Ana Rocha_Shadows of Justice

  Pedro whips out his handgun and starts firing before I can pop off another shot. I instinctively fall to the ground. The roar of gunfire consumes the room, nearly shaking the walls. His first two bullets barely miss me. I feel them pass right over my head. By the time the third is shot off, I am running for cover and see Chung pick up his fallen lackey’s AK47.

  Taking refuge behind a thick and wide stack of drugs, I hear a few more of Pedro’s bullets bury themselves into my barricade. His gun falls silent and I hear him reload, but then even louder gunfire engulfs the room as Chung pulls his rifle’s trigger. The bullets loudly and violently crash against my defense, but none of them break through.

  The gunfire is rancorous, each round more deafening than the last. My ear drums tremor. My skull is pounding. Chung’s curses roar high above his weapon. One mistake, one stray bullet, and it’s over.

  Holding my gun with both hands, I take a deep breath. And then another.

  Stay calm, Ana. Don’t let the adrenaline get the better of you.

  From this position, the only way they can get a clear shot is by flanking me or by climbing over my barricade. If they have any sense, they’ll try the former. My back stays against the thick crate. The open door is only a few feet in front of me and to the right. I have to wait for the opportune moment to strike. I can’t believe my heart rate is actually this calm.

  I lightly close my eyes. The priority is Chung. He’s the one with the AK. His gun falls silent with a click. I wait to hear him reload… but he doesn’t. I didn’t see him pick up any extra clips off his lackey. And if I can keep him from getting any, I will have the advantage. I don’t need to hit him. Just scare him.

  Without making myself visible, I aim my gun around the corner and blindly pull the trigger, hoping to nail Chung. I immediately hear him running. After three quick shots, I look out from behind my barrier and find that he’s taken cover behind an overturned table.

  Ebony is no longer where she was and Pedro is nowhere to be seen either. This is a stand-off. Holding my position, I keep my pistol steady. My gaze remains focused on Chung’s barricade. I pull the trigger a couple of more times to ensure that Chung stays put. The bullets harmlessly bury themselves into his thick shield, but he gets the message.

  Keep him trapped and I’ve got a shot at this.

  Feeling something come from behind me, I twirl around as a new goon charges at me with a metal baseball bat in hand. I instinctively duck, dodging a swipe from his weapon. The bat violently smashes against the stack of drugs. I spring back up, trying to aim at him from point-blank-range. But his bat crashes into my hand.

  “Yah!” The yelp escapes me as my hand goes numb for a moment. My pistol hits the floor. And in the next instant, the thug kicks it away as pain engulfs my expression.

  C’mon, Ana.

  I scarcely dodge the next swing, feeling it pass right over my head. He tries to spear the top of his bat into my face, but I sidestep it. He may have experience in brawling, but he doesn’t have the tact. Just by watching his eyes and hips, I can see what his next move will be.

  Take away his advantage and then use it against him.

  I take a half-step back as he takes a full step forward and sends another swing. I see it coming. I sidestep the blow and close the gap between us. Coming up to him, I grab the handle of his bat with one hand before my opposite elbow crashes into his face. Taking advantage of his dazedness, a swift kick to his guts forces him to let go of the weapon.

  You’re mine.

  With a roar, I bring the bat down on his head. The collision sends a jolt up my own arms. There’s a loud crack before he slumps to the floor. Instinctively, I twirl around and find Chung charging me. His brings his empty rifle down at me, but I sidestep it and crouch down as I step into him.

  Holding the bat in the middle, I crash the handle into his stomach. I follow through by viciously jabbing the top of the bat against his chest. He stumbles backwards. I’ve knocked the wind out of him. I need to take him out before Pedro shows up. I cock the bat back and let out a roar. Smashing the bat against his skull, Chung collapses onto the ground like my last victim.

  I know he’s coming. Without hesitating, I round the corner to take cover behind a stack of crates as Pedro arrives into view, pistol raised. His weapon roars as it discharges three bullets in quick succession, but he’s a split second too late. Instead of nailing me, the bullets only hit air.

  I don’t have my gun. Crap. Rule number one: don’t ever lose your gun. Bryan will kill me for this if Pedro doesn’t.

  Pedro is smart enough not to follow me around the corner, knowing that I’m waiting for him with a metal bat. As long as he has the gun, Pedro knows that he maintains the advantage. He’ll keep his distance and wait me out. My hand that was struck by the bat is roaring with pain, but it’s not broken. Adrenaline drowns out the pounding in my skull and most of my ache.

  “You must be Ana.” Pedro’s voice sounds just like Vinny’s: merciless and cold. “I’ve heard about you. I thought we’d come face-to-face at some point. Did you come here to die—to join your sister in the afterlife? Because that’s the only way this ends.”

  I hear his heavy footsteps grow louder.

  Pedro’s malicious smirk is heard in his words. “And do you want to know the truth? Even after all you’ve done, after I kill you, nobody will still be able to touch us. Just like they could never touch us for anything else.” He pauses. “Even your sister’s death.”

  All reason washes away. It’s replaced with something else: rage.

  Doing a frontal role, I spring out from my cover and into his sight. Two bullets bounce on either side of me. He underestimates how quick my size makes me. With a mighty growl, I chunk my bat right at his face.

  Pedro ducks, easily dodging it. But when he looks back up, I’m on him. With three strikes in quick succession, I make him drop his gun. I try to snatch the weapon up, but he delivers a strong kick, sending me sprawling onto my back.

  I leap back onto my feet. His gun is in his hands. But his grin quickly disappears when he feels the weight of the pistol. The clip has been taken out, making the gun useless.

  Pedro’s voice does not lose any of its cruelty. “You have some quick hands, Ana.”

  He carelessly tosses the pistol aside. As he does, I finally notice the brass knuckles he’s wearing on either hand. Pedro follows my gaze before looking back at me with a sinister smile. He intends to make an example out of me. He’s going to show everyone what happens when someone tries to cross him and Queen Bee.

  Too bad he chose the wrong gal.

  He’s big. But his size makes him slow. He’ll want to fight in close quarters—try to get me in a corner where I have no choice but to take his blows.

  Pedro comes at me. He sends three swift haymakers, each one of them strong enough to take my head off. But I keep my eyes focused on him. I duck to avoid the first blow before quickly sidestepping the next two as I slowly back up. He’s more tactful than the goon who had the bat. He doesn’t give any hints away by his movements. Pedro lets loose a couple of more quick blows. One of them gets dangerously close—close enough for me to feel the cold metal on his knuckles—but they all only hit air. He keeps going for head shots, knowing that even just one half-direct blow from him will knock me off balance.

  He’s relying on his brute strength. No finesse in him. Wait for your opportunity. One wrong move and he’ll have you on the ropes. Don’t let yourself get put in a corner.

  Pedro’s fist comes down again. Sidestepping it, I close the distance between us and cross-face him with my fist. My hand feels the impact of the blow, but I don’t slow down. I follow through with my elbow and then my fist again. His jaw his tough. He doesn’t spit out any blood, but gets a good cut to the side of his mouth. But with each strike, I hear him lowly grunt with pain as he takes a step back.

  He recovers quickly—quicker than I expected. Viciously deflecting my elbow, his free hand grabs me by my collar. He steps up a
nd powerfully head bunts me square in the forehead. I hold back my cry of pain, but it floods me. Pedro violently shoves me into some heavy crates, knocking me off my feet. I land on my stomach and try to rise onto all fours without missing a beat. But his boot slams into my side, sending me back down.

  I let out a groan of pain, feeling a stream of blood running down my face. Another kick sends me rolling back into the stack. Ache rings through my body. One of my ribs feels cracked and another seems broken. But all the pain momentarily disappears when a third kick lands on my head, finally causing me to cry out in pain.

  Everything goes black. For a long moment, I can’t feel anything. I can’t think of anything else, except for the fact that this is the end. It’s too much. He’s too much. Even with everything, I can’t beat him and I can’t take down Ebony.

  But then a face—a beautiful face—flashes before my eyes: Angela.

  No. He’s got me in the corner. But I’m not out yet. Not when I’ve come this far.

  His boot comes down again, but I pull my head away at the last second. Doing a backwards roll, I end up on my feet and sidestep his brass knuckles. I ignore the blood running down my face—I ignore everything. With a roar, my knee plunges into his stomach.

  It doesn’t slow him down. Pedro’s fist aims for my head. I dodge it and grab his arm. I give it a quick twist as my foot nails him right between his legs. He lets out a loud groan and bends over in pain. Grabbing his head with both hands, I slam it into the wall. A thunderous bang sounds off with the collision.

  Thud!

  I do it again.

  Bang!

  And then again.

  Crack!

  Pedro is down for the count.

  Looking at the unconscious body, I take a breath. Then another. No time to waste, Ana.

  Moments later, I have my pistol back in hand. My hands are slightly trembling, but I try to block it out. There’s still one thing left to do.

  “Are you here to kill me?” Ebony’s voice originates from the other side of a room. She’s hiding behind a large filing cabinet. She must know that she’s alone now. Her hired help has all but failed her. But her tone is different from before. It’s not like it was at the Green Beetle Club. It’s no longer in control. She’s been so used to ordering violence from afar that she doesn’t remember how to act when it happens right in front of her. Ironic.

  I don’t answer. I cock my weapon and slip off my shoes. She’s out of her mind right now and is mine for the taking. If she was in control of herself, she would have attacked me when Pedro had me on the ropes. She would have at least shot at me. Instead, she was and is still hiding, too afraid to do anything.

  “But I’ll kill you first!”

  Her hysteric words don’t have enough confidence to intimidate a mouse. In fact, they hold more fear than conviction. Soundlessly, I make my way around the room—the long way.

  “You’re dead! Do you hear me! Nobody crosses me and lives!”

  She’s gone mad. Her voice is trembling, quivering with each and every syllable.

  Ebony comes into view as I round the corner. Her back is turned towards me. Hiding behind a filing cabinet, she’s quivering with fear as she clenches a handgun. After all this, is the fiend I’ve been after nothing more than a coward? Is she nothing more than a frail-hearted woman masked by her power and her strength?

  I move in a little closer. She still doesn’t see me. I’m almost on top of her now. I take aim from only ten feet away. I cock my weapon, slow enough that she hears every detail and knows that I have her.

  “Drop it or die, Ebony.”

  Her gun loudly falls to the floor. Slowly, she turns to me, shivering more than ever. I finally see her eyes. They’re no longer masked like they were in the club. They’re no longer deceiving. Now, I see her true soul.

  And Queen Bee—Ebony Thorne—is a coward.

  Her fear-filled gaze is glued to my gun. She’s covered in cold sweat. “Ple—please do—don’t kill m—me…”

  My hands tighten around my weapon. Looking at her terror-stricken face, I see flashes of my memories: Angela’s death, my parents’ cries, the funeral, the loneliness, and my unanswered tears. She’s responsible for it all. This coward is responsible for so much suffering in this city. And she did it without any remorse. “I came for only one reason, Ebony.”

  She collapses to her knees, arms raised above her head. “”D—don’t! What do you want me to say? I’ll confess to it all!”

  Ebony thinks I’ll let this go? After everything she’s done to this city and my family, she thinks I’ll let her go? The thought makes the rage in my eyes go wild. My gun begins to slightly shake, but it’s not from fear.

  She sees it and starts to tremble even more. Tears run down her face as she sobs. “Do you want me to tell you that I’m the head of Los Familia? Do—do you want me to tell you that I’m the one who ordered the shooting that killed your sister? Do you want me to tell you that I’m the one responsible for half the drugs on the streets? Because it’s all true! Every last word. I’ll give you the names of everyone! Please don’t kill me!”

  “You think you deserve mercy!” My roar shakes the walls.

  I feel my finger lightly push onto the trigger, but not hard enough to release a shot. I’m looking at the face of this city’s most coldhearted criminal and she’s begging me for mercy? She doesn’t deserve mercy. She’s never given mercy. Finger on the trigger, every impulse screams for me to pull it. To end her. To kill this monster.

  …but I don’t. A voice suddenly rings in my head—Angela’s voice. And with just one word, my sister washes away all the rage.

  No, Ana. She deserves to die, but you don’t deserve the blood on your hands.

  For a long moment, I feel as if Angela is standing next to me. It’s feels as if she’s telling me to do the thing my heart and mind refuse to do.

  But I listen to her.

  Slowly, I lower the gun. Ebony looks at the lowered weapon and then back at me in disbelief. My opposite hand comes out from behind my back. In it is a tape recorder. I take a deep breath. “I’m not going to kill you, Ebony. I came to put an end to all this. I came to ensure that nobody else will ever be hurt because of you. As for your death… I’ll let the courts decide that. But before they do, they’ll use every ounce in your brain to take down everything you’ve built.”

  As I say those words, I hear a commotion downstairs. The music abruptly stops. It’s replaced by chaos as a sea of uniformed officers flood the building. I holster my weapon and pull something else from my pocket: my badge. And I follow it by throwing a piece of paper at Ebony’s feet. One look at it tells her what it is: a warrant. A federal warrant.

  “Ebony Thorne, you’re under arrest.”

  Chapter 17

  Peace

  It doesn’t take long for my backup to reach me. Ebony is whimpering like a dog when the handcuffs are put on. She is taken away by several FBI agents along with the rest of the unconscious goons. When the police and agents see her in this state, they can hardly believe that they’re looking at the most dangerous criminal in Houston.

  I’m soon whisked away. The rest of the night is one mixed blur. But the one thing I do know for certain is that Bryan stays with me the entire time. He is there when they stitch me up and patch up my wounds. He’s their when I’m debriefed. And he’s there when everything is explained to the rest of the police force.

  Half of them can’t believe it when they’re told that my dismissal was just a ruse. We were betting on Ebony having a mole at the station who would tell her of my discharge. If Ebony had known that I was a cop, she would have known that I wouldn’t pull the trigger. But thinking I was just a vigilante with nothing to lose, she was willing to say anything to save her life, even confess to her crimes. After the recent disaster, no local judge would give a warrant, but Ben was able to pull some strings and get a federal judge to issue one.

  A good part of the late night is spent in my office. I collapse on
the chair, too exhausted to do anything else. The adrenaline of it all has finally worn off. My mind and energy level plummets as reality sets in. I just want to sleep, but I don’t get the chance. Person after person comes in to congratulate me on a job well done, but I don’t know if I answer them back or not. I don’t even recognize most of them. Half of them are dressed like federal agents.

  “Well done, Ana.”

  “That took some guts.”

  “Proud of you.”

  The words seem to go in one ear and out the other. My mind’s so full that it can’t compute anything right now. I honestly just want to be left alone.

  The entire time, I can’t believe it’s done. After all these years, it’s all finally over. It feels like a part of me ended with my quest. I don’t know if what I did will give Angela peace. In fact, now that it’s all done and the quest is over, I don’t think any of it ever mattered to her. Her soul was at peace the moment her life ended. But what I do finally possess for the first time in years is something I’ve sought after for a long time:

  Clarity.

  ***

  It’s only half an hour until dawn when I finally arrive home. I don’t sleep. My eyes and body want to shut down, but rest is the last thing my mind is thinking of. Within a couple of hours, Bryan shows up at my front door. From the look of it, he hasn’t slept either. He cooks me breakfast. We don’t say much. We’re both exhausted, but neither of us are considering sleep after last night.

  Bryan can certainly whip up a mean scrambled egg. And after he adds a couple of warm slices of toasted bread covered in melted butter, it’s a meal to remember. But I’m unable to bring myself to compliment him and we end up eating in silence. I wouldn’t even know what to say if I could talk.

  Soon after breakfast is finished, I finally begin to feel sleep overtake me as I sit on the end of my living room’s couch. But a loud knock on the door wakes me back up. Bryan opens it and finds Cap and Ben on the other side. Their eyes are just as red as ours. Seems like nobody at all got any sleep.