In Your Name Read online

  In Your Name

  The Mechanic Trilogy Book 2

  Rob Ashman

  Contents

  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

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  A Note from Bloodhound Books:

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Rob Ashman

  Copyright © 2017 Rob Ashman

  The right of Rob Ashman to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  First published in 2017 by Bloodhound Books

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  www.bloodhoundbooks.com

  For Maureen

  1

  Friday 27 May 1983

  Tallahassee, Florida

  The warm spring rain drummed hard against the umbrellas as the sun scorched steam off the grass. Only in Florida could that ever be considered normal weather.

  Lucas stared blankly ahead completely immune to the fifty or so faces staring back at him. He had no more tears to cry, no more emotion to give. His hands shoved deep into his pockets, letting those around him do the job of keeping the rain off. His crushing sadness permeated everyone that was there.

  The priest read from a book and the words floated past Lucas without being heard. The ground was awash with white flowers, all with handwritten cards stuck between the folds of cellophane. In stark contrast the mourners all wore black.

  A pale wooden casket stood above the grave. Raindrops danced off the coffin onto the grass.

  The priest was coming to the end: ‘… and so we commit this body to the ground. Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.’

  There was a soft whirring sound and the coffin descended out of sight.

  ‘So let us go in peace to live out the word of God,’ the priest continued from his script, crossing himself.

  Lucas stepped forward, scooped a handful of wet soil and dropped it into the grave. The dirt rattled against the wood. Pain shuddered through his body and he struggled to keep his balance. He stood motionless while the rain cascaded down his face, dripping from his eyelashes. He didn’t blink, staring into the middle distance. An arm reached around his shoulders and guided him back under the umbrella.

  Others filed past the grave, wearing their masks of grief and allowing soil to spill through their fingers onto the coffin lid. Lucas was escorted back to the black limousine. The crowd milled around chatting as the car silently pulled away.

  Lucas twisted in his seat and looked out of the rear window. He could just make out the white marble headstone with black writing.

  There was no way to come back from this.

  2

  Nine weeks earlier

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  Eight months is a long time to go without killing someone of consequence, and the only victims of consequence for Mechanic to slaughter were Lucas and Harper. Her dreams were a random cascade of severed limbs, broken bodies and lifeless eyes, but revenge would have to wait. She had other more important things to occupy her time.

  Getting out of Florida and evading the police had been straightforward – sliding off the grid was easy for a woman with her talents, the hard part was agonising over what to do with her sister, Jo. It was a gut-wrenching decision. Her every instinct screamed at her to get away but she couldn’t simply leave Jo. Eventually Mechanic headed west to the place where she knew she could find work and people didn’t ask too many questions: Las Vegas, Nevada.

  The trauma of what had happened to her sister had an unexpected outcome; the voices in her head were silent. Daddy no longer patrolled the labyrinth in her mind compelling her to take the lives of seemingly happy families. But that did not eliminate her need to kill. It was a constant itch which needed scratching.

  Eight months is a long time to go without killing someone of consequence but that doesn’t mean not killing at all. It had to be satisfied by something else, and that something else was drug dealers.

  They were ready-made fodder with built-in motives. Turf wars were common, with rival gangs clashing over territories. The police must have thought it was Christmas every week – bad guys shooting bad guys. What could make you smile more? Of course, they investigated the cases, but only superficially, there was never a serious commitment to bring people to justice. In fact, from their perspective, it was a practice which should be widely encouraged.

  Mechanic had an important assignment coming up and needed to be clear-headed. She needed to be professional. She needed a kill fix, and that meant going cruising.

  She drove around the rundown parts of Vegas looking for a credible target. It needed to be in a location where drugs were openly sold on the street, which signified a zero police presence. It also tended to suggest a lack of passing traffic, since the only people around were those looking for business.

  It didn’t take long to locate the perfect candidate and for the past three nights she’d kept a watchful eye on the proceedings.

  It was the same set-up every time. On a four-way road junction sat a big fat guy squashed into a white plastic chair, the legs bowing under his weight. With his back to the corner he had three-sixty-degree vision. He was on lookout.

  A second guy with a tall, athletic frame leaned against the bare brick wall opposite sucking on thin cigars, blowing plumes of blue grey smoke into the air. He held the gear.

  The third guy was thickset, with a shaved head and homemade tattoos running across his chest and down his arms. He jogged and danced on the spot to the sounds in his head. He was the psycho of the team, the one who killed for fun.

  One was white, one was black and one was Hispanic. This drug cartel obviously valued diversity.

  Mechanic parked her car out of sight about two hundred yards away and walked up the street towards them. She wore a black baggy sweatshirt with the hood pulled forward, dark jogging pants, work boots and black gloves with rubber-grip palms.

  Her breathing was slow and deep.

  Her head clear as crystal.

  Adrenaline coursed through her body but she maintained a relaxed appearance. She looked like someone taking a casual stroll in the wrong part of town.

  She approached the men and could hear the unhinged bald one beat boxing and snapping his fingers as he danced in the road. The fat one made a sound like ‘Yo!’ and dancing boy turned to face her.

  ‘Hey, Holmes, you looking for some shit? Cos you’ve come to the right place.’ When he pronounced the word ‘right’ his voice rose in pitch to top C. He swaggered around waving his arms. Mechanic said nothing and continued walking.

  ‘Hey, Holmes, don’t ignore me when I’m smiling and being nice.’ Dancing boy stepped in front of her about six feet away blocking her path. He was about the same height but half as wide again. ‘You want gear? We got great gear. Good shit, Holmes. Good shit.’

  She kept her head down and tried to step around him. He let her pass, only to run in front, again blocking her path. She was now level with the other two who regarded her with disinterest.

  ‘I said, you want gear, we got gear, if you don’t want gear well …’ Dancing boy jigged about. ‘What the hell you doing on our street?’ He held his thickly inked arms outstretched to prevent her going any further. She went to move around him but he shifted position, the stink of garlic and tequila wafted around her as he stepped in close. He reeked of stale sweat and dirty clothes.

  ‘Where you going in such a hurry, man?’ He flicked her hood back and she stared him in the face.

  ‘Wow, es una chica!’ The other
s looked over. ‘Look guys, it’s a girl.’ He let the word ‘girl’ rise to top C, whooping as he spun on his heels. ‘Ella es muy bonita,’ he yelled to the others, wolf-whistling and rubbing his chest.

  Mechanic stepped forward but he cut her off. The tall, athletic one pushed himself off the wall. He was now interested.

  This was getting close.

  ‘Let me pass, please,’ Mechanic said trying to move to the side. Dancing boy pushed his body against hers, his face greasy and deeply pockmarked where acne and poor hygiene had marked him for life. Scored across the indents in his skin she could see the scars of past encounters. His stinking breath was hot on her cheek. Mechanic looked at the floor as he whispered in her ear.

  ‘So what’s a piece of pretty white pussy doing walking down my street, eh?’

  ‘Just let me pass.’

  ‘Not sure I will, cos I got something here that needs attention. What do you say?’ He grabbed his crotch. ‘And my friends, they love the taste of white meat. I figure you could help them too.’ He curled back his lips to reveal an uneven row of broken yellow teeth.

  Mechanic glanced to the side and could see the tall guy moving in.

  ‘You think she’s good to go?’ Tall guy said laughing. ‘She’s gonna take all of us, right?’

  ‘I guess so.’ With that, dancing boy circled around Mechanic and gripped her in a bear hug from behind. He was strong and clamped her arms to her sides.

  Mechanic didn’t struggle, she slackened her grip on the eighteen-inch knurled metal bar concealed in her sleeve and slowly slid it down. When she felt the burred serrations at the end she tightened her grip.

  Tall guy shifted his gaze and saw the weapon.

  ‘Hey what the f—’

  Mechanic jerked forward from the waist causing dancing boy to lean over the top of her. Then she snapped her head backwards, smashing him square in the face. Blood sprayed in the air as his nose burst open. She repeated the move and the back of her head caught him on the side of the jaw as he tried to pull away. He yelled in pain and clutched at his shattered features with both hands. She raised her right arm and slammed the metal bar down hard against his right knee. There was a loud crack as his leg bucked and he collapsed in a heap.

  Tall guy levelled his gun and moved in close. Mechanic darted to the side and smashed the bar into his forearm sending the weapon clattering to the floor. She spun and kicked him in the chest. A rasping gasp of air escaped as he staggered backwards under the force of the blow.

  Tall guy screamed in pain as his splintered arm sent delayed pain signals to his brain. She stepped forward and swung the metal bar again, striking his left collarbone. He fell to the ground as his legs gave way.

  Mechanic turned to face dancing boy who was struggling to right himself with only one working leg. The bar swished through the air and cut a deep corrugated groove in the top of his head.

  He catapulted backwards. Dead before he hit the ground. Staring at the sky with his mouth gaping open.

  Mechanic kicked the gun to one side and approached tall guy who was kneeling on the floor. His eyes were the size of pool balls as he tried to get his useless arms to do something to protect himself. They flapped at his sides, dripping flecks of blood onto the sidewalk.

  She surveyed the damage. ‘You’re not quite done are you? One more I think.’ The jagged end of the bar ripped through his throat as she swung it horizontally. He keeled over sideways with the same look as his partner. A halo of dark blood grew around his head.

  Mechanic fixed fat man with a stare that made a trickle of piss stain the crotch of his pants. He was stuck in his chair.

  She picked up the gun and walked towards him with the grip outstretched.

  ‘Take it.’

  He tried to free himself from the plastic sticking to his skin.

  ‘You obviously don’t have one, so take it.’ She offered him the butt of the revolver. ‘Take it.’

  He reached out with a shaking, fat hand and took the weapon. His flabby fingers curled around the contoured grip. She watched as fat man’s cogs turned, trying to figure out what was happening.

  ‘You are in bad need of exercise,’ she said looking at his ass poking through the slats in the chair.

  Fat man pointed the muzzle at Mechanic.

  ‘So I’m going to do you a favour.’ She snaked out her right hand, seized the barrel and yanked the gun from his grasp. He screamed as his finger snapped against the trigger guard.

  ‘I always like to give people a chance, and you just blew yours.’ Fat man stared at his finger sticking out at right angles to the back of his hand.

  ‘It’s dislocated and broken. That will hurt like a bastard,’ Mechanic said casually. ‘No time for that now, it’s time for your run.’ She stamped the sole of her boot into the side of his head sending him sprawling to the ground. He landed on the sidewalk with a sweaty splat, crying out as he landed on his busted hand.

  ‘Go on, run,’ she chanted, ‘run, fat boy, run.’ Mechanic waved her hands in front of her as if she was shooing away a cat about to crap on her lawn.

  He scrambled to his feet and heaved himself into an unsteady walk. Mechanic let him go, watching him waddle and flap his way up the road.

  She bent down and unclipped the knives attached to her ankle. She stood up, took a calming breath and hurled the first blade. It buzzed through the air and embedded itself deep into the middle of fat man’s back.

  He stopped and let out a high-pitched shriek. His short arms flailed around trying to locate the knife but without success. He could hear the second one coming but it was too late. The silver blade buried itself below his left shoulder. He let out another scream and fell forward, cracking his face on the sidewalk.

  Mechanic walked to her victim and could hear his breath rattling as his windpipe filled with blood. He floundered around on his enormous belly like a landed fish, trying to retrieve the blades from his back. Mechanic knelt beside him.

  ‘You really are unfit,’ she tutted, pulling the knives from his body. His bulky frame juddered as the blades exited his flesh. He let out a scream and coughed up blood. Crimson blotches oozed across the back of his shirt.

  ‘Please don’t,’ fat man pleaded as he thrashed his arms around trying to roll over.

  ‘Don’t what?’ Mechanic clasped her hand to the back of his head and ground his face into the sidewalk, enjoying the sound of his teeth grating on the concrete. She let him up for air.

  ‘Don’t kill me. They make me do drug runs, I don’t have a choice.’

  ‘That sounds bad. You should be more careful with the company you keep.’

  ‘Let me go, I need a hospital. I can’t breathe. Please let me go. I won’t tell. I promise.’

  ‘Are you sure you won’t tell if I let you go?’ She jerked his head back then smacked it into the floor pushing hard on the back of his head.

  ‘I won’t. I promise. Just please …’

  Mechanic rolled him onto his back. Leaning over him she stared into his grazed puffy face. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I promise I won’t say a word.’

  ‘Let’s fix you up then.’

  Mechanic heaved him up with his back against the wall. His head lolled forward and blood spilled from his mouth down his front. ‘Wait here, I’ll go get help,’ she said.

  Fat man nodded and wiped his chin.

  Mechanic returned to the two bodies lying in the road and picked up the knurled metal bar. Concrete-reinforcing steel made a great weapon. She pushed it up her sleeve and walked back to fat man.

  ‘They coming?’ he choked his words out.

  ‘Yes, they’ll be here shortly.’

  ‘I can’t breathe.’

  ‘They said for me to check your airways to see if they’re clear.’

  Fat man nodded.

  Mechanic knelt beside him and tilted his head back, peering inside his mouth.

  ‘If I let you live, are you sure you won’t tell anyone?’

  ‘Ggyesss.’

  ‘Are you sure? Because you don’t sound so sure.’

  ‘Ggyess I won’t—’

  Mechanic jammed his head against the wall face up and forced his jaw down.

  ‘I can’t see anything obstructing your airways. You should be able to breathe fine. Can you breathe fine there, fat boy?’