“Don’t you agree?” Alex murmured.
When Gustov didn’t respond, Alex continued.
“Of course, Viktor is dead.” He paused. “But Mez isn’t.
Gustov squeezed his hands into fists.
“Your grandson is in a lot of trouble. More than I think you realize.”
The old man smirked. The room suddenly grew quiet.
“He’s taken something from me that I value very much and I know you had a hand in it,” Alex said, keeping his gaze cold, flat, and deadly.
Beneath the look, Gusto’s smirk died.
“I know you’ve probably had your grandson contact you through a lawyer or one of your other visitors,” he rasped, leaning closer. “And when you hear from Vladimir or he gets word to you, you might want to warn both him and Mez… that Fear is coming.”
One of the military guards drew in a swift breath.
“That’s fucking Fear,” the guy murmured.
“That guy annihilated fifty people by himself,” the guard he’d met in the hall whispered.
Gustov’s eyes grew wide and his face suddenly paled to a ghost white color. Alex held the old man’s gaze for one moment longer and stood and nodded to the guards.
“No!” Gustov shouted, struggling against the guards’ hold. “You leave my grandson alone!”
Alex walked out. He felt several pairs of eyes following him, but he didn’t look back. He had known the weight his reputation carried. He knew that they’d probably heard the stories. He’d banked on them knowing what he was capable of.
And now, so did Gustov.
Micah
Fully geared and on their way, Micah let the vehicle lull him and he closed his eyes. It had been forty-eight hours since he and the team had discovered the maps at the house just off of 98th. He’d hoped the house in Beverly Hills would produce evidence, but upon arrival, the police reported that the scene had erupted in gunfire. The estate-like house was cordoned off with law officials asking for assistance. Half of Phoenix had gone down to Beverly Hills to apprehend Gashi while the other half boarded a military jet to Colorado Springs and would hopefully catch Petrov.
“All right, listen up,” Storm said above the noise of the jet, and Micah’s eyes popped open. Roscoe had gone with the men to Beverly Hills, so Storm had been chosen as leader of their half of the unit flying into Colorado. The sniper wasn’t thrilled about it, but beneath Roscoe’s penetrating stare, the growly man had agreed. “We need to locate Petrov or Miller and we tail them to Vladimir. We do not engage.”
Micah nodded abruptly. Fine with him. He needed them alive, so not engaging wasn’t a problem. Keeping him from torturing them might be.
He searched for and sought out Alex and found the man looking at him.
There’d been a lull in the fighting between them over the past few days. Probably because Alex hadn’t been around much, and when he was, the man was difficult to read. Micah still wanted to sell the house, but that decision had more to do with Caleb than with their personal problems.
He could honestly admit that his propensity to fight instead of talk had caused more trouble than necessary. He also wanted to repair what was broken between them. There, he admitted it.
A lump grew in his throat remembering the way Alex had kept him from killing the suspect the other day. Always saving his ass. The very corner of Alex’s mouth tipped up before the man turned his face to gaze out the window.
He swallowed and looked down at his fisted hands. They soon arrived at their accommodations. Under complete secrecy, they’d secured the top suite of a Colorado hotel. Everyone who was there took a room. All rooms shared a common sitting area for meetings and gathering.
One by one, everyone disappeared into their rooms to unpack or catch some much needed sleep. Micah stood alone in the middle of the common area.
“Going for food,” he murmured to no one before he snagged a ball cap from his luggage, and slipped out, heading back downstairs. The hotel was busy. Keeping his face tilted downward, the hat low over his eyes, he moved through the lobby to the front doors and ordered a ride.
Micah stood at the curb and waited for his ride. It was a hot summer day, the highs—the airport terminal television had boasted of—would reach the upper 80s. He missed Northern California already.
The Uber driver pulled up and they gave each other that quick glance and name exchange to make sure they had the right connection. Micah slid in the back seat and gazed out the window.
Reaching the restaurant a few blocks away, he gave the hostess his alias of Ricky Porter.
“Right this way, sir.” She led him through the restaurant.
Somewhere, someone was singing and the sound of a dishes clattered. The food smelled delicious and he took a seat. A waiter approached and took his order. Burger and fries were soon delivered and he dug in. Once most of the food was demolished, he reached for his phone.
“Your text said you were calling yesterday.”
“It wasn’t possible,” Micah told his friend. “Did you get back to the States?”
“I did.”
“What about the text I sent you? Did you find anything about Boris Petrov?”
“Petrov arrived in Colorado about three weeks ago. I’ll text you the address of where he’s staying.” Fucking Christ, he didn’t know how his friend got information so quickly, but he was thankful for it.
“Is he alone?” Micah asked, thinking of Mez.
“He was until about a week ago. A guy by the name of Gashi showed up.”
“We just learned of Gashi a few days ago. He’s an Albanian sex trafficker that works with or for Vladimir. We thought he was in Beverly Hills.”
“He is not, Gashi is with Petrov in Colorado.”
His phone pinged with the location.
“I think Petrov’s the key to finding Vladimir. He seems to be the closest to him.”
“Honestly?” the man growled. “I think you have bigger fish to fry with Mez.”
“So I’ve heard,” Micah said.
“Well, I’ll bet you didn’t hear that Mez quit Viktor’s employment under suspicious circumstances. Before Viktor was killed, rumor has it that he wanted Mez dead.”
“What for?” He frowned.
“That, I’m still working on finding out.”
“Do you think Mez wants Vladimir dead?” Micah squeezed the phone. It would be so much easier if these son of a bitches started killing each other.
“No, but whatever the reason Viktor wanted Mez dead, you can bet that Vladimir probably doesn’t know about it.”
Micah’s gaze swept the restaurant. “You sound sure that Mez isn’t here in Colorado.”
“I’m sure.”
Micah took a deep breath and waited, but the guy grew silent. “What else?”
“I’d bet money that Vladimir is not in Colorado either.”
“Fuck!” He carefully set his water glass down and shoved away his empty plate.
“But Petrov and Gashi are. Start with them.”
“I guess they’ll have to do.” He gritted his teeth for a moment as once again, Vladimir was out of his reach. He’d carve Vladimir’s location out of Petrov or Gashi, or both, he wasn’t picky.
“Looks like Vladimir has finally stepped into Yakov’s shoes,” his friend said.
“It appears so,” Micah mused. “Do you have any idea where Vladimir’s headquarters might be?”
“Not specifically, but I think I can narrow it down if you give me some time.”
“You got it. Also, I’m trying to locate a Wyatt Hughes who also goes by Jagger Miller.”
“I haven’t heard those names before. Who is he?”
“He’s someone that worked for Yakov.” Micah told his friend about Miller possibly saving Roscoe from a shooter.
“So maybe one of the good guys?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” he replied.
“I’ll check him out.”
“Thanks.”
&nbs
p; “Like I said, I owe you,” the man said.
“We’re even.”
“No, we’re far from even,” his friend replied and hung up.
Micah looked at the phone and tossed it to the table. It was late and he suddenly felt tired as hell.
Alex
The hot water ran down over his head and shoulders, soaking away the tension. Some of it anyway. He glanced down and probed at the neatly stitched up knife wound. It stung, but was healing nicely. Rush had done a good job at patching him up. He hadn’t gotten much sleep over the past twenty-four hours and it was catching up to him. He ran the soap over his arms and studied the letters along his inner forearm. He traced a finger over the letters and the word blurred. Turning his face up to the shower, he let the water run over his face and briskly rubbed his palms over his eyes.
The last few days had given them both time to cool off. Perhaps it was time for his next plan of attack. Talking.
Flipping the water off, he snagged a towel, dried off, and then dried his hair before tossing it on a nearby chair. Lifting his military tags from the dresser, he slipped them back on before getting dressed.
Yanking on jeans and a black, skin-tight, short sleeved t-shirt, he pulled on socks and combat boots, then he ran a brush through his short hair and a hand over his shadowed jaw. He’d need to shave by tomorrow or it would turn into a beard. He checked his weapon and slipped the Glock inside his holster before stepping out of his room and into the outer common area.
Alex came to a halt when all conversation stopped. His gaze roamed the room. Everyone was present except Micah.
“Where is he?” His jaw clenched.
Rush held up a GPS locater on his cell. “On the move.”
Alex spun, headed toward the door, and yanked it open. While he’d been taking a shower to get the day of travel off his body plus trying to come up with a game plan, Micah had taken off. Just fucking unbelievable.
Taking the stairs downward, he shoved out the side door of the hotel. Striding to the rental SUV, he jerked open the ass end and yanked out an ammo belt. He started loading ammunition. The others joined him and loaded up weapons and gear, but they wore street clothing to fit in with the population. At that moment, he was too pissed to even give a fuck if they drew stares.
“I’m done,” he growled, not meaning a word of it, and tossed down the ammo belt with a thud. He couldn’t take an ammo belt out into the streets. He growled beneath his breath and jerked the extra clip from the belt before tucking it into the pockets of his jeans. He tucked an extra weapon out of sight beneath his jacket.
“Then be done and quit your bitching,” Allison snapped at him.
“Who are you again?” Alex narrowed his eyes at the woman.
Noah’s mouth suddenly gaped and then snapped shut before the guy turned away. Storm snickered. Rush’s eyes went wide and he stepped away quickly.
Allison’s mouth tipped at the corner. “Be that way. I don’t give a shit. I have thick skin and nothing you say is going to change the fact that I’ll tell you shit you probably won’t like and I won’t give two shits about it. So, as I was saying, quit bitching about Micah taking a moment on his own. He’s fucking hurting. And if you can’t see that through your macho bullshit, then you need to turn your ass back around and go home,” she spat, pulling a gray hoodie over her tactical vest.
Alex narrowed his eyes at the outspoken operative. She knew nothing about what drove him. Allison stared mulishly back at him. It wasn’t worth alienating himself with anyone in the unit, so he gave a short nod. Not to mention, she was right, his anger was misplaced.
“That’s what I thought,” Allison smirked.
“Better watch out, Fear. She was on her school debate team,” Noah warned him.
“Did you win?” Alex studied Allison.
She grinned. “Every damned time.”
Alex gave a half smile. “You know, Allison, you’re not so bad.”
“You know what Fear? You’re an asshole.”
He snorted and she smirked before slipping into the back of the SUV and buckling her seat belt.
Alex felt everyone give a collective sigh of relief as he settled into the passenger seat with Rush behind the wheel and the other three situated in the back.
“So, where are you originally from, Storm?” Rush asked out of the blue.
“Everywhere.”
Rush tossed up a glance in the rearview mirror before pulling the SUV out into traffic. “Is that a Storm joke?”
Alex smirked and glanced back when the SUV erupted with laughter.
Storm’s mouth twitched before he answered Rush. “No, I was in the military, I traveled a lot.”
Micah
He stepped out of the restaurant and tucked the remaining bills into his wallet. His gaze landed on the picture of him and Alex on his phone. He ran his finger over the man’s smiling face, remembering the day the picture was taken at the lake.
Placing down the book he was reading, he reached for the ringing phone without looking.
“Hello?”
“Hello, love.”
He smiled with excitement. “Hey, you. I thought you were calling me next week.” He sat up gingerly on the edge of the big easy chair that sat in the large living room of his aunt and uncle’s home.
“I did too,” Alex breathed into the phone.
The doorbell rang into the sudden silence and he stood.
“So when is your leave? When do you get here?”
“About that…” Alex said, and his heart plummeted.
“Nooo…”
He pouted and reached to open the door, and then almost dropped his phone.
Alex stood in his uniform on the other side of the screen. Micah pushed the screen door open and fell into the man’s arms.
Alex squeezed him tightly and he grunted through the pain.
“Shit! What happened?” Alex asked, easing him to arms-length, gunmetal colored eyes racing over him.
“It’s okay. I took some time off from Phoenix to have surgery when the last piece of metal finally shifted.” Thankfully, all pieces of shrapnel had now been removed. This had been the last surgery he would ever need. There would be no more scars to add to the ones that already etched into his side, raced across his chest, and ended in tiny, thin lines just beneath his throat.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Alex frowned.
“I didn’t want you to worry.” He smiled.
“Come take a drive with me,” Alex said.
He hadn’t said another word, just locked and pulled the door closed. Slipping into Alex’s rental car, the man drove down to the lake and parked.
Micah turned in his seat and Alex tipped his head, gazing into his eyes.
“I’m officially done with the army.”
“Seriously?” His heart thundered.
“Yes.”
“What now?”
“Now, I want you to move in with me.”
He swallowed around the lump in his throat, stunned that this day had finally arrived, and the silence stretched on too long.
“Micah?”
“Yes! Hell yes!” He laughed and flung his arms around Alex, holding him tightly.
A horn honked, bringing him out of his memories. They’d been so hopeful that day. Sure, they’d been war torn, but so fucking happy and optimistic enough to hope like hell none of the tragedy during battle would find them here at home. They’d been so fucking wrong. He closed his eyes and then reopened them and brushed his thumb one more time over Alex’s face. He loved this man, he couldn’t deny it no matter how much shit stood between them.
“Micah.”
His head snapped up, his gaze caught and held by Alex’s. On the heels of the memory, he couldn’t stop staring at the man’s face. His stomach dipped and fluttered.
At that moment, he realized Alex wasn’t alone. Beyond the soldier’s powerful shoulders, he saw Noah, Storm, and Allison. Micah swallowed and walked forward through the dusk to where th
e small group stood.
“How did you find me?” His gaze flicked from the others and then roamed back, locking on Alex.
“Seth put a tracker in your phone a few weeks ago. It wasn’t hard to have Reggie send us the information from headquarters.” Storm scowled.
Alex stayed stubbornly quiet after saying his name and it was suddenly killing Micah that the man seemed disappointed.
“What the fuck, Micah,” Noah snapped. “We came here together.”
The surprise that it was Noah jumping his shit and not Alex caught him off guard.
“You couldn’t wait for us?” Storm frowned.
“Look, I just called an Uber. I was on my way back.” He held up his phone showing his request for a ride and then tapped in a quick cancel.
Rush pulled up in a rented SUV and they stepped into the vehicle.
“Why did you come here?” Allison asked, turning slightly toward him.
“I got a lead,” he replied.
“What kind of lead?” Alex finally spoke.
“An exact address of where Petrov is holed up.” Micah held up his phone with the address on.
The soldier reached for it and Micah let him have it.
“This address will be next,” Alex said, handing him back his phone.
“Yeah?” Micah hadn’t wanted to hope.
Alex frowned at him. “Yes, damn it. We’re here to get Vladimir or one of his henchmen, preferably all of them.”
Rush dropped them off at the front of the hotel and went to park the vehicle.
Micah stood next to Alex in front of the hotel steps with the others.
“Vladimir and Miller aren’t here, Mez is…I don’t know where, but Gashi and Petrov are here in Colorado,” Micah said, telling them what he knew. He shoved his phone deep into his pants pocket.
“Shit,” Storm scowled.
“I need Petrov and Gashi alive.” He swallowed thickly and even though he was standing in the fresh air, it felt like the walls were closing in.
“We all know that,” Storm said and walked up the steps to the hotel doors. “We get this scumbag and we torture him until he talks.” The big man pushed open the doors.
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