In the Shadows (Metahuman Files Book 3)

by Hailey Turner

  The door slid open again, and everyone stood up as MDF Deputy Director Ranisha Stirling stepped inside. The group saluted at her in greeting, receiving a sharp nod in return. A former Rear Admiral Lower Half in the United States Navy, Stirling currently helped Director Amir Nazari lead the MDF, overseeing key missions of her own when the need arose.

  Alpha Team was handled either by Stirling or Nazari directly. Metahumans with a military background were spread out over the field teams, but Alpha Team was the only one whose eight members wholly consisted of military personnel. When the MDF wanted someone or something taken out with extreme prejudice, they sent in Alpha Team. Only the director or deputy director had the authority to deploy them, which was why Stirling was up past zero dark thirty instead of someone else of lesser rank.

  “Thanks for getting here so quickly,” Stirling said as she took the seat at the head of the conference table. Her dark brown eyes swept the table, making Alexei unconsciously straighten his shoulders. “I know it’s late, and we’d all rather be in bed, but we seem to have a problem on our hands that needs to be handled with a certain amount of finesse. For those who aren’t aware of it, Agent Delaney contacted Dvorkin tonight while undercover as Riley Miller. He flew into New Miami yesterday afternoon for a dinner meeting with a client as the face of Root Source, Inc.”

  “Ma’am?” Katie asked a little sharply.

  Stirling held up a hand, instantly silencing her. “We’ve kept Root Source, Inc. going even if we haven’t been using Alpha Team as the face of it outside direct contact with Stanislav Pavluhkin. Delaney has been running point on those missions to widen its business reach because we couldn’t afford to not bring on clients without making Pavluhkin suspicious. And we need Alpha Team in the field more than we need them in a boardroom.”

  “You usually brief us on what he’s been up to for our covers.”

  “The mission this time was a little last minute and involves Adrian Wolcott, a casino magnate out of Las Vegas. We had plans to update your team after it was completed, but unfortunately, the mission seems to have hit a little snag.”

  “Is not little if Russian mafia calling, ma’am,” Alexei replied.

  Stirling tipped her head in his direction in faint agreement. “True. They weren’t on our radar because they don’t normally operate in Las Vegas. It’s not their territory. Unfortunately, they had Wolcott in their sights and Delaney got caught in the middle of it. From what we can deduce, he played up Root Source, Inc.’s ties to the Pavluhkins to buy us time until we could extract them.”

  “Delaney can phase, so why not phase outta there?” Annabelle asked.

  “We can’t afford to lose Wolcott right now for reasons that are not pertinent to this particular extraction mission.”

  Alexei shared a look with Kyle. They’d heard that reasoning before, just with different words, too many times to count. Something else was going down, something bigger. Alexei was suddenly very glad he’d read the situation correctly with Antonovich and handled it in the guise of his cover from January rather than telling him to fuck off.

  Stirling swiped her hand over the terminal in front of her. Command windows popped up around her fingers and she tapped at a couple. The holographic globe disintegrated before reforming into a map of New Miami, with holopics of people appearing in the air over the center of the table. Alexei scowled at Antonovich’s face.

  “We need Alpha Team to retrieve Delaney and the Wolcotts alive, without letting them know you’re metahumans,” Stirling said.

  “We’re reprising our roles from January?” Katie asked.

  “Some of you will be. Alexei’s call with Antonovich let us know that Delaney must have informed him, for whatever reason, that you are unavailable. Which means you aren’t going into the field, Ovechkina.”

  “Ma’am—”

  “That isn’t up for negotiation.”

  Katie snapped her mouth shut audibly, the sheer lack of expression on her face telling Alexei just how pissed she was with that order. She wouldn’t fight it, but she didn’t have to like it. Stirling’s dark brown gaze pinned Alexei where he sat and he tried not to wilt beneath her attention as he waited to hear his orders.

  “Dvorkin will head to New Miami in his role as COO of Root Source, Inc. Chan, Brown, and Sanchez will join him. I’m giving all of you as much offensive firepower as I can because the Antonovich Brigada will confiscate every weapon we let you take to New Miami. They’ll get you unarmed and think you’re under their control.”

  “Why aren’t I going, ma’am?” Kyle asked. “I’m overwatch. They could use me.”

  “Your role is too deeply intertwined with Callahan’s. He’s on the campaign trail right now with his father, and thankfully that fits with his cover, but you being away from him does not.”

  “<>” Alexei said off-handedly.

  Kyle shot him a scathing look. “<>”

  Alexei shrugged. It was the truth, whether or not Kyle wanted to hear it.

  “And me, ma’am? Why aren’t I going?” Donovan asked.

  “Callahan is being protected by his family’s personal security. You are guarding Ovechkina, which means the both of you will remain here. You’ll be looped in on comms and Ovechkina will be coordinating the mission from headquarters. That’s the best I can give you.”

  It wasn’t unheard of for Alpha Team to be broken up into smaller squads. Alexei would’ve preferred being separated this time for a straightforward attack instead of one where everyone would expect him to use words instead of a weapon.

  Alexei took a deep swallow of his synthcaf before leaning forward, asking the question he knew would give him a headache, because Stirling had straight up said they’d be limited on weapons, if not their powers. “What is plan?”

  The uplink cut off and Sean curled his left hand into a fist. Antonovich swore thickly from where he sat at the head of the table, face turning red from anger.

  “You better hope your COO learns some fucking manners before he comes,” Antonovich growled. “Get them out of here.”

  Sean wisely didn’t say a word as he struggled to his feet. Since the first moment of their introduction, Sean had come to the conclusion that he and the Wolcotts would live or die on Antonovich’s word. His read on the other man was of someone looking to move up in the world, and he’d been proven right by the short conversation with Alexei. That flimsy need was the only reason why they were still breathing.

  The assassin—Pavel, according to Antonovich’s yelling earlier—stepped forward to hustle the three of them out of the conference room and away from Antonovich’s temper. Sean’s head throbbed as he walked, and nausea was an unwelcome companion he tried to swallow back. The lights in the villa made his headache worse, the pain skirting close to migraine levels. Paired with his double vision that had yet to settle, Sean knew he was suffering from a concussion.

  He could hear Chloe sniffling behind him and Adrian’s quiet voice as he tried to comfort his wife. She’d held up admirably well so far, considering the situation. Shock probably helped with that, something he could do nothing about, the same way he could do nothing about his concussion. Antonovich hadn’t offered up any medical help to them and Sean wasn’t going to ask.

  They were led back to the den that was their semi-comfortable prison for the time being. Adrian guided Chloe to the couch, sitting down beside her and pulling her into his arms. Sean stumbled to the armchair he’d claimed earlier, making sure the garbage bin one of the guards had retrieved for him after Sean threatened to get sick on the carpet was close at hand.

  “Hand,” Pavel said.

  Strong fingers grabbed Sean’s left wrist and yanked his arm up, twisting it around until the underside of his wrist was turned upward. The slim metal device Pavel carried made Sean stiffen in place. Pavel smirked down at him as he pressed the flat end of the autoinjector against his wrist.

  “Boss’ orders.”

  The sharp sting of the thin metal spike pier
cing his skin and driving deep into his wrist made Sean’s arm jerk, but Pavel’s grip held firm. When Pavel pressed the button on the other end, the sudden electrical surge and burn through his left wrist and hand, matched by the hot sensation behind both ears where his comms resided, had Sean leaning forward to get sick into the garbage bin between his feet.

  The forced electrical burnout of his RealIdent chip and comms left him shaking, muscles cramping. It was nothing at all like when he used his powers, the electronics going dead instantly with no pain involved at all. This hurt, which was probably the point.

  Pavel let go of his wrist and Sean yanked his hand back, pressing the fingers of his right hand over the hole in his wrist to stop the bleeding. He spat into the garbage can, wincing at the new buzz of pain in his body rather than the rancid state of his mouth.

  He gingerly leaned back in his seat, watching tiredly as Pavel subjected Adrian and Chloe to the same device. Considering the villa was surrounded by electronic jammers, this was a precaution Sean didn’t like.

  Adrian took the burnout stoically while Chloe let out a sharp cry when it was her turn. His task finished, Pavel left the den with an order to the guards keeping watch over their prisoners.

  “Shoot them if they try to escape.”

  Sean snorted softly. He didn’t consider it much of a threat. He could walk out of here without a scratch, even with a concussion, but the MDF would lose too much if he tried to save himself now. Waiting for a rescue was the better option in order to keep their own secrets.

  “Are you all right?” Adrian asked in a low voice. “Riley?”

  “Been better,” he muttered.

  Chloe was quietly crying into Adrian’s chest, her shoulders shaking within the circle of his arms. Adrian still looked angry, but the worry on his face told Sean the other man was finally beginning to believe that maybe they wouldn’t get out of this mess alive. Arrogance was just as good of a buffer as shock, but it seemed to be finally fading in Adrian.

  “Do you really know this Stanislav Pavluhkin guy?”

  Sean shifted carefully in his seat, trying not to jar his head. “We do business with him.”

  He knew the degree of separation between Adrian and their mutual acquaintance was probably tiny, considering Declan’s meeting with Jansen, but he wasn’t in the mood to talk about it. Especially not with an audience. Adrian’s false ignorance could be dealt with at a later time if they got out of this mess alive. Sean closed his eyes, effectively ending the conversation, telling himself he’d rest them for a couple of minutes.

  Just a couple of minutes.

  Alexei peered out the window of the private jet they were flying in, squinting at the blue water of the New Miami Bay below. Annabelle was flying them low over the water with steady hands on the control stick, heading for New Miami International Airport. The private jet was smaller than the one they’d taken to London in January, but it still belonged to Jamie’s family.

  When Jamie had been updated on the team’s new mission, unable to return despite all of them knowing he wanted to, he’d authorized use of one of his family’s many private jets. The fact that his family owned more than one proved that the amount of money Jamie had at his disposal was unreal. Alexei didn’t know how he was supposed to embody the kind of attitude Jamie had given off in London. Rich didn’t come easily to Alexei at all.

  Angry as all fuck? That he could do.

  MDF agents had filed the flight plan that morning, listed under Alexei’s name within the Root Source, Inc.’s business account. As the COO of the cybersecurity company, he had access to all the perks that came with being a card-carrying C-suite member. He’d refused the suit and tie though, opting instead for dark wash jeans, a plain white T-shirt, and a pair of sturdy boots with gripping soles he could run in when the shit hit the fan.

  The other three weren’t so lucky.

  “I’m going to die,” Madison moaned from the other side of the jet where she was stretched out on the couch, staring out of her window. “Fuck, I hate the heat.”

  “You join Marines,” Alexei reminded her. “Recon Marines. You go first, stay longer.”

  “Yeah, and I hated every goddamn second we were deployed in the desert.”

  Alexei couldn’t really argue with that.

  Madison, Trevor, and Annabelle were dressed in the same type of attire Alexei was, just in drab coloring, and with matching blazers despite the weather. Their clothes screamed bodyguards, complete with sunglasses that doubled as cameras, though none of them were holding out hope the sunglasses would work long inside the villa. All attempts to hail Sean through his comms had come up with dead air, which meant Antonovich was employing electronic jammers or Sean’s comms were completely out of commission. Neither was a pleasant option.

  They would have to get clear of the villa before they could reconnect with headquarters unless Katie finished hacking her way through Antonovich’s security in time. She’d been at it since before dawn after getting a couple hours of rack time and picking up where another agent had left off. It was 1122 right now and still no word from her on if she had achieved her goal. Before they’d left that morning, Katie had built mental shields around their minds to keep them safe from any psionic interference. Intel on Antonovich’s Brigada didn’t indicate he employed metahumans, but they weren’t taking any chances. The shields would only last a couple of days, but Alexei knew they weren’t staying longer than a few hours, if that.

  Antonovich had called Alexei earlier that morning, using a different number, informing them that his people would pick Alexei up from the airport. Alexei had hung up on him again, hoping he wasn’t putting Sean and the other hostages through hell by keeping to his cover. His background wasn’t patient, nor was it accepting of other people’s orders if they didn’t come from Jamie or Katie.

  Sean had done an excellent job of picking out personality traits for them back in January and deepening those quirks. Everyone was just a little harder, a little darker than what they were normally like, which meant Alexei wasn’t acting out of the ordinary by being an asshole. If the situation weren’t so dangerous, he’d laugh about it.

  “Landin’ in five,” Annabelle said, her drawling voice coming over the jet’s public comms.

  Alexei could see the back of her head where she sat in the flight deck since the sliding door was open and locked in place. Annabelle could fly just about anything she could get her hands on. As a former Night Stalkers pilot, her skill in aviation was unparalleled on the team. Alexei barely felt a thing during their vertical descent into New Miami International Airport, and it only took a few minutes more for Annabelle to taxi them to their gate.

  They would disembark in a private terminal within the airport that catered to the rich and famous. Security would be discreet and there would be less of a crowd to deal with. The perks of having money meant privacy from the rabble was a much sought-after option.

  “We’re good to go,” Annabelle called out to them as she turned off the engines.

  Alexei let Madison and Trevor handle the bags holding their gun cases. Since they’d left out of a private airport in D.C., they weren’t subjected to security searches. Even if they were, they had the correct forms ready to go that authorized their weapons. Alexei was resigned to the fact that Antonovich’s people would confiscate every last gun they’d brought with them before they even made it to the front door of the villa.

  Alexei clenched his fingers into a fist, the long familiar pressure in his skin pushing outward. His pyrokinesis manifested itself in curling tongues of fire that burned the air over his knuckles. The obvious weapons would be taken, yes, but Antonovich wouldn’t be expecting them to still be armed once in his presence. The tricky thing would be to make sure the Wolcotts never realized they were metahumans.

  Alexei extinguished the fire with a shake of his hand and put his sunglasses on. Trevor was opening up the jet’s door, the stairs unfolding themselves from the compact space they’d been stored into for the
duration of the short flight. As soon as the seal broke, a wave of hot, humid air poured inside.

  Florida had lost land mass over the last few centuries, but it hadn’t lost its reputation for ridiculously hot weather. The humidity here lent the air an almost saturated feel to it as Alexei stepped off the jet and onto the tarmac once Trevor cleared the way. Madison was right behind him, bag slung over her shoulder. Nothing was in the cargo hold of the jet, so the ground crew member with his hovercart had nothing to do.

  Annabelle spoke briefly with the MDF agent acting as a pilot who had arrived to watch over the jet before hurrying to catch up. Several New Miami-based agents would render aid to Alpha Team when needed during the mission.

  All those little details weren’t Alexei’s problem, for which he was glad. All he had to do in his role as COO was let the other three usher him through the airport to the main exit beyond the baggage claim. Once outside, they spotted a man with Alexei’s last name floating in holographic letters between his fingers and the data rings he wore.

  Another MDF agent, the man greeted them with a firm nod before leading them to the pickup zone for passengers who could afford expensive door-to-door service. A black SUV pulled up alongside the curb seconds later, hazard lights flashing as the driver got out from behind the wheel.

  “Our instructions were to deliver the vehicle to you,” the driver said as he opened up the trunk for them. “Park it in the short-term lot whenever you’re finished. We’ll handle the return.”

  “Will do,” Madison replied as she chucked her bag into the trunk.

  Alexei climbed into the middle seat while the other three got situated, with Annabelle taking the wheel. Only when they were clear of the airport and its CCTV-saturated travel zone did Madison start distributing handguns. The biolocked weapons were secured in small hard cases, with extra magazines that Alexei opted to leave behind. Antonovich’s people would take their weapons; no use wasting ammunition.