Where the hell are you? the man responded immediately, like he’d been sitting there staring at his phone or something.
He smirked and tapped a reply. A man named Trey McCall owns a yacht moored at Rich Reservoir. I suspect that McCall is Boris Petrov’s alias.
We’re tailing Petrov now, came the response.
If he’s headed here, I’ll be on the dock, he wrote back and waited, staring at the blinking screen.
I’ll find you.
He smiled and tucked his phone away.
The yacht had a sleek design and from what he could see, the engine was powerful. Right now, though, it sat quiet and deserted, tied to the dock. He waited patiently for Mr. McCall or Phoenix to show up. Darkness had settled over the area. His car was hidden at the end of the lot, unseen. He set his head against the head rest for one minute.
“Hey Alex?”
“Yes, Caleb?”
“I think I might be gay.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yep, I like boys.”
“Anyone in particular?”
“Maybe!”
He smiled when Caleb laughed.
He blinked and opened his eyes, taking a deep breath, and let the memory fade. Glancing at his watch, five minutes had passed. Slipping out of the car, he opened the trunk. He pulled a skin tight, black shirt over his t-shirt, an ultra-thin, bullet resistant vest on, and tucked a knife in his boot. Extra rounds were shoved into the pockets of his black tactical pants. With the suppressor attached to his Glock, he pulled a black hooded beanie over his head. From that point, he was all but invisible. This was the gear he wore when he wanted to get in somewhere undetected. Micah had teased him once that he resembled a military-looking ninja. He carefully pulled out the ear piece from his pocket and tucked it into his ear.
Just about to board the boat, a limo pulled up. Alex sank back out of sight in the shadows.
Boris Petrov stepped out of the limo and was followed by several bodyguards. The men moved along the boardwalk with guns drawn. Petrov approached the boat and grabbed the ladder to step aboard.
From Alex’s position, he spotted the unit’s rented SUV slowly rolling up with the headlights off.
He touched his ear piece now that he knew Phoenix was in range.
“Park in the lower lot next to my car, you won’t be visible from there. You’ve got about eight on the boardwalk, Petrov just boarded the yacht,” he whispered.
“Roger that, Fear,” Roscoe murmured back. A few moments later, the unit quickly exited the vehicle and melted into the night.
He felt Micah before he saw him. The man had an uncanny way of locating him.
“We need to work on our communication,” Micah warned beneath his breath.
Alex whispered, “Really?”
“You said it was a house, not a yacht,” the man whispered back.
“It was a house, now it’s a yacht,” Alex said under his breath and then smirked even though Micah couldn’t see it.
The man made a small sound in his throat and then moved up to crouch next to his side. Like him, Micah was dressed in all black with a hood pulled over his face and head.
A few men boarded the yacht and disappeared below the deck. Several of Petrov’s men stood guard on the boardwalk. One untied the rope that held the boat to the dock.
From where Alex crouched, Wild, Storm, and possibly Frost and Seth slipped into the water. In seconds, they came back up out of the dark water and closed in on the men standing on the boardwalk. Allison, Noah, and Rush joined in.
Alex lunged and took out the nearest perp with a jab to the throat. The guy grabbed his neck and stumbled back. He knocked the perp out with the next blow. Next to him, Micah slammed the butt of his gun against another suspect’s head.
One of Petrov’s men shouted and the lights suddenly flickered on the yacht and the next second, the engine roared to life with a boom.
Alex, with Micah at his side, ran.
The yacht, a flash of white in the dim light of the walkway, pulled sharply away from the dock. The engine roared with a low, powerful hum as someone pushed the throttle.
Alex hit the end of the boardwalk and took a flying leap onto the stern of the boat. He went into a forward roll and came up on the man standing guard. The guy swung his gun around and Alex moved in, shoved the gun upward, and with the palm of his hand, he slammed into the man’s nose. The gun went flying. The guy grunted and stumbled back into Micah. Micah fisted his hands into the guy’s shirt, turned, and shoved the guy overboard.
“One coming to you in the water,” Alex murmured, and then crept through the darkness toward the starboard side of the yacht.
“Copy,” Storm said.
“We’re borrowing someone’s boat, we’ll be on your six in five minutes,” Roscoe confirmed.
“We’ll be cleaning house,” he answered.
He caught and held Micah’s gaze. It was almost like old times. They’d been together in battle so many times before that it felt like second nature.
“You take left, I’ll take right.”
Micah nodded and Alex turned away, only to pause when the man put a hand to his shoulder.
“Be careful,” Micah whispered.
“You too.” He ducked and ran in a crouch along the side to a door with a small, round window. A man was walking toward him, checking rooms. Alex ducked back and timed the man’s arrival at the door.
When he gauged the guy might be a foot from the door, Alex shoved it hard. A loud crack sounded. The guy stumbled back, but Alex was through the door by the time the guy came upright. Gun lifted in his direction, Alex kicked the hand holding the gun and lifted his own. The quiet snick of the silencer made a soft sound. The bullet entered the guy’s chest and the suspect toppled backward. Alex eased open a nearby door before he turned and tucked his gun away. Grabbing the man by his feet, he dragged the guy through the door and into the utility closet. He moved back to the small cabin door and eased his head out. Still clear in the hallway, he slipped out. Lifting the suspect’s gun from the floor, he tossed it into a nearby cupboard. Somewhere outside came a distance snick, followed by a thud and then all went quiet.
“Lash,” he whispered, finger to the mic.
“I’m good.” Micah’s response was immediate.
Alex lowered his hand and moved along the hallway. He came to a corner and glanced around. A man was roaming through the small hallway with a gun. When the guard paused at the bottom of a spiraling staircase and looked upward, Alex lunged, and just as the man turned, his gun slammed into the guy’s face.
The man stumbled back, blood gushing from a cut in his cheek. The suspect lunged forward, arms locked around his waist, and together they crashed into the cupboard. A man came down the staircase and Alex fisted the guy’s shirt and swung them around, putting the guy between him and the perp. The man on the stairs fired and the bullets entered the man in Alex’s grip. Alex lifted his Glock and put two into the stairwell guy’s chest. The man in his arms fell back onto the carpet and the one on the stairs toppled down the rest of the way.
Neither of the men were Petrov. Across from the stairs stood another door where he suspected the sleeping quarters lay. He slipped along the small hallway and eased the door gently open and went in low at a crouch.
From the far end, a man stepped into the hallway saw him and fired. Bullets hit into the wall near his head. Alex returned fire and the perp dodged back around the corner. Alex spun to his right and ducked into a small room. He darted a glance out, but a shot took out the corner of the door and showered him with debris. He spat and swung his arm around the corner and fired. Nothing. Gritting his teeth, he lunged out, laying on his side across the floor and waited. The guy dodged out and Alex shot, hitting the man somewhere in the upper torso. When the man stumbled back out of view, Alex sprang up and ran full out toward the end of the hall. Rounding the corner, the guy was sitting on the ground holding his shoulder.
“Drop it,” he growled.
The guy lifted the gun and Alex fired. Stepping over the body, he kicked open the partially opened door at the end of the hall. The door slammed back against its hinges and the sight stopped him cold in his tracks.
Petrov had a firm grip on a young girl with a gun to her head.
The room had two doors, one he stood in and one Micah stood in across from him, pointing a gun at Petrov.
“Stay back or I shoot her,” Petrov threatened. The gun at the girl’s temple stretched and pushed the skin. The girl squeaked and swallowed, and then lifted tear-filled eyes.
“Give it up, you’ve got nowhere to go,” Micah hissed.
“You’re right, I don’t. I’m prepared to die, are you?”
“You don’t seem the type,” Alex said, easing farther into the room.
“No? Well, don’t judge a book by its cover.”
“You’re no fucking book. There’s nothing complicated about you at all. You fucking scum, let her go,” Micah growled.
“Not interested in your brother?” Petrov sneered at Micah.
“Where’s my brother?” Micah choked out and stepped forward.
Petrov let out a gleeful sigh and then a laugh at Micah’s rage. “Oh yes. The brown-haired boy is such a prize.”
Micah growled, the knuckles of his gun hand turning white.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Petrov clicked with his tongue, and the gun dug further into the girl’s head.
Alex took another step into the room. He so wanted to put a bullet in this fucker’s head, but they needed him alive, for now.
Petrov was good at keeping the girl between them. The man was also wedged beside a tall dresser. Alex couldn’t get a clean shot.
“There’s no way out of this for you,” Micah snarled.
“Let the girl go and put the gun down, it’s over,” he ordered.
“It’s not over!”
“If you think that, you’re fooling yourself. We’ll carve every bit of information out of you, you sick fuck,” Micah said between his teeth.
Alex saw the moment Petrov realized they were going to keep him alive. Even if he did manage to kill the girl, they were going to keep him alive long enough to dig information out of him until his last dying breath.
Petrov shoved the girl at them and Micah caught her in his arms.
Petrov turned and sprinted across the room and he leaped after the man. Micah grabbed for the girl. The man reached the closet and spun.
“Get back!”
Alex stopped, gun aimed. “You’ve got nowhere to go.”
The man leaped onto the bed and over the other side. Alex skirted around the mattress.
Petrov spun and lifted the gun to nudge beneath his own chin.
“Don’t do it,” he said and squeezed his finger on the trigger, putting a bullet in the man’s shoulder. Petrov slammed back against the wall and Alex leaped forward. Petrov brought the gun back up and pulled the trigger.
Alex slammed into the man and took him to the floor. He jerked the gun from the man’s hand and looked down into Petrov’s gasping face. Or what was left of it. “God damned it!” he growled.
The bullet had gone through the man’s cheek and out the upper side of his head.
“Where’s Vladimir!” he shouted, fisting the man’s shirt.
Petrov gave one last gurgle and then stilled.
“Come on, wake up,” Micah said and his head snapped around to find the girl stretched out on the ground. Micah had his fingers on the girl’s throat, checking for a pulse.
“What happened?”
“She passed out,” Micah muttered.
“Get back,” Rush ordered.
Phoenix had arrived and spilled into the room behind the medic. It was soon obvious that the room was too small for them all to fit, so most of the unit backed up and stood waiting outside.
Both he and Micah stepped back as Rush took over. After a moment, the girl gasped for breath, coughed, and then started screaming.
“Shhhh, it’s okay, we’re here to help,” Rush said and lifted her to sit, then the medic helped the girl stand.
“There’s a dock a quarter of a mile from you,” Reggie said through the mic. “I’m pulling the SUV in there.”
Wild crouched near Petrov, quietly gazing at the dead man.
Alex clenched his teeth. “Both Petrov and Gashi are dead.”
“Gashi’s dead?” Micah’s head snapped up, he stared at him. Alex gave a short nod and stood.
They were running out of suspects who knew the location of Caleb.
Micah
The scenario went over and over in his head. Petrov would rather die than be arrested. Too bad Alex’s bullet hadn’t worked and kept the guy from killing himself.
He wrapped his arms around one leg and sank further into the corner where he was perched in the hotel room. He should have fired. But in reality, he’d had his hands full with the girl.
He wasn’t sure it would have mattered if he fired or not, because Alex’s bullet hadn’t stopped Petrov. Of course, at the time, he hadn’t known that Gashi was also dead or he might have tried to shoot the guy in the leg to throw off Petrov’s shot to the head.
Eventually, he made it up on the edge of the bed.
A quiet knock sounded and then the door was eased open.
“Micah?” Rush asked.
“Yes,” he coughed and sat up straight.
Rush stepped inside, keeping the door slightly ajar. “Sorry, I just wanted to check on you.”
“It’s okay, come in.” He cleared his throat. “I’m good. How’s the girl?”
“She’s going to be okay.”
“That’s good. Really good,” Micah said through numb lips.
“I showed her the picture of Caleb. She hadn’t see him or anyone resembling him.”
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Rush nodded and hesitated. “I’m here if you need me.”
Micah nodded and looked away. Rush quietly left and shut the door.
Several long minutes passed, hell it could have been an hour and he wouldn’t have known the difference, when an unknown number suddenly flashed on his cell and he picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Micah Robertson?”
“This is him,” he said after a moment.
“My name is Jagger Miller and I hear you’re looking for me.”
“I am.” His heart slammed against his ribcage and he jerked upright and flipped on the hotel room lamp that sat next to the bed.
“Can you meet alone?”
“No.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone.
“You do realize you’re in bed with a psychopath, right?” Micah sneered.
“I’m not in bed. I’m hiding beneath the bed.”
“So you’re undercover?” Micah frowned. “Why not come the fuck in then? What agency?” He barked the words hard and fast.
“No agency. I have my own agenda.”
“Who are you really, Jagger, or should I call you Wyatt Hughes?”
Silence again, this time longer.
“You want to meet? What’s your stake in all this?” Micah pressed when the man seemed hesitant.
It was quiet for so long that Micah thought maybe the man had hung up, but then very softly, Jagger said, “I have reason to believe that Vladimir took my little sister, Sara.” The man’s voice grew rough.
Micah closed his eyes for a brief moment. “What do you want with me?” His hand tightened around the phone.
There was another moment of silence. “Can you get away? I want to show you something.”
Micah shoved on his boots and stood. Walking out of his room and into the common area, he held the phone to his ear. The only two in the common area were Wild and Noah. He caught their gazes before lifting a finger to circle in the air in the get the fuck up and let’s get busy sign.
He made it outside and Wild and Noah followed.
“I’m away. Where to?” Micah asked, hailing a cab out f
ront of the hotel. Jagger gave him the address and hung up.
Micah sent the text to Noah. After a few minutes, Noah and Wild were on his ass with the unit’s black borrowed SUV.
“You sure this is the place?” the guy asked nervously, looking around at the wooded area.
“This is the address given to me.”
“Well, hurry up and get out man,” the younger guy said. “This is some creepy remote shit back here.”
Micah slipped out and the guy tore off back down the dirt road. Micah turned to look at the house. From what he could see in the dark, it looked to be a nice house. The only drawback was it was far deep in the woods. The front porch light was on and another light on inside.
A man stepped out of the shadows near the porch and Micah aimed his gun.
“Micah?”
“Jagger.”
Micah stood stock still. This was the man he’d been trying to apprehend in order to catch Vladimir. Now he was just supposed to believe the guy was undercover?
“Why me? Why’d you call me?” Micah narrowed his gaze at the guy.
Jagger had altered his appearance from the LAX video. Where the man in the video had blond hair and wore a suit, Jagger now had coal black hair and wore jeans and a leather jacket.
Jagger held his eyes. “We’ve both had someone taken by this bastard.”
“How do you know that?” he snarled.
“I have ears. You guys have been flashing that picture around.”
“Have you seen the boy in the picture?” Micah inquired from between clenched teeth.
Jagger shook his head. “No.”
“So, convince me why I should trust you or only one of us is walking out of here.”
“Fair enough.” Jagger took a deep breath. “Micah, I want-”
“I go by Lash.” A name he’d picked up in the army by way of his skills with a blade. He’d struck the enemy so quickly and often that his army unit had teased about him giving them whiplash. It had shortened to Lash over the years, but he didn’t mind.
“Lash.” The man jerked his head sideways and when he hesitated, Jagger said, “Please, I want to show you something.”
He cautiously followed the man, keeping a wary eye on all angles. If it were a trap, Wild and Noah would certainly even the field.
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