A Wild Hunt (ONC 2021)

Human Bureau of Investigation

Ramsey "Muse" Gallagher:

I was too exhausted to sleep. Despite the eight-hour plane ride, the five-hour time difference, and the three bloody bourbons consumed on the flight, sleep refused to come. I kept thinking about Lucky and his family. When sleep would come it contained mostly of film like images of the day he died. I knew that he'd want us to move on as best as we could but a part of me hungered for revenge.

I also knew that if I followed that path I might not come back from it. That's why I asked to be given a job outside of Chicago. I'm part of Gable Elite Task Force, one small part of the Human Bureau of Investigation. Gable Elite is headed by Dean Gable, one of the best men I know. We're a highly trained elite group, comprised mostly of ex-military. We go where were needed. We fight a never ending battle. We put our lives on the line for the sake of men and women who cannot protect themselves from other forces.

I glanced down at my bruised knuckles on my left hand and muttered a curse. Fighting was prohibited. I was suppose to show extreme resistance to my anger and temper. It has been simmering since I'd gotten on the plane from Chicago. Before that I'd found myself sitting on a hard ass metal bench, my mouth tasting like something died in there, smelling like bar smoke and stale beer. The cop who booked me last night called me to the front of the cell. He looked like a Barney Fife reject, but I kept that tidbit to myself. I didn't need to more flames to the fire.

"Man, you look like crap." A familiar voice said from behind the cop.

"You would too if you'd slept in this little haven." I snapped gesturing to the cell around me.

Kieran Alderman was my best friend and a gigantic pain in my ass.

"For one, I wouldn't be in a jail cell. Oh, that's right, I'm not."

"Don't patronize me. Just get me out of here."

He snickered, "Why would I do that? At least I know if your in here, you're not out there getting into trouble."

I closed my eyes against his perusal. He was right. I wasn't capable of staying out of trouble lately.

"You realize that this is your fifth strike?"

"Yes." I groaned. 

"When Gable only gives one. You should be glad that you're an asset. Or you'd be out on your ass so fast."

"Fuck, I know that." I hissed.

"What in hell were you thinking?"

"That the guy was an asshole. He swung first." The minute that the punk threw a fist he became someone else. Someone I thought I'd buried deep. Someone I know who will be out there gunning for me.

Kieran shook his head and looked to the ceiling. "Un-fucking-believable."

A couple of deep breathes later he looked at me again. "Grow the hell up Muse."

My temper made me what I am. The best enforcer our team had. But it was also my biggest liability. Sometimes I couldn't help it, the past made it so.

"Trying." I said.

"He's good, we're ready." Kieran called to the cop.

A few quick sounds and he had my cell unlocked. After signing a few discharge papers I was free to go. We pulled into Chicago's traffic and headed toward my condo.

"You should thank Talia for saving your ass. She'd watched the whole thing go down."

Talia. What was she doing there? Stalking me again?

"Great. Something else she can lord over my head."

The bastard had the nerve to laugh.

"You keep giving her ammunition."

"No. I told her what we had was a one time deal. She just doesn't get it."

I seemed to draw in all the closet crazies. It's been months since I've had a decent lay. One that knew the score and kept on trucking the day after.

"You could take one look at her and see the stars she has in her eyes for you." Kieran smiled.

"Enough talk about her. You heard anything about our next job?"

"About that, Gable wants you to get some rest and be in his office by seven this evening." He pointed to the dash clock. When we pull into my driveway my cell phone rings.

"It's my mother." I groaned. 

He slapped me on the shoulder. "Good luck with mama Gallagher, we know what a ball buster she is."

"Thanks for reminding me." I said climbing out of his truck and heading to my condo.

Seems good news always travels fast.

I answered the call, "Hey, mom."

***

I sat in Gables office waiting for him to chew me out for my lack of control. He didn't speak for the first few minutes. Then once he began talking there was no end. He face is heavy lined, like he was holding up a dam and it was wearing him out.

"Gallagher." He voice was stern but light, which meant he was more pissed than when he yelled.

"No excuses. I won't apologize." I tapped my fingers against my temple. I had felt a headache coming.

"You're lucky that I know what's going on. And you're damn right you don't have any excuses."

I sighed in relief.

"I can't look like I'm letting you off the hook. These men need a steady hand. We all have a past, Muse."

"Yes, sir. I know."

"Pasts aside. You're way past the age where you should be pulling this crap."

"Yes, sir."

"Muse, you're good. Damn good at your job. We both know it. But this has to stop. There's a fine line that we must walk. It looks bad on me, the team. Everything we stand for."

I knew what's coming next. The pause he gave was heavy. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Take the rest of the weekend and figure yourself out. Come Monday you'll be on a plane to Georgia. I have a special job for you."

"Yes, sir." I repeated.

"This cannot happen again. If it does then the team will have to take a hit a you'll be ousted." He sighed, like saying those words are killing him inside.

He handed me the file on the job and I left his office with a heavy feeling in my chest. That was a week ago, now I'm sitting on some rickety old bench somewhere in the boonies of Georgia.

I watch as the suped up cars line the road for a mile straight. I am looking for Gideon Archer. I can't believe the name that made news headlines in the world of NASCAR would be involved in backwoods gambling. Gideon was known for his reputation for being a screw-up. His father, Michael "Stealth" Archer had been one of the greatest drivers in NASCAR history. His son didn't inherit any of the qualities that his father had. His came from the drugged out B-list actress of a mother, Pamela Hale. Who I have on good athority, is still hell bent on being known as a party girl despite being in her fifties. Their daughter Rhiannon Archer wasn't shown much in the spotlight. I knew she worked with his team in the pits, but there wasn't much on her besides that. The main focus was on the son, he knew my target, could get me close to her.

My gaze caught a blue mustang. I hadn't seen one of those in quite some time. I damn sure hadn't seen anything like the person driving it in ages. Looks like I didn't need to find Gideon. By the grace of someone up high, my target just landed in my lap and she was driving my dream car. That would be something I could use to get close to her. But seeing her here brought up some interesting questions. There's only one way to find out the answers. Slowly, I get up and head in her direction. I put on my best smile. It's time to shine.