by Dale Mayer
Miles
The Mavericks, Book 7
Dale Mayer
Books in This Series:
Kerrick, Book 1
Griffin, Book 2
Jax, Book 3
Beau, Book 4
Asher, Book 5
Ryker, Book 6
Miles, Book 7
Nico, Book 8
Keane, Book 9
Lennox, Book 10
Gavin, Book 11
Shane, Book 12
Table of Contents
Title Page
About This Book
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
Epilogue
About Nico
Author’s Note
Complimentary Download
About the Author
Copyright Page
About This Book
What happens when the very men—trained to make the hard decisions—come up against the rules and regulations that hold them back from doing what needs to be done? They either stay and work within the constraints given to them or they walk away. Only now, for a select few, they have another option:
The Mavericks. A covert black ops team that steps up and break all the rules … but gets the job done.
Welcome to a new military romance series by USA Today best-selling author Dale Mayer. A series where you meet new friends and just might get to meet old ones too in this raw and compelling look at the men who keep us safe every day from the darkness where they operate—and live—in the shadows … until someone special helps them step into the light.
When his call came, the mission was the opposite of what he expected …
Returning to his hometown of London, UK, was a happy surprise, until he realized what—and who—was involved. Out of his comfort zone when dealing with women sold into sexual slavery or even “collected,” regardless Miles was determined to dig in deep, when he realized he knew the latest kidnapped victim. A woman who’d touched him years earlier. To think she might be suffering at the hands of a deranged serial kidnapper or, worse, could be sold in some human trafficking ring …
Vanessa, tied up and blindfolded, has no idea why she’d been kidnapped. She does her best to obey her captor, even as she plots her escape. Her hope is that she’s been reported missing and that the cops are looking for her. … They are, but so is someone else …
Keeping Vanessa safe at his side, Miles is taxed to the limit to unravel and to capture a serial killer who’s lain undetected for decades, disguised as a serial kidnapper …
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Chapter 1
Miles Radford poured himself his first cup of coffee and stepped onto his tiny balcony. He was renting a studio apartment with a lopsided built-in desk and a small kitchenette just big enough for what he needed for the moment. It was also month-to-month as he figured out his life. He had a lot of good options but nothing necessarily had the same adrenaline-pulsing lifestyle that he was used to. Nobody who became a Navy SEAL ever considered what came afterward.
The average participation in the program was eight to ten years. He’d already done fourteen and was well past the point of moving on, but he couldn’t stomach imagining himself as one of the brass behind a desk. He wasn’t past anything. He preferred something much more subtle and more suited for him. He couldn’t describe it in specific terms, but helping Ryker out had been part of it. Plus rewarding to Miles. It had been taxing, sure, and dangerous. But reaching the end of it and also witnessing Ryker’s hell of a new beginning with Manila was a better way to say it. Miles hated to admit it, but he was almost looking for something like that himself. The same as a hell of a lot of other men too, apparently.
He’d heard of various lucky-in-love factions within the navy. Obviously he knew Mason and his team. And also Levi, who’d set up Legendary Security, with his partner, Ice, who also had this incredible matchmaking system. Both men were leaders in their own right but would deny their matchmaker abilities until they were blue in the face, but something was magical about them.
And now something was magical about the Mavericks team. It wasn’t their official name, but it had been coined and had stuck. They had a Mavericks chat window, aka the command central, and a growing number of members on the Mavericks team. But, so far, two men were assigned to a mission, and then the others worked in the background. Somehow they understood they were being tested and trained for something bigger.
Miles sometimes wondered if he even wanted bigger stuff. He had told Beta, his Mavericks contact, that he would consider another job if it came up. Having helped Ryker, Miles would now have his turn next to lead an op. If he wanted it. That was one of the things that he liked most about this. They were given a choice—unlike in the navy, where they had no choices.
It had always been You’re part of the team, so you’ll do this for your country, and he’d been happy to do so—until he got to the point where he wasn’t quite so happy all of a sudden. He realized it when just waking up morning after morning became something he dreaded. He then wondered how much longer he could do this, and, at that point in time, he knew it was already past his time to leave the more rigid military setup.
Honestly Beta’s call had come at the right time. Miles had gone out to help Ryker and, so far, hadn’t looked back, but now there was this edginess and sense of waiting, this questioning of whether he took on his new offer. Of course instinctively he would, because he had never yet turned anybody down when they needed help. Especially if it was a serious breach of keeping the peace in this world.
He hated the fact that the world was such a mess and that teams like the Mavericks were required. They were simple, subtle and got the job done though, and he loved that part. He just didn’t know what kind of job he would be sent on.
So far, they had been everywhere from Thailand and China to Alaska. England too. Kerrick had taken that first job. And now that he had thought about it, Miles wouldn’t mind going back to England. It was his home country, after all. However, he hadn’t lived there in a very long time.
When his first cup of coffee was done, he got up and poured another one, and heard his phone buzz beside him. He took his phone and his coffee out on the balcony to answer Beta’s text.
Are you ready? Beta had asked.
Miles stared at it for a long heart-stopping moment. He’d just been thinking about this moment and now here it was. And still he knew without hesitation what his answer would be. Yes. Where’s the job?
England.
He smiled at that. That’s where he had wanted to go. Good. What part?
London.
Okay. Traveling on my own?
Package is being delivered right now. Use the alias. Details are in the microdot.
Sunglasses?
Yes. Call us after you’ve read it.
Just then his doorbell rang. He hopped up and ran to the front door, then signed for the package from a delivery guy and walked back out onto his balcony. There, he quickly opened the envelope to see his alias was still Miles. Only his last name was now Ryker. Miles Ryker? A play on words? His real name was Miles Radford. But it was close enough that he wasn’t likely to have a problem with it. A piece of double-sided tape held a tiny dot, and the sunglasses were inside too. He put on the glasses and fitted the microdot in the corner where the screw belonged and watched as the data flowed.
He poured himself a third cup of coffee and s
at down before slowly studying the material as it moved across the lenses. He hadn’t even checked his flight details, and that was something he should do immediately. But he was too absorbed in what was going on because this wasn’t a normal case. This wasn’t government. This was Interpol and MI6. But not a terrorist cell activity.
It was a serial kidnapper.
He shook his head at that. It was definitely not what he expected. Just then, a redhead flashed onto his screen. Creamy white skin and freckles high across her cheeks and nose rained over his field of view. She had emerald-green eyes.
He knew her. Not in the biblical sense. But in the sense of any man staring at his dream woman—even if completely out of his league or who would never walk into his normal everyday life. Her almost too-perfect face would cause anybody to wonder if this picture wasn’t a CGI mock-up or an Avatar, so to speak. But over the years Miles had seen her unretouched paparazzi photos—that seemed intent on making these beautiful people appear less than beautiful—which made her so striking in real life, sans makeup.
And then read her name. Vanessa Redburn.
Yep, he knew her. Something about her had called to him. From many years ago. Yeah, beautiful women were all over the world. Some pulled at him more so than others.
Then there had been Vanessa Redburn. She was his dream girl. Her face had adorned many a magazine and billboard. Hard to miss anyone so spectacular. He laughed as he mentally reviewed the women he had dated over his life. He shook his head. He had unknowingly but always compared them to Vanessa Redburn. Unfair, yes. But that had been his ultimate bar to reach.
No wonder he remained single. He had blamed his career. It took a special woman to hook up with a Navy SEAL and not let the worry about the dangers of his job eat away at their relationship.
Aside from Vanessa’s beauty, Miles wondered about the real test: Was she genuine? Was she good-hearted? Was she honorable, trustworthy, a kind soul?
He would find out shortly.
In his lovestruck mind, she was always just Vanessa.
But now he had to extract himself from his intrinsic tie to this woman to a strictly mission-related purpose, so he studied her last name. Now that made a lot of sense. Redheads were notorious for their tempers. And also notorious for not being able to handle much pain and much sun. He studied her features closely, analytically, from a facial recognition viewpoint, and memorized as many details as he could, right down to a slightly larger freckle just below the corner of her right eye.
With this case and the horrifying endings already circulating his mind, he suspected he would have to find this freckle to confirm it was her. He swallowed and reminded himself this was the job.
As he kept reading, the notes came in. The woman didn’t show up for work this morning. He checked his watch. It was seven o’clock his time, which meant it was three p.m. in England. Almost the end of the workday depending on what shifts anybody worked. Model. Photographer. Author. He shrugged at that. He could imagine her in that field with her striking looks. Apparently she was due at a photo shoot and one that was very dear to her heart as an animal activist in the protection of foxes. Foxes in England? That would never go down well.
Miles read more information, but the data on her location of abduction was very lacking. Nobody knew anything about what happened to her or why. It was assumed she’d gone out for coffee and then lunch with an old friend and that she blew off the photo shoot or had completely forgotten. But then the next line stated, She’s never done this before and had never been expected to be the person to do this. He reread that sentence, hoping against hope that Vanessa was somehow okay.
And that’s when someone responded.
May we help you with something here?
His microdot was somehow connected to his Mavericks contact person or the chat window or whatever. Someone must have been watching him read over this file too, seeing which line he had just read. Amazed at the technology, he asked out loud, “How far away was the photo shoot from her apartment?”
Within walking distance. Flat has been searched, someone typed. No sign of her. She doesn’t own a vehicle.
“Traffic cams?” he asked.
Nothing yet.
“How far from her place have you checked?”
Four point five blocks.
He frowned. “None of the traffic cams saw her there?”
Construction along the entire way.
He nodded. “And, of course, somebody chose that time to snatch her off the streets too.”
Yes.
“Who called it in?”
Younger sister. There is only the two of them.
“When did she realize it was that serious?”
The photographer at the photo shoot got pissed off, but Vanessa also had a meeting planned with the photographer that afternoon. When Vanessa didn’t show for that, the photographer came around to her flat, sure that Vanessa must have been laid up with the flu or passed out unconscious. She was that worried because it was so uncharacteristic.
Miles nodded slowly. “And found?”
Younger sister. Devastated that nobody had seen Vanessa. She immediately called Scotland Yard looking for answers.
Not the cops?
Sister is an artist and dating a PM’s son.
“So, a few extra phone calls changed hands to bring this to the higher echelons, is that it?”
Yes. The fact is, Vanessa is very well-known, and this kidnapping is very high-profile.
“And yet it’s hardly the kind of job that we do normally.”
Normally.
But nothing else was added to that comment. Miles frowned, not sure how this communication-via-sunglasses system worked. But regardless, he now knew, from his reading so far of the microdot data, that a lot of fathers had called in reporting their daughters missing on previous cases, and unfortunately too many of those remained unsolved. Miles hoped that wasn’t the case with Vanessa.
“And we have nothing further to go on?”
Her phone had a tracker, but it is no longer active.
He frowned. “That’s not good.”
You leave in one hour and forty-five minutes. Are you on the road?
“Not yet.” He swore as he pulled out the rest of the items delivered to him and found his ticket. A cab was pulling up to the front of his building, and he swore again.
Always check the tickets first, the message read. We’ll contact you later.
Miles pushed the sunglasses up onto his forehead, then grabbed his ready bag, which he repacked every time he returned home. He added a few shaving and personal hygiene items too and picked up his wallet. Then he did one last glance around, locked the door and headed to the cab. He was at the airport in twenty-five minutes and just barely made it through security and to his gate, where they were already preboarding his plane.
He was ushered into first-class immediately. He liked that. As soon as they were airborne, he brought the sunglasses back down over his eyes and went through the dossier again. He still had the envelope in his hand and his laptop with him. As soon as he opened up his laptop, he brought up the Mavericks chat window and asked for a download of the dossier. He was given instructions on how to do that.
Interestingly enough though, it downloaded onto his phone. But, from there, he could at least read it without wearing sunglasses inside an airplane. He pushed the sunglasses back onto his forehead and wondered how many other team members had had the glasses or if this was a new prototype. He asked about that in the chat window and got an answer that interested him.
No, we’ve developed the technology. Now you’re getting the updated version.
Are they good for anything else?
You can always contact us this way.
Now that’s helpful, he typed.
Yes. Very.
Immediately he asked the Mavericks chat window for information. I want her last-known GPS location, the address of her apartment, a map showing the apartment in its surrounding area and the c
onstruction zone, as well as the location of the photo shoot and which traffic cams were down.
On it.
And then, remembering what had happened last time, he typed, Ryker, is that you?
A happy face came back and a thumbs-up sign.
Damn, Miles typed, am I glad to be in touch with you.
The answer came back, Ditto. You ready for this one?
Not sure, he said. Not sure I want to be alone on it either.
You’re not. Just keep moving forward. Your partner will show up.
You’re not giving me a name, huh?
You’ll know him when you see him, Ryker said. And then he signed off.
As Miles signed off, several links popped up. He opened them to see the traffic camera feed from the day. He saw a brief glimpse of the apartment which showed the corner facing the cameras. Miles thought he saw somebody walk by a window, and then a door opened, and the cameras went off. And, of course, it was right at the start of construction time, around thirty minutes past seven. Somebody somewhere seemed to realize the construction was due to start, so they flipped a switch, and the street cams were down. They didn’t come back up for the rest of that day.
Miles swore softly, and the person in the seat next to him on the plane glanced over. Miles smiled and said, “You know what it’s like when reports are incomplete.”
The businessman rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I do,” he said. “It’s a pain in the ass. We pay these people, and all we get is half-assed jobs.”
“Exactly.” Still, he did a quick summary of the notes and went through all the other links. However, nothing was suspicious. Sighing and opening the chat box, he typed in his request, asking for the traffic cams for the two weeks prior that focused on her apartment building. It took less than a minute for him to have a link. Slowly he worked his way through those. It was a long flight to London anyway, so he had time.
He made it through an on-board meal with several cups of coffee, intent on finding something in the street cams before he slept for a few hours, to help him with jet lag. He may have left San Diego today about midmorning, but he would be landing in London midafternoon the next day, due to the eleven-hour flight added to the time zone change that jumped him ahead eight hours.