Origin - The Damien Hill Thriller Trilogy: Damien Hill Thriller, #4

ORIGIN

DAMIEN HILL THRILLER TRILOGY

PETE BAUER

Copyright © 2019 by Pete Bauer

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

CONTENTS

Trigger

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Afterword

Recoil

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Afterword

Blowback

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Afterword

CHAMBER

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Share the Experience

Afterword

Acknowledgments

AMDG

About the Author

Also by Pete Bauer

For Michael, Christopher, Paul & Josh

CHAPTER

ONE

A shot rang out in the distance.

Damien cocked his head, trying to track its source. He instinctively reached for his pistol, waiting for the echo to bring trouble.

Cupping his earpiece, he listened and waited, but heard nothing urgent in the crackle of police chatter. A domestic dispute. A car accident. A traffic stop. That was it.

Damien was on edge.

The summer heat was lingering into fall, and the daylight, along with his patience, was growing shorter each day. He hadn’t had enough time on the job to identify the sound and not enough false alarms to brush it off. Maybe all first-year cops were like this, but knowing that didn’t make him feel better.

Hey, you with me? Raquel asked.

She stood in the middle of the clothing store, her belly bulging with new life. It may have been her natural curves and bright eyes that first caught his attention years earlier, but it was her latest blossoming that made her the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

You’re off the clock, she said. I need you here, helping me.

I’m here, I’m here, Damien said, scanning rows of miniature pink outfits hanging on tiny plastic hangers. Fully armed in case any of these onesies make a move.

Don’t be a smart ass, she said with a laugh.

So you want me to leave?

I want you to take this seriously.

Babe, we’re buying clothes our kid will eat, sleep, and crap in for three months. How serious do you want me to be? Besides, are you sure we should go all in with pink? What if the doc is wrong? What if baby Nicole ends up being Nicholas?

That’s what receipts are for, she said. My mami said the last trimester is going to be the hardest. Apparently, I’m going to mutate into a nesting fool.

I wouldn’t worry about that, babe, he said. You’ve been mutating since day one.

Smirking, Raquel shook her head. Can you be serious for one minute?

That’s a long time, but I’ll give it a shot.

Giggling, she turned to the row of clothes. He liked making her smile. She was the one who worried about bills, futures, and pink onesies while Damien took each day as it came. Seemed like a good approach for a cop. No sense thinking too far down the road when his next day on duty could be his last. He wasn’t morbid about it. It was the simple truth. He wore a gun for a living. That wasn’t for show.

Raquel said something—about her being the responsible one when he was the one who carried a weapon—but Damien didn’t have a quick comeback. He was distracted by his reflection in the store window. The bright blue uniform looked as uncomfortable as it felt.

Still, he wore it well.

Examining the rows of clothes and merchandise, he made his way to the front of the store and looked out on Main Street. Drawn forward, he pushed the glass door open and peered out into the heat. Hayeston’s main road was quiet. Across the street, a homeless man rummaged through the garbage. To Damien’s right, a mother pushing her baby in a stroller disappeared around the corner. The air hinted of citrus.

Everything was normal, yet nothing felt right.

I love that smell, a joyful voice behind him said.

Benita inhaled the warm air wafting in. Makes the store feel like home, doesn’t it? she said, her bright smile showcased by her darker skin. My dad worked at the citrus plant for thirty years before he passed. Came home smelling like navels and hamlins, grapefruit and ambersweet. I loved it. Now, freshly squeezed citrus makes me think of that silly old man and his boisterous laugh.

You’re lucky, Damien said. My dad drove a semi truck. The smell of exhaust reminds me of him. And he didn’t laugh much.

Benita eyed his badge. You’re one of the new ones, aren’t you? The next generation?

Yeah.

Good, she said. We need new blood.

We do, he said with a sincerity that came from experience. We love this town. And everyone in it.

That would be a nice change, Benita said, moving back behind the check out counter.

What do you think of this? Raquel said, skirting around the aisle. Her eyes beamed as she held up a pink onesie with a picture of a kitten on the front.

I think dogs will want to eat my child, he said.

I know you hate cats, she said.

Hate is a pretty strong word.

That’s not a denial.

It’s a clarification, he said with a chuckle. I’m sure Nicole or Nicholas will love it as much as you do.

Will you stop with the Nicholas thing? You’re making me wonder if we’re wasting our time.

He kissed her on the forehead. Sorry honey, he said. It’s just… being in this place is making the whole thing real. We’re gonna have a baby soon. I’m gonna be a dad to a little girl and it’s kind of freaking me out. One day, she’s going to grow up to be a beautiful young woman, like you. Then the boys will look at her the way I do you. And then I’ll have to shoot them. And who wants that?

I think there are other ways to raise our daughter that don’t involve gunplay.

I don’t know, he said. I’m pretty sure your dad wanted to kill me when we dated.

Maybe so, she said, But don’t worry. He’ll warm up to you when he sees how you’re a great dad. I know it.

Damien envied her confidence. Just then, he felt a tug on his pant leg. A cute boy, maybe four years old, stared up at him.

Is that a real gun? he asked, pointing at Damien’s holstered weapon.

Yes, it is, Damien said.

Mama said guns are bad.

They can be.

But cops are good.

Damien smiled. They can be.

My uncle doesn’t like cops. Says they’re rook-it.

Rook-it? Damien asked, puzzled.

You know, do bad things ‘cause they can.

Oh, crooked.

Bemused, Damien bent to the boy’s level. Well, I’m not one of those crooked cops. I’m one of the good guys.

Really? the boy asked. Then can I play with your gun?

No.

The boy crossed his arms, pouting. Rook-it.

They’re not toys, Damien said. Your mom is right about that. Guns are dangerous. But when you get a little older, if you want to learn how to use one properly, and your mom will let you, I’ll teach you myself.

You promise? the boy asked with a hopeful lilt.

I promise.

Until then, you’ll protect me from the bad guys?

Damien tapped his badge. That’s why I wear this.

He had to be on his best behavior, on and off the clock. This might have been the boy’s first face-to-face experience with someone wearing the uniform. Damien couldn’t allow himself to have a bad day. Not in public. It was the price that came with the shield, but a burden he was willing to carry.

Slow day, Benita said, maneuvering around a row of baby cribs. Are you all finding everything you need?

Benita surveyed Raquel’s shopping cart full of clothes.

My wife has been a bit enthusiastic, Damien said, fighting a smile.

What can I say? Raquel said. I love your store.

Thank you, Benita said. "It wasn’t always this nice in here. Gosh, just a few years ago, when Billy was born, this place wasn’t even a dream, let alone a reality. My husband had just left me. I was broke. Unemployed. On food stamps. A lot of tears. Not much hope, until I held my boy in my arms and felt his breath against my cheek. He changed everything.

But, when he was just a wee little one, I couldn’t find any baby clothes that matched my style. They were generic and I wanted something with a little flair, a little panache. So, I saved up what I could and opened this place. Found some local designers, and here we are now. Four years of sleeping on my uncle’s couch with Billy, microwave dinners, and a lot of sacrifice. Four long, hard years.

Benita surveyed her small shop, her pride barely contained.

All days are good in this place, she said.

Raquel smiled. I can’t argue with you there.

"10-24, a voice screeched in Damien’s earpiece. I need assistance at Barrows and Ninth Street."

He recognized the voice. It was Ted’s.

Suspect is down, bleeding. Send paramedics. And police backup. The spectators are getting restless.

Barrows and Ninth, Damien thought. That’s just a few blocks from here.

I repeat, Ted said, his urgent plea nearly drowned out by screaming voices. Things are getting out of hand.

Ted’s in trouble, Damien said. I have to go.

He rushed out of the store and sprinted down the street, toward his friend.

CHAPTER

TWO

Damien’s legs moved with lightning speed, the businesses and storefronts on Main Street rushing by him in a blur. The warm air flowed through his nostrils like jet fuel as he raced around the corner onto Barrows Avenue.

In the distance a crowd had formed at the next intersection and it was impossible to see over the wall of spectators.

He grabbed onto a street pole and steadied himself atop a fire hydrant. Peering over the crowd, he spotted Ted standing next to a low ride Honda Accord painted with gray primer. On the ground near the opened car door laid a man with blood pooling below his chest and what appeared to be a knife in his hand.

Damien pulled his walkie from the slot on his shoulder.

Ted! he said. Are you all right?

Ted straightened and pulled his walkie toward his mouth.

Bad day, he said.

I can see you. Over here, on Barrows.

Damien waved, walkie in hand.

Ted spotted him above the crowd and recognized him with a nod.

I’m coming to you, Damien said.

No. Stay there. The riot team is on its way.

I’m not going to let you face down these people alone.

Our boys with shields and batons will be here any minute. Be an extra set of eyes until they get here.

Damien spied the crowd. Familiar faces twisted with rage.

The victim on the ground looked like a gang banger he’d seen in the area. A trouble maker always looking to make a name for himself on the street, not a tombstone.

Bad day all around.

Sirens echoed against the hard buildings.

Over the crowd Damien spotted a black transport with the riot team inside. The driver blurted impatient horns as it approached, but the crowd wouldn’t budge. Instead, a small portion surrounded the van, banging and pushing.

Ted, get in your cruiser, Damien warned. They’re getting violent.

Not a chance. It’s a crime scene. My shot. I’m not going anywhere.

This ain’t an academy training exercise. They’re about to turn on anyone wearing a blue uniform.

A shotgun barrel appeared out of the side van window and shot into the crowd. A smoke grenade bounced off a large man in a white t-shirt and burst into smoke at his feet.

The coughing spectators stumbled away as the van pulled up next to the gray Honda.

The back doors to the van opened and the riot team flowed out, helmets, shields, batons and non-lethal weapons at the ready.

It was ten against hundreds.

Ted, I’m coming to get you out of there.

No!

Damien watched his friend back up toward his cruiser.

You were right. Take cover.

Smoke grenades were fired in every direction.

The crowd dispersed in pockets, then reformed into tighter bands, each attempt to push them back only bringing them closer to the riot team.

Fists raised in the air and chants to kill cops grew into a chorus of hate. The illusion of law and order was decaying into chaos.

The crowd in front of Damien pushed backwards like a wave, crashing into him, knocking him off the fire hydrant and onto the ground.

A man turned and began to offer Damien a hand, but stopped once he saw his uniform. The stranger’s eyes hardened.

We got one! he yelled.

Damien hopped to his feet and backed away as more of the mob turned to face him.

Take it easy, Damien said, gripping his gun in his holster.

The hardened man looked at the crowd behind him and smiled.

I think we’ll do just about anything we want. Starting with you.

Damien thought of his training. Diffusing conflict. Tactical retreat.

But his mind landed of the one thing more important than his training or his badge.

His pregnant wife, only one block away from the fury.

Damien kept his gaze on the hardened man with a stone glare as he backed away, each step faster than the last, until he turned and sprinted onto Main Street.

Behind him the mob charged in pursuit.

In front of him, at the end of the road, another chanting throng began to form.

Between the two was Benita’s store.

CHAPTER

THREE

Damien burst into Benita’s shop, panting, sweat and fear covering his face.

Benita jolted upright at the checkout counter.

Do you have a back door to this place? he asked.

Why-

Raquel! Damien interrupted.

Raquel appeared from one of the aisles, holding up a pair of miniature socks.

How cute are these? she said.

We have to go. Now. All of us.

Why? What’s wrong?

A wave of grumbling approached the store like a thunderstorm. Slow. Steady. Menacing.

Mama, they’re coming, Billy cried. They’re coming!

His little finger pointed toward the front plate glass window as it shattered, shards raining on him like razor-sharp snowflakes.

Damien rushed toward him, his shoes sliding across the scattered glass like ice. A garbage can flew inside and crashed right next to the little boy, debris falling around him.

Damien slid in and scooped the boy up just as a tire iron spun by their heads and stuck into the chest of a mannequin.

That was close, Damien breathed, his heart galloping as he carried the crying child away from the chaos.

Outside, yelling and chanting overwhelmed Benita’s screams. A growing mob suddenly flowed into the store like a storm surge, rushing through the aisles, grabbing and stealing whatever they could.

Get out of my store, Benita shrieked. Get out!

She beat on the back of one of the looters. It was a young man, maybe a teenager, his arms locked around a new baby stroller.

Put that down, she shouted. That’s not yours. Put it down.

The teen rocked his elbow back and struck her in the head, knocking her off her feet. She spilled through a display of shoes before landing awkwardly on the floor.

Damien handed Billy to Raquel. Get out of sight, he ordered.

We’re going to be okay, right? Raquel asked, her hand covering her round belly.

Go, he said, nudging her to the rear of the store. Hurry.

This was day twenty-one on the job. There were more thieves in the store than traffic tickets ripped from his citation book.

Damien yelled into his radio, 10-24! Officer needs assistance at Benita’s Baby Shop, 1754 Main Street. We have looters in the store and an angry mob outside. Get the riot team down here, now!

Damien had two defenses at his disposal, a taser and his pistol. The taser had one shot. His pistol, eighteen.

He unholstered his Glock, trying to grip it firmly in his shaking hand.

This is the police, he called. Everyone put the merchandise down and leave the store. Now!

The looters paused. One laughed. Others shrugged. The rest continued as if he were invisible, dismantling the shop like rabid dogs fighting for scraps.

Damien seethed at his impotence.

There were more looters than bullets, and he wasn’t about to kill anyone over pink onesies. He shifted from peacekeeper to protector, hurrying over to help Benita to her feet.

They’re taking everything, she cried. They’re stealing my life. I can’t stand by and do nothing.

Damien moved between her and the crowd.

The floodgates are open, Benita, he said. We can’t stop them now. We have to find cover.

He shuffled backward, shielding her as they maneuvered to the far corner of the store. Once there, they ducked into a small bathroom where Raquel and Billy already hid.

Did you call it in? Raquel asked.

Yeah, Damien said. There’s a lot of shit happening out there. It’ll take a while before they get to us.

Damien closed the door of the small room, his gun poised in case someone came after them.

You’re not rook-it, Billy said with wide eyes, staring at the gun. You’re a good guy.

Benita began to cry, her tears streaming down her cheeks like twin waterfalls. The lovable woman with an infectious smile had descended into a grieving heap.

Three hours, she said, clutching Billy. I was going to sign my insurance papers tonight after we closed. Three hours from now. Three hours…

Damien’s heart sank, helplessness welling up within him. Benita’s life was being stolen by both strangers and neighbors, who picked at the bones of her store like vultures on a corpse. Years of her sacrifices and struggles gone in seconds, and Damien could do nothing to stop it.

Raquel’s hand slid around his bicep and squeezed. They shared a glance, and it seemed as if she could sense his despair.

You got this, she said.

Her words and tone flooded him with memories. She’d said the same thing to him the first time they met.

Nine years earlier.

Damien sat at a high top near the coffee stand of the bookstore. He felt nervous, but tried to look bored. The first time he met his tutor he couldn’t appear too eager.

Being a high-school dropout had expectations. Bad boys. Troublemakers. Geniuses. They were the ones who ditched high school for the real world.

He wasn’t any one of those.

Still, he didn’t want it to appear he’d made a mistake. That would make him look foolish. He’d offer resistance to the idea of getting the equivalent of a high school degree. Play it as something he was doing because he had the free time, not because his job at the bookstore had become as stale as his dreams.

Besides, women liked a strong man.

Damien wasn’t one of those either.

The woman on the end of the phone call sounded enthusiastic. He didn’t catch her name. The signal stuttered when she spoke it. Yet, her hand written sign posted on the cork board near the bookstore time clock told Damien enough.

She was still in high school. Her writing was crisp and big, with rounded letters penned by a happy hand. Plus, she’d turned the O in TUTOR into a smiley face.

Hayeston was a one high school town and he knew most of the women who would offer a helping hand to those in need.

He didn’t want her pity. He needed direction, a rudder to help guide him. He’d do the work. He did it before he dropped out in the middle of his junior year. That wasn’t the issue.

He’d grown bored in school.

Now he’d become bored at the bookstore.

The electronic bell above the glass door chimed. Damien nearly hopped in his seat, then slouched back down. Dropouts rejected class bells. He’d ignore that one too.

He spotted his reflection in the opened glass door.

He looked like a punk.

He was better than that.

He straightened and put his hands on the table. Being a dropout didn’t mean he couldn’t be a gentleman.

Behind the closing glass door was a smiling face Damien recognized.

Raquel Domingo.

Damien’s mouth grew as arid as a desert.

She bounced as she walked, her ponytail swaying behind her as she approached.

Damien felt like he was about to melt.

She held out her hand.

I’m Raquel. It’s nice to see you again.

Words fumbled in his thoughts and lost their way to his mouth.

We were in that one class together, she said. Remember?

He nodded.

I can’t wait to see you get your GED.

She sat across the table from him, her heavy backpack shaking the table as it landed. She slid out a folder with a number of papers, mostly handwritten.

She gave him an update on what he had missed since he quit school, then explained his study plan.

Damien couldn’t hear her. Her intoxicating eyes drew him in and the rest of his senses took the afternoon off. He wanted to fall into her beauty, but tried not to stare too intently.

Sound good? she asked.

Yeah… Damien said, his tongue desperate for moisture.

Where do you want to be in five years? she continued. It was a rhetorical question. That was fine with him. The speech center of his brain was losing a battle with his hormones anyway.

Slowly, her certainty about his future started to become his own and his dream of a hopeful life felt possible once again.

He sipped his hot chocolate, gazed into her eyes, offered a few nods here and there, and listened to her soothing voice.

Before he knew it, this bad boy troublemaker genius had been replaced with a smiling, excited teen.

Whatever her hourly rate, he was willing to pay it.

As their first session wrapped up, she grabbed his hand and said, You got this.

He looked down.

She touched my hand.

He lost his breath.

You got this, she repeated.

Damien could only nod one last time.

She gathered her backpack, then gave him a wink.

From that day forward, he’d known he’d follow her anywhere.

Today, that path led him into the bathroom in the back corner of Benita’s shop.

Unlike their first meeting, Raquel was petrified. Damien, too, but he couldn’t show it. Cops were supposed to be the calm amidst the storm.

The chaos on the other side of the bathroom door sounded like a tornado touching down. Waves and waves of grumbling and destruction shook the walls, the feet of thieves stomping through the store vibrating the wooden floor as they trampled Benita’s dreams.

Damien was on his own.

One badge, one gun, one radio waiting on his calls for backup.

In the end, he had but one choice. Wait it out. Stay out of sight. If he did that, they might get out of this alive.

Billy started to squirm in Benita’s arms. His eyes darted side to side, his breathing shallow and quick.

What’s wrong with him? Damien asked.

He doesn’t do well in small spaces, Benita said.

Four people stuck in a fifty-square-foot bathroom was a tight fit.

Mama, I wanna go now, Billy said. I wanna go outside.

Not now, baby. There are bad men out there. We can’t leave just yet.

But he’s got a gun, and he’s a good guy, Billy whined, pointing at Damien. He’s not rook-it. He can stop the bad guys. That’s what good guys do.

Damien felt his chest tighten, avoiding the young boy’s eyes.

I’m scared, and I want to go home, Billy said, reaching out and grabbing Damien’s hand. You can stop the bad men from hurting us. We could walk right out there and they’d leave us alone, because they’d see you’re a cop with a gun and you mean business. Right? Because I want to go home. I’m a big boy, but I’m a little afraid and you can protect me.

Damien mustered the strength to look up.

"I am protecting you," Damien said.

But I have to leave now. I have to go home.

Billy squirmed from Benita’s arms. Damien caught him as he reached for the doorknob.

I have to go, Billy wailed.

Okay, okay, Damien said. We’ll go. You and me.

Really?

Yes.

Damien, Raquel scolded.

He’s right, Damien said. It’s my job. We’re all going, okay?

We share the loading dock with the grocery store next door, Benita said, pointing. We could get out that way.

Okay. Everyone, follow behind me and stay close.

Will you hold my hand? Billy asked.

Sure, he said as Billy’s little palm slid into his. We have to move quick. We’ll escape through the loading dock, then try to get to my cruiser if it’s not in flames by now.

We could use our minivan, Raquel said. It’s closer.

Good idea, Damien said, glancing at everyone. We’ll do that. Ready?

They all nodded.

Here we go.

He turned the round knob and slid the door open a crack, waiting.

What’s wrong? Raquel asked.

It’s quiet.

Are they gone? Benita asked. Are those bastards gone?

I can go home, Billy said, escaping Damien’s grip and running into the store.

Benita followed after him.

Wait, Damien said, rushing out and hopping over metal skeletons of clothing racks strewn about the floor.

There was nothing left. Every shelf, every display, had been picked clean.

In the center of the destruction, flanked on either side by four armed thugs, stood a tall man with olive skin and long hair. A wide scar traveled around his right arm like a python choking its prey.

The scarred man’s hands were empty.

He wasn’t there to steal.

CHAPTER

FOUR

A smirk formed on the scarred man’s lips, like a lion who had cornered its prey.

The armed thugs around him remained emotionless, staring straight ahead, waiting. They weren’t gang bangers. Their pistols were holstered, not stuffed into their pants or bulging from their pockets. Damien counted two Glocks, a Luger, and a Taurus. Another held a Remington shotgun.

The scarred man was unarmed.

I heard a bluebird was in here, the scarred man said. A bluebird with a tin badge, hiding like a coward.

The first to talk. The leader. He wasn’t local. His speech pattern told Damien as much. Neither were his thugs. They didn’t look familiar, except one with a large tattoo on the side of his neck.

Damien attempted to lower the temperature in the room.

It seems you just missed out on the sale, he said. But maybe Benita will give you a rain check before you leave.

Oh, we’re not going anywhere, Scarman said. Our day is just beginning.

Are you and your boys running the show? Benita asked. You’re responsible for destroying my store?

You can leave, sister. I have no quarrel with you.

She covered Billy’s ears. Well, I got one serious issue with you, you sonofabitch. Who do you think you are, giving me permission to leave my own store? You and I are gonna have words. More than words. I’m gonna kick your ass.

She tried to strike Scarman, but one of his thugs snatched her hand in mid-slap.

You think you scare me? she asked.

Benita, stop, Damien said, pulling her and Billy back. This isn’t going to help.

Watching ‘em bleed on my floor will make me feel all kinds of wonderful.

Listen to the bluebird, sister, Scarman said. Before you do something you’ll regret.

Son, I haven’t even started, she said.

Damien may have had the law and a gun on his side, but he knew the man standing between the thugs was in charge.

What do you want? Damien asked.

I want the world to burn, Scarman said. But Hayeston will do for now.

Damien glanced at the side exit leading toward the loading dock. Two more thugs and an avalanche of toppled shelves stood between him and freedom.

You assholes destroyed my life, Benita said.

Collateral damage, sister, Scarman said. And for that, I’m sorry, but a life was taken today, less than two miles from here. Did you know that? An innocent life lost at the hands of a corrupt bluebird, like this one.

Damien thought of Ted and wondered if he’d escaped unharmed.

The victim was unarmed, Scarman said. Illegally stopped with a bogus traffic violation. When he got out of his car, the bluebird put him down like a rabid dog. No warning. A single shot to the chest. Just like target practice.

That’s bullshit and you know it, Damien said. The guy had a knife in his hand. I saw it myself.

So you say, Scarman replied. You’re bullies with badges. How long did you expect this oppression to go unchallenged? Your uniform is no better than the white sheets of the Klan.

The scarred man was the rambling voice of a revolution Damien sensed was coming.

My wife is Puerto Rican, Damien said. My best friend, a fellow officer, is black. And I’m trying to protect what is left of Benita and her son’s future. The only bigot here is you, judging me by the color of my uniform.

Don’t lecture me, Scarman said. You have no authority here. He pointed at the shattered front window and inhaled the gas fumes drifting into the store. Do you smell that? Change is in the air. You can see it, hear it. They have spoken with their voices and their fists. They’re screaming for justice and I’m going to deliver it to them.

At what cost? Damien asked.

At any cost, Scarman said.

As if activated by Scarman’s thoughts, two of his men approached, their hands clenched into fists and their muscles taught.

Damien’s instincts told him to unholster his weapon and fire. A couple of muzzle flashes, the smell of gunpowder, and it would all be over. The chants outside could drown out the shots. He could end this right here, but by doing so, could lose his badge. Maybe even his freedom. In the fog of the riots, he may be able to justify his actions, but even though the threat was real, it wasn’t yet imminent.

He had to live up to the uniform.

You’ve already taken Benita’s future, Damien said. How many more casualties do you want?

Scarman smirked, his eyes boring into Damien like a laser.

Just one.

Movement drew Damien’s attention to his right where a thug shoved Raquel into the room. She stumbled over an overturned shopping cart and fell into Damien’s arms. He caught her, one hand cupping her belly.

Are you okay? he asked.

Yeah, she said, panting.

And who have we here? Scarman asked. A mother-to-be with a little blue bird in the oven? How sweet.

Scarman’s face was hardened by old wounds. Damien spotted a faint, thin scar near his right eye. His nose, though straight, had been broken. On his neck were a number of small, circular burn marks long since healed, perhaps from a cigarette or cigar. His strong jaw was slightly misshapen by bones that appeared to have healed outside the care of a hospital. Brutality, as a recipient or a donor, must have filled his life.

She has nothing to do with this, Damien said. None of them do. Your problem is with me.

I want to agree with you, Scarman said with a sigh. But new, beautiful pieces have been added to our game, he said, glancing at Raquel. We can’t ignore that, any more than we can ignore your crimes. You see, today is the day everything changes. The country will look back on your little town and remember this is where it all started, the epicenter of a movement that will change the world.

With you as its leader? Damien asked.

Me? No. I’m a soldier, not a general. I do what needs to be done. You could say I have taken an oath to the cause. Like the one you took as a keeper of the peace.

I knew what I signed up for, Damien said.

Did you? You knew you’d have days like this?

No, but I knew there were people like you.

Really? Scarman asked. Poor little man, all dressed up with nowhere to go. The pride of the bluebirds. Ready to do whatever it takes.

Damien’s fingers caressed his pistol grip.

I have a few ideas, he said.

CHAPTER

FIVE

Damien eyed Scarman and his men more closely. Their calm spoke volumes.

None of the chaos surprised them. They had lived through this experience before. It was as if protests and violence were their calling cards. This was their story, today being retold in a different town with new actors, but only Scarman and his men knew how this tale was going to end.

Damien had run out of peaceful options. If Ted’s gunfire started this mess, maybe Damien’s could finish it.

It would be the bravest or dumbest thing he would ever do.

Once the bullets started flying, the few moments of shock might give Raquel and Benita the distraction they needed to escape.

It was now or never. It was time to follow his instincts.

Damien unclipped the holster strap over his Glock.

He slid his fingers around the grip.

He examined each face, the position of each target, and planned his order of fire.

As his hand tightened, he felt the cold sensation of a pistol barrel pressed against the back of his neck. He didn’t have to turn around to know another hidden thug had circled behind him.

Shit, he said.

Damien carefully lifted his hand off his gun, then held out his arms.

The hidden thug removed his sidearm and taser, stuffing the pistol behind his belt and tossing the taser to Scarman.

Look, Damien said. We’re all just people here. We don’t want trouble.

But you have it, Scarman said. Today’s victims want justice and revenge. They will look to someone who feels their pain and isn’t constricted by laws. Someone who is willing to do whatever is required to reconcile their loss. Someone like me.

And what is required? Damien asked.

For someone to pay the price. A symbol. Their enemy. A punishment equal to the crime. An eye for an eye, as it were.

Fine, it’s a deal, Damien said. I’ll stay. Let the rest go.

No, Damien, Raquel said. They’ll kill you.

I’ll be fine. He kissed her on the cheek, then whispered into her ear. I’ll see you and the baby later. Now go, before they change their mind.

Raquel’s hand tightened around Damien’s.

He loved her touch. Her fingers were magic. They were long and feminine, a model’s hands.

Hold on here, Benita said as she lifted Billy into her arms. You think I’m gonna skedaddle while you all beat on this man? Or worse? What kind of a monster are you?

An impatient one, Scarman said. You’ve suffered for the cause and I appreciate your loss, but don’t try me. I’m prepared to do whatever it takes, to whoever it takes, to make my point.

Scarman aimed the taser.

Two metal probes darted from its bottom, flying across the room and lodging directly into Damien’s chest. Fifty-thousand volts jolted through him. He collapsed to the ground, his body spasming in a violent seizure.

It felt like being hit with a baseball bat while being paralyzed and electrocuted at the same time.

No! Raquel screamed.

Scarman turned to Benita.

Get out, sister, he said. Before you and your boy become one more point I need to make.

Benita paused and focused on Damien, her chin quivering.

I’m sorry, she said as she rushed out of the store clutching Billy on her hip. I’m so sorry.

Raquel rushed over to Scarman, trying to pry the taser from his hands.

Stop it, she said. Leave my husband alone.

He raised his hand, palm flat, and struck her across the face.

Raquel tumbled onto the floor, protecting her stomach as she fell. She landed next to Damien, her face resting opposite his, her eyes wide and terrified.

L-L-L-L-Leave, Damien said through gritted teeth. P-P-P-Please.

I can’t, she said. I can’t leave you alone with them.

Pain and electricity surged through Damien as tears started to well, his body quivering uncontrollably with powerful volts. With trembling hands, he reached out and touched her stomach.

P-P-P-Please… he said. F-f-for h-h-h-h-her…

Scarman released the taser button and the pain ceased, but Damien’s body continued to spasm with aftershocks.

I-I-I said I would stay, Damien said to Scarman, the metal probes still embedded in his chest. Let my wife go. Please.

I’m not the one making her stay, Scarman said.

What do you want from us? Raquel said.

To put it bluntly, I want your husband to die. No. For both of you to die.

You’re a pig, Raquel said as she struggled to sit up.

I’m not a pig, Mrs. Bluebird, Scarman said, circling around them like a vulture. I’m an opportunist. My world will welcome the downtrodden and the poor, the outcast and the angry. Division will be erased. The classes, leveled. It will be a wonderful place to live for those who understand our vision. Sadly, there is no place for you or your kind.

He motioned to his thugs.

No guns, Scarman said. Bullets are like fingerprints. They can be traced.

His men holstered their weapons, instead sliding on leather gloves.

In my world, collateral damage is not only a byproduct of our work, it’s encouraged.

Fifty thousand volts again surged through Damien’s body. Every muscle convulsed as the thugs surrounded him and Raquel, their shadows covering them in darkness.

Raquel laid over her trembling husband, shielding him, and he could feel her love through his pain.

Fighting uncontrollable seizures, Damien lifted his hand and placed it on her bulging belly, cupping his hand over hers, begging, even praying to a God he wasn’t sure was there, that baby Nicole would be spared from whatever was about to unfold.

Raquel’s and Damien’s eyes met, their fear replaced with a lifetime of love they’d never get to live.

We got this, she whispered through her tears.

I-I-I lo-love you, he said as a flurry of blows battered them on all sides.

Feet and fists pummeled. Pain and anguish. Fear and sorrow. Helplessness that he couldn’t save the two people he loved most in this world. The two he’d sworn to always protect.

He tasted his own blood. Felt his ribs breaking. Heard his air violently expelled from his lungs.

Even though his body was being pulverized into bruises and blood, he kept his eyes locked on Raquel’s.

They were supposed to have a life together, raising their children on his modest income, growing old, with a lifetime for him to gaze upon her beautiful eyes.

He’d never hear his baby’s laugh. He’d never feel his wife’s touch again. A life of possibilities stomped out by heartless extremists, one kick, one knee, one bloody fist at a time.

A hard boot swiped across Raquel’s face, knocking her unconscious. Blood trickled from her nose and mouth. Her body fell limp. Defenseless.

The volts continued to surge through Damien.

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t stop them. He couldn’t save her.

They were going to die.

All the decisions of his life, every second, every choice, led to this one moment. This was it. There were no more tomorrows.

A crushing blow rocked his head, turning light and pain to darkness.

CHAPTER

SIX

Baby, time to wake up, Raquel’s voice whispered in Damien’s ear. C’mon. Up and at ‘em.

Damien groaned. His body felt like a discarded punching bag. Even his eyelids hurt. He kept them closed.

Where was he? Still in the store? In an ambulance? Hospital? He couldn’t tell. Pain overwhelmed his senses.

Raquel… he said, his mouth dry. His tongue wouldn’t work. His throat felt like sandpaper. Agony rippled through his body with each breath. He felt swollen and broken.

Raquel… he said again. Or had he? Was he speaking out loud or was it all in his head?

Raquel, he grunted.

He’s awake, a voice said. It was deep, authoritative. Someone he’d didn’t know.

Swirls of disconnected memories replayed in Damien’s mind. Raquel. Protecting his baby. Scarman. Billy and Benita running. Punches. Kicks. The sadistic joy of their attackers. It was coming back in pieces. Out of sequence. Pain. Sadness. Helplessness. An incomplete story, its words and images jumbled.

Mr. Hill, the deep voice said, interrupting his flashbacks. Mr. Hill, can you hear me?

Damien’s hearing rose above the pain. There were other voices. Other sounds. Beeps. Whirs.

His body shifted. Agony surged through him like lightning.

The sounds disappeared.

Damien? Raquel whispered. I know you can hear me.

He couldn’t move. The world was still dark. His body felt numb. No more pain. No sore muscles or broken bones. There was a stillness. A peace. His eyes wouldn’t open. His arms ignored his commands. He felt his lungs inhale and exhale. He was breathing. He was alive.

Or was he? Was he dead? Was this hell? Limbo? Purgatory?

It surely wasn’t heaven. If so, infinite blackness didn’t live up to its hype.

Damien felt like he was floating in a universe devoid of stars. No direction. No up or down or forward or backward. No gravity or pull. He sensed no movement. He sensed nothing but her voice.

Raquel’s voice.

It was enough.

You’re getting better, babe, she said. You’re a fighter. Getting stronger every day. You’ll need it. You’ve been through a lot. Still have a long way to go, but I know you won’t give up. It’s not your style.

Time was lost on Damien. How long had it been? Long enough for scars to heal? For bones to mend?

I know I say it every time I’m with you, she said. But I’m so proud of you. I know you think you should have done more that horrible day, but we did the best we could. Don’t worry, baby. We’ll make it. Together.

Her words felt like a cool breeze across his burning guilt.

And our baby, Damien, she said. You were right. It was baby Nicholas after all. He’s so handsome. Looks just like you, in a small, lovable package with big, kissable cheeks. He has my mami’s nose, which I know you won’t be too happy about, but other than that, he’s all you. He’s such a happy baby. Not a care in the world. He’s got a mischievous streak in him, too, and when he laughs, I hear you. I think he’ll have your strength and gentleness. I wish you could see him. I miss you, babe. I miss your lips. I miss the way you find me beautiful no matter how I look. Most of all, I miss hearing you say that you love me.

The pain was back, but muted. Dull and relentless.

The world was louder somehow, yet missing Raquel’s voice.

Noises. Shuffling. Machines. Murmurs.

His senses rose in him like a slow tide, soft aches and pains washing through him in consistent waves. He could feel the rough linens covering his hands. He could hear his breath flowing through his nostrils. The room was dry and cool. Air conditioned.

Scents lifted through the air. Hand soaps, industrial strength. Alcohol wipes. Latex. The smell of plastic penetrating each breath.

When he lifted his hand to his nose, he felt an oxygen cannula pressed into each nostril, its thin hose wrapping over his cheeks and behind his ears, disappearing beneath him somewhere.

He pried his eyelids open, the sting of light blinding him. Seconds later, it faded into the sterile colors of a hospital room. At Damien’s feet stood a short, stout nurse with gray-streaked brown hair. She was humming a song that echoed from Damien’s youth. He couldn’t place it, but it was comforting. Her head bopped to the beat drumming in her mind. She appeared to be in her own world, and he was reluctant to interrupt her.

Damien’s mouth was dry, his tongue enlarged, and his saliva felt like paste. He wanted a drink. Any kind would do.

He tried to speak. A gravelly gasp escaped his mouth.

The happy nurse’s head stopped mid-bop and jerked up, her eyes widening at the sight of him.

Holy shit! she said, then rushed from the room.

CHAPTER

SEVEN

Doctors liked to use big words. They seemed comfortable with them, like they allowed them to distance themselves from the suffering they faced every day. Made sense. Had to compensate somehow.

Damien had faced plenty of pain. A lot of bones broken, from his skull to his feet. The nurse said his x-rays looked like fractured glass. The doctors were forced to place him in a chemically induced coma until his brain swelling diminished.

He was weak. Muscles atrophied. Now hypersensitive, loud noises pierced his head like hot needles.

The doctors said it was normal, all things considered.

That wasn’t comforting.

Damien had been asking for his wife and son since he awoke, but was told he was hit with the MERSA virus while in his coma. He was near the end of their isolation protocol, but still had two more days under quarantine.

Forty-eight hours until he could feel Raquel’s lips against his own. It would be an eternity.

The door to his room opened. A gowned man stood in the doorway. Familiar blue eyes stared at him. Through the thin hospital gown, Damien spotted the man’s black clothes and white collar.

No priests allowed, Damien said, trying to smile. It means I’m either dying or about to be bored to death.

Jacob laughed. Good to see your humor has returned with you. When I heard you had come back from the dead, I had to see it for myself.

You doubted me? A Doubting Thomas? What has happened to your faith, little brother?

My faith remains steadfast, he said. After all, here you are.

My recovery is because of your faith? I doubt that.

You would, Jacob said with a laugh. You know, I prayed for this moment. Now, having heard your unappreciative sarcasm, I’m beginning to have second thoughts.

Faith and second thoughts? Damien asked. Now you’ve caught up to me.

Jacob winced, obviously a familiar subject.

For someone who was so close to death, Jacob said, I’m surprised you haven’t reconsidered the spiritual side of—

Let’s not start again, Damien said, holding up a weary hand. Please. I’m too tired for another theological debate.

Fine, Jacob said. But I’ll keep praying for you, just the same.

Go for it. Break a leg. No, wait, I did that already.

I’d hug you, but I’ve been told by a very formidable nurse that no one is allowed to come into contact with you until after the quarantine. I’m lucky to have been able to come in as it is.

That’s okay, Damien said. I’d probably break into a million pieces. He glanced out of the small window at the end of the room. Blue sky. High clouds. No trees could be seen from his floor. No indication as to the season or the time.

How long have I been out? Damien asked.

Long time, Jacob said. It was touch and go for a while. They asked if they should pull the plug, but I couldn’t do it. You had too much life ahead of you. I was certain of it.

Damien tried to slide up in the bed, but his arms trembled as he struggled to lift his weight. Shit, he said, flopping back onto his pillow.

Don’t rush it, Jacob said.

How are Raquel and Nicholas? Damien asked. I heard her voice while I was under. She talked to me every day, so I’m assuming I got the worst of it.

Damien… Jacob started. He dropped his gaze and licked his lips, his face growing as pale as his collar.

Damien lost his breath. Licking his lips, that was what Jacob did when delivering bad news. He’d seen it when Jacob told him their father had passed away and when they discussed putting their mother in a nursing home.

Nothing good ever came from Jacob’s freshly wetted lips.

Damien… Jacob said again.

No, Damien interrupted, fearing the answer.

Your wife and baby… they didn’t make it.

No. That’s impossible. She talked to me when I was unconscious. I heard her. We have a baby boy. Nicholas. He looks just like me, she said, well, except for the nose. She was going to wait for me. She said we’d be together eventually…

His voice trailed off as he replayed her words in his mind. They were cloudy now and certainty left him. Could it be true? Was he the only one to survive? He had taken a lot of blows. Perhaps his memory was unreliable or the chemicals that forced him under concocted an imaginary companion to lead him through his recovery.

He shook off his doubt. No. He had heard her voice. Had felt her touch. He probed his mind further, remembering the faint sound of his baby boy’s laugh. They were more than just a memory or a fantasy. They were real. Alive. Both of them.

No, Damien repeated. I don’t believe you. Forcing his legs over the side of the bed, he willed his weak arms to lift him to a sitting position. If they’re dead, I want to see their bodies… I mean, her body, he said. I want to see it with my own eyes.

Medical alarms screeched as he started removing the sensors attached to his body.

Damien, Jacob said. Their bodies aren’t here.

Where are they?

They were buried. Three weeks ago. In a plot next to Dad.

Damien froze, Jacob’s words hanging in the air between them.

You buried my wife and son without me? Damien asked, staring dumbstruck at his brother.

It couldn’t wait any longer… her body was starting to… her family demanded… it couldn’t wait.

Damien trembled with sorrow as gowned nurses rushed into the room.

Mr. Hill, you must lay down. You cannot leave this room, not until—

"I want to see my wife, he screamed. I don’t care if I infect the entire hospital. I want to see my wife. I want to see her face. I want to hear…"

He struggled to breathe, his lungs gasping for air. The room began to spin and he collapsed onto the bed, tears forcing their way to the surface. The hope of his wife and son waiting for him on the other side of the darkness had faded.

I need to see her… and my boy, he mumbled. I need her…

The saying time heals all wounds was a joke. Damien wasn’t buying it. Days and months hadn’t dulled the pain. He was certain they never would.

Today was the first time he’d been allowed outside on his own without a hospital leash. No more physical therapist. No more generalist. Or surgeons. Or psychologists. No more crutches or canes. No more pain medication.

No more.

He’d had enough.

Whatever aches lingered, he welcomed. It fueled him, giving him the strength to wake up each morning in an empty bed.

Life was going to be harder. Everything once stable was now fluid, including his career. He’d wanted to be a police officer since he was a teen, but now he wasn’t sure if he could ever wear the uniform again. His reflection would force him to revisit Benita’s store.

He was left with a conundrum.

He was still breathing, still living, but he couldn’t exist in the vacuum of loss forever. Eventually, he’d have to find a new reason to get out of bed.

The large hill on which his wife and child were buried was a challenge for him. His once-toned legs started to quiver halfway up the modest incline. His breathing was quick and shallow, panting like a dog on a hot summer afternoon. Damien had never been this frail in his life. A stiff wind could crush him.

He hadn’t been to the cemetery since his father was laid to rest. Damien didn’t see the point. If his brother was right, his dad’s soul was either with angels or demons. Most likely, the latter.

Under the dirt was just a rotting corpse. No need to stop by and chat, especially with him.

But, this was different. Everything was now.

He needed to see where his wife and son were laid to rest for himself. He had so much he wanted to say, so many conversations that were left unsaid. Most of all, he needed to say goodbye, or at least try.

With a few more heavy steps, he reached the top of the hill, the veins in his neck throbbing with each heartbeat. As he caught his breath, he gazed across the well-manicured grounds and wondered how many tears had fed the grass below the myriad of granite tombstones.

To Damien’s surprise, Raquel and Nicholas were not alone. A tall figure stood in front of their new headstone. He was holding a large bouquet of flowers.

CHAPTER

EIGHT

Damien recognized the man standing at his wife’s grave. Ted was nearly six-four, with long arms. His natural height and strength had suited him well on the high school basketball team, and it made him an imposing figure in his crisp uniform and police cap.

Ted’s head was drooped forward, his nose dipped into the flowers as if he were taking a long inhale. He then placed the flowers on the grave, took off his hat, and bowed his head in a short silent prayer.

Damien wasn’t prepared for a conversation, not with the living, but to do nothing would communicate even more.

Been avoiding me? Damien asked.

His voice startled Ted. His friend straightened as if he were back in the academy, standing at attention.

At ease, soldier, Damien said.

Sorry, Ted said.

Four months I was stuck in that hospital. Not one visit from my best friend.

I’m sorry about that. I was here most days.

Praying to grass and granite?

Paying my respects. Asking for her forgiveness. I’m the reason she’s here. It was my shot that started it all. My decision to fire.

It was a justified shooting, Damien said. The man was a gangbanger with a knife, had long record with an outstanding arrest warrant.

The police commission is officially determining my culpability. I expect an announcement any day now.

They’ll rule in your favor.

Doesn’t matter. I know what I did. I saw the cost to you, Raquel, and your baby.

Is that why you’ve been hiding from me? You think I blame you? I saw the man who put my wife and son here, and he was a lot uglier than you. That’s the sonofabitch you should be angry with.

Ted finally showed enough courage to look Damien in the eye.

I’m so sorry, Ted said.

No need.

Please, don’t dismiss me like that.

I forgive you. Is that what you need to hear? Fine. Consider it done.

Damien knew it wasn’t enough, but he had nothing else to offer.

Look, he continued, I don’t need you beating yourself up. I need your help finding the man who ordered my wife’s death.

You’re coming back to the force? Ted asked.

I haven’t decided. I’ve been waiting for a tipping point one way or the other.

I understand. I don’t know if I can do it anymore. Not after—

Stop it, Damien said. You can’t quit. Not you. You’re the one who was going to fix the police force, remember? Lead by example. If you leave, you’ll be telling Hayeston you were a dirty cop who shot an innocent man. Is that what you want? Is that what you think Raquel would want?

Ted remained stoic.

You quit now and you’ll never get past this, Damien continued. One of us has to be strong, Ted, and it can’t be me. Not right now. The only way we get out from under this, both of us, is to hunt that scarred bastard down, put him on death row, and watch them put a needle in his arm.

That could take a while, Ted said.

I’ve got nothing else to do.

Damien watched his friend’s gaze as it returned to Raquel and Nicholas’ tombstone.

Ted, I’ll make a deal with you. If you stay on the force, I’ll come back and we’ll finish this. Together.

It won’t be easy. Your guy… he’s a ghost. Vanished. That day of the shooting, things were crazy. More crime than we had cops and more criminals than we had jail space. By the time we found you and Raquel in the store… and then tracked down the store’s owner—

Benita, Damien said. Are she and Billy okay?

"Yeah. They got caught in a wave of people outside