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Haunted by the Past - Chapter 08 - Unlikely Angel
By: RampageSports Date: February 16, 2016, 8:59 am
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Author's Note: The Spenser, Hawk and Susan Silverman characters
belong to mystery novelist Robert B. Parker. Mr. Parker is one
of my favorite authors, and his work is a major influence on the
the way I write. Whether I even come close to mimicking his
style is open to considerable debate, but I have chosen to use
his characters in this story as something of an homage. My goal
is to handle them as lightly as possible and to maintain them as
Mr. Parker created them. Any failure on that front is
completely my own.
[hr]
Haunted by the Past - Chapter 8 - Unlikely Angel
August 22, 2005 - Boston, Massachusetts
I was hauled out of the main room, past the shoddy dressing room
and straight out the back door of the 'establishment.' There my
captors released me, dropping me like a bag of garbage in the
alley behind the building.
It was silent for a few moments, and I figured that was the end
of it. I couldn't quite grasp why I had been thrown out, but I
was certain there was no chance I would see my money. I was
also certain I was in no condition to do anything about that.
After what I'd just been through, I wasn't really that worried
about it, either. I had escaped with my life, and that was
victory enough.
I moved slowly, taking stock of my situation. My ribs were
definitely broken, and my face was a mess. I could barely
see... a serious concern that was currently running a distant
second on my list of problems. In first by a mile was the fact
that my head was so scrambled, I couldn't process what little I
was seeing, anyway. My ears were ringing and there was an
intense pressure... like my brain was trying to free itself from
my skull.
I rolled up on all fours, and fought a sudden urge to vomit.
That's when I heard the click of the door behind me. I tried to
turn and see who had come out, but a foot slammed into my ribs
long before I even got close.
"You stupid B*TCH!" Powers seethed. "Do you have any idea how
much money you just cost me?"
I rolled with the blow, then immediately spun on my hands and
knees to face him.
"You knew," I grunted.
By now, it should have been obvious to me that Powers had
orchestrated what had happened. He was the one who had the most
to gain. But I had spent the better part of the last half hour
getting punched in the face with lead weights. So, my thinking
was a little fuzzy.
"Of course I knew," he said, "and if you'd just stayed down like
a good little doggy, I'd have made myself a few million the easy
way."
A few million in play, and I was willing to get pummelled for
thirty thousand. A master negotiator, I am not.
"But you had to get all heroic," he continued. "And for what?
You were going to get your money, either way."
"Could've... died," I groaned.
"Yeah, well... that's a risk you take, right? Certainly wasn't
a good night for that other useless b*tch, now was it? But the
truth is, I don't give a f*ck about either of you. All I wanted
was my money. She failed me, and she already paid for that.
You stole from me, so now you have to pay the price, too."
Even in my battered condition, I understood what price he was
talking about, and I knew I had to do something. The only thing
worse than dying in that disgusting, filthy ring would be dying
here in this disgusting, filthy alley.
I summoned up every ounce of strength I could and launched
myself at him. It was a pathetic attempt. I was only able to
propel myself a foot or two, clumsily bouncing and scraping
along the concrete as I went. My only reward was that I got
close enough to puke on his shoe as I tried to get back to my
hands and knees.
"F*ck!" he exclaimed, as he angrily hopped away.
He spun around and kicked me in the ribs again, and I rolled
flat out on my back.
I was beaten, exhausted, barely conscious... and past the point
of caring. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen.
There wasn't anything I could do about it, anyway.
"Put this b*tch out of her misery, and get rid of her," Powers
barked.
That was when I realized he was not alone. I slowly turned my
head and saw that there were men all around me... or at least it
seemed that way. I could make out little more than blurry
shapes and shadows. One thing was clear, though. I never had
any hope of getting out of this. I was doomed from the outset.
Well, dying like this was going to suck, but it was a good run
while it lasted, right?
"No," a voice said firmly.
Powers turned in furor and snarled at someone behind him.
"What the f*ck do you mean, 'no?' You work for me, and you do
what I f*cking say!"
"I work for me," the voice said calmly, "and I do as I wish."
I focused hard in that direction, trying to see who was
speaking. I didn't recognize the voice and I couldn't make out
a face, but that suit was unmistakable.
It was the black man who had been with Powers when he visited me
in the dressing room.
"I pay you. You don't get a choice!" Powers said.
"Always have a choice," the black man said. "You keep your
money, and I'll be on my way."
"You stupid f*cking n*gger," Powers said. "She's gonna die,
anyway."
Racial epithets. That was sure to calm things down.
Now it seemed I would either be executed or get caught in the
crossfire of a shootout in the alley.
Either way, still dead.
"She comes with me," the black man said.
The racial slur had no apparent impact on his demeanor. His
voice was unwavering and his diction was perfect. He sounded
like he might have been ordering a cheeseburger and fries
instead of facing down an angry crime boss and his group of
armed thugs.
"You can't do this," Powers said.
"Get up," the black man said.
It took a second to realize that last part was directed at me.
I was beaten half to death, and my awareness of the world around
me was severely limited. But I recognized my only chance, and I
did not have to be told twice.
I reached out and got hold of some piping on the wall next to me
and used it to haul myself to my feet. Then, I looked in the
direction of the black man.
Next to his head he held a long, silver pipe that reflected in
the sparse light of the alley. He moved it slightly, from right
to left.
"That way," he said.
No one else moved as I made my way along the wall. I don't know
what kind of pipe it was, but it proved sufficient to keep
anyone from challenging him, physically.
I came to a corner, turned down the side alley that led in the
direction I'd been told to go and just kept moving.
I didn't know what lay ahead, but I was eager to separate from
what was behind.
"You won't get away with this!" I heard Powers call. "I'll find
you, and I'll kill you. BOTH of you!"
The black man didn't answer. I didn't even know where he was.
The alley opened on to a side street, and I had no idea what to
do next.
"White beemer," the black man said.
Turned out, he was right behind me the whole way, his back
turned to me while he kept an eye on the others.
"Door's open. Get in."
To my right was a gleaming white BMW parked next to a hydrant.
I limped over to it, and pulled the passenger door handle. It
popped open, and I literally fell into the car.
The black man closed my door, then quickly came around and got
in the driver's seat.
I got a better look at the pipe as he got in. Not a pipe. A
gun. No, not a gun. A hand cannon... with a barrel at least
half a foot long.
As we pulled away from the curb, I considered my situation.
I had no idea what the hell was going on, or where we were
going. I didn't know what this man's name was, or if he even
had one. What I did know is that I had needed a miracle to get
out of that alley alive. Now, I was being driven away by a mob
enforcer who wore sunglasses in the dead of night, drove a brand
new BMW and carried a gun as long as my forearm.
Seems like just the kinda angel I'd get, right?
[hr]
Character Reference
[img]
HTML https://drive.google.com/uc?export=view&id=0Bz8YsEjMxOhMODlHdGhIanZrTWs[/img]
Name: Richelle Winterfeld
Nickname(s):
Background: Owner of the RSI stable, former underground fighter
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