The Reaper's Daughter (Book 1 Soldiers Series)

The fire crept up the walls and across the ceiling. The scorching heat surrounded them as Johnny dragged his young lover along the floor. He laced his arms under hers trying to lift Ashley to her feet pulling her slowly toward an open window above a stack of crates. The vast amounts of blood seeping from her wounds made Johnny’s hands slippery. The dark-haired beauty hit the ground with a thud and Johnny scrambled to get a better grip on her. “Ash baby, please get up. It’s just a little farther, and then I can get you to a hospital.” He begged, their enemies were close behind them, setting fire to all sides of the warehouse hoping to trap them inside. “The window is right there.” He pleaded, nodding toward the half-opened window ten feet away. Ashley reached a blood-stained hand up clutching at his shoulder. “The baby.” She gasped turning her eyes down to her swollen belly, ripe and ready to bring their child into the world within days. The bullets had penetrated her lungs and ribs, threatening her life and that of the child’s. Ashley’s dark eyes stared up at her lover calm and insistent; her mind was made up. Her slippery fingers snatched the switchblade Johnny kept in the back pocket of his jeans. Flipping the shiny steel blade out Ashley forced the weapon into Johnny’s hand closing his fingers around the metal handle. He could see the conviction in her eyes. “Don’t let the baby grow up like us.” She choked on the fluids filling her lungs. Johnny shook his head, his chest rising and falling with hatred and grief. He could not do what she wanted of him. He wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to charge the exits and kill every last one of them. “Ashley it’s just a little farther.” He implored. “Reap, promise me!” Ashley said sternly; her eyes held his grief-stricken gaze. She was not going to make it out of that warehouse alive, and they both knew it. She was losing too much blood far too fast, but he could not do what she needed him to do, he loved her more than his own life, he could not live without her. “I can’t.” Johnny whimpered trying not to fall apart. She was fading fast and when she died so would their child. “Reap…” Ashley snapped. “If you love me you will do this.” She barely managed as she struggled for breath, clinging to the last moments of life. Johnny Max shot up straight in bed; a cold sweat dampened his sheets. The room was dark. It was not yet dawn. Throwing back the blankets he tossed his long legs over the edge of the mattress with his head in his hands. That night had haunted his dreams for almost nineteen years. Raking his fingers through his collar-length charcoal hair, Johnny gathered the unruly locks at the base of his neck; taking the elastic from the night table he tied back the sweaty mane and rose to his feet, his boxers acted as the only shield from the coolness of the spring night. Johnny looked at the dream-catcher above his bed and tore it down. The damn thing did not work anyway. His nightmares still got through. Johnny tossed it into the trash can next to the door. He strolled to the window and took note of the lights outside. Peering through the curtains, he saw that the light came from the headlights of a nineteen-eighty-one Camaro parked in his drive belonging to Jake Samson. Johnny glanced at the time on the clock by the bed. Annoyed he shook his head. Reaching for his pants draped over the back of a chair by the window, Johnny slipped easily into his jeans. He opened the drawer of the nightstand removing the twenty-two handgun he kept there then headed for the lower level of the small farmhouse. His bare feet made no sound on the wooden steps. Years of practice had made it habit, a useful tool while raising a wayward teenager. Reaching the entrance, Johnny threw open the heavy door and grabbed the frightened twenty-three-year-old man by the roots of his spiked hair. Johnny flung Jake around and over the rail of the old porch into the bushes below. Leaping from the steps he took the man’s shirt and dragged him from the bushes forcing Jake back against his car pressing the barrel of his gun against the trembling man’s temple. “Do you want to see my daughter you little punk?” Johnny snarled. “Yes, Sir.” Jake whimpered. “That’s the wrong answer!” Johnny barked tapping the guy in the side of the head with his twenty-two. “I’ll ask you again. Do you want to see my daughter?” He snarled slamming the youth against the passenger door of his car again. “No Sir,” Jake answered closing his eyes with fear. “Look at me boy,” Johnny demanded, shaking him once more until he opened his eyes. “You stay away from my daughter. Do you understand me?” The frightened man nodded vigorously. “If she’s walking down the street you had better be fifty miles away and running in the other direction. Is that clear?” Jake nodded again. “If I even think you’re breathing in the same vicinity as my baby girl I will hunt you down and make you disappear. Do we have an understanding?” Again, Jake nodded. “And do you think I’m serious?” Johnny asked. The man shook his head. “Don’t make me hunt you down; I’m not so forgiving when I do.” Johnny released the humiliated man and headed back to the house. His eighteen-year-old daughter Jess stood with her arms crossed and her dark brows drawn together in a fury. “Was that necessary?” She snarled, her dark hair resting gently on her soft cinnamon coloured shoulders. At that moment he thought she looked very much like her mother, beautiful and pigheaded. “At the very least you could have put on some more clothes.” “Funny I was about to say the very same thing to you.” Johnny grabbed her arm with breaking force and ushered Jess inside the house, slamming the door behind them. “You were supposed to be in bed. Why do you keep doing this? That guy is far too old for you.” He scolded, shoving his daughter up the staircase. “I’m so sick of not getting to do anything. I’m almost nineteen I’ll see whomever the hell I want, and you can’t stop me.” Jess snarled, stomping up the steps. “Watch me.” “What are you going to do, lock me away from the world forever? Don’t interfere with my life just because you don’t have a life of your own.” She hissed at him as she reached the top of the staircase, her dark eyes flashing with irritation. “I do so have a life Jess, I work to pay for this house, and I raise you, and believe me that’s a full-time job on its own.” He snapped coming to stand beside her at the top of the steps. “Nice life,” she mocked, “when did you last have a date? When was the last time you were with a woman? Do you even like women anymore?” She growled opening the door to her bedroom. “You keep me too busy to date,” Johnny said, resentful of his daughter’s disrespect. “And for your information, I do to like women!” “Than get laid, and maybe you’ll loosen up.” She snapped slamming her door in his face. Johnny rattled the doorknob only to find it was locked. “Open this door.” He demanded. “Go take a long walk off a short pier.” She snarled back. Johnny raised his fists in frustration and bit his tongue to stop from saying something he might regret. It would be so much easier to shoot her; he thought then lifted his eyes to the heavens as if Ashley were looking down on him. Not that he would shoot her, but for the moment it would have made him feel better. “Give me strength.” He whispered and headed back into his room. Whoever said girls were easy to raise must have been stark raving mad. Shutting his door behind him, Johnny walked toward his bed. An uneasy feeling gripped him, and he paused. Johnny looked out the window into the darkness, the trees and bushes offered solitude and seclusion. With the Camaro gone there were no lights outside, yet Johnny still felt unsettled. Was there someone out there? Deathly still he watched the leaves for a long time but saw no movement. Shaking the feeling off Johnny walked over to the nightstand and returned the gun to its place in the drawer. Sitting on the bed, Johnny crawled back under the blankets dismissing the unease he had felt moments ago. Dreaming of Ashley always made him paranoid. *** Jess paced her small room as she ran her brush through her long dark hair brushing out the tangles before she turned in for the night. She muttered in frustration, her father’s interference annoyed her. Why could he not just leave her alone and let her have a life? For as long as she could remember he had kept her cooped up in this secluded farmhouse in the middle of nowhere Ohio, always driving off her friends if she made any at all with his weirdness. At first, she had not thought anything about her father’s odd behaviour. Her mother had died in childbirth, and it had always been just the two of them. She did not realize that something was strange; she was young and really did not know any better, but as she began to attend school and socialize with others outside the home, Jess quickly learnt her father was different from other parents. Every parent wants to be sure their child is safe, but her father took his responsibilities to a whole new level of obsession. He was paranoid that the whole world was out to get them. Anyone outside their home was potentially an enemy. While other girls were attending Girl Scouts and playing with dolls, Jess was learning to fight with a knife and shoot a handgun. “It’s vital to remain calm and think, never lose your head.” Her father would always stress during her lessons. “The moment you stop thinking you are finished.” Imagine her surprise when she grew up only to realize her father was nothing more than a paranoid conspiracy nut. Jess tossed the brush on the dresser and removed her top to change for bed. She tossed it on the floor and reached for the t-shirt she had decided to wear to bed. Jess had just pulled it over her head when something outside drew her attention. Her breath caught in her chest Jess came to stand at the window. She stared down at the brush below. It was inky black outside and hard to see anything with her light on. Jess reached over and turned off the lamp. Her room now dark, she stared out into the night, her eyes fixed on the trees and bushes out front. She was sure she had seen something. Motionless and silent Jess stood there like a statue, her gaze locked on the section she was sure she had seen motion watching for the slightest leaf to move. She must have stood there for at least five minutes without seeing a thing. Deciding it was nothing Jess wandered away from the window and slipped her skirt off as she made her way to the bed. Jess shook her head annoyed with herself as she climbed between the covers. Now her father was making her paranoid. *** She dragged the dark lipstick across her lips and pressed them together. Tossing the lipstick back in the basket on her dresser, Jess ran her fingers through her dark ebony hair with the neon blue highlights in the front. She twisted her hair up and fixed it in place with two crossed sticks. Jess had chosen a pair of white low rider jeans with a cute little blue baby-t that showed off her mid-drift and her brand-new belly button piercing. Her boyfriend Jake had driven her to the shop last night so she could get it. She loved it; the piercing was supposed to glow in the dark. She could not wait to get to school and show it off. She picked up her school bag and left her bedroom heading downstairs quickly. Reaching the front door, she slipped into her boots, trying to make it out of the house before her father caught her. Jess opened the front door and was almost out when… “What’s the rush?” She heard her father’s voice as he came into the living room from the kitchen. “Don’t you want something to eat?” “Not hungry.” She said without turning around. “I got to go.” “Do you have everything?” He asked. Jess rolled her eyes and shut the door. “Yes.” She answered. “Show me.” Her father ordered. “You know just because you are paranoid does not mean the whole world is out to get us.” She told him. “It doesn’t mean they aren’t. Now show me.” Jess turned around and came into the living room. She opened her bag and reached inside. She pulled out her house keys, and an untraceable cellphone then placed both back in the bag. Next, she took out a small container of mace and a switchblade. Showing both to her father Jess placed them back inside her bag and zipped it up. “What the hell is that?” Johnny snapped pointing at her belly. Jess grinned. “Do you like it?” “No.” He growled. “Well I do, and it is my body.” “Take that out. You are not trashing your body with that crap.” He scolded. “Oh, you’re one to talk,” Jess snarled, “you’re covered in tattoos, but I can’t have one piercing? Isn’t that a bit hypocritical?” Johnny Max was a large man with an air of menace. His upper body adorned with various tattoos; a pair of black wings on his back across his shoulder blades, an elaborate jumble of thorn vines that wrapped the bicep of his right arm, and a round brownish red crest with a detailed S in its center high on his left hip. “The beautiful thing about being a parent is that I don’t have to be fair. Take it out.” He ordered. Her eyes narrowed in challenge as she tossed her bag over her shoulder. “No.” She said firmly and headed for the door. “Why must you fight me on everything?” Her father called after her. “The beautiful thing about being a teenager is that I don’t have to be reasonable,” Jess said leaving the house. She rushed down the long gravel driveway to the dirt road where she usually caught her ride to school. Her father still assumed she took the school bus but Jess usually rode with her friend Marcy and lately Jake picked her up. He was none the wiser since you could not see the house from the road with all the thick brush. Jess stood by the road waiting for Jake to come by and pick her up as he had the last few days. They had only been dating for a couple of weeks now, but he had never failed to show up. The minutes passed and soon turned in to a half hour. Jess heard the sound of the bus coming down the road. It pulled up in front of her house the driver opened the door, and the old woman smiled at her. “Do you need a ride today sweetie?” She asked. Jess groaned and climbed up the steps into the bus. It was clear Jake was not coming, and Marcy had no idea she needed a ride. Jess made her way down the narrow aisle to find a seat watching the boys from her class start shoving each other around each trying to clear a spot beside them for her to sit. The boys from her school were always trying to hook up with her, but Jess could not be bothered to pay them any attention. She had a particular taste in men, and frankly, they did not live up to her requirements. Jess preferred older men, mostly because she knew just how much it infuriated her father. She also had a thing for the bad boy. Not the skip a class, can’t get a passing grade sort of bad boy; but the genuine bad boy with street credibility. You could not find that in high school. She had thought Jake was one of these tough guys, but one run in with her father had scared him off. He was nothing more than a poser and Jess was annoyed she had been taken in. Well, she was not going to put up with it. The bus drove around picking up a few others and then headed to the local county high school. It pulled up out front and Jess could not wait to get off. She needed a car of her own. Coming off the bus, she wandered toward the student parking lot to find Marcy and her other friends. An uneasy feeling came over her, and Jess stopped dead in her tracks. Like the night before she could not shake the feeling that someone was watching her. Jess looked around trying to find the eyes that were on her. There were plenty of students and a few teachers wandering around, but no one, in particular, was looking at her. She looked out at the dirt road where the parked buses and the other vehicles that had driven to drop off students were parked. She saw nothing that stood out. Jess looked over the parking lot but saw no one and nothing out of place. Still, she could not help but feel that something was off. Jess opened her bag and reached inside. She removed her switchblade careful to hide it in her pocket before anyone could see it. She felt better knowing it was readily accessible. *** Down the street, four men sat in an unmarked van with an old picture in one’s hand, a picture of a man and a woman, a woman that bore a remarkable resemblance to the young girl in the student parking lot. She had the same athletic body, the same dark straight ebony hair and soft cinnamon skin, the same high cheekbones and full lips. “It’s remarkable how much they look alike.” Doc, an Irish man behind the stirring wheel, said. “They could be twins. That’s got to be her. I say we do it now.” “No,” Mace, a black man in the passenger seat said tucking the picture into his pocket. Mace ran the show, he had paid his dues and worked too long to be taking orders from the likes of Doc. “We got one shot at this. We got to make sure we got the right person. Let’s go back to the house.” He ordered Doc. They pulled away from the school leaving the girl behind and headed back out on the dirt roads. They drove back to the small farmhouse they had been staking out for the last day and a half. Mace and the others had sat outside just down the road parked behind some tall trees tucked away from sight. So far, they had seen the girl coming and going with some punk, but the father had yet to leave the house which was tucked back behind thick brush and away from the view of the main road. They had been forced to get out of the van and sneak through the surrounding brush to get a closer look the night before. Mace had hoped to get a glimpse of the man of the house when they heard the ruckus. Only they had missed him. He had gone back inside before any of them had reached the house. All the windows had been dark but one. Mace had watched from the darkness of the trees as the girl paced back and forth past the window. He had been forced to retreat farther back and crouched low when she had come to the window and stared out at the trees. She had stared right in his direction as if she could see him. Her dark eyes fixed on Mace’s position like he had no cover and a giant spotlight shone down on him. He hadn’t moved a muscle only stared back at her, at those deep dark eyes, the sort of eyes that looked like they could see past the body into a man’s soul. Mace had breathed a sigh of relief when she turned and walked away from the window. Deciding to take a better look at her they followed the daughter to school this morning, leaving one man behind to watch the farmhouse making sure the father did not leave without being seen. In the light of day, the daughter’s resemblance to Ashley Ryback was incredible. Parking the van once more, Mace got out and darted across the dirt road and into the trees. He despised all these bloody trees, dirt, and bugs. Give him the concrete jungle any day. Mace pushed aside some branches and made his way through the thick trees toward the house, trying to keep quiet so not to be heard. Nearing the house, he found his man, Fat Boy Arnez, kneeling in the dirt behind a bush with binoculars. Fat Boy was named so for obvious reasons. He was a hefty man that loved to eat, a big Latino who was very good a throwing his weight around. Mace crouched down beside him and kept his voice low. “Anything change yet?” “No, he hasn’t left, and he keeps the drapes drawn.” Fat Boy huffed handing over the binoculars. “I’ve been here for hours.” “Quit whining.” Mace took the binoculars and held them up to his eyes. He watched the house and scanned the immediate area. A black Sunfire was sitting in the driveway. The man had to go to work sometime. Just then the front door opened. “Get down.” Mace breathed his hand on Fat Boy’s head forcing his tubby counterpart as low as he could get. Mace sunk as low as he could and still see. He reached into his pocket and removed the picture he had been carrying with him. The Native man that came out of the house was tall, fit, with broad shoulders and cinnamon skin like his daughter. His hair was dark collar length but tied back. He had a square jaw, high cheekbones, and a straight nose. His eyes were dark almost black and hard. Mace felt a shiver of excitement roll down his spine from being so close to an underworld legend. He compared the man from the house to the one in his picture. He was older, no doubt, but it was unquestionably the same guy. Mace had found Johnny Richards, a man better known as the Reaper, an infamous hitman for the Los Angeles Soldiers, a notorious criminal empire that Mace himself was a member. He ducked his head low and listened while his target got into his car and drove off the property. Once they were sure the subject’s vehicle was far away, they both got up. “So?” Fat Boy asked. “It is definitely him,” Mace confirmed. Fat Boy grinned maniacally. “So?” “We do it tonight.”