RequiemA Montague and Strong Detective Novel
Orlando A. Sanchez
Contents
About the Story
Quotation
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
Author Notes
Special Mentions
About the Author
Bitten Peaches Publishing
Acknowledegements
Contact Me
ART SHREDDERS
Thanks for Reading!
About the Story
No matter how fast you are, you can’t outrun your past.
When Ramirez receives a call from Shadow Company, he uncovers secrets from Simon’s covert operative days and an instruction: contact Simon.
An agent Simon thought dead, has resurfaced, looking for vengeance and his help.
Now, together with Monty, Simon must stop this agent from exacting revenge before it’s too late and countless lives are lost. Will Simon succeed in keeping his past hidden? Will the past come to haunt his present and destroy his future?
“I have long had the taste of death on my tongue.”
-Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
ONE
I stepped into the lobby of Haven and did a double-take.
I immediately noticed the heightened security strategically placed around the lobby, though they were working hard at trying to blend into the decor of the reception area. This only made them stand out more. I easily counted six security personnel spread out around the space.
Whoever trained this group needed to brush up on the “hiding in plain sight” lesson of the curriculum. I stepped to the closest guard, who eyeballed me warily.
I could tell from his energy signature that he wasn’t run-of-the-mill security. This was a group of high-level mages. Roxanne wasn’t relying on just wards and runes anymore—she had raised the stakes and she was betting it all on the house.
“When did Roxanne hire your team?” I asked, looking around at the group of mages still trying desperately, and failing spectacularly, to blend in. “She expecting another attack?”
Tall, muscular, and wary gave me the once-over, determined I wasn’t a threat, then looked down at my ever-friendly, super approachable hellhound, and paused.
Peaches was giving him his best hellhound grin, and I struggled to keep a straight face. All this did was scare the security mage, who took a step back, letting his hand drift to his side, and to his weapon.
“What kind of dog is that?” he asked, pointing at Peaches, who was doing a horrible impression of Fangs and Cuddles. “I’ve never seen that breed before. What’s wrong with his eyes?”
“He’s not a dog, actually,” I answered, lowering my voice and leaning in conspiratorially. “He’s more of a hellhound. That’s why his eyes glow.”
“Hellhound, right, sure,” the security mage said. “Pull the other one.”
I shrugged. I wasn’t in the convincing mood, and he was just doing his job. He didn’t have to believe me and I didn’t have to make him. No harm, no foul.
“Why the extra security? Is the hospital on lockdown?”
“You ask a lot of questions, Mr.—?”
“Strong, Simon Strong. I know Roxanne.”
“Who?” he asked. “Do you have some ID, Mr. Strong?”
“No need to get all Fort Knox on me, big guy,” I said, reaching for my wallet and stopping when I saw him tense. Things were not developing well. “I was just asking about all the extra security.”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss details, sir,” he said. “I don’t know a Roxanne. No one here does. Please remove the ID slowly from your pocket. Thank you.”
“Seriously,” I said, handing him my license, “everyone knows Roxanne. I mean everyone.”
I proceeded to grace him with my best Sting rendition of the classic. Clearly, he was dumbstruck by my virtuosity, because all he could do was stand there in shock.
I had that effect on people.
Then I realized there was a good chance he wasn’t on a first-name basis with the Director. It made sense. She may have just hired them. She would have made sure to keep it professional, after all. I paused my version of Roxanne, which was so amazing even Sting would weep tears of applause, and clarified my association with Roxanne—the Director, not the one who didn’t have to put on the red light.
“Director DeMarco? She’s a good friend of mine,” I said, looking around. “Is she around?”
I noticed the glance he gave his team. Subtle he was not. The glance was basically a message of, “harmless lunatic on the floor, escort out with minimum attention,” to the rest of the team. I saw them move. They were pretty good, and approached at oblique angles. No one had a weapon drawn.
Smart move, kept things de-escalated…except that trying to box me in was the exact opposite of de-escalation. Trying to box in my hellhound—my very overprotective hellhound—was the opposite of a smart move. It bordered on suicidal, unless—of course—you had a large bowl of pastrami in your hands.
However, I did appreciate the effort. It looked like they had paid attention during the “coordinated attack” lesson. It wasn’t their fault that they hadn’t trained for the possibility of encountering an offspring of Cerberus.
It was hard to plan for every contingency—especially hellhounds.
Two of the team, the ones furthest away from my location, resembled boxers as they slowly bounced on their toes. The other three were forming a cordon to make sure I had limited options of exit. Primarily, my options were limited to the exit they chose.
They approached carefully. I’d like to say it was because I was such an imposing figure, but I’d be lying. It was more likely due to the now alert hellhound by my side who sensed the team closing in on our position.
Peaches gave off a low rumble, which stopped everyone in their tracks.
In retrospect, mentioning Roxanne by name may have been a mistake. This team was especially twitchy. It could’ve had something to do with Haven being attacked by Evers not too long ago. Or having parts of the building blown to bits—none of which, I promise, was my fault. I may have been on the scene, but I was definitely not the cause of the scene.
I moved my hands slowly into the air in a surrender pose as Peaches entered rend-and-maim mode.
“Listen, we really don’t want any trouble,” I said. “Trust me on this. What’s your name?”
“Everyone calls me Tank,” he
