Blood Vengeance

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE

Days later, and the entire SPEAR team, or what remained of it, were finally back together.

Drake perched on the wide lip of a windowsill in the Presidential Suite of the Hotel Dillion, at the heart of what was now a slowly recovering city. The view of the White House behind him was spectacular, but he didn’t have the energy to even register it, let alone turn around and endure the jabbing pains of a thousand new bruises just to look at it.

Kovalenko was dead, at last. So were his horrifying lieutenants, Mordant and Gabriel. The world had shifted again, back into the safe zone, at least for now. The only two members of the Blood King’s team who hadn’t been picked up were the rogue Secret Service agent, Marnich, and the cyber-geek, SaBo. It was assumed Kovalenko had paid the men off long before arriving at Death Valley. The hunt for Marnich and SaBo would be intensive to say the least.

Drake’s friends, his co-workers, but most important of all — his family — were spread out all around him. They were picking and grazing at the spread that all but covered an immense table and even part of the floor. They were knocking back shots, mixing cocktails, brewing coffee. A crate of Mountain Dew sat near the door, a sight that somehow sadly brought the murder of Ben Blake nearer to the center point of Drake’s mind. The entire group was convalescing, recovering, grieving, readjusting. If there was laughter it was subdued.

President Coburn had called personally to assure them that the SPEAR agency would not be axed; that it would remain safe for now at least until the next Secretary of Defense took up his post, and even then the President vowed to ‘strongly recommend’ that it stayed. Their track record was exemplary, and without peer, even before they had saved the President’s life.

But it would never be the same.

Alicia caught Drake’s eye first. Considering all she’d been through, she looked fresh and clean. But no soap or fountain of water, no cleansing of the soul, would ever take away the horror of what had been done to her and her new friends. Laid-Back Lex complained about the freshness of a peach, Dirty Sarah and Whipper whispered about splitting the fruit in half with the latter’s weapon of choice — the closer to Lex’s mouth the better. Trace, Ribeye and Knuckler tucked into a hearty liquid lunch. Alicia sat among them, watching them and watching Drake. Will I ever be able to move on? It seems the scars of my life will hound and restrain me forever.

Komodo and Karin held on to each other as if this was their last night on earth. Karin would have to return to the UK soon for her family’s funerals, but had insisted that she would return on the first flight. Her family was here now. It was Komodo, and it was SPEAR.

Dahl’s family were on their way to the States. Drake was looking forward to meeting them, and perhaps ribbing Dahl a little about his wife. Smyth was little different, but had proved himself an invaluable member of the team. He missed his buddy Romero every single day.

Next Drake’s eye switched to Mano Kinimaka. The big Hawaiian had lost so much in the last few days, sacrificed a great deal of what he loved to the Blood King’s insanity. The road back would be a long and dark one for him, but he was a strong man, a strong personality, and about as big as Mount Whitney. He met Drake’s gaze, sad, melancholy…

… hopeful.

Hayden lay beside him on the sofa, using it as a makeshift hospital bed, alive and recovering from her wounds and recent surgeries. It would take a while, but the boss of the SPEAR team was expected to make a full recovery. Drake’s heart had lifted on wings of eagles when he had heard. It was like seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, and a kind of vindication that all they had done was justified.

Also beside Mano, and keeping to themselves for now, were Lauren Fox, Yorgi and Sarah Moxley. Their parts were yet to come, it seemed, but there was no doubt they would be called upon. And on that day they would earn their wings or they would flee; or die.

And finally, there was Mai. Seated beside the bruised and battered woman was a figure who could easily have been a younger version of herself. Mai had said her name was Grace, and that she needed help. That was all for now. And it was enough. The rest would come later.

Drake had already heard part of the story about the Tokyo Game Show and the Coscon. He had read part of what had happened on the Internet. The Yakuza boss had first been seduced, tricked, and then persuaded to fake his own death. And all for a pretty face and a lethal high-kick. Already another legend in the making.

He hugged her close and buried his face in her neck. The scent of her was breathtaking. “No matter what,” he murmured for her ears alone. “No matter what happens tomorrow, or next week, or next year. I will always love you. I always have.”

“So you two are together?” Grace blurted. “That’s awesome! Sorry, I wasn’t really listening. It’s just my ears. They were trained by ninjas!” She burst out laughing and threw her head back, showing teeth.

Drake made a face at Mai. “Can we handle her?”

“Ach. Just imagine it’s Alicia without the sluttiness.”

Drake laughed.

Alicia poked her head above shoulder level. “I heard that, little Sprite.”

“Oh, I know. Taz!”

Alicia was up on her feet in an instant. “Who told you about that?” She glared hard at the bikers. “C’mon, which one of you leatherheads is gonna take a beating?”

Trace, the youngest, gave her a sad smile. “I think it was Lomas.”

Alicia deflated immediately. Drake took in the mood of the group and followed his heart. He stood up, lifting a half-full can of soda.

“A salute,” he said. “Let’s raise a glass to those we will always miss. Let’s honor their deeds by drinking to their memory. And let’s keep their memories because they can’t. To our family, gone but never forgotten.”

“To Jonathan.” Hayden lifted her arm.

“To my mother.” Kinimaka wiped the tears away.

“To Ben,” Karin said. “And my mum and dad.”

“To Romero.” Smyth licked his lips.

“To Lomas,” Alicia whispered, and the rest of the bikers named the others who had died.

“To Sam and Jo,” Drake said, and drank deeply.

Throughout the silence that followed, the fallen were remembered and celebrated. Those that remained lived on for the dead, carrying their deeds, hopes and dreams with them; a shining talisman, because in our hearts and memories our departed loved ones live forever.