Jack Kursed Page 19

  "So much for thinking before you speak. Name?"

  "Trevor Daniels," he shouted. "He’s my wife’s nephew."

  "Location?"

  "He works at a bar just off the beach. A place called Smitty’s."

  "He works? Trevor Daniels has a job, and he robbed my store?"

  Jack was quiet a moment, simply lost in his own thoughts. He looked down at Jerry once again.

  "I’d like to let you live. You could be useful again one day. But I’m worried you might try for revenge."

  Jerry shook his head. "No way. I’m not getting near you."

  "And my young friend?"

  "Off limits."

  Jack studied the lines in his face, the look in his eye.

  "I don’t believe you."

  One final shot, this one to Jerry’s head.

  Jack wiped the gun and dropped it to the floor. The precaution wasn’t necessary; his prints didn’t exist in any system. He also had many contacts in high places. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d gotten away with murder.

  He looked at the pool hall one more time before leaving. Four dead bodies, blood everywhere, destruction. It brought back a lot of good memories.

  *****

  Jack could see the beach to his right in between buildings as he drove. A group of men and women played a game of volleyball. A mother read her Nook while her son played in the water. An older man waved a metal detector back and forth, searching for hidden treasure.

  It was almost easy to forget he was on his way to commit another murder.

  He felt nothing. Guilt, remorse, these emotions eluded him. If anything, he was looking forward to killing Trevor Daniels. Victoria was right when she told him their actions could save countless lives in the future. Tiffany was proof of that. He had no doubt killing Trevor Daniels would save future lives.

  He pulled his shirt off as he parked outside Smitty's. His jeans were fine, but his shirt had a bullet hole and some blood on it. Two bikini-clad women carrying body-boards smiled and waved at him as he climbed out of his truck. He returned the gesture, wondering what he'd have to do to get Erica in a swimsuit, even if only for an hour. Guilt settled in at the thought of Erica. She was a good person, and deserved to be far from his thoughts before he committed murder.

  He walked into the bar and studied everything around him. The building was open in the back, giving a clear view of the boardwalk. A few people strolled in from the beach for a morning drink. There were some regulars hovering around the bar, admiring the women nearby and on the boardwalk outside. He drew more looks from a group of women in the corner, one even whistling.

  Jack saw no sign of Trevor Daniels.

  "Hey," the bartender asked as Jack drew closer. "What can I get you?"

  "I'm looking for Trevor."

  "Ah, shit. What did he do now? Is he expecting you?"

  "You could say that."

  "He lives upstairs, works here at night. I saw him go up there not too long ago. The stairs are right around the corner. You might have to knock real hard. He sleeps like the dead."

  Jack laughed at the choice of words.

  He followed the bartender's directions and knocked on the door. There was some shuffling around followed by a voice.

  "Who is it?"

  Jack was tempted to kick in the door and kill Trevor. No words were needed to murder someone. He turned to see a woman's tan leg just in view at the bottom of the stairs, followed by one couple leaving and another arriving. Less noise was definitely preferable.

  "Jerry sent me. We need to have a talk."

  The door opened. He took a single step inside, and a sack went over his head. Before he could react his leg was kicked out from under him. He fell to the floor, the sack still tight around his face. Someone kicked him as he tried to climb to his feet.

  "Stay down, you piece of shit!"

  More kicks came from the other side. Jack grinned, simply tallying the numbers in his head. Three people so far, two kicking, and one gripping the sack.

  There was a new voice, too far away to be one of the three attackers.

  "This is the fucker Jerry texted me about."

  Four men, and Trevor was among them.

  "Grab his feet."

  "Are you sure you want to do this, Trevor?"

  "We talked about this. Now grab his damn feet, I said. Danny, get the can."

  Jack was hoisted in the air by his feet and arms. Someone still held the sack tightly, balling it in a knot behind his head. He struggled only for a moment, more to test them than to actually break free.

  He was aware of moving through a doorway, and saw a brief flash of a sink and toilet through the canvas in front of his eyes. They dumped him in a tub, his foot breaking one of the fixtures on the way in. He felt what he thought was water being poured onto his bare back, until the scent of gasoline touched his nose. Someone kept punching him through the sack.

  "Come on!" Trevor said. "Get it all over him."

  "I don't know-"

  "I said get it all over him! Give me the lighter."

  Jack saw their shadows back up as three of them shoved mops into his chest, pinning him down. A tiny flame appeared, and then flew through the air right at him. It struck him in the face, and flame danced over his entire body.

  "Hold him down!"

  The pain lasted only a second. The fire felt like a million ants dancing over him. Uncomfortable, but manageable. He reached for the sack and yanked it off his head.

  Orange and blue blended and moved apart on his skin. It had been decades since he'd been set on fire. He'd forgotten how pretty it was.

  He looked up at the four men. Three of them were forgettable, but one made him snarl. Caucasian, leaning his weight on his left leg, a piercing in his lip and ear, thin mustache, small tattoo on his forearm.

  "This was your plan? Setting me on fire in your bathroom? Is this a fucking joke?"

  "Holy shit!"

  One of them dropped his mop and backed out of the bathroom. The other two were surprised, but held steady. Trevor grabbed the mop from the floor and took the only wise man's place.

  "Danny! Get back here!"

  "No way, man. That bastard's still talking."

  "It's just...shock. We have to finish this."

  Jack laughed, a strange sound coming from a burning mouth. He grabbed one of the mops and shook it free. The three men backed away a few steps and let their mops fall, their first smart move. Jack stood up and reached for the shower handle, to turn on the water, but changed his mind.

  "Let's have ourselves a nice little barbecue. If you want to live, run."

  He climbed out of the tub and tackled the first person he saw. The man screamed as Jack wrapped his flaming hands around his throat, choking the life out of him as his skin burned. Grabbing a nearby lamp, he smashed it across his face, knocking him unconscious.

  He looked up to see Trevor and his two friends fighting to get out the front door. He ran a hand along the couch and curtains as he stalked them, setting them on fire. His eyes fell on one of the nearby mops, and picked it up. He cracked it across Trevor's back. Trevor fell forward and tumbled down the stairs, taking his friends with him.

  Jack laughed as he slowly descended the stairwell, leaving fiery footprints as he went. The mortals panicked quickly, like they always did. People screamed and ran to the boardwalk. One brave woman stopped to check on Trevor and his friends, and gasped when she saw the man on fire.

  "Leave, now."

  She ran away without looking back.

  One of Trevor's friends had a broken leg. Jack grabbed him first and hoisted him to his feet. The man leaned away and screamed as Jack held him with burning hands.

  "Now this is how you set someone on fire."

  He grabbed a bottle of tequila from the bar and smashed it across his face, getting alcohol and glass everywhere. The man screamed as his face burned, but Jack wouldn't let him fall to the ground. He even slapped the man to spread more fire.

  Trevor
's final friend tried to run around Jack, but he thrust what was left of the broken bottle into his neck as he sprinted past. He dropped the man he'd been holding, and both Trevor's friends lay together. One was already dead, blood pouring from his throat. The other screamed in pain for another ten seconds before death took him.

  Trevor crawled away. He tipped over chairs and pulled down tables as Jack slowly approached. The entire bar was on fire, and a crowd had gathered on the boardwalk to watch. Jack wished he could torture Trevor for hours, but didn't have that kind of time.

  "What the fuck are you, man?" Trevor shouted.

  Jack picked up a chair and swung it at Trevor, breaking his nose. Blood flowed down his face as he backed into the corner. Jack set the chair down and sat on it. It caught on fire as well, burning to a crisp was what left of his jeans.

  The scent of burning flesh hung in the air. It brought back strong memories of Angela nailed to the side of his childhood home.

  "I just want to ask you one question," he said. "How much money did you get from the register last night?"

  "What-what are you talking about?"

  Jack stood up and stomped on Trevor's stomach, forcing the air out of him. Trevor coughed and gasped.

  "About...five hundred."

  "No, I don't want to hear about. I want to know how much a mortal life is worth. I haven't kept track of inflation. So, I want to know, to the penny, how much did you get last night?"

  Trevor flinched as a table not too far away caught on fire. He brought his knees to his chest, trying to avoid the heat.

  "Come on, man. I didn't count. I just needed money. That old man was an idiot. He came at me with a broom. I had to shoot him-"

  Jack sprung to his feet and gripped the chair. He pressed it against Trevor's chest and leaned his weight on it. Trevor had nowhere to go and begged for his life as his shirt caught fire. He tried to pat the flames out, but it was useless. Jack watched the fire dance across Trevor's face, but didn't hear his screams. All he could think about was the security footage from the store, and Mr. and Mrs. Soon's last moments together.

  He stood up after Trevor breathed his last breath. The crowd was growing at the back of the bar, trying to steal a peek inside. The fire was out of control, and he could hear a fire truck off in the distance. It was time to leave.

  Jack rolled on the ground to kill the flames on his own body and left through the front door. There was no crowd out front, at least not yet. He wasn't scarred or hurt, but did get a few looks from drivers as he walked to his truck with only a pair of shoes on.

  He started the engine and calmly drove away.

  *****

  Jack sat in his truck outside school. He'd cleaned out the broken glass, taken two showers, and changed into fresh jeans and a tee shirt. The school bell rang, but Jack didn't notice. He didn't even notice the horde of children running to their buses and parents.

  He was finally shaken from his trance when Tiffany opened the door and slid in next to him. She gave him a concerned look. He usually met her in the middle of the playground.

  "Jack? Are you okay? You smell funny. Did you go swimming?"

  He laughed. It was the first genuine laugh since leaving Erica's house, which felt like days ago.

  "No. I just got real dirty today, and had to take a shower with some strong stuff. How was school?"

  "It was good, but I missed Miss Hernandez. I didn't like the substitute. Miss Hernandez makes us laugh."

  "Yeah, especially when she drools."

  "Can we go to the store? Maybe get an ice cream? Mr. Soon said he'd put aside his best ice cream for me."

  He took a breath, and emotion besides rage and anger threatened to escape. "We can't, Tiffany. They had an accident last night. We won't be seeing them anymore."

  Tiffany covered her mouth. A single tear ran down her cheek, and Jack felt one running down his own. He hated himself for it.

  "Are they dead?" she asked.

  He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Tiffany shed a few more tears before standing on her seat to give Jack a hug. He thought he was comforting her at first, which is the only reason he allowed it.

  "It's okay," she said. "We'll miss them, but they're in heaven now, with my Mommy."

  Her comment was sappy and ridiculously stupid, but it took all his strength not to break down in tears. He pushed away the image of them dancing an hour before their death and focused on the rage he felt when he killed Trevor Daniels.

  "Thanks, Tiffany," he said, forcing a smile. "You ready to go home? Eat dinner and do the homework?"

  "We don't have any homework, since Miss Hernandez wasn't there."

  "You can study, then."

  She groaned and whined, which brought another genuine laugh.

  *****

  An hour later Tiffany sat at the breakfast bar while Jack leaned back on the couch watching a DVD. She was doing much better with her homework since Erica began tutoring her. She went down from about twenty disgusted sighs a night to five. Even though she had a free night without homework, she let out a whine every now and then. Jack was taking the lazy way out for dinner, a simple meal of spaghetti. The boiling water burst and popped behind them.

  His iPhone rang on the coffee table. He stared at it a moment in confusion. Very few people called him.

  "Hello?"

  "Jack? It’s Erica."

  "Holy crap, it is."

  "You gave me your number when I started tutoring Tiffany." There was amusement in her voice.

  "I know. I just never thought you’d use it."

  Her amusement quickly turned to apprehension. "I can stop calling, if you want."

  "No, no. Call anytime."

  "Okay, good. I just wanted to thank you for stopping by uninvited this morning. It was very nice."

  He couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or serious. Maybe both.

  "Sure, anytime. I had fun."

  "And I’m officially inviting you and Tiffany to stop by and visit anytime. We can watch a movie, maybe do the tutoring over here. Just give me a call first."

  "That doesn’t go against your teacher’s code of ethics or whatever?"

  "We’re friends, Jack. Not secret agents boinking in a tunnel under the White House."

  He loved her sense of humor.

  Friends. The word still sounded strange in his head.

  "I’d like that. Maybe this weekend-"

  Jack froze when Victoria opened the front door without knocking. He read her expression instantly, and thought her red hair would catch on fire.

  "Hmm, I think it’s time to go. My sister’s here, and I think I’m in trouble."

  "What did you do?"

  "A lot of things. We’ll hook up later."

  "No, we won’t be hooking up. We’ll talk later."

  "Okay, whatever. But Erica, seriously, you do own a pair of shorts, right? Maybe something you work out in?"

  "I’m hanging up now. I feel better, so I'll see you tomorrow."

  "Damn," he whispered, after she’d hung up.

  Victoria still dressed for the weather in shorts and a tank-top. He’d kill to get Erica in a pair of shorts like Victoria wore. The vampire was so angry Jack thought her fangs would pop out in front of Tiffany. He had a feeling it wasn’t about her case.

  "How’s the case going?"

  "Hi, Victoria," Tiffany said. She left her books to give Victoria a hug. "We’re gonna eat spaghetti and watch a cartoon. Are you gonna stay?"

  "Listen, Tiff, I need a minute alone with Jack. Would you go hang out in your room for a bit?"

  Jack marveled at Victoria’s ease with small children. He read Tiffany’s lips as she walked by.

  You’re in trouble.

  "Indeed, I am."

  "The case," Victoria said. "The case isn’t going anywhere. But it looks like you’ve been real busy."

  "Whatever do you mean?"

  She turned off the DVD player, snatched the remote from his hand, and flipped through the channels un
til she settled on the local evening news. The attractive news anchor told Jack what he already knew. She talked about the two violent incidents in Parkville, one at a pool hall and the other at a bar. Several men were dead, including a rumored local crime boss. The only new information Jack learned was the police suspected local gangs.

  "That’s so sad," Jack said, smiling. "I’ll bet it feels just like Baltimore now."

  "Cut the shit, Jack. What happened?"

  "I don’t know. Ask the local gangs."

  She ignored his redirection. "So, what? These guys pissed you off, so you go drop Tiffany off at school, kill them, and then go pick her back up?"

  "Mr. and Mrs. Soon were murdered," he said, his eyes narrowing. "The news doesn’t show you that. They don’t show you a couple still in love after forty years of marriage, dancing in each other’s arms an hour before being murdered."

  Victoria’s features softened and she sat on the couch next to him, muting the TV. She put a hand on his shoulder.

  "I’m sorry," she said.

  "Yeah, me too. The insurance stuff alone will be a nightmare, and I’ve gotta try to find someone willing to run the store."

  "Stop, Jack. I know you cared about them."

  "Of course I cared. No one, and I mean ever, made a ham and cheese sandwich like Soon. And I’m old, Victoria, I’ve seen a lot of ham and cheese sandwiches."

  She smiled, but said nothing. She knew him better than anyone, and could read between his words with precision.

  "You should have called me, let me handle it."

  "I can take care of my own killing."

  "Yeah, and a pool hall and bar gets destroyed. People that didn’t need to die get caught in the way."

  "I killed nothing but scum. You were right. The things we do can have an effect in the future, past what mortals see. And I probably saved a thousand lives today, just like we did back in Monterrey."

  She rolled her eyes. "That’s how you’re gonna justify this? Twist my logic around?"

  "I don’t need to justify myself to you or anyone else."

  "Wrong. You have a little girl upstairs who watches you, worships everything you do."

  "Give me a break. This is all temporary. You know it, Tiffany knows it, I know it, everyone knows it. This was never a permanent arrangement. She’ll be with a real family soon, and forget all about me. And I'll help from a distance."