Not What You Think - 7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I walked into the kitchen and found Mitch hovering above the stove.

“Mmm, what's for breakfast?” I asked.

He turned to face me, newspaper in his hand.

“Coffee,” he said.

“Breakfast is the most important part of the day you know,” I grumbled.

“If it were up to you, I'm sure you would have slept until noon. Meaning breakfast would be lunch. Therefore, your argument is invalid.”

“Hey, it was a rough night. I deserved to sleep in for once.”

He kissed me on the forehead. “Whatever you say, babe.”

“You know, it's people like you that gives us morning people such a bad reputation. You're just plain evil.”

“I didn't do anything! It was all Dog!”

“You're an asshat,” I grabbed a cup of coffee. “And another thing! Who the hell names their dog, 'Dog'? That's just lazy. And confusing. What happens when you go to the dog park and you start yelling 'dog'? Do people look at you like you're an idiot? Because I would. That's like naming your child 'Kid' or naming your cat 'Cat'. Actually, it's worse than both of those. Kid is kind of a cool nickname, except it would be your real name. And cats are stupid. They don't come when you call them so their names are pretty much worthless. But to name a dog 'Dog' is just stupid.”

Mitch smiled and took a seat at the kitchen table. He opened his newspaper and started reading, ignoring my entire rant. I sipped my coffee and gave him a death stare. Eventually he would have to acknowledge me. I glared at him for five minutes while he read the newspaper.

I sighed and sat next to him. “Fine, you win. I give up.”

He didn't respond.

“Seriously, Mitch? Are you going to ignore me all morning?”

“Something's not right,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“You're not in the paper.”

“Usually I consider that a good thing.”

“No, I mean the entire incident. There's nothing in the paper about it. You'd figure a raging inferno and a guy killed execution style would at least make the local paper. But there's no mention of it anywhere.”

I sat in silence for a while thinking about the situation.

On the one hand, I was happy nothing was traced back to me and I wasn't a wanted fugitive, but on the other I didn't know who covered it up. If it was Lang, I would be forever in his debt for it, but there was no way for him to know about all of it and cover it up in time. If it was Gordon, it didn't make any sense. Surely the operative wouldn't have any ties back to him, so there would be no reason to keep it quiet. If anything, he should have made it national news and had my face plastered on every television from California to New York.

Being safe in the eyes of the law didn't make me actually feel safe. If Gordon was working on some type of plan, he was already two steps ahead of me.

“We need a plan, Mitch. Gordon isn't playing around. He's actively coming after me and won't stop until I'm dead.”

“Why is he doing this?” He asked. “Seems like a lot of time and effort is going into killing an ex-employee.”

“It's... personal. And after last night, he probably knows you're working with me again too.”

“I agree, but don't worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

“It's not you I'm worried about,” I said and looked over at Dog.

Mitch followed my gaze and saw him lying by the door. Dog thumped his tail against the floor. A flash of fear spread across Mitch's face, but it was quickly replaced by one of anger.

“If he so much as comes near my dog, I will castrate him.”

“Do have someone he can stay with for a while?”

“No one that I trust. And I can't leave him in a kennel for that long. Last time I left him in a kennel for two days he shat in my room every day for a month.”

“Harsh,” I said.

“You have no idea.”

“What about Lang? Think he'd take him for a while? His place is huge and he has plenty of hired help.”

Mitch sighed. “It couldn't hurt to ask. Besides, I need to run over there to grab some intel anyways. I received an email this morning. They think they have a location on Gordon.”

“Good. You head over there and see what you can find out. Take Dog with you so he has a hard time saying no.”

“You're not coming?”

I paused before answering. “I have some things to take care of.”

Mitch nodded. He knew the reason I wasn't going with him – Jason.

We both took quick showers and changed into clean clothes. His clothes were a tight fit on me, but not uncomfortable. He packed a bag full of toys and food for Dog and we headed outside. A black Range Rover idled at the sidewalk.

“I called for a ride while you were in the shower,” He said, opening the back door for Dog. “Do you need a ride?”

“Well now that you mention it...”

He understood what I was talking about immediately.

“Derek, no. That Ducati is my baby. Last time you rode her she came back with a scratch.”

“Are you still on that? It was a quarter of an inch, and no one even noticed it!”

“I noticed!”

“You don't count,” I said. “Just let me borrow it for today. I'll bring it back, I promise.”

“No. Call a cab.”

“You tazed me.”

“You shot me.”

“Touché.”

He stared at me impatiently, unwilling to give in.

“If you don't give me the keys, I'll just steal it.”

“You wouldn't dare.”

“You're probably right, but you should let me borrow it anyways.”

“You're not going to give up are you?”

“Nope.”

Mitch pulled out from his pocket a bunch of keys. He removed the motorcycle key and tossed it to me. “If it comes back with a scratch, dent, or even a dead bug on the windshield, you're going to regret it.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Keep your phone on. I'll call you when I have something,” He said, opening the passenger door. He climbed into the Range Rover and sped off, leaving me standing on the sidewalk alone. I looked at the key in my hand and smiled. It was going to be a good day

I made my way to the resident parking area in the back of the complex and found his covered motorcycle. I carefully removed the cover and took in the beauty of it. The red Ducati 1199 Panigale was a work of art. With almost 200 horsepower and 1200 cc displacement, it was capable of topping almost 180 mph, though it would rarely reach that speed.

Before I hopped on, I made a quick phone call. The same call I regretted making the night before.

“It's me,” I said when the phone was answered. “I need your help. I'll be there in 20 minutes.” I disconnected before the person had a chance to respond.

Mitch's helmet sat on the seat. I put it on and hopped on the bike, turned the ignition and felt it purr to life below me. I revved the engine a few times just to feel the raw power resting at my fingertips. The feelings brought on by riding a motorcycle were unparalleled. No matter how bad my day had been, just going for a ride had the ability to clear my head and put me in a significantly better mood. I hoped it would have the same effect on me during this journey.

I took off out of the complex and let the bike guide me for five minutes around the surrounding streets. It was a short, but refreshing, break from reality. On the highway, I opened up the engine. Because it was a weekend, the highway traffic was fairly light and allowed me to top out at speeds in excess of 110 miles per hour and before I knew it, I had reached the exit and stopped at a red light.

As I waited for the light to change, I heard giggling to my left. I turned and saw two girls checking me out. Mitch's tight shirt gave them a good view of everything I had to offer. Almost everything that is.

When the light turned green, I gunned the engine. The motorcycle's front wheel lifted in the air as I took a standing position and leaned forward. Doing a 'wheelie' was fairly harmless on a motorcycle and mostly done by guys to impress, but with a bike of this caliber and horsepower, I quickly set the front wheel down and continued on my way. I didn't want to risk damaging Mitch's baby.

I drove on lesser known streets and doubled back on my trail a few times to check for signs of anyone following me. When I was confident no one was tracking me, I made my way to my destination. The 20 minute time frame I had given on the phone turned into 45 minutes, but I wasn't too worried about it. The person I was meeting would be waiting for me regardless of the delay.

I pulled up to a small house and parked in the driveway. I made my way up the front steps and took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. When the door opened, my friend stepped out on the porch and eyeballed me.

“You have a lot of nerve calling me like that and hanging up before I had a chance to respond.”

“I know, I'm sorry.”

“What if I wasn't home or had someone over?”

“You're always home. And when was the last time you had a girl over?”

“That's beside the point. I'm still mad at you.”

“Can we talk about this later? I need your help, Krissy,” I said.

She stood there for another moment glaring at me and then finally stepped aside for me to enter the house.

“So what's the problem?” She asked as we made our way to her kitchen. “Boy troubles?”

“No. Well, yes. But that's not the reason I'm here.”

“Sounds... complicated.”

“It is.”

We settled down at her kitchen table.

“So talk. What's the problem?”

“Gordon.”

“Your boss?”

“EX-boss. I left the company.”

She was silent for a moment. “I heard the rumor, but I didn't think it was true. I tried calling you, but you ignored my calls.”

“Yeah, I'm sorry about that.”

“We'll get to that later,” she shrugged. “What's going on with Gordon?”

I launched into my story of leaving the company and Gordon sending multiple teams to kill me. I told her about Mitch, but left out the part about spending the night with him.

“Wow. Sounds like you have quite a situation,” She said.

“And it's only getting worse.”

“What do you need from me?”

“Help. I have Mitch, but I need someone else I can trust on my side to take Gordon down. It's not going to be easy.”

She got up and poured herself a glass of wine. “Want some?”

“It's in a box,” I said.

“And?”

“It's ten in the morning.”

“And?”

“I'm riding Mitch's motorcycle so I can't.”

“Fair enough. More for me.” She came back to the table. “I'll help you on one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Be my date to my mother's wedding.”

“Again?” I asked. “This is the fourth one!”

She shrugged and drained her glass of wine. “Doesn't matter. I still have to go. And I need a date. That date is you.”

I hesitated before responding. “Deal.”

“I knew you loved me!” She smiled and hugged me.

Although she was three years older than me, Krissy and I had known each other a long time . We grew up in the same town and had a deep friendship. To those that didn't know us, it always appeared that we were a couple when we went out. She joined the military shortly after graduating from high school, but became frustrated when the laws wouldn't allow her to join any Special Forces groups such as Navy Seals or Delta Force. She finished her duty and moved to the private sector, much like myself, but with a different company. Our paths had never crossed professionally, but she was talented: Her marksman skills legendary among female operatives.

“So down to real business,” she said. “What's the deal with you and Jason?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don't play with me, Derek. You two were going strong. You left the Company for him. Now you're off running around with Mitch?”

“Mitch is helping me with my mission, that's it. Jason hasn't spoken to me since... well, since I almost got him killed.”

“Have you tried talking to him?”

I sighed. “He doesn't want anything to do with me right now.”

“How do you know if you haven't talked to him?”

“Because I just know, Krissy!” Right before he went into surgery, he woke up and told everyone he didn't want to see me. When his father showed up, he told me to back off until Jason was ready.”

She was silent for a moment.

“Lang told you that?”

“Yes. He made it very clear that I was to stay away from Jason.”

“Are you sure you don't want that drink?”

“Trust me, if I wasn't riding Mitch's bike I would take you up on it. However, I do need to take a leak.”

“You know where it is.”

I walked down the hall admiring the family photos she had hung on the walls. Her father was deceased, but she had more time with him than I had with mine. He succumbed to lung cancer two years ago, and Krissy was never the same after the funeral. Her drinking picked up and she lost contact with those she once considered close enough to be family, myself included. Her mother had long since moved on and was now apparently in her fourth marriage.

During her long periods of isolation from real human interaction, Krissy renovated her father's old house. He left it to her in his will. She would never sell it, but she continued to fix it nonetheless.

“I like the hardwood floors you put in.” I commented from the bathroom.

“They're fake.”

“Just like your mother's breasts!”

“You're such an ass, Derek. I'm telling her you said that!”

I laughed and closed the bathroom door.

If the shadow had not moved slowly across the window, I would never have noticed the man at the corner of the house clinging to a sub-machinegun.

Gordon's men had found me.

I reached behind the toilet and grabbed the gun taped to the tank. Krissy was paranoid to say the least and I had found the gun, along with many others hidden in various places throughout the house, a few months ago. I flipped the safety off and chambered a round.

I eased open the door and listened, but didn't hear any movement inside the house yet. They hadn't made their way inside yet. Not taking any chances, I moved out of the bathroom with the gun raised and swept the hallway.

When I reached the kitchen, Krissy saw the gun.

“Derek, what the fuck?”

“Shhh! They found me. There's at least one man with a sub-machine gun approaching your back door, but there's probably more.”

She stood up at the table. “How do you know?”

“I saw him from the bathroom window.”

“Shit.”

Krissy grabbed the fake tree and yanked it out of its pot. She reached into the pot and pulled out another gun. She cocked the weapon, and made her way over to me.

“What now?” She asked.

“We fight.”

“Well thank you captain obvious, but what's the plan? We have no idea of knowing how many men are out there or where they are. We're most likely outnumbered. If they breach, we're screwed. There's only two ways out of here.”

“Not necessarily,” I said and looked at the stairs leading towards the second floor. “We go up, then out the window onto the roof of the garage. From there we drop down on the side of the house and make a break for the bike.”

“Sounds like a shitty plan to me.”

“Unfortunately, it's the only one I have right now.”

She nodded and moved towards the stairs.

We reached the top and the back door clicked open. Our time was running out.

“I'll cover the stairs, you get the window open and scout outside and see what we're dealing with,” I said.

“No, I'll cover. You get to the window.”

I opened the window at the end of the hall and looked out. The only vehicle parked on the street was a white sedan idling down the street with a man behind the wheel.

“Five at most,” I said. “Probably two at the back, two at the front, one stationed in the car.”

“Gotcha.”

The first volley fired and ricochet off the hand rail next to her. She returned fire down the stairs and fell back so she was no longer in the open. I tore off the mesh screen blocking the window and got her attention. She fired a few more rounds and made her way to me.

We climbed out the window and into the roof of the garage. The angle of the roof along with the old shingles made it a slippery climb to the edge of the house. I looked down to the central air conditioning unit a few feet below us. As long as we aimed for the edges and didn't break through the center and hit the fan, it would be an easier fall than just going straight to the ground.

I was about to jump down when a head poked out the window we had just come out of. Krissy fired three shots, but they went wide and dug into the brick chimney on the other side of the roof. The attacker ducked back inside to safety.

I dropped onto the air conditioner and yelled for her to do the same.

“I don't understand how they found me,” I said, when we were both on the ground.

“What about your phone?”

“I've changed numbers three times since I left the Company. There's no way they have this number.”

“Unless someone gave it to them.”

I pulled out my phone and shattered it on the side of the house. “Problem solved.”

Mitch's bike, plumb in the driveway, was not more than ten feet away, but it was in direct sight of the window above us. Even if we made it to the bike, riding tandem was a pain in the ass. There had to be another option.

I saw a figure at the back of the house aiming his weapon at Krissy. He hesitated for a moment, but it was enough time for me to send a bullet into his head.

I peeked around the corner of the front of the house and saw the white sedan still idling down the street. That was our shot at making it out of here.

“There's a car down the street,” I said. “It's a white sedan. Looks like it belongs to the team. If we can get to it,we can get out of here.”

“Are you crazy? That's half a block away! We'll be sitting ducks!”

“There's no other choice.”

“What about the bike?”

“Even if they don't shoot us from above when we go for it, with that sedan following, we'll be toast before we hit the next street.”

“We need to split up,” Krissy said. “You take the bike, I'll take the sedan. They'll have no way of following us.”

I hesitated. The bike was a deathtrap on wheels.

“Fine, you go get the sedan while I cover. Then you drive it down the street and cover me while I get on the bike. We'll meet at Lang's place.”

“Deal.”

Krissy took cover in the bushes and made her way slowly down the street towards the sedan while I stayed back to cover. I shot a few rounds into the window upstairs even though there was no one there. I still had no idea how many people were inside, or where they were at this point. If she didn't hurry, there was a chance one of them could shoot me before I even got to the bike.

I glanced to make sure Krissy was still safe and then moved to the back of the house. The guy I shot was definitely dead. I retrieved his sidearm and checked his pockets for any identification but came up empty. His body also lacked any sort of communication device to keep in contact with his team. With no phone or radio, it gave me hope that they were flying just as blind as we were.

After looking around the corner and seeing nothing, I moved back to the front of the house in time to see the white sedan flying down the street with Krissy behind the wheel. She leaned out the window ,firing at the window upstairs.

“Derek, move! Let's go!”

I was tempted to just run to the car and jump in, but forced myself to stick to the plan instead. I ran out to the bike and jammed the key in the ignition and it came to life with a low rumble. I tossed the helmet aside. Mitch would be pissed, but it wouldn't save me from a bullet and would only reduce my field of view in a chase.

A bullet hit the cement next to me and I took off. The gunfire continued to follow me as I rode out of the driveway and turned left. Krissy ducked inside the sedan and followed closely behind me, blocking the rest of the shots with the car.

We reached the stop sign at the end of the block and I motioned for Krissy to make a left while I took a right. With no sign of anyone following us, I took my time winding through the suburb. After doubling back on my route three times, I was content that no one tailed me and finally made my way towards Lang's house.

I was three blocks away from the house when a car came up quickly behind me. I made a sudden right turn and watched as it followed me. The passenger leaned out the window with a gun and I knew it was another team sent by Gordon. The silenced weapon started firing at me, but the shots weren't coming close. Firing out of a moving car at a small object is no easy task, but I they could still get lucky.

At the next intersection I shot across the lane and maneuvered the bike up onto the sidewalk. With a line of parked cars between me and the men following, it would make it almost impossible to hit me. If I could make it to Lang's block, I knew they would back off. Lang's security would take them down instantly, and Gordon wouldn't want to directly start a war with Lang's men.

I risked a quick glance behind me and saw the car was still following, but the men had stopped firing. They were most likely waiting for the next intersection to take me down. There was little I could do to protect myself in the open, which left me with few options. All of them were risky, and most of them would hurt like a bitch.

I slowed the bike down as we came to the intersection. The car came closer and I the passenger leaned out of the window again. With a few feet left before we hit the intersection, I gunned the bike and turned left in front of the car. I slammed on the brakes and leaped into the air, letting it fall to the ground directly in front of the approaching vehicle. I rolled back towards the sidewalk to watch. They were moving far too fast to be able to stop in time .

The car came to rest in the middle of the intersection with half the bike under the front bumper. The airbags inside the car had deployed, and the men struggled to deflate them and get out.

“Sorry, Mitch,” I muttered and pulled out my gun.

I firedat the bike's gas tank.

The fourth shot ignited the spilled fuel and an explosion rocked the intersection. . The front of the car lifted off the ground briefly before edescending, and crumpling into a burning heap. While it was possible the men inside might have survived, I didn't stick around to find out. Pedestrians came out of their homes to investigate the noise and I needed to make it to Lang's before someone else found me first.

I tucked my gun in the back of my pants and pulled my shirt over it. The scrapes on my arms and legs from jumping off the bike were bleeding, but there was little I could do about it. I would need to keep hidden while I made my way to Lang's in case any patrol cars started to canvass the area looking for me.

With one final look at the accident, I walked away in the opposite direction at a leisurely pace.