for their turns in line at the stoplights.

  On the next street, he cruised past a rectangular apartment building and then doubled back to his left, into an alley. He saw another chainlink fence at the end and raced toward it. Now he wished he had bought new tennis shoes last week when he'd been thinking about it. The worn soles of these shoes slipped and drifted all over the wet alley pavement.

  Launching himself into the air, he grabbed on and hopped over the fence. He found himself in a self-storage space, filled with rows of one-story buildings with bright orange garage doors at intervals. A metal ladder had been placed against the side of one of those buildings.

  Where to go? Check a few of these garages and hope to hide inside? No, that would take too long. And they were probably all locked.

  Ben grabbed the nearby ladder and climbed it to the top, then he lifted it up and onto the roof of the to hide his route. It rattled as it fell onto the puddles that were collecting on the concrete roof. With the relentless sound of the rain, he had to hope it hadn’t been loud enough to attract them.

  He flattened himself on his stomach against the top of the storage building, turning around and around, checking each direction. He had to peek with care not to lift himself too high and expose his head.

  A minute later, he heard the chain link fence rattle, and he pressed his body low against the roof. Rain thumped his back and legs. Breathing, he waited. Seconds passed, and he didn't hear voices or anything to indicate he had company.

  He raised his head a few inches and looked over toward the fence he’d hopped, and the four men had turned and were walking away from the fence, through the alley, and back toward the main street. They hadn’t come into the storage complex.

  Ben turned over onto his back, heaving deep breaths. In another minute, he could think, but his breathing hadn’t yet returned to normal. It occurred to him he shouldn’t stay here. If the four men pursuing him didn’t decide to come back and check this area more thoroughly, the storage facility people might call the cops on him.

  Ben slid to the edge of the roof and dropped down. His ankles pulled when he hit the ground, but he didn't let it affect him. He ran toward the storage facility entrance. The pain in his ankles motivated him to run harder, faster, although he didn't know where to go.

  As he sprinted along the sidewalk, he again remembered his phone. What are you doing, Bennett? Call her. He remembered that he had Ember’s number. He shoved his free hand into his pocket and plucked it out, then stabbed the digits into the keypad. He held it up to his ear, panting so hard he couldn’t hear it ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Help!” he shouted as he jumped over the front gate to the storage facility. “It’s bad. They shot the kid. I need help.”

  “Wait,” Ember said, her voice calm. At least, Ben thought it sounded calm. He could barely hear her. “They shot Kenneth?”

  �
��The black kid? Yeah. Whoever I was supposed to meet got shot when I tried to give him the package. I need help, Ember. And I need answers. What the hell is going on here?”

  A pause. “Crap. Where are you?”

  He glanced around, but, of course, he didn’t recognize any landmarks. Ben squinted at the intersection to his left, his brain having trouble processing the letters on the sign. “I’m at 33rd Street. Almost at the intersection of Blake and 33rd, by the storage facility with the orange doors.”

  “Okay. When you get there, turn south. There’s a warehouse one block up, on your right side of the road. It doesn’t have any markings out front, but you’ll know it when you see it. Come to the door on the south side of the building.”

  “Why there? What’s in it?”

  “Me,” she said. “I’m in the warehouse.”

  “You’re… close? You were a few blocks away the whole time, and you sent me in there alone?” Ben felt and heard his voice rising, panic once again choking in his throat. He hadn’t had time to process all of this, and he now knew he probably wouldn’t ever be able to.

  “Yes. I’m so sorry. I’ll explain everything when you get here.”

  Ben gritted his teeth, checked behind him, and took a left at the stoplight.

  10

  Ben flung back the door of the warehouse. The fear roiling in his belly over the last ten minutes had morphed into an angry bile threatening to explode out of his mouth. He squeezed the box of chocolates so hard he thought he might crush it. He’d never thought he’d experience sheer terror and pure rage at the same time, but what he felt right now was unmistakable — he was pissed, and Ember was going to hear about it.

  First, though, he had to stay alive.

  The warehouse he’d just entered was an enormous and open space, barren except for a few empty pallets and what looked like a golf cart. The interior walls were made of cinder block that stretched halfway up until meeting with steel girders that touched the interior roof.

  Ember stood at the other end of the room, spying through the edge of a window. He balled his fist and stormed toward her, trying to calm his nerves enough to prepare whatever it was he was going to say.

  She was nearby the whole time? he thought. She… could have helped. She could have —

  She appeared in his vision, and Ben noticed what she was wearing first. Her face was framed by a black hoodie, loose, and having the complete opposite effect as the tight jeans she was wearing. The jeans highlighted her curves in all the right places, and Ben tried not to look. He didn't succeed. He swallowed, having failed to recall how stunning she was. It almost made him forget how angry he was for a brief moment.

  He then noticed that she held an assault rifle, the nose of it pointed at the ceiling.

  Ben suddenly didn’t care what she was wearing or what weapon she was holding, remembering himself. He stomped across the room, holding the box of chocolates high. “The hell is this?”

  Ember didn’t look at him. She kept her eyes out the window. “Chocolates. And I totally get that you’re mad, but would you please not shout? I don't think they followed you here, but I couldn't see you the whole way and… you're not exactly a pro at this. I'd rather not start a war right now if I can avoid it."

  Ben threw the box on the floor, sending little brown chocolates and their wrappers scattering across the concrete surface. “I need answers. I almost got killed out there, Ember. Who are you and what the hell is happening to me?”

  Ember sighed and set the assault rifle against the wall next to the window. She grabbed two pallets and walked them over to Ben, then stacked them on top of each other. She pointed. “Have a seat. I’ll tell you everything.”

  As he slumped onto the wood surface, he jabbed a finger at the little chocolates strewn about the floor. “What was that all about? A box of fancy candy?”

  “It’s a gift for my friend, Kenny. Was a gift.” She took a breath, holding it an extra second.

  “I watched that guy get shot right in front of me. Bullet to the head, then one in his chest. I didn’t stop to take his pulse, but it seems unlikely he lived through it.”

  Her face soured, her lips pulled down for a moment. “I’m sorry about that. Kenny was a good guy. He didn’t deserve to get caught up in something like this.”

  “Something like what?”

  “Like I said, I’ll tell you every —”

  “Are those really chocolates in the box?”

  She nodded. "Yeah, those are chocolates. Nothing fancy. It was an inside joke. He hates dark chocolate, so I always get him dark chocolates, and he gets me ones with hazelnut because hazelnut tastes like dog buttholes. It's been a sort of trend of useless gifts we've gotten for each other for about a year now." Her face darkened. "I guess it… doesn't matter anymore. There won't be any boxes of hazelnut chocolates for me to drop in the trash can after this." She closed her eyes and paced back and forth along the concrete floor. "Ahh, Kenny," she muttered. "I'm so sorry, man. I should have known this would happen."

  "I didn't know he was close to you. You two don't seem like you'd hang out since you and he seem a little different in age, I mean. Was he your boyfriend or something?"

  "No, not a boyfriend. Just a kid I was friends with, someone who was trying to figure out what he wanted out of life. We would hang out, go to the shooting range, gossip about the people we knew. Typical friend stuff."

  “Who was he? How do you know him?”

  “He was in the Five Points Branch, but he wanted out so he could join mine. People in his group don’t much like people in mine. I’m part of the Boulder Branch.”

  “Branch? What the hell is a Branch?”

  “This is going to sound a little strange. I belong to an organization… it’s more like a guild, actually. A group of professionals.”

  “Professional… what?” Ben asked.

  “We all — or, at least our predecessors — came together in Denver. Over fifty years ago, united by a man with a vision. A vision for professional assassins.”

  “Wait. What? You’re an assassin?”

  Ember shrugged. “Yeah. That’s one word for it. What I really am is a contractor, and I only take out people who deserve it. That’s a big difference between the Boulder Branch and the Five Points Branch. They don’t have any scruples at all and will take on any contract. It’s the main reason Kenny wanted out.”

  “Let me get this straight: you and these other guys are all trained, professional killers. You take… contracts? And then kill people for money?”

  Ember seemed annoyed for a moment, then she met Ben's eye, and he saw that she was dead serious. "Listen to me, Harvey Bennett. It may sound crazy. Insane, probably. You've seen spy movies and military thrillers and all that stuff, and doesn't it ever make you wonder: how much of that is based on truth?"

  “I… guess. But those guys are like… I don’t know…”

  “Actors? People faking it? It’s Hollywood, Ben. Movie magic. They’re climbing the sides of buildings and using lasers and high-tech crap that doesn’t exist to make it look cool. But the truth, the real deal behind it all, is that there exists — and has existed, for a long time — a network of people like me who will kill people for the right price.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? I don’t know, Ben. Maybe because there are people who are pieces of shit that need to die.”

  “But why is that up to —”

  “It’s up to me because I’d rather it be in my hands than in the government’s.”

  Ben wasn’t sure he could argue with that. Still, it seemed too crazy, too unbelievable.

  “I’ve killed terrorists, murderers who slipped through the justice system, pedophiles. People who were seriously hurting other people — innocent people. I don’t make a big stink about it, and I rarely leave any trace. There’s no collateral damage, and most of the time the contracts I take out are for people who don’t want society to know they’re there, anyway. So when I’m done, there’s little c
leanup needed. No one’s the wiser.”

  Ben breathed, staring at the floor. His ears were still ringing, mixed in with the sound of the rain assaulting the metal roof of the warehouse. “Why am I here?”

  “I’d hoped to recruit you.”

  Ben barked an involuntary laugh. “You’re joking.”

  “Not at all. You’re special, Harvey Bennett. I know you don’t see it, but with the right training, with the right coaching, you could be an excellent member of the Assassins Club. Boulder Branch, specifically. You could do amazing things if you managed to pull your head out of your ass with the whole 'angry drifter' thing you’ve been doing.”

  “I don’t even know what to say. Your speech about the bear teeth yesterday. Was that all bullshit to lure me here for this initiation?”

  She shook her head. “Not bullshit. Well,” she held up her thumb and index finger about an inch apart. “A little bullshit. My brother wasn’t mauled by a bear. But, the rest of it is true. I’ve followed you for a long time and have been very eager to talk to you about your future.”

  “The teeth?”

  "The teeth are legit. It's the real deal from the real bear that killed your father."

  Ben stood up. “I don’t care anymore. Take me back to my car.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. At least, not for now.”

  His eyes flashed to the rifle leaning against the wall, fifty feet away. “Am I your prisoner? Join your group or die?”

  She frowned. “No, not at all. You don’t have anything to fear from me, but they saw your face. They know who you are. Speaking of, in the alley, did you happen to see a tall guy with spiky black hair?”

  Ember winced when he nodded. “Oh man, that’s not good.”

  “Who is he?”

  “His name is Dalton. He’s not the head of Five Points, but he thinks he is and he might as well be. He’s an important player with them. If he’s involved, this is bad news.”