The BulletProof Ghost: In Spades

By Jake dh

The sequel to The BulletProof Ghost: Prototypes, Kyle Richard's hometown has be corrupted by an up and coming crime syndicate, The Spades. Kyle must save the soul of where he grew up, the lives of those he loves and ultimately become, The BulletProof Ghost.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jake dh
• Release date: Oct 25, 2020

Jake dh

Jake dh, born Jacob Harris, is the creator of The BulletProof Ghost novel series, which is currently being developed into a comic book. His new horror anthology, Nightmare People and Other Short Horrors, launches on October 30, 2020. He is currently developing a fantasy novel tentatively named Deathless: Cylinder of Sickness.Jake lives with his wife, Sarah, son Xander and daughter Chloe in Evansville, Indiana. He enjoys roller blading, anime, gaming and working out (when he can).

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The BulletProof Ghost

In Spades

Jake dh

Copyright

Text and Photo Copyright ©2017 by Jacob Harris (Jake dh)

Cover Art Copyright © 2017 by Jacob Harris (Jake dh)

All rights reserved. No part of this book can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission of publisher/author.

The BulletProof Ghost™ created by Jacob Harris (Jake dh)

Cover Design by ebooklaunch.com

Physical Character Design by Scott Loesch

Author Photo by Susan Hayes

Editing and Formatting by iFlow Creative

First Edition

Dedication

to my IndieGoGo Backers

Becky Owen

Maria Harris

Anthony Robbins

Lord Rev. Dr. Matthias666

Prologue

Five years earlier

Dan Grimes was absolutely terrified. It was hard enough for him to breathe without this heavy bag over his head. The van he was in hit a big bump in the road. The man to his right grabbed his arm to keep him from falling out of his seat. As the van came to a gradual stop, Dan knew he was going to die tonight.

Dan felt his arm being jerked hard. He got to his feet and moved where the tugging directed him. Dan was forced to his knees. He could tell that they were near the waterfront just from the smell. Dan closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing. Slow his heart. He needed to be able to think clearly if he was going to have a chance of getting out of this alive. As slim of a chance as that was.

The sack came off of Dan's head. His eyes started to adjust to the increased light. Lights were dancing off of the water in the distance. Dan could make out four men standing in front of him. Another was bound and on his knees to his right.

Dan heard a voice from his left, Dan? Danny? They got you, too? Dan turned his head to see Bryan Hutch, also on his knees. Dan immediately knew who to blame for this situation.

Dan angled his head forward again. Bryan was starting to panic. Dan couldn't lose it as well. He needed to keep as much control of the situation as possible. Let me talk. Don't say anything.

One of the men stepped forward. Dan recognized him. Anyone doing 'business' around Indianapolis knew this man. Do you know who I am, Danny?

Dan looked at the muscular, balding middle aged man. You're Aldo Unicro.

Aldo threw a sandwich bag full of clear crystals at Dan. The bag hit him in the face. His hands were zip-tied, so he couldn't block the bag of crystal meth as it smacked him. Aldo threw it pretty hard and it hurt, like getting slapped with fish-tank rocks. Dan made sure to keep a straight face through the pain. Aldo bent down to get in Dan's face. My boy over here got this from you. He was going to keep all of the profit to himself.

Dan looked over at the desperate man on his right. He was sweating bullets and nearly hyperventilating. Whereas Dan has only heard stories about crossing Aldo, this poor son of a bitch has seen his handy work in person. Dan needed to lie. The lie was more than likely going to kill this man he barely knew, I did sell the glass to him. It was better quality that the shit you peddle.

Bryan started to sweat even more than he had been. Um…Dan? Could you not...

Dan whipped his head in Bryan's direction. Shut your fucking mouth, Bry. Bryan did just that. Dan looked back over at Aldo. Sorry. What was his name over there? Oh, yeah. Bobby?

The man spoke up, Bobby Drak, you mutherfucker!

Dan kept talking to Aldo without acknowledging Bobby, Anyway, Bobby said this was an official deal, with your permission. I didn't know he was cutting you out. You have my apologies for not doing the proper research.

Bobby screamed, You're a fucking liar! I told you that this was between you and me... Bobby realized what he had said. Up until this point, he swore that he hadn't been cutting Unicro out. Bobby started to panic, No, wait. I meant...

Aldo pulled his 9 mil out of his holster. He pointed right at Bobby's forehead and pulled the trigger as his victim begged for his life. Bobby's brains and bits of his skull scattered all over the riverfront. Aldo rushed back over to Dan. He was practically spitting on Dan as he screamed, I knew that man for six years! I drank with him. I did coke with him. I considered him a friend, but he fucked with my money. He pointed at Bobby's body on the ground. That is what happens when you fuck with my money. He straightened out and adjusted his jacket. Now, why shouldn't I do the same to you?

Dan was caught off guard a little. Once Bobby was dead, he fully expected to be next. He closed his eyes to think, Um...I..

Aldo put the gun to Dan's nose, You are boring me.

Dan opened his eyes. It's not just drugs. He looked into Aldo's eyes. You handle whores and the underground gambling. Dog fights, high stakes card games...

Aldo thumbed the gun's hammer back to its original position. Bryan sighed a breath of relief. Dan knew they weren't out of the woods yet. Aldo swung the gun to a neutral position. Okay, I'm listening.

I heard that if you had to give all of it up, except one thing, you would keep the gambling. Cards and dice are in your blood. You love the thrill of chance, Dan smiled a little.

How is this going to save you, Danny? Aldo chided.

You have a pack of cards on you, Dan exclaimed.

That was a statement, not a question, Aldo smiled a little himself.

I do my research, the sweating Dan said.

Aldo pulled a deck from his jacket, That you do. So you want to play a game?

Dan nodded. I would like very much for you to grace me with a game.

Aldo started pacing around. What to play? I'm not going to deal you a hand.

A guessing game, Bryan squeaked out.

Dan smiled at his friend, Yes, what Bry said, a guessing game. Your choice of what to guess.

Aldo shuffled his cards, one over the other. I could be a huge dick and make you guess the number and suit. That's no fun though. One in fifty two chance and you'll lose. I could ask you to guess the number or face, but again the odds are grotesquely against you. One in thirteen, not counting jokers, no jokers in my decks. Aldo bent down to look Dan in the eye. The suit. One in four. You're still at a disadvantage, but you have a fighting chance. Those are the games I love. I'll pull out a card. Aldo did just that and kept the patterned side toward Dan. And you tell me the suit.

Dan held his breath. His life was either going to end right here, right now or he would live. Dan exhaled one word, Spades.

Aldo flipped the card around to show Dan a five of spades. Good guess, he motioned for his guys to let them go. Now get the fuck out of my city.

Aftermath

1

The press from Johnson City stood behind a police barricade at Dilbane High School. Dilbane didn't have its own newspaper or television stations, so Johnson City's stood in for the small town's needs. There were also several national journalists pushing through the crowd to make sure they could record the incoming statements from law enforcement. After the attack, there had been nothing official from the police. The local cops told the citizenry to stay off of the streets as they searched for the killer.

The doors in front of the high school opened to reveal a group of people who were not local police. They were wearing suits, not uniforms. The reporters whispered amongst themselves, Someone called in the feds, could be heard through the raspy conversations.

It became clear that the olive-skinned woman in the front of the pack was in charge. She walked up to the microphone as two other agents stood at her side. The local cops at the barricade shot them disapproving looks, especially the Deputy of Dilbane, John Clint. The skinny pale man looked to the closest cop, Keep these vultures back. He walked up next to the agents. The sheriff was on the opposite side of the agents, the two top local cops met eyes. Their stares were filled with worry, but both were worried about completely different things.

The female agent adjusted her microphone, My name is Agent Susan Gojen. The FBI has been called in to assist the local authorities. We have more resources, which we are glad to extend to the Dilbane Police Department. Our forensics team is currently collecting evidence and as soon as we have something solid to report, we will let you know.

One of the journalists raised their hand up. Susan pointed at her.

Liz Green, Johnson Chronicle, do you have any suspects? We know that no one was picked up and unlike most school shootings, this person didn't kill themselves nor did they confront police to be shot down.

Susan coolly answered, The shooter escaped without being seen. We are looking into using their munitions and other evidence left behind to track where he or she got their weapons. We are looking into arms thefts in the area to connect a suspect to this disgusting crime.

Another journalist got Susan's attention. Sheba Parvati, The Free People's Report, she said her name out loud. Susan was vaguely familiar with this woman. She was a freelance, guerilla-style reporter with her own website. Susan wasn't sure how she even got credentials, if she did indeed have any. Was this a professional hit? The mayor's son was one of the victims. This is leading many to believe he was the target.

We have no evidence to confirm that, Susan started to step away from the mic. That's all of the information we have. Thank you. The press went nuts as she walked back into the building.

Deputy Clint walked up, being six foot five, merely stepping forward made the reporters back up and quiet down a bit. You heard the lady, fuck off. It's bad enough she's doing my job, I don't need shit from you assholes.

The Sheriff stepped in front of Clint. Sorry, rough day, please come to the station, we'll discuss the little evidence our force gathered before the FBI investigation started. The reporters started to walk down the street. Sheriff Adams looked at his second in command. You can't talk like that to the national media. Keep your shit together.

Whatever, Clint scoffed. Fine, I have something more important to deal with anyway. You wanna know how it's gonna go down? How we're going to get rid of a rat?

Adams shook his head, I don't. Just get it done. Adams knew that the person that called in the feds was going to be having a very bad day. He also gave the okay for Clint to deal with it. It didn't mean he wanted to know the gruesome details. And knowing John Clint, they were going to be gruesome.

Clint chuckled, You're lucky you have me to stick my hands in the shit. He slapped Adams on the shoulder. It's okay, I like doing the dirty work. I'll pick up a couple of Hutch's boys, outside of town of course. I don't think our guys have the stomach for what I've got planned. The Spa... He looked around to see if anyone was listening in. The Spades like my style.

Adams started to walk away. Keep it clean. The feds being here makes this type of business risky.

Deputy Clint gave a not at all serious salute. Adams knew that this had to be done, to keep the rest of his men in line. Couldn't have them going to the feds. They needed to know that they couldn't step out of line, even with the FBI in town. The Sheriff pushed his reluctance out of his mind. He made his way to the station.

2

Susan Gojen stepped into the hallway where the massacre happened a few hours before. Agent Bradly came up to her. You didn't give them much. I mean I don't blame you, given the circumstances, Jason Bradly gave her an awkward smile. So, you want a tour? I mean, I know you've been briefed, but...

Susan put her hand on his shoulder. First off, calm down. Is this your first field assignment?

No, just, normally my assignments aren't so... Agent Bradly searched for a word.

Bizarre? Agent Gojen cocked her head to the side.

The young agent squeaked, Yeah. They walked past the forensics team still collecting evidence and taking photographic evidence. The bodies were sent to Johnson City for autopsy by the FBI. Bradly stepped up to where the first body in the hall had been. This is where we found Fred Maple. The ground was still stained with dried blood. There was a indention in the splotchy reddened linoleum. So as far as we can tell, he was stabbed and then the blade, he paused. Was pulled through the left side of his chest.

Through the ribcage, organs...everything? Susan already looked uneasy.

Everything. And to add insult to mutilation, his skull was crushed. We aren't sure how...the coroner we have working on his autopsy thinks he was still alive when it happened, the skull crushing that is.

Susan Gojen walked to the next section of the crime scene. She wondered how all of this happened in less than a few minutes. She was racking her brain while her stomach was churning. She had a few sources in the military. They might have lost an experimental weapon, but even then, did they have something this deadly? Something that could kill four, nearly five people and disappear without a trace.

Jason pointed at an entire width of the hallway waving his hand back and forth. This was all Bret Monty.

Agent Gojen could see the dried blood was all over the hallway in this area. This looks like a blast pattern. What type of explosive did this?

Bradly looked a little uneasy. Well, we don't know. Susan shot him a disapproving look. No, it's not that we don't know what we’re doing. There's no shrapnel, no gunpowder, no primer, no trace of C4...other than the fact that the upper half of this kid's body was splattered in every fuckin' direction, there's no other evidence that there was an explosion. We're pretty sure he died instantly.

What is an explosion, but isn't an explosion? Susan brushed her black hair out of her face. Next victim?

Jason stepped up to where Donny's body was found. Donald Lineman-Kaline, he was stabbed. The Maddington kid found him alive, but he bled out before a few seconds had passed by. Agent Bradly bent down. The weird thing here, is that the killer stabbed him through the chest, then through the floor, Jason pointed at a hole in the floor.

Susan squinted her eyes. This is concrete underneath... She racked her brain. How deep is it?

Jason looked a little scared, but tried not to convey that his response. Eight inches.

They moved to where Nick's...pieces had been. Nick Vyle, son of the mayor, we found him in a dozen different pieces. Jason bent down. The local's didn't see this though. Bradly touched the floor and wall. There were scratches, clear cuts in the surfaces several inches deep.

Susan looked closely. More concrete. How did someone cut this deep into them while killing this kid? With a knife or a sword? She looked at Agent Bradly. This isn't possible.

Yet… he held his hand out as to introduce a guest on a late night show. There they are. This is up your alley though, weird stuff, like the demon thing.

Susan rolled her eyes. There were no demons in that case. It was inconclusive. I wish people would stop saying that. Susan walked over to the far wall. I'm guessing this is where the survivor was. Is Josh Conright still in a coma?

Jason looked at the dent in the wall. Yeah. I mean holy shit, look at that, it's a miracle he survived.

Agent Gojen smirked, I don't believe in such things. She put her hand on the impact point on the wall. Get me every ounce of evidence out of this place. Don't miss anything.

Yes, ma'am. Agent Bradly went to work on trying to get metal fragments out of the slices in the wall.

Susan looked down the hall at the aftermath of what everyone was calling The Dilbane High Massacre. "We have