The Devil You Know Read online

  The Devil You Know

  Book 2 in The Red Sky Series

  Sam Sisavath

  The Devil You Know

  Copyright © 2017 by Sam Sisavath

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Road to Babylon Media LLC

  www.roadtobabylon.com

  Edited by Jennifer Jensen & Wendy Chan

  Cover Design by B&J

  Contents

  The Red Sky Series

  About The Devil You Know

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  A Quick Word from the Author

  Other Book Series by Sam Sisavath

  The Red Sky Series

  Most Wanted (available now)

  The Devil You Know (available now)

  Untitled Book 3 (2018)

  About The Devil You Know

  An ex-FBI agent in search of her past.

  A friend turned ruthless enemy.

  A mysterious agenda that must be uncovered at all costs…

  With her life in shambles, the FBI’s newest Most Wanted fugitive, Quinn Turner, has no choice but to dive into her murky past in search of answers. But she quickly discovers she’s not alone: Strangers with questionable motives are about to make her life even more complicated.

  For Xiao and Aaron, the search for Porter’s whereabouts have been slow and dangerous, but they’re determined to keep going. Unfortunately for them, the enemy doesn’t care what they want, and a latest strike by the Rhim splits up the team.

  But it’s not all bleak: With the Rhim forced to take very public actions to keep their existence a secret, previously hidden factions are finally emerging, including someone who might just have the resources to be a game changer.

  In book 2 of The Red Sky series, devils come in all shapes and sizes, but so do allies.

  Chapter 1

  Xiao

  “Who’re you voting for?”

  “What, it’s been four years already?”

  “It’s not even the primaries yet. That’s still months away.”

  “So what’s the hurry?”

  “The future of the country’s riding on it.”

  “That’s what they say every four years. You actually believe it?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Not since I got a job and started paying taxes. Different president, same shit. Sometimes they don’t even switch up the ‘different president’ part.”

  Someone’s clued in, Xiao thought.

  The conversation was a semi-interesting one, mostly because Xiao had nothing else better to do at the moment. The two truckers occupied a table two booths behind her, almost at the very back, and sported dirt-specked ball caps that might have been through as many late-night long hauls as the men whose heads they rested on. They weren’t exactly being loud, but with only the jukebox on the other side of the room and the slight whip-whip-whip of the ceiling fan to provide any noise challenge, she could hear every word without having to even try.

  Such stimulating conversation, too.

  It had been a while since she’d been in a restaurant with a jukebox, especially one that seemed to have an exhaustive list of hit country songs. The one playing now was about a truck and a dog. Or was it a dog driving a truck? One of those.

  Sight wise, she had her eyes on every part of the building—every booth and unused stool and the smoke coming from the kitchen—along with every pedestrian on the sidewalk and cars in the streets immediately outside.

  Behind her, the two everymen continued:

  “I’m voting for him,” the first trucker was saying. He was about fifty pounds bigger than his buddy but had curiously small arms. Not exactly fat but not exactly fit, either. Xiao found that immensely intriguing.

  “Who?” the other one said. Shorter and skinnier, with the kind of frame she wouldn’t have believed could control a forty-ton vehicle with any proficiency if she hadn’t seen the man climb down from his big rig ten minutes ago and enter the place to meet his buddy for coffee and croissants. Truckers eating croissants smaller than their palms laced with jam was a rare sight.

  She assumed they were buddies, since neither man had started swinging after politics came up. In Xiao’s experience, Americans tended to be all-in when it came to ideologies. “You’re either with us or against us,” as someone famously said not all too long ago. She had yet to meet another group of people that took everything so personally as someone not agreeing with their chosen candidate.

  “You know, the businessman,” Big Trucker said. “I think he’s the real deal.”

  Small Trucker scoffed. Or snorted. Maybe a scort—a sound halfway between a scoff and a snort. “Taylor?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Didn’t he used to be on TV?”

  “Once or twice. All the big-time CEOs go on TV these days to hawk their companies. What’s your point?”

  “The guy’s a friggin’ billionaire. One of the one percent.”

  “Again: So?”

  “That doesn’t bother you?”

  “The fact that he has a lot of money just means he can’t be bought.”

  Another scort from Small Trucker. “You really believe that? Anyone can be bought. It doesn’t have to be money. Everyone’s got a price.”

  “You gotta believe in something.”

  “So who’re you voting for?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “So why you busting my hump all of a sudden?”

  “I’m just sayin’, if you don’t vote, you can’t complain later. I plan on voting. Right now I’m just vetting them, which you haven’t even done.”

  “I’ll get around to it.”

  “It’s your duty as an American, you know.”

  “Pfft,” Small Trucker said, unconvinced. “You still believe that, too? Man, what are you, ten?”

  “I wish,” Big Trucker said, and they both chuckled.

  Their voices were soon replaced by the clinking of eating utensils as both men dug into the cherry pies the waitress had brought over a few minutes ago.

  Smells good. Maybe I should get pie to go. Grab a couple for Aaron and Trevor, too.

  Now that the truckers had replaced eating with chatting, Xiao refocused on the rest of the diner.

  The place wasn’t quite a dive, but close. It was located on the edge of downtown, in a part of the city that catered to locals and regulars like the two chums enjoying their pies (Definitely gotta grab a couple for later) behind her. The diner wasn’t even close to being half-full this afternoon, with only five other customers besides the two chummy truckers.

  A man in a cheap suit and tie sat at the counter trying to make time with the thirty-something waitress who was working s
olo. Francine was jotted across her name tag, and she may or may not be interested; or maybe she was just fishing for a good tip. An old man in a fedora sat near the jukebox reading a newspaper, while two twenty-somethings in stained painters’ overalls made small talk about last night’s game while devouring cheeseburgers and fries. And finally a woman with a haircut from the fifties (but who looked in her sixties) sorting coupons in a booth, oblivious to everyone else around her, including Francine the waitress, who had asked her if she wanted a refill twice in the last twenty minutes but was ignored.

  Third time’s the charm, Francine.

  There was no obvious threat, and there hadn’t been one since she stepped inside the diner, not that that had stopped her from leaving the Glock with the suppressor on the seat nearby. The gun was covered up by a handbag and close enough to her right hand that had yet to leave her lap since she sat down. Xiao picked up her cup of coffee with her left hand and took a sip, eyes wandering to the sidewalk outside the diner (Barney’s-something). If there was going to be a threat, it was going to come from out there.

  She had chosen a spot near the back, with only the wall behind her and the two truckers behind and slightly to her left. She guessed it was their regular spot from the way both had walked straight to it after entering the joint. That, and the other reason why her internal alarm wasn’t sounding was their appearance. She had seen enough Rhim operatives to know what they looked like, and these two weren’t it. Then again, what were the chances the Rhim had begun recruiting more “regular” looking agents in order to better fit in?

  Can you genetically engineer “regular?”

  Xiao glanced at her watch, then down at the candy bar-shaped phone on the table next to her half-eaten scone. The device was ancient compared to the cell phone the waitress was playing with as she leaned back against the partition that separated the diner and the kitchen, with a view of the short order cook busy with something that smelled awfully good through an elongated open window. Even the old man in the fedora had a phone that was at least five years newer than Xiao’s.

  The black and white screen on the phone remained blank. No calls. No text messages, either. Either her “date” had stood her up or—

  Ping! as the bell above the diner’s door chimed.

  Xiao looked up in time to catch a figure stepping into the place. Average height, gray slacks, and a plain white dress shirt inside a black leather jacket that might have been new.

  I guess I wasn’t stood up after all.

  The woman stopped for a second to glance around before hazel eyes and a slightly upturned nose found Xiao—and stayed on her—from across the room. Xiao nodded, and the woman returned it—nervously. She looked around again before hurrying down the aisle and sitting across the table from Xiao. Strands of blond hair sneaked their way out from underneath a Houston Rockets baseball cap that did little to hide a pretty (and much too young) face.

  Damn, why are they always so young?

  “You’re Xiao?” the woman asked.

  “You’re Joan.”

  “Yeah.” She fidgeted against the plastic upholstery, eyes going to the truckers in the back, then the two in overalls on the other side.

  “Relax,” Xiao said.

  The woman looked back at her and smiled. Or tried to. “Why this place?”

  “Why not?”

  “Not exactly…private.”

  “Beats a derelict old building. Coffee’s better here.” She picked up the cup and took a sip for effect.

  “Is it?” the woman named Joan asked.

  “Nah, not really.”

  Joan flashed another nervous smile. Then, “I didn’t expect you to be…”

  “So attractive?”

  “I was going to say Asian.”

  “That, too. I didn’t mention that?”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Then how did you know who I was when you came inside?”

  “It was either you or the old lady clipping coupons behind me, or the old man, or the four guys eating like pigs.”

  Xiao smiled. “I’ve been known to clip a few coupons in my lifetime.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “No?”

  “Not even for one millisecond.”

  Joan went very quiet and unnaturally still when the waitress appeared in the aisle next to her. “Get you something, sweetie?”

  “Whatever she’s having,” Joan said.

  “Scone and black coffee?”

  Joan glanced down at Xiao’s cup. “Black?”

  “No sugar,” Xiao said.

  “Maybe a little sugar in mine,” Joan said.

  “Coming up,” the waitress said before leaving them alone again.

  Joan leaned slightly across the table, eyes drifting back to the truckers. “Are you sure this is safe? To be doing this here? In public like this?”

  “Safe enough,” Xiao said. “Can’t exactly meet in private when we don’t even know each other. This way, we’re both out in the open.”

  “Makes sense, I guess.”

  “Of course it does,” Xiao smiled, thinking about the gun on the seat next to her.

  The truth was she had chosen Barney’s…something because it was close to the safe house, and she could walk to it on foot. That, and she had passed it a few times before and it had always been mostly empty, even during rush hour.

  “It’s good to be a little paranoid,” Xiao said. “It means you know who we’re dealing with.”

  “The Rhim,” Joan said, the two words barely rising above a whisper.

  Xiao nodded. “So what do you know about them?”

  “Enough to be scared.”

  “What else?”

  The other woman leaned back in her seat and glanced around again. The paranoia played overtly on her face.

  Then again, it’s not paranoia if they’re really after you, is it?

  Now that there were only a few feet separating them, Joan was much younger than she had appeared when Xiao first saw her. Early twenties—maybe mid-twenties, max. For some reason, Xiao had expected her to be older.

  Either everyone’s getting younger or you’re getting older.

  Yeah, let’s not think too hard on that one.

  “Porter,” Joan said, looking back at her. “I think I know where they might be keeping him. Or were keeping him.”

  “Were?”

  “The information I have is a little dated.”

  “How dated?”

  “A few days. Maybe longer. I can’t be sure.”

  Xiao hesitated, the question that had been on her mind for so many days now hanging off the tip of her tongue, but she was afraid to say it, afraid of the answer she might get.

  But she had to know.

  “So you think he’s still alive?” Xiao asked.

  “I think so,” Joan nodded.

  “The news said he’s dead.”

  “The news,” Joan repeated, not even trying to hide her disdain. Xiao found that reassuring. “I think he’s alive. I mean, it’s not like I’m a hundred percent sure, but all signs point to them doing something with him.”

  “What kind of proof do you have?”

  “What are you going to do if I tell you?”

  “What do you think?”

  Before Joan can answer, Francine returned with a steaming cup of coffee and a scone on a small platter. “Enjoy,” the waitress said before leaving again.

  Joan waited for the woman to step out of earshot before continuing. She hadn’t bothered to even pick up her orders, and tendrils of smoke from the hot coffee drifted lazily into the air between them.

  “You’re going to rescue him,” Joan said.

  “I’m going to try,” Xiao nodded.

  “Then you’re going to need help. A lot of help.”

  If he’s actually there.

  If he’s actually still alive.

  If, if, if…

  “Why,” she said, with a slight smirk, “you don’t think I can do it by my
self?”

  “No,” Joan said without hesitation. “The place where I think they’re holding him, you’ll never get to it alone.”

  “I don’t know about that, I can get pretty far all by my little lonesome.” An endless supply of explosive grenades wouldn’t hurt, either, she thought, before adding, “But let’s leave the tactical details for later. For now, tell me where you think they’re keeping him.”

  “I will, but I have to be sure.”

  “Sure of what?”

  “That you’re who you say you are.”

  Joan stared at her as if she could read Xiao’s soul if she stared hard enough.

  Yeah, good luck with that, kid.

  Jesus, she’s young…

  “Hey, you asked to meet me,” Xiao said, injecting just enough annoyance into her voice to take back some semblance of control of their meeting. “Maybe you’re the one who should be proving to me you’re who you say you are.”

  “I never said who I was. Joan’s not even my real name.”

  “You don’t say?”

  The woman who called herself “Joan” shook her head. “No one uses their real names online. Not if they want to keep breathing, anyway. Just searching for Porter’s name is enough to get you put on a list. But making contact with you guys? That’s almost suicide.”

  “‘You guys?’”

  She leaned slightly forward again to whisper, “You know, the Sons of Porter.”

  “And yet here we are.”

  “And yet here we are,” Joan repeated.

  “So how can I put your mind at ease and prove I’m who I say I am?”