Night Shadow: The Night Trilogy, #3

By B.K. Bass

New Angeles is in turmoil.

 

The government, the corporations, and the organized crime families have the city in an iron grip. As that grip tightens, the people decide they will not take it anymore. When the citizens rise up and the city burns, Harold sees an opportunity to exploit the chaos.

 

But is his crusade one of justice, or vengeance?

• Language: English
• Publisher: B.K. Bass
• Release date: Sep 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201514143

Book preview

COPYRIGHT © 2021 BY B.K. BASS

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

First Edition, 2021

Published by B.K. Bass in the United States of America

Cover art licensed from Dreamstime.com

B.K. Bass can be reached at https://bkbass.com/contact/

For behind-the-scenes access and the latest news, subscribe to B.K.’s newsletter here: http://eepurl.com/dpaU6f

Visit the author’s website at https://bkbass.com

Books by B.K. Bass

The Ravencrest Chronicles

Seahaven

The Hunter’s Apprentice

The Giant and the Fishes

Tales from the Lusty Mermaid, a Ravencrest Chronicles Anthology

The Ravencrest Chronicles: Omnibus One

Curse of the Pirate King (The Pirate King Duology: Book One)

Shadow of the Pirate King (The Pirate King Duology: Book Two)

The Night Trilogy

Night Shift

Night Life

Night Shadow

The Tales of Durgan Stoutheart

Warriors of Understone

Companions of the Stone Road (forthcoming)

The Burning Sands

Blood of the Desert

Into the Red Wastes (forthcoming)

Beyond the Veil

Parting the Veil

Standalone Novels

What Once Was Home

CHAPTER ONE

I dashed through the shadows and slid to a stop over the wet concrete, kneeling next to a steel shipping container. The metallic monoliths surrounded me; some lying in isolation, others crammed shoulder-to-shoulder and stacked two, three, or even four high. Massive cranes loomed in silence above, ready to load the containers onto the nearby ship that dwarfed the machinery. Russian characters were painted on the bow that read Бегемот, which was an apt name for the massive ship: Begemot, or Behemoth, to us English speakers.

Despite its size, I could barely make out the ship across the dockyard in the darkness. Clouds obscured the moon, and no lights were on in the yard. A gentle rain fell on the city, and a thick fog rolled in waves from the sea.

I looked over my shoulder as Magdela caught up and kneeled behind the container next to me. We had been there two weeks prior, and I almost died. This was almost the same situation. We had a lead that the Russian mob—the Bratva—were loading a shipment bound for the motherland, and we were there to stop them. Last time, Boris was running the show. In my eagerness to get revenge, I charged out of hiding and got myself shot. Only some quick thinking, quick shooting, and skilled driving from Magdela saved my life.

This time would be different.

A faint whistle let me know our backup was in place. I peered through the darkness as a dull, red light flashed on and off several containers away. Another lit further along. And another. In all, six lights blinked in a series from our position to the edge of the docks. Eight of us weren’t much, but I didn’t expect the Russians to have many more. And we’d have surprise on our side.

I was sure they’d be expecting something, though. We tried to crash the party last time they had one. Their benefactor in the megacorportions was just taken down. And this wasn’t the first time street gangs organized against the mob since then. In fact, we’d run operations almost daily, trying to take down the intertwined web of corruption between the mobs and the city from the ground up.

A tap on my shoulder broke my chain of thought, and Magdela pointed out toward the open dockyard beyond the rows of shipping containers. As expected, a convoy of five black SUVs rumbled through the silence, their headlights like burning beacons defying the darkness of the night. They pulled up near the containers, and two armed men dismounted from each truck.

Only ten. They’re getting cocky, I thought. Or careless.

Most of the men oversaw unloading their cargo while another walked over. He, like the rest, had a snub-nosed full-auto slung over his shoulder. He held it at the hip, panning back and forth as he approached the shadows. All I could do was hope the gangbangers hidden there would stay cool and stick to the plan: We let the mobsters load the cargo, then we hit them when there was less chance of harming the goods.

Back at the trucks, over two dozen thin, haggard, and broken-spirited young women—bound with zip ties around their wrists and gagged—were ushered toward the containers. Some resisted, but all they got for their effort was a pistol-whipping. One passed out after being struck and was dragged against the damp, rough concrete.

Magdela’s hand tightened on my shoulder. As her nails dug into my flesh, I realized she was struggling not to lash out at the brutal treatment of the women. She could have easily been in their situation. Half or more of them were likely ‘recruited’ by her former employer, Sergei. He was the owner of Dreamworks, the flesh bar where she had worked as a cyberjack—plugged into his VR mainframe to give the simulations a human touch by tapping into the emotional centers of her brain.

The whole thing started there. Magdela’s coworker and friend Evie turned up as a stiff on my shift as a detective for the New Angeles Police Department. Solving her murder led me to discover the twisted mess tangling the Russian mob and Talbot Industries in this flesh smuggling ring. In the process, they murdered my partner, Frank, and framed me for it.

I laid my hand on Magdela’s and squeezed. I trusted her discipline, but it didn’t hurt to let her know I understood her frustration. Hell, I jumped the gun last time. If anybody understood how hard it was to be patient and