by Linzi Basset
“I found blood on the stairs,” another voice said just outside the door. Paige froze.
“Get the fuck up there. Bring him to me. It’s time to show these Americans not to fuck with us. The Bratva is powerful. All powerful,” the man growled angrily.
“Andrei, this is ludicrous. We need to get the fuck out of this country.” A woman’s voice this time.
Paige concentrated on taking shallow breaths while doing her best to key in the six-letter code to open the hatch door.
“Don’t throw around your weight, woman. We were this close to getting the MOKV. It was in our grasp and if not for your whoring ways and bringing that bastard into our home, we’d have been homeward bound by now.”
A painful cry echoed through the house.
“Let me go, you bastard! You forget who I am!” the woman shrieked.
“Gah! You are nothing, Tasha Alenichev. Not anymore. Your father is dead. I made sure of that. You have no authority in the Bratva anymore.”
“You killed my father?”
Paige detected the astonished fury in the woman’s voice. A soft click echoed like a firecracker in the confined space as she managed to key in the correct code. Her body turned to stone. She waited with bated breath, praying they didn’t hear it too.
“He was old and decrepit. We were tired of the old ways and he was going soft.”
Paige struggled to open the hatch door, too scared that she might bump into something and alert them of her presence.
“We found him. Get down there, you little shit.”
“Oh, no,” Paige cried out softly, listening to the thumping sounds of footsteps coming down the stairs.
“You little fucker. I’m going to enjoy breaking every bone in your body,” Andrei said.
Paige cringed as she heard the sickening sound of a fist connecting with bone. Jaxon’s painful cry followed by another crack, spurred her into action. Before she second guessed herself, she was through the door.
“Stop! Let him go!”
“No! Mom, run,” Jaxon screamed as he struggled against the hold of the two men pinning him in place. “Bastard,” he sneered and with a quick twist of his hip, he jammed his knee with force into the groin of the man on his left. He screamed and went down, clutching his balls. Jaxon had been trained by Ethan in Krav Maga and with his tall, muscled frame he was very strong for his age. He fought with precise movements and a quick straight side palm slash into the other man’s throat, cut off his airway. “RUN!” he screamed at Paige as he pivoted and sprinted toward the front door.
Just as she turned to run for the back door, Andrei lifted his gun. The movement appeared lazy to Paige’s frantic mind. She changed directions and charged at the large man.
“Nooo!” her scream married with the loud bang that exploded next to her ear just as she threw her body against him. He stumbled and went down under the force of her charge. “Jaxon!” Paige cried out as a splatter of blood blinded her vision from where the bullet exited his body.
Then all hell broke loose as Ethan and Keon charged through the door. A shot rang out. Paige watched through her tears as the man trying to get to Jaxon fell backwards. He was dead before he hit the floor. Paige couldn’t drag her eyes from his vacant eyes looking back at her, Ethan’s bullet had left a round circle in the center of his forehead.
“No! Let me go,” she croaked as a hard arm clamped around her throat and yanked her upright.
“You don’t want to do that.” Ethan’s voice sounded deadly, hollow as he spread his legs, his eyes glued on the man behind Paige holding her in front of him as a shield.
“Ethan, please, take care of Jaxon,” she pleaded. He was unmoving where he’d dropped to the floor. A pool of blood spread out like a fountain under his body.
“Let her go.” Ethan’s eyes had never looked so dark, so lethal and all Paige could do was stare.
“She’ll be dead before you raise your gun. Move, you American filth! Get away from the door,” Andrei spat out. He forced Paige to inch along with him as he retreated toward the kitchen.
“Let’s just get the fuck out of here!” Tasha snarled at him, her gun trained on Ethan and Keon. She glanced around wildly. “Just fucking move!”
“Don’t tell me what to do, bitch!” Andrei growled. His arm tightened around Paige’s throat. She gasped as his cruel hold threatened to cut off her ability to breathe. “Get up you two useless shitheads!” he shouted at the two men Jaxon had taken down. They ignored the order and remained passive on the floor.
“The hell with this.” Tasha spun around and ran toward the kitchen.
Paige felt Andrei’s hold go slack as his head snapped around to watch her go. She didn’t hesitate. She twisted her hips sideways and with a backward kick, her heel connected with his knee. His cry of pain was cut off at birth when Ethan’s bullet went through his right eye.
Ethan reached her in one long step and yanked her into his arms. She clung to him for a moment. “Jaxon, oh god, Ethan, he’s been shot twice.”
Keon was already by his side, turning him over gently. “He lost a lot of blood, mate.” His heart skipped a beat as he found the wound in his chest. “We better get him to the clinic, Ethan. Fast.”
Rhone, Bruce, and Alex came charging inside.
“Goddammit,” Bruce growled as he went on his haunches next to Jaxon. He didn’t hesitate before he picked up Jaxon and headed for the chopper. “Let’s go, Rhone. Alex and Keon can take care of those two. Jim and the team should be here soon.”
Ethan picked up a protesting Paige and followed them with her in his arms to the chopper. Airborne, he eased Paige off his lap. He opened the emergency kit and sat down on the floor next to his son. He opened a sterile compress and quickly taped the plastic packaging over the wound in Jaxon’s chest. He checked the wound in his side. It was through and through. He quickly covered it as well, doing his best to keep pressure on both wounds. He forced his mind to be blank, refusing to acknowledge how lethal Jaxon’s wounds were.
He didn’t realize he was crying until Paige joined him and gently brushed the tears from his cheeks.
“He’ll get through this, honey. He has to.” Her sob was one of despair as she watched Ethan lift Jaxon to wrap his arms around his convulsing body. “He’s strong and … and he needs to be there to protect and care for his little sister.”
“D-Dad?”
Ethan lifted his head. He did his best to smile through his tears. “I’m here, Son. Just hold on, my boy.”
“It hurts, Daddy.”
Ethan felt the punch of the voice calling him daddy in his soul. It carried him back to the first time his little son fell off his bicycle and said the exact same words.
“Breathe with me, Son.” His voice thickened as he swallowed back the sob that threatened to escape. “C’mon, Jax. Breathe in … and out. Mind over matter, my son. In … and out.”
Ethan clung to his son. He could feel his strength ebbing with every beat of his heart. Jaxon’s breathing faltered and his body shuddered as he lifted his head, his eyes searching.
“Mom … I thought of the p-erfect name for her.”
“What, love?” Paige managed to whisper. She sobbed as the name puffed from his lips, seconds before his eyes rolled back in their sockets and he slumped in Ethan’s arms.
“Hope.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Now that’s how you break down a team. Piece by piece.” He cackled with glee as he followed the sleek, black chopper until it disappeared from sight. “Pity Ethan’s wife survived, but young Jax was a bonus I never considered.”
He got into the rented Jeep, filled with self-achievement as he eased away from the curb. He felt no remorse at the deaths of the Russians he’d witnessed being loaded into the coroner's van. It was how he operated. Manipulated others and set them up to do the work. Collateral damage was par for the course in this world of crime.
Reece Talbot was a debonair criminal and exceedingly proud of it. Growing up, he had a
lways felt inferior against Lance’s friends. He had dreamed from a young age of one day holding the scepter of control and power in his hands, using it to destroy their pathetic urban lives. Their constant interference in his quest for world domination in the most lucrative of crimes, drug and human trafficking, had increased his desire to see them all dead. It didn’t matter that his own cousin was part of the Precision Secure team he was targeting.
“You chose the wrong team to back, Lance,” he snorted derisively. “It’s a pity my first attempt to eliminate Jack failed. If Jaden hadn’t been so short sighted, we’d have had two flies in one go.” His lips twisted in a wide grin. “I wonder how you feel at this moment, Governor Alex White, knowing your interference to plant an undercover agent is the reason for Jaxon’s death as well as the near execution of Ethan’s wife.”
Reece shifted in the seat. He’d arrived unannounced at the house the Russians rented in Fort Washington on Broad Creek early that morning. He loved surprising people with his presence … as Mr. Z of course. Andrei Smirnov, the Avtoritet, or Brigadier in charge of the Support Group Brigade of the Russian mob, had gone pale at his arrival. Reece exulted in the effect his presence had on subordinates, which was how he saw all of them. The mafia bosses were in his league, not their underlings.
The time had come to tighten the noose around Precision Secure, especially now that they had pulled the rug from under him and closed down his backup operation as well. Ratting out Ethan’s brother-in-law was only the beginning. He still reveled in the satisfaction as he’d watched Sean Scott’s eyes bulge in shock as the bullet hit home. He’d turned calmly to the Russians who were all scattering about, searching for their weapons. He’d set up Dan outside where he had a clear shot of everyone who was on the patio with one order—to kill Ethan Brodie’s brother-in-law. The scene replayed in his mind.
“You can thank me later,” he scoffed as he aimed a debilitating kick at Sean’s stomach. “This bastard works for the Government. They’re aiming to shut us down, the Bratva included.” He held up his hand at Andrei’s protest. “We have a bigger problem than one undercover rat. Precision Secure is on our tail. They know everything.”
“Even about the server and the MOKV file?” Andrei snapped.
Reece nodded. “We need to cripple them and the best place to start is with this bastard’s sister; she's married to one of them.”
He smiled within himself as the four men immediately armed themselves without asking further questions—as he had expected—so predictable of followers. The only one who stared at him speculatively was Tasha Alenichev. She was as pale as a ghost and kept glancing at Sean.
“You better choose wisely, my dear,” Reece grated through thin lips. “A mistake you make now will cost you dearly.” He watched the war that raged inside her to help Sean or give in to his command. “Wise choice,” he said in a low drone as she pivoted on her heel and followed her comrades.
“Fucking useless Russians. They had ample time to finish them both off.”
He was very careful to keep his hands clean—figuratively speaking—but during failures and incompetence like this, he itched to personally take care of matters. He recalled the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins when he’d watched Rhone and Bruce race toward the house. He’d taken out his Glock and took aim, his finger curling around the trigger as the large body of Bruce lined up. He had been so tempted, he could taste the victory of it in his mouth, until the vision of a beautiful redhead flashed in front of his eyes.
“Vengeance will be sweet; not that I give a shit about it but the little whore played right into my hands running to Bruce to warn him.” His eyes glimmered as he pulled out his phone and made a call. “Time for Morgan Adler to pay her dues—in full this time.”
“Yes, Boss,” Dan’s guttural voice over the Bluetooth speaker echoed through the confines of the vehicle.
“I want face to face time with the redhead, Dan. Now that she lives with Rickett, I’m sure she’s under guard 24/7. Find a way to make it happen.”
“What about Gun? Wouldn’t it be easier for him to get to her?”
Reece inhaled slowly, forcing down his rising ire. If there was one thing he abhorred, it was to have his instructions questioned. Dan had become lax over the years working predominantly for Jaden. He would soon realize he was in a completely different ball game with Reece.
“Just do what you’re fucking told. Make it happen. Quickly.”
Not once since he’d escaped from The Sauna House had Reece taken a moment to mourn the death of his best friend. He’d been sad that he had come to such a violent death but he wasn’t gutted about it. Death didn’t faze him; it was part of life. He shook off the wayward thoughts suddenly clouding his mind.
“I don’t have time to cry over something I can’t change. He’s dead … well, by now he should be. It’s done.” He parked the Jeep Cherokee under the willow tree of the lake house property one of his father’s business associates had offered for his use. “Besides, it was his own fucking fault.” He got out, and whistling a happy tune, he headed inside. He lifted his hand to his brow in a mocking salute.
“Rest in peace, my friend.” He laughed as a thought came to mind. “Now I don’t have to share my riches anymore or give an account of every dime I spend. It’s mine. All. Fucking. MINE!”
The forest at the South mountain of Michaux State Forest, a day after the rescue.
“Push through the pain. Keep going. Just … keep … going.”
Jaden stumbled over a protruding root. Pain shot through his brain as he slammed into the trunk of a tree in an effort to stay on his feet. He didn’t think he’d be able to get up if he fell to the ground. His face closed in a grimace.
“Ahh, fuck.” His low scream had a raw quality, the realness of a person consumed by a pain that knew no end or limit. He dragged in a stuttering breath, panting as his entire body was consumed by waves of pain that crashed over him like the ocean during a relentless storm.
He pushed away from the tree, watching his hands shaking against the trunk. Blood coated his fingers like caramel over an apple, only brilliant red instead of soft golden brown. He saw each finger move and stared, entranced by the new color of his skin, covered with streaks of scarlet red—his source of life.
The shirt he had wrapped around his head to cover the wound was soaked through from the blood that still seeped periodically from the wound in his cheek. He could feel his strength ebbing with every precious drop that colored the white shirt with crimson blotches.
His breathing echoed loudly in his ears as he desperately attempted to gather strength to continue. He took one step and stopped, waiting for his legs to stop wobbling and accept his weight. He ground on his teeth and took another and another until he managed a swinging forward motion. His legs felt like led, growing heavier by the minute.
Jaden knew he was nearing the end of his strength but pure will powered his slow advance. He blinked away the sweat dripping into his eyes as he looked around with weariness. Despair threatened to engulf him, weighing him down relentlessly. He used his hand to shade his eyes and squinted at the sky.
“Yes!” he cried and forced his legs to move, invigorated by the trail of smoke a short distance from him. Hope flared to life inside him, like blossoms that bloomed after a short burst of rain.
“Keep going, Jaden. You’re not fucking dying here today.” He grunted at the throbbing pain that played a tag team melody between his head and cheek. “There are too many unanswered questions. You need to focus!”
The pep talk worked to keep his forward momentum; he dragged his feet but continued to shuffle along. His breathing turned haggard, sweat ran down his spine in rivulets, soaking his shirt. His body started to shake, his teeth clattered as he was consumed by cold shivers.
“Not … dying … today,” he stammered. The acrid smell of smoke filled his nostrils. He was close! So close.
“Almost … there ...ugh!” His legs shuddered threateningly.
His raw cry of frustration echoed through the sunny mid-morning air as finally, they couldn’t carry his weight anymore. He crumbled to his knees. Spittle dribbled from his open lips as he gasped for breath. “Not dying … here today,” he croaked as he forced himself to crawl forward at a snail’s pace.
A low growl penetrated his pain induced mind. He was tired beyond belief but managed to lift his head, staring sightlessly for a couple of seconds before his brain registered what he was looking at.
“Thank god,” he whispered as he stared into the unblinking chocolate colored eyes of a Golden Retriever. His wagging tail belied the warning rumble from his throat.
“Whatcha got, boy?” A gruff voice floated in a loud echo through Jaden’s mind. His arms gave in and his body thumped to the ground.
“Holy Toledo, Buster! You’ve caught a live one. Hey, mister.” He prodded Jaden’s shoulder. “Hello?”
It took the last vestige of Jaden’s strength to roll over onto his back. “Help … please.”
“Good god, look at all that blood. Adam! Get your butt over here!” The large man hunched down next to Jaden. “You look like shit, boy.”
“Whazzup, Pa?” A younger version of the same gruff voice seared through Jaden’s mind. “Holy shithead! Where did he come from?”
“Stop with the stupid questions and fetch the truck. We need to get this here body to old Doc Bob.”
Jaden’s eyes flickered open.
“Here, I think you can do with some firewater.” The burly mountain man gently held his flask against Jaden’s lips.
“Jesus,” Jaden wheezed as the liquid scorched a fiery path down his throat to settle in a pleasant warmth in his stomach.
“Name’s Geezer Jones. Relax, Sonny, my boy will be back soon and we’ll get you sorted in no time.”
Jaden stopped fighting the dark void that had been his companion hovering on the edge of his vision since he’d managed to escape through one of the secret tunnels of the Sauna House.