Mattox MacMillan is an assassin with a covert agency that seeks to bring justice to the innocent. When tragedy befalls one of her own family, she sets her sights on Retribution with her brand of revenge. Travel with Mattox to the seedy club scene of South Beach to the thick jungles of Bogotá as she seeks Retribution and possibly her own Reckoning. All the while, Mattox secretly longs for just a chance at love, happiness and forgiveness.

Retribution

By Cynthia D. Bentley

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2009 Cynthia D. Bentley
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4490-5594-3

Chapter One

Vae victis - woe to the vanquished

There is a darkness. One deep within us all. Every one of us is capable of atrocities and evil. The hard part is the act, for some. For others, it is the act of fighting that evil darkness where their human spirit used to reside. We are a select few. You would not recognize the darkness that hides deep within us as the person standing in line behind you at the supermarket, or ever fathom that the neighbor who buys cookies from your child is an assassin. Yes, you may have seen fragmented evidence of our operations on television and thought the victim deserved to die. But you may never have paused to think about the person who took the monster out. What separates me from the monsters I have eliminated? I am now the one asking that question. Because by the time you read this, they may have already come for me-my usefulness may have run out.

I can only tell you as an outsider because that is what I have become. Maybe I was always an outsider looking in or out at all the pain and death. The dark one I was then now has been freed from the monster that held me for so long. Was it him and all of my other abusers that made me; or was the darkness of evil in me at birth? What made the evil so natural for me? Maybe it is a question needing never to be answered; or maybe it is my way of reckoning with the new feelings I am battling constantly. You have allowed me to feel human, and I must find peace and freedom from all the darkness if we or I am ever allowed to be free.

Between the beginning and the end, love and hate, birth and death there is life or what we call living. We start out in mindless naivety, playing from sunrise to sundown, not knowing what evil lies around the corner, the stranger with the lost puppy or the quiet family member no one would ever suspect was a monster.

Then one day it happens. The sun never shines its warmth on our faces the same again. Sand between our toes no longer tickles and Christmas morning anticipation is extinguished from our hearts. So begins the life of the living dead.

As the black SUV cruised the Deco scene for teenaged prostitutes, little did the monster know that tonight would be its last time to torture young girls because an avenging angel of death was headed toward her at an alarming speed.

The Mission

The green banker's lamp light glowed from the top of the large mahogany desk where Mattox was sitting. Slowly, she poured over the contents of the manila folder. She turned through each page of the police reports as if it were hypnotic. "Young high school soccer player found hanged to death in parent's home," the title of the article blared up at her. She picked up the heavy crystal glass of Jack Daniels and took a slow sip. Letting the burn slowly fill her chest, she took a deep breathe and opened the folder with Autopsy Report stamped on it. Mattox flipped through the contents until she came to Results and Doctor's Notes. When she lifted them apart, two of the autopsy photos slid out onto the desktop. Mattox winced as she looked at the beautiful girl's hollow stare from the silver table. She grabbed her glass and took a deep gulp. She then wasted no time pulling out the photo of the suspect from the police report. Holding the photo of Edith Stewart, she memorized every detail of her face. There was really no need for her to even glance at the photo; she had memorized it weeks ago when she opened this case file. Mattox knew Edith Stewart had a scar on her right hand where one of her sexual encounters had tried to fight back. She knew that she liked young girls and that she would start killing her victims if she was not stopped soon. Glancing down at her wristwatch, Mattox checked the time. It was six-thirty in the morning, tonight would be the beginning of the end of Edith Stewart's terror.

As she turned to the paper shredder behind her desk, Mattox looked over the papers slowly as she filed them into the shredder. Under her breath, Mattox was saying, "Never got any charges to stick," and "Never fired from any of her teaching positions. Where were their parents when all this was happening to their daughters?" The last page ripped through the shredder as Mattox stood up and clicked the lamp off.

She walked out of the dark office and down the hallway of her beautiful Mediterranean-styled home towards the garage. She stopped briefly to unlock a wooden door in the rear of the garage. The door clicked open to reveal a large steel door. Mattox punched in a ten-digit code and the door opened slowly to reveal a hidden weapons room. She opened the door and inside were multiple handguns and semiautomatic assault rifles. (MP5, Uzi handgun). She unzipped the small black leather bag she had grabbed out of her desk and placed one of the black-finished handguns in it. Below the hooks that held the handgun was a small black cylinder. Mattox grabbed that and dropped it in with the weapon. She then unlocked one of the three drawers below the guns. There were little bags of cocaine, syringes, and pills rolling around the green-lined drawer. Mattox picked up one bag of coke and a dark brown vial with some type of liquid inside. Once she had her tools, she slammed the door and re-secured the locks.

The right garage door opened on the stucco house and a black Ducati Monster motorcycle pulled into the morning sun and drove up into a U-Haul panel truck. As Mattox stood in the doorway of the moving truck, the sunrise filled her long black hair with highlights of red. There was something Greek goddess about her statue. She was tall and slender with beautiful brown eyes that would make anyone give her what she desired. Hidden beneath the beautiful exterior were many deep scars that no one had ever known. Mattox hopped down and pulled the door halfway down.

Once back inside, she walked to her office and opened the closet door. Inside the office closet was a wall that housed four small secondary video screens monitoring the four main areas of her property and home. She typed a code on the keyboard to the security system and waited for the systems to start a check. Quickly, she typed the necessary commands to program the system to run on automatic for a 48-hour period. Once completed, Mattox closed and locked the closet door. She walked down the hallway and out the garage door which closed behind her. She threw her duffel bag in the back of the truck and closed the door. She climbed into the rental truck; put on her Oakley's and pulled out of the shady driveway. As she ran her long fingers through her dark hair, she thought of nothing but the mission at hand.

Before she turned onto the I-95 interstate, Mattox opened up the black hand-held computer on the front seat and plugged in her digital phone. Running a thin wire out of the cellphone antenna, she taped the wire to a small logo magnet from the moving company. She laid the magnet on the dashboard and punched in a phone number. As the phone number made connection, the small hand-held computer beeped that she had messages. She scrolled down through the short list of messages. The one from Fisher1@yournet00 read, "The Sweat Pit Saturday." She smiled and typed a short response to Fisher1 which read, "Out of the office for a day, be back soon." She hit send on the computer and waited for the "mail sent" message, then quickly unplugged the phone from the computer and turned the phone off. She popped in a White Zombie CD and drove south on I-95.

It was 9:35 p.m. when she pulled into the hotel. She stepped off the motorcycle and removed her black helmet. As her long black hair fell down her black leather coat, the doorman couldn't help himself and he said out loud, "Damn, hmm!"

Mattox turned and smiled at him as she walked into the lobby. She thought to herself, "He hasn't a clue how easy it would be to break his neck."

Her black cowboy boots clicked as she crossed the pink marble floor toward the front desk. She looked around the ceiling as she walked taking notes as to where the fire exits were and locating any video surveillance cameras. The clerk watched her as she approached and then spoke.

"May I help you, ma'am?"

"Yes, I have a reservation for tonight."

The clerk asked for her name and reservation code.

"It will be under Kelly MacMillan." Mattox fumbled through her black jacket as if she were trying to locate her wallet. "Here it is," she said as she opened her black wallet.

The clerk could see a gold badge in the wallet and responded, "I won't need to see your ID, ma'am. I have your reservation right here."

"Thank you," she said in her low raspy voice. She put her wallet back into the breast pocket of her jacket.

"Do you need to see your room first, Ms MacMillan, because there is a special request for a viewing."

"No, that won't be necessary if you were able to put me in an end room."

"Yes, ma'am, I have you at the end of the hall on the 12th floor. Will that do," the blushing young lesbian asked?

"Yes, thank you. That will be just fine." At that, Mattox took the door card from the young clerk and headed for the elevator.

The elevator beeped on the 12th floor as the door opened. Mattox stepped out and looked up and down the hallway for exits and cameras. She had chosen this location well. The hotel had only two cameras in the underground parking deck and they faced the beach and two more that monitored the front desk clerk. Guess they are more concerned about their employees stealing from them than who their guests were, she thought to herself.

She opened the door to her room and walked in, locking it behind her. She walked straight to the window to check the view and then looked around the room. There was a huge mirror hanging over the dresser that faced the bed. Mattox hated mirrors. She pulled the bedspread off the bed and hung it over the mirror.

Once she had the room secured to her liking, she placed her black bag on the bed and opened it. Mattox pulled out the small pistol and the black cylinder. Placing the cylinder on the end of the barrel, she spun it around quickly. The silencer was in place. She withdrew two .40 caliber magazines and put one in the gun and pulled the slide back. She flipped the safety on and leaned back on the bed. She set the timer on her digital watch and closed her eyes.

There was a slight breeze blowing through the big oak's leaves as the wooden swing rocked back and forth with the beautiful little dark-haired girl. She closed her eyes and imagined she was a bird flying in the sunlight over her house. If she squeezed her eyes hard enough, she thought she could see her Daddy standing there pushing her in the swing. There was a slamming noise and she jerked her eyes open and nearly fell from the swing.

"Ellie, you scared me and I almost fell." Her little sister Ellen came running out of the wooden screen door on the back porch. She was wearing a sundress with yellow flowers on it just like the one Mattox was wearing.

"Sorry, Mattox," said her little sister Ellen. "Mommy says it's my turn to swing. Will you push me, Mattox?"

"Mom said you could swing with your church clothes on?"

"Yes, because you are still wearing yours." She helped her little sister up onto the wooden seat.

"Hold on," she said as she pulled the rope swing back. They counted out loud, "One-two-three-four-."

"Only five, Mattox, it scares me past five," little Ellen said.

She had pushed Ellen enough to get her going high when she heard something from the work shed. As she turned to walk off, Ellen said, "Where are you going, Mattox?"

"No where, I heard one of the kittens cry. I'm going to find it."

"Mommy says we can't go in Daddy's house while he is gone."

"I know, I'm not going in there. I just want to find the kitten."

Mattox walked down the path toward the work shed. She could still hear the kitten crying as she peeked around the side of the building. Mattox looked back toward her house to make sure her mother could not see where she was headed. The door of the shed was partly open. Normally, it was locked. She thought maybe her mother had been down here again. She came down here a lot since Daddy was away in the war. Slowly, she pushed the door the rest of the way open and heard the kitten crying from the back side of the shed. This was such a scary place. All of Daddy's tools and some of his Army stuff was here. It was dark and always cool.

Suddenly, out of the shadows came a man holding the kitten. Mattox stepped back toward the door. She thought about screaming, but she knew she would get in trouble for being here in the first place.

"It's okay, Mattox. It's me, Timmy, your neighbor."

Mattox could not move. She tried to but her feet wouldn't budge. She could see the kitten in his big hand. The kitten's head was dangling between two of his fingers.

"I found this kitten and I think she is hurt." Mattox stepped forward toward Timmy and the kitten. Timmy grabbed her by the arm and pulled her closer. "I think I can help the kitten, but I need your help, Mattox." A child's naive innocence would cost her dearly and she would never forget. As she leaned toward the kitten, he tightened his grip on the kitten's little neck. "If you don't help me Mattox, the hurt kitten will die. You know what die means, don't you?" The frightened child shook her head yes. "Good, here is what you need to do for me, Mattie Pie. You will be my special little girl won't you?" Mattox shook her head again. He lifted her with one arm and set her on the drill table. "What a pretty little dress."

"My mommy made it for me," she whispered.

He played with the yellow flowers on the dress that were sewn to the top of the neck. He then put one of his hands on her breast and squeezed it. She tried to pull back from him but he pressed his mouth over hers and tried to force her mouth open with his tongue. She leaned back from him and he pulled her against him hard. She felt sick. There was this awful taste of bologna and sweat. His scratchy face hurt her skin and she tried to push him off, but he grabbed both of her arms and held them with one hand. She watched the sunbeams shine through the rafters down on the tools hanging from the beams. She did not remember how long it was after the hurting started until she heard her mother calling her. When she sat up, her dress was pulled up and her underwear was all out of shape. Mattox quickly fixed her dress and ran toward the house. She knew she would never tell her mother what happened because she would get in a lot of trouble. As she walked toward the porch she turned and looked back at the shed and saw Timmy put the kitten down and walk back into the darkened woods.

When she grabbed the door handle, she heard a beeping sound and Timmy was in the house. She shot straight up in the bed. Her watch was beeping loudly. Mattox pushed the watch and looked at the time. It was 11:30 p.m. and time to get ready. The nightmare had left her in a cold sweat so she decided to shower first. After all, she did not need to be anywhere until around midnight.

Grabbing her black bag and the pistol, she headed to the bathroom. She pulled off her boots and set them aside. Once she stood, she pulled her white t-shirt over her head. The covers on the bed had left a pressure wrinkle across a scar on her left shoulder. She reached back and rubbed it. In her mind, she thought that one day she should get that covered up. It was just one more thing about herself she thought was ugly. The only thing she did like about herself was the tattoo she and her army buddies all got when they finished paratrooper school at Ft. Benning, GA. It was a Bi-archial cross. It was a very simple tattoo, but she liked how it looked like the cross the Templar Knights had used during the Holy Crusades. That was the reason they all agreed on that cross in the first place. Gizmo had read that the Crusaders were afraid to die in a heathen land and that a scar or brand of the cross would protect them and lead them to Heaven. She laughed when she thought about Heaven but she held tightly to the bond she shared with those guys. She missed them all.

The Sweat Pit

It was 11:55 p.m. when the black Ducati Monster pounced out of the parking deck into the thick Miami humidity. Cruising down through the Deco section, Mattox could only think of the job and not the beautiful architecture she was moving by in the night. It would not be much longer until another name was off the list.

The first wave of party goers was filing into the Sweat Pit when she first rode by the dance club. Mattox scanned the alley ways and parking lot for the one vehicle she needed to locate tonight. At 12:25 p.m. the black SUV pulled into the parking lot and its three passengers crawled out and headed for the entrance. The older woman wearing yellow tinted sunglasses handed the doorman a $20 and started to walk by him.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Retributionby Cynthia D. Bentley Copyright © 2009 by Cynthia D. Bentley. Excerpted by permission.
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