Rule Breaker (Project ROOT Book 1)

by Michele, Ryan

  “Yeah, to all of it. It was decided early on to keep it a secret. The council knows, as does the general. Lincoln somehow found out. I’m positive he’ll make it public knowledge. Just another way to fuck with us,” he sighed. “You might be a commander whether you want it or not.”

  “I won’t take it,” O’Malley spouted.

  “Me, either,” Callahan added. “And neither will the rest of the team. You step down, we’re out. All of us, Asher. You’re the heart and soul of R.O.O.T.”

  He shook his head. “When R.O.O.T. was formed, I made sure it didn’t succeed or fail on one man’s shoulders. Any one of you could step in and perform my job. I’ve made sure of it.”

  “May be the case, but only if we wanted the position. None of us want it,” O’Malley stated.

  “We might not have a choice.” He leaned back against the seat. The aches and pains of the beating making themselves known as the adrenaline ebbed from his system.

  “Boss,” Hanover broke through on the Tac-Com, “we’re approaching the airport. What’s your game plan?”

  He smiled.

  “It’s simple. Find the fucker and lay all his sins at his feet and allow the press to chew his ass up and spit him out.” He sounded more than giddy at the possibility of the powerful senator falling. “Best part, we get front row seats to the entire damn thing.”

  The big military trucks came to a stop in front of the airport, blocking all traffic. He didn’t give a shit. Slipping from the truck, the rest of his team fell in line behind him as they walked through the terminal.

  They ignored the gasps, the shocked faces of those waiting to take a flight out or drop a loved one off. He knew what they all thought; it was written on their faces. They thought the airport was under attack.

  “Murray said Lincoln’s holed up in one of those fancy courtesy suites,” Callahan relayed as they moved through the lower levels.

  Even with his aching body, Asher had no patience for the escalators. His long strides ate up the stairs, three at a time, till he reached the top.

  Airport personnel started to follow and it didn’t surprise him when he reached the top to see security waiting. Asher snapped his fingers and Callahan stepped away to address them. Hanover took over, relaying directions from Murray.

  Hanover moved past O’Malley, holding black and white copies of the evidence they had gathered on Lincoln in his hands. Including a photograph of every single man, woman, and child killed in Puerto Nariño.

  As luck would have it, twenty feet before they got to the door where Lincoln hid, it opened and the man himself stepped out. Their gazes clashed and Asher smiled when a look of shock passed over the older man’s face.

  Press started to arrive; reporters and news crews smelled blood in the air. This story would run for more than one cycle. If he had to guess, it’d air for a couple weeks and would eliminate several dirty senators and congressman.

  “Senator Matthias Lincoln,” he called out, his voice loud and clear so it could be heard by the press there and arriving. “You are under arrest for the murder of one hundred thirty-six souls, espionage against both the United States of America and the U.S. Military, and treason.”

  Bright lights and microphones were shoved into Lincoln’s face.

  “Senator, how are you going to respond to these charges?” a reporter asked, stepping forward in the melee of the press.

  “No comment,” Lincoln sneered, his gaze locking with Asher. “There are no bases for these accusations or proof.”

  “I beg to differ,” Asher interrupted Lincoln’s backpedaling. “I have copies detailing Senator Lincoln’s crimes. Undisputed proof of his involvement in all the charges.”

  “Proof?” another overeager reporter asked.

  “Yes.” He reached for the paperwork in Hanover’s hands and began handing it to the press.

  It was dead silent as the reporters scanned the evidence and his team surrounded Lincoln.

  “Senator,” a reporter shouted. “This evidence claims in addition to the mass murders in Colombia, you ordered unsanctioned hits on several villages in South America, including the assassination of the President of Colombia through Barclay ten years ago. How do you plead to these charges?”

  “No comment,” Lincoln bellowed as O’Malley slapped on a pair of handcuffs on his wrists behind his back.

  O’Malley started to pull Lincoln away from the masses.

  “This evidence states you actually control and own Barclay. Isn’t this considered a conflict of interest, Senator?” another reporter questioned.

  “Let me guess, motherfucker, no comment,” Asher sneered down at the pale senator.

  Reporters continued to follow them to the waiting vehicles. He drew it out, making sure every reporter and news crew got video or pictures of Lincoln with handcuffs being placed in the SUV.

  O’Malley slid into his seat. Callahan moved to the SUV with Hanover.

  “Commander Asher, perhaps we should speak?” Lincoln inquired from his position in the back. “I’m a very wealthy, powerful man.”

  He snorted.

  “As of ten minutes ago, you’re a poor man. The United States government froze all your assets. Your overseas accounts have been emptied, courtesy of my team. As for being powerful, no one will be willing to touch you with a ten-foot pole. Among everything else you’re accused of, you’re a traitor. No one will be willing to risk you staining their name or reputation. In layman’s terms, sir,” he stated, “you’re fucked.”

  O’Malley busted out laughing. “You’ve got a way with words.”

  “Right. I’ve been told this on more than one occasion,” he joked.

  “Your relationship with Senator McNamara has been kept a secret. How do you think it will play out? Nepotism isn’t smart with black ops. How do we know Senator McNamara isn’t doing what I did? If you help me out of this, I’ll bury it. I won’t say a word.”

  Turning in his seat, his eyes narrowed and his gaze ran up and down the man in the back. “That’s your fucking play? You’re going to threaten me with revealing who my uncle is?” He laughed, shaking his head in wonder. “Bring it, asshole. When I lay my head on my pillow each night, it’s with a clear conscience that I haven’t fucked over my country or my family. Not sure if you can say the same fucking thing.”

  “Would your uncle say the same thing, though?”

  He didn’t miss the flash of fear in Lincoln’s eyes. The once powerful senator was a smart man, he had to understand he had failed and would have to pay for his sins.

  “Abso-fucking-lutely,” he said confidently.

  “Pleasant,” Lincoln scoffed.

  “Know what else is pleasant? When you lay your head down tonight, it’ll be in a cold, dark cell. Better get used to it. It’s where you’re going to remain the rest of your life.”

  Asher turned so he faced forward.

  “Take us to base, O’Malley,” he ordered.

  “Yes, sir,” he replied.

  Epilogue

  Six weeks later…

  “Now happening on WKLP news radio, twenty-four hours a day. Senator Matthias Lincoln has been transferred to a federal maximum-security prison to await trial. New documents show his alleged collusion with Barclay Security and a still unnamed co-conspirator in a murder-for-hire plot to assassinate the Colombian president.

  “Another day of testimony from Doctor Rae Kenzie brought about new information not heard since the first day of her providing answers to the committee. As a member of the Doctors Without Borders team, she had firsthand knowledge of some of the village government. She answered questions concerning the local cartels and how much they affected the general area.

  “Then the questions took a personal turn as those who were still loyal to Senator Lincoln discussed her personal relationship with Asher Rainer. Doctor Kenzie didn’t answer the question. Her lawyer reminded the panel she was there of her free will and a victim of Lincoln’s disturbing behavior.

  “As more inform
ation is coming out, we have learned of fifteen government contract companies who have suffered due to Lincoln’s pay-for-play scandal. A toll-free number has been established along with notices going out to all those who might have been affected from the senator’s alleged dirty dealings.

  “The documents allege Senator Lincoln blackballed companies that refused to do a job. Most ranged from bodily injury to death. There were also startling allegations of rape and torture of the victims from his company’s missions. WKLP will bring you continuous updates as more information is known.”

  The station flipped back to the announcers talking about the charges against Senator Lincoln and what would happen to those who invested in his ill-begotten company. “If Senator Lincoln was smart, he’d take a plea deal to make this go away.”

  “But we know better. He won’t give up. He’ll fight tooth and nail until the final decision is made,” another man said.

  “Why? Every day, the evidence becomes more damning. His best bet is to acknowledge his transgressions and take the sentence.”

  He didn’t care what the senator did, if he’d take a deal or not. The man would pay, just like everyone else would. Pay for the death of his family. Pay for the death of his friends. He would watch all their worlds crumble from the top to the bottom, and by God, he would take joy in seeing them squirm.

  He tapped the keys on his computer, putting the finishing touches on the statement Noah Hanover would make. Then, he would laugh as Noah was forced to see his lover die. Slow and painfully—even though he read the confession.

  When he came up with this plan, a sense of rightness soothed him. For too many years, the agony of loss consumed him. Getting up in the morning became a chore. Working became impossible. The loss overrode everything to do with his life.

  Then, he found a weak spot.

  Mateo Aquino, history teacher. Yes, he’d been the perfect target.

  Noah Hanover was the weak spot.

  The doctor bitch, he figured out quickly, was in their secret base, unavailable for him to grab while the teacher stayed in the open, an easy target. Ginger O’Malley, the ex-wife of Jake O’Malley, found herself another man to play daddy with her little girl. Jake suffered enough knowing his wife took another dick up her ass.

  And Schoell, the bastard had no one. Not a soul. The poor asshole. Momma should have swallowed instead of getting pregnant. He laughed. It only left Hanover and his butt-loving man. If he took this man, he’d knock down the first domino in the hundred that would comprise destroying their team, like they destroyed him.

  For him, R.O.O.T. was just as much as fault as Barclay for all he lost. They should have stopped the senator long before. Twenty years ago would have been perfect. Before his parents were killed and they tortured his brother until he became a shell of his former self. He swallowed hard and gritted his teeth. He called up the memory of his parents and his brother to keep it fresh. To remind him of what his endgame would be.

  He shut the laptop and waited. Today, he would grab Mateo. The Internet could tell anyone anything if the person knew what they needed. He grabbed Mateo’s background check from through the database at the Virginia Bureau of Investigations after he applied to be a teacher. Mateo had been with Virginia Beach Schools for the last ten years and was a well-loved teacher.

  Mateo lived in a bachelor pad with Noah Hanover near the school and he also, after a bit more digging, enjoyed spending time at the gym. Probably to blow off steam.

  As the final bell rang, he prepared himself for the mission. He had to wait for Mateo to exit the building, then he could grab the man and take him to his special place.

  The warehouse in the middle of the unincorporated part of Richmond was the perfect place to keep his quarry. The windows were already blacked out. All but one set of doors had been chained shut, and to add a bit of flare, he placed a coming soon billboard on the roof. Schmucks could be so gullible sometimes.

  No one would think twice to check there; plus, he loved to play things close.

  No one had heard about his plan. No one would suspect him. He liked to think of himself as being a nondescript man. He didn’t have tattoos or distinct hair. He appeared ordinary. No one would suspect a thing.

  He got out of the rented van and kept his head down as he approached Mateo as he exited the building. He didn’t pay attention to his surroundings. Noah hadn’t taught him very well. Oh well, it made taking him that much easier.

  “Excuse me,” he muttered. “I’m lost.”

  Mateo stopped and turned to him. “Where are you wanting to go?” He lifted the shoulder strap of his bag, hitching it higher.

  “My van is over here. I have GPS, but it dumped me here and this is not the Municipal Building. I think I programmed it wrong.” He gave a sheepish chuckle. “I’m new here. Just got a job and paperwork. What can you do?”

  Mateo laughed and followed. “It’s what makes the world go ‘round, my man.” He stepped up to the driver side door. “Where did you get a job?”

  “Water department,” he answered quickly. “Good benefits. Vacation. Better than some places, I guess.”

  “Don’t I know it. The school is great about vacations and benefits.” He peered into the van. “Wait…there’s no—”

  He struck fast. Wrapping one hand around his mouth, he positioned the other at his neck, injecting a sedative. Their drive to Richmond would take a few hours, and he had to make sure Mateo wouldn’t cause any issues.

  With a press of the key fob in his pocket, the side door opened and he pushed the heavy load into the back before sliding it closed. He checked the area to make sure no one saw him before climbing in and pulling away.

  He exited the parking lot in a cool and calm fashion. No one had seen a thing. Stage one was complete. Stage two would begin once he hit the warehouse. A preset text message would go to Noah’s phone explaining exactly what would happen next.

  * * * *

  Noah Hanover walked through the door of his apartment and paused. Silence filled the space. Mateo should have been home from work by now. “Hello?” He walked through the small space, glancing in each room. When he didn’t see anyone, he shrugged. He probably had an impromptu meeting and couldn’t call.

  It happened. High school kids were more trouble than the little kids sometimes. He might have had to take a teen who broke some rule before the disciplinary committee Mateo headed, or something for school technology. He’d give it a few more hours before he questioned where his husband had gone off to.

  He showered while he waited, removing the day’s grime. They were training the newbies, Calvin, Wayne, and Paul. Each man had skills. Some were innate and others were still being honed. He liked the guys and, after saving Asher and Rae, well, they earned his respect, too.

  As it stood, right now, Rae was considered precious cargo. Every day, she received more death threats. The majority they kept from her. She didn’t need to see how depraved most people were.

  Asher, on the other hand, was back to working operations. The committee inquiry for Lincoln had learned the information about McNamara and Asher being family, but in all the cases he worked, Asher came out above board. As of right now, he was clear to continue with R.O.O.T. The bigger results would come within the next two weeks. So far, rumors were saying they would end up clearing the whole team and Asher would continue to be their boss.

  He'd been telling the truth when he said he’d quit before he’d take the job as commander. Pretty much, they all did. No one wanted to work for a government entity that would change leaders because of a familial connection. Plenty of people did it. Noah stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his hips.

  And while Asher did the heavy lifting with his uncle during those meetings, Hanover and the guys continued their hunt for the black-market uranium Lincoln bought. The man had it stashed somewhere and it was only a matter of time before they found it. Or it ended up in the wrong hands. No, he couldn’t think about that right now. They had to stay po
sitive. The ramifications of not finding it, could have lasting effects globally.

  Noah glanced out the window of his bedroom and frowned. The sun had set, and Mateo still wasn’t home. Damn. It’s not like him to not call. He stomped to their room, hell bent on calling his husband to give him a piece of his fucking mind. The light on his phone blinked and a wash of relief filled him.

  He picked it up and unlocked the screen. A message waited for him with an attachment. Noah frowned. “What the fuck?”

  Tapping the screen, he waited for the attachment to download, then sucked in a breath. At first the screen had been blank, and seconds later a picture of Mateo tied to a lone chair in a room filled his phone. Blood trailed down the corner of his mouth into his beard, discoloring the hairs. His eye was split and swollen, and his dress shirt laid against him in torn shreds. Whoever had him, his lover fought back. A surge of pride filled him.

  “Noah Hanover. I have what you want. You have seventy-two hours to broadcast the letter in the message, or else I will take what you love most. Like you took what I loved. Do not call the police. Do not tell your team. I will know if you do. I will know your every move. Time is ticking.”

  He read over the confession and snorted. “I lied about my family. I kept secrets from the world. I’m a licensed killer. What the fuck?” He watched the video again, to try to find any clues of where Mateo could be. Nothing stuck out as remarkable to him. In fact, it was all too plain.

  Instead of making any calls, he grabbed the bug detector and began the methodical search of his apartment to be sure whoever had his husband couldn’t hear him. Once he was sure his home was secure, he grabbed a burner and called base.

  “We have a problem,” he snarled when O’Malley answered. “I’m being blackmailed. I’m on the way in.”