Legacy of Power: Season 1 (Charlie Conners) by C.C. Bolick

Author:C.C. Bolick [Bolick, C.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dirt Road Books
Published: 2021-09-27T22:00:00+00:00

* * * * *

Voices shouted, and I jerked to attention, dropping my bag to the floor. People around me screamed and ran toward the exit signs in a massive flow.

Alarms sounded, and red lights flashed. A family ran by me, almost shoving me from the seat.

Above all the noise, the cracking of an entire clip of bullets reverberated through the air. More screams followed as people tripped over bags and shoved others in their frantic bid to escape.

I gripped my bag close to my chest but didn’t leave the seat.

A motion to the left caught my eye. Approaching was a man dressed in a sequined white jumpsuit with his arm around a woman’s neck. I blinked and looked again. Was this a dream?

No, the man had definitely dressed like the cover of one of Mom’s Elvis albums. The legs of his pants flared around his white boots. Lights from above sparkled along the sequins. His black hair was cut like I’d seen in pictures, and he even had the sideburns. The only thing missing was a guitar hanging from his shoulder.

He dragged the woman while he pranced through the room, glancing around as if looking for fans to take his picture. She was at least a foot shorter than him, dressed in a black suit, and kicked at his legs as she gripped the arm around her neck. In his other hand was a gun.

The scene was so bizarre, I wanted to laugh with humor and disgust at the same time. Instead, I hugged my bag as he passed between me and one of the luggage carousels.

Laughing like a true villain, he barely looked my way. The woman twisted with a burst of strength, almost breaking free. He wrenched her closer and put the gun to her head. I thought of the soldier who grabbed me the night Mom died.

A man in a black suit approached from the other direction with a gun in his hand. His face was clean-shaven and hard as stone; his dark hair was cut military-style. Broad shoulders and thick upper arms gave the impression he knew how to fight.

If he noticed me, he didn’t look my way. Elvis turned, with the woman still in his grip, and the approaching man stopped and aimed his gun. The three stood about thirty feet to my right, near the next luggage carousel.

“Not so close, Agent Mason,” Elvis said.

Agent, I thought. Like FBI?

Agent Mason kept the gun trained on him. He spoke in a deep voice, filled with anger, but his movements were slow and cautious. “What’s with the suit, Faulkner?”

Elvis smiled. “If I’m going out, it will be in style. And I won’t be alone.”

I glanced around in shock. No one sat in any of the seats. Luggage made circles on the conveyors with no one there to grab the bags. The room had cleared completely except for two more agents dressed in black near the main doors. And another three watching from across the room.

Boy, would Mom have loved to have seen this.

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