Ally's Revenge (Part 1 complete, Part 2 in progress)

Chapter 15

Note from author:

Unfortunately, this is one of those books that you WILL have to read Part 1 before reading Part 2. Now, that doesn't mean you will be completely lost, since I like to think I write in a way that fully explains a situation, but you will not have the backstory and some things will not make sense. It was supposed to all be one part/book/story, but I split it and added a completed tag for part 1 so that on the Wattpad App/Site, people would see it as a completed story and therefore would read it. (Sorry, yeah, I know, a little bit of a lie...BUT part 1 was completed....)

So, before you give this part a negative review, please take the time to read Part 1.

As always, constructive criticism is always welcome! I am a new writer and flunked every English/Language Arts class I ever took, so the little bit of grammar and sentence structure I have comes from being an avid reader and Spell/Grammar Check! (Thank you Spell Check!!!)

Love and Rockets!

BC

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Part 2

Chapter 15

Damien

It's been years since I've needed to make a call like this and it's not something to take for granted. Favors cost favors and since this is a big favor, it will mean owing an extreme favor in return.

"I need a cleanup."

"Number and location."

"MQ5571C, Latitude 30.284663, Longitude -81.662383"

"MQ5571C?" questions the gruff voice on the other end of the line.

"Yes," I reply, knowing that making this call means opening myself back up to a world I left behind years ago. From the other end of the line the sounds of typing and two-way radio conversation can be heard in the background. Each time they repeat my number as a question and it makes me want to scream "I know it's been almost four years, yes it's me, yes I need a cleanup, don't ask any more questions!"

After a minute or so, the voice comes back on the line. "ETA seven minutes. Clear the area of all civilians and prepare to brief the arriving unit." Click

The prepaid cell phone is then taken apart and thrown out into the water. Turning back around, I prepare myself to take a look at the body lying in the grass in front of me. This body was once my childhood friend. We grew up together, lost our virginity to the same girl in the same week, and then bloodied each other's noses a few days later over that same girl. His wife will call me tomorrow when he doesn't come home tonight. She will assume he was at a bar all night or that he is having another affair. Telling myself she is better off does not make this any easier. They will never find his body, he will never have a proper burial. He will be reported as missing for several months, maybe even years, until the family finally decides to give up and purchase an empty grave for him. There will be tears, and heartache. All because he was greedy.

Damn it Steven. If you would have just waited a few more days, I would have had this all taken care of.

Finding the house where the shot came from was easier than I expected. Being familiar with the general area, I was able to pull up the street where I believed I needed to go on Google Maps. Once I arrived to the street, my heart literally sank when I saw Steven's truck. The moron had actually parked it in the driveway! Similar to Ally's neighborhood, the houses on this side of the river were built closer to the water than the road, most of them having long manicured lawns with the driveway winding up to the house. The homeowners appear to not be at home but seeing that the home next door is for sale it makes no sense that he picked this house instead of that one. Actually the entire scenario makes no sense, in my professional opinion. Someone trying to make a shot at this distance, almost a mile, over a rapidly moving body of water, in the middle of a Saturday, from a home where the owners may return at any moment... there are simply too many uncontrollable factors for it to be a successful mission.

The sleek black speedboat pulls up to the concrete embankment and two heavily armed and equipped men jump up onto the yard. The boat driver appears to be female, she calls in on her handheld two-way radio that they have arrived at the location.

"Number" the masked man in front, the smaller and more muscular of the two, asks me in order for me to identify myself.

"MQ5571C."

"McGinnis, it's been awhile" the masked man in the rear says. I recognize the voice as soon as he says my name.

"Kelly, yes it has. Are you going to take care of this or are we going to stand here and chitchat?"

"You will need to follow up this evening to make a full report. You are aware that this now brings you back into an active agent status?" Kelly knows damn well that I know this, he must be putting on a show for the little man that's still standing in front of him as if to protect Kelly from me.

"Yes."

"Report"

"Single shot to the upper torso, no disturbance to the scene since arrival. He was attempting to fire his rifle into a house across the water, approximately one mile and slightly west of this location. There were a total of three shots fired from his rifle, and one fired from my own, all four shots made with the use of a sound suppressor. He appears to be alone, the truck in the driveway and the items you see here are the only physical objects that will need to be disposed of. His name is Steven Hamilton, DOB 10/25/1979, born and raised right here in Jacksonville, family owns Hamilton Family Auto Sales. I would prefer this to be a disappearance instead of a dump, with his history of drinking and extramarital affairs, the family will believe that he simply ran off for a few days." This is not the typical briefing I have given cleanup crews in the past. It's usually 'there's the body, you have ten minutes'.

Kelly notices this unusual amount of info and specific directions as well. With a hint of sarcasm, Kelly looks at the small man in front of him while saying to me "I will follow protocol with your suggestions taken into consideration."

I leave the crew to their clean-up and walk back to where I parked my truck a few houses away. As I make my way out of the neighborhood, I see an unmarked police vehicle pulling onto the street behind me. I'm not a religious man, but for Stevens' sake and for the officers' wellbeing, I give a quick prayer that the cleanup crew will finish up before the officer Ally called arrives. Kelly and his crew have no problems adding a few more bodies to their boat. Regardless, I have done all I can do, it is out of my hands.

Seeing that it is now a few hours before dusk, I don't have a lot of time to prepare for the evening meeting with the gentlemen from the market this morning. I had planned on setting up on top of the parking garage that overlooks the market and taking them out with my rifle from a distance. But right now I'm pissed and looking for a little action.

The few miles I drive to get to my apartment go by in a blur. The items I need are kept in one small, locked travel case. I will go in the apartment, grab the necessities, change clothes and I'll be back on the road in no time.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The market has been broke down and the vendors have packed up and left. A green jeep sits in the middle of the adjoining parking lot, the three occupants sitting inside wait patiently.

A black motorcycle suddenly appears, sleek and quiet, beside the jeep. The helmeted rider maneuvered the bike with an ease and professionalism that could only come from years of experience. In his right hand the rider holds a MAC-10 machine gun. He pulled up beside the driver's side window and unleashed the anger he was holding inside.

The men in the jeep never saw it coming.

The rider dropped the gun beside the jeep and sped away.