The Tears of Odessa (An Atlas Hargrove Thriller Book 1)

by Ryan Schow

  “You’re safe now,” he said again.

  One of the girls came out front holding a plate of food and a glass of water. She handed it to Kaylee, who shook her head but said nothing. Finally, she looked up at Cira and then over at Atlas. If he was reading Kaylee right, her eyes were saying, Are these people safe? They were saying, Can I trust them?

  Atlas pushed himself to his feet, then said to Cira, “I think it’s time you call Leopold, tell him the good news.”

  She handed him her phone and said, “You’ve earned the right to make the call.”

  He happily took the phone, dialed Leopold, waited.

  “Cira,” Leopold said, expecting an update.

  “Atlas,” he replied.

  “Where’s Cira?”

  “You sound worried.”

  “Should I be?”

  “No,” he said. “I kept her safe, she kept me safe, for the most part, we’re all safe.”

  “For the most part?”

  “Kiera was shot in the head, grazed really, but it was enough to scrape her skull.”

  “But she’s okay?” he asked, shaken.

  “Yes, it looks like it.”

  “How many did you kill?” he asked.

  “We took out the heads of two sex-trafficking rings. One of them had diversified, though. He was making snuff films and draining kids’ pineal glands trying to make some adrenalized youth elixir for the ultra-rich. When he was done, he’d dump their bodies in some chemical factory. The drug is called Vampire’s Kiss, or VK for short. Have you heard of that?”

  “They drained the pineal gland, you said?” he asked. Atlas noted some level of concern in the man’s voice.

  “That’s what I was told.”

  “Are you talking about Neuromelanin?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. Well, that’s the less fancy name for it.”

  “Good God,” Leopold said. “Vampire’s Kiss is right. Half the ultra-elite in this country are blood drinkers.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “I wish,” he said. “It’s a real problem.”

  “Well, one of these blood-drinking, child-killing fruit loops has closed up shop,” he said. “And the less diverse of the two establishments is also done. The kill count is probably eighteen, nineteen bad guys.”

  “Were you able to save the girls?”

  “Yes, about the same amount. And I’m pleased to report there were no casualties of the innocents.”

  “That’s great news, Atlas,” he said, genuinely relieved. “I’m happy to hear that.”

  “We have another potential problem, though,” Atlas said, not wanting to spoil the mood, but feeling the necessity of it. “I spoke with someone I probably shouldn’t have spoken to.”

  “Who is that?” Leopold asked, concern mixed with curiosity.

  “The former secretary of state.”

  “Why would you do that?” he barked. “Are you insane?”

  “A bit, yes. But this was Vanko’s operation. He was buying kids from the former secretary, using them up, then selling them to Dasha. One of them was selling VK and making snuff films. I’m not sure who, but Dasha took me to the dumpsite, and Ruslana—the woman who ran things for Vanko—knew about it, too. As for the secretary, I’m going to have Codrin pull up everything he can on the man, see if we can’t map out the supply chain leading back to him. If anyone deserves the next bullet, it’s that crooked son of a bitch.”

  “I’ll handle that,” Leopold said, stern.

  “We’re done here in Odessa,” Atlas said, relieved, “but in a way, we’ve also just begun.”

  “That’s the cop in you talking.”

  “If I see a thread, I want to pull it,” Atlas explained. “Isn’t that why you wanted me working for you in the first place?”

  “Among other reasons,” Leopold said, agreeable.

  “I took pictures of all the dead guys like you asked. Is it safe to send them over unsecured lines?”

  “My line is secure. Codrin can sweep away the footprints on your end.”

  “I’ll start sending them right away. Oh, and one more thing,” Atlas said, saving the best for last.

  “What?”

  “We found Kaylee,” he said, smiling. “She’s alive.”

  “What?!”

  “The girl we found at the dumpsite looked strikingly familiar, but she is not Kaylee. Kaylee is alive and well. We’re going to bring her home.”

  “Oh, thank God,” Leopold said, overwhelmed.

  “I knew you’d be happy.”

  “I’m thrilled, actually. Great job, Atlas,” he said. After a moment, he said, “I really thought we shit the bed on this, but we came out ahead, minus any injuries to the team.”

  “More or less,” he said.

  “Put Cira on, please,” Leopold said. “And have a safe flight back.”

  Atlas handed Cira the phone, then he went and sat next to Kiera. Neither of them said anything to each other, but both seemed perfectly content with the other’s company. Finally, risking his own safety, he slipped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. She gently laid her head on his shoulder and it was sweet, something he would have never expected from her.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  BOOK IV: EPILOGUE

  ATLAS HARGROVE

  When Leopold’s Gulfstream took off, Atlas lay down on the couch again, drifting off. Fortunately, Cira didn’t bust his balls over it again. Instead, she sat in the seat across from him, the hired muscle sitting elsewhere. Sometime later, she woke him up.

  “I just spoke to Kofi.”

  “Yeah?”

  “He said to thank you again,” she replied.

  He waved a dismissive hand like it was nothing. Atlas had no use for the money he’d taken from Mykola Danko, but he knew Kofi and Fadey would benefit immensely from it. He gave the lion’s share to Kofi and his wife but saved a tidy sum to give to Fadey, who was so appreciative, actual tears softened those otherwise hard eyes. He also made sure there was enough money set aside for a proper burial for the girl they’d thought was Kaylee. Kofi had said he was planning to do that anyway.

  “He said you did a good thing for him and his family,” Cira said.

  “It was nothing,” he replied.

  “Not to him, it wasn’t.” When he didn’t respond, she said, “Leopold has one more thing for us. A gift.”

  “Couldn’t it wait until I woke up?”

  “You wanted this.”

  “I did?”

  “We got the go-ahead for a domestic op.”

  He sat up slowly, his head pounding, his body aching to all hell. “Do explain, love,” he said, yawning.

  “The man who orchestrated Kaylee’s kidnapping is named Marcus Aetós. He was a friend of Kaylee’s father. They’re not on speaking terms, for obvious reasons. Halden Barnes just asked us to eighty-six his ass. Leopold gave us the green light.”

  He closed his eyes, laid his head back down. “That’s great news.”

  “Aren’t you even happy?” Cira asked. “I was sure you’d be ecstatic.”

  “I was before the adrenaline wore off. I swear to God, I could use a good coma right now. Something to recharge the batteries, make this freaking pain in my head stop.”

  A moment later she came back with four ibuprofen and a bottled water. He gobbled down the pills, drank half the bottle, then closed the lid and lay back down.

  “Wake me when we land,” he said, groggy.

  “So you’re down for this?”

  “Is Kiera coming?”

  “No.”

  “It’s just me?”

  “It’s you and me together,” she said. “Leopold okayed it.”

  Nodding his head, he closed his eyes. “I’m game, but you’ve got to make the plan on this thing. I barely even know my own name at this point.”

  When they landed, Leopold Wentworth and Halden Barnes met them on a private runway. Halden had arrived in a Bentley Continental GT, and Leopold came with two cars, on
e of them a limo. The two men got out of their respective vehicles.

  Cira escorted Kaylee down the jet’s staircase. The fifteen-year-old lost it when she saw her father. He ran to her, took her in his arms, held her as she completely broke down.

  Before Halden and Kaylee left, Halden came and shook Atlas’s hand, the expression of surprise on his face unmistakable. Still gripping his hand, Halden said, “I thought you were otherwise detained.”

  “I was,” Atlas said. “And I will be again, soon enough.”

  “Thank you for everything.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Halden thanked the others, a weariness in his eyes despite finding his daughter. Just before they left, Kaylee broke from her father’s side and went to Atlas. She put her arms around him and held him tight, saying nothing the hug didn’t say for her. For a moment he imagined that the girl was Alabama. There wasn’t a thing in the world that would stop him from finding her. But Kaylee was not his missing child. Atlas was grateful to have brought her home, but there was still so much emptiness inside him, a black hole spanning entire galaxies, a void only Alabama could fill.

  “Thank you,” she finally said, her voice broken, shaky.

  “You are more than welcome,” he replied, not sure what else to say.

  She squeezed him one last time, and then she went and hugged Kiera as she made her way off the Gulfstream. Kiera hugged her back, then kissed the top of her head and reluctantly watched her go.

  Whatever it was this young assassin had gone through before had done a number on her. She was not above emotion, as he’d first thought. In fact, watching her watch Kaylee, he suddenly felt like Kiera was capable of intense love if only she’d let her guard down. He wondered if he’d ever see her again. For a moment, he got really sad thinking he wouldn’t.

  Leopold interrupted his thoughts, congratulating him on his work. Kiera joined them. Leopold looked at her and said, “I hear you did well.”

  “She saved my life a few times,” Atlas admitted. Kiera pointed to Atlas, then touched her chest and held up two fingers. Atlas grinned. “And I might have returned the favor.”

  “So it seems as though I made good decisions with both of you.”

  “Let’s hope we made a good one with you,” he replied. Leopold had yet to give him news on Alabama.

  Leopold appraised Atlas for a moment, then shook his hand and said, “It’s good to finally meet you face-to-face.”

  “Likewise,” Atlas said.

  “I’m going to take her to a local doctor, have her checked out,” he said about Kiera. Her head wound didn’t look so great. “But I’ll look forward to an update when you finally put this op to bed.”

  “You’ll have it,” Cira said, hugging him.

  Leopold kissed her cheek, then turned to Atlas and said, “Not a scratch on this one.”

  “She can go with you, then,” Atlas said of Cira. “I just need an address and a ride.”

  “I’m going with you and that’s final,” Cira said.

  “The town car is for you, as are the clothes inside and the itinerary on the front seat. Marcus is a man who likes to party, but he’s also a man who likes what he likes, and buys what isn’t given to him willingly.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Cira asked.

  “It means Atlas is driving and you’re Marcus’s date,” Leopold said. He winked at her, then added, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “You do everything,” she teased. “See you back here in a few hours?”

  “Or less,” he replied.

  Cira’s phone beeped on the way to the car. She asked Atlas to wait for a second while she stopped and listened to the message. When she was done, she hung up and said, “Alright.”

  He climbed into the black town car, started it up, checked the fuel tank. It was full. The A/C was strong, which was good because he was a little hot. In the back seat, Cira told him what the voicemail was about.

  “Codrin arranged a date for me with Marcus. He picked up a request Marcus made last week from a high-end escort service that never got back to him. Apparently, Codrin pretended to be the escort service. He sent Marcus my picture as bait.”

  “That’s an easy decision,” Atlas said, earning himself brownie points with the compliment.

  “The man is a pig with a penchant for unchecked sex, kidnapping, and murder, but it turns out he’s into full-grown women just as much as he’s into developing children.”

  “Good God,” he said. “What’s with the elite and pedophilia?”

  “Kids are their currency. You’d be horrified at the games these monsters play. Or maybe not after this op.”

  Atlas followed the GPS instructions, hating the fact that he was forced to wear such big sunglasses and that stupid driver’s outfit. After they changed into their respective outfits, Cira laughed at him, but then she lied and said it was something else she was thinking about.

  When they got to Marcus’s mansion, they were met by a beefcake in a bad suit. He held up his hand at the private gate, prompting Atlas to stop the car.

  “I think you have the wrong address,” the big man said when Atlas rolled down the window.

  “Cute,” Atlas replied, keeping his bill low to hide the damage on his face. “Tell Marcus we’re here, please.”

  “Seriously,” the man said in a deep, authoritative voice.

  Cira rolled down the back window, looking stunning in the dress Leopold bought for her, even with the cut on her forehead—the vertical one with the micro-stitches and the bruising.

  “I didn’t know Mr. Aetós ordered his dinner pre-tenderized,” the guard said after a long inspection.

  “There’s a lot of things I’m sure you don’t know,” Cira replied. “But Marcus gets what Marcus wants, and tonight he wants me, so be a dear and open the gate before my vajeen starts getting sticky. I’m not wearing any underwear.”

  Blushing, the man stepped back, opened the gate, and ushered them in. When he rolled up the window, Atlas said, “That was gross.”

  She gave a short laugh and said, “That was the point. Did you see his face? He practically turned purple.”

  “Focus, Cira.”

  “I’m focused just fine.”

  Marcus met them at the door. This had Atlas thinking maybe Marcus was alone. Atlas got out, opened the back door for Cira, then watched the two of them walk inside the huge house. He shut the door behind them, ignoring Atlas completely.

  Down the long driveway, the ‘roid ranger of a guard manned his post, which meant he picked up his cell phone and started scrolling through it. Was he looking at Facebook, Instagram, his messages, his email? It didn’t matter, so long as he was preoccupied.

  Atlas discreetly checked the handgun Leopold had left with him on the front seat, made sure the new suppressor was screwed on tight. He took a deep breath, then waited for the right moment. When he was sure the meat sack in a monkey suit was sufficiently distracted, Atlas snuck into the house.

  He crept upstairs, following the sounds of talking and laughter. When he got to the huge master bedroom, the double doors were wide open and Cira was playfully saying, “Get that lap hog out of those pants, let me see what we’re working with.” If Cira saw him, she didn’t acknowledge it. The fact that Marcus had his back to the door was all the advantage Atlas needed.

  The second he lowered his pants and underwear, Atlas put a round in each exercised butt cheek. Staggering forward on wobbly legs, Marcus sucked in a big, startled breath; Cira throat-checked him, stopping all that noise from leaving his face.

  The injured man’s knees buckled. Instead of letting him fall on the floor, Cira used the momentum to guide his collapsing body onto the bed. She then rolled him over, pulled up his undies, and flicked his pecker.

  “Not impressed,” she said as he lay there gagging, crying, his face beet red.

  Atlas walked up, pressed the suppressor to Marcus’s forehead, the distance between both eyebrows perfectly halved.


  “We recovered Kaylee Barnes,” he said. Eyes wide at the revelation, and the implications, Marcus finally managed to get some air. “She’s alive and back at home. Halden Barnes sends his regards.”

  With that, Atlas pulled the trigger, the man’s head punching into the comforter.

  Turning to Cira, thinking she looked so beautiful, he leaned in and kissed her hard on the lips, which then turned to a slow, soft kiss.

  “You taste like blood and want,” she whispered on an exhale.

  “I’m going to miss you.”

  “We’ve still got the flight home,” she teased.

  “Is Leo coming?”

  “We’re stopping off in Blacksburg first, then we’ll head back to Cali.”

  “That’s not encouraging,” he said.

  “No, it’s not.”

  When they landed in Blacksburg, Virginia, a car picked up Kiera, but it didn’t leave right away. To Cira, Leopold said, “I’m going with Kiera. I have some business to attend to. Will you see Atlas home safely?”

  Cira nodded and said, “Yes.”

  He looked at Atlas. “Are you going to cooperate?”

  “I’m actually looking forward to a few weeks of solitary confinement.”

  “Really?” Leopold asked, stunned.

  “No,” Atlas replied, deadpan. “But I won’t be a problem. You’re going to deliver on your promise, right?”

  “My detective is sending me an update shortly. I’ll forward his findings to your phone, while you have it. I will also deliver a hard copy of our findings to the prison.”

  “Thank you,” he said, shaking the man’s hand one last time. When the Gulfstream took to the air once more—this time heading back to California—Atlas turned to Cira and said, “Other than your hired muscle, it looks like we’re alone again.”

  “It seems we are,” she purred.

  Lost in her gaze, he thought, If I kill her here, and then smoke Boris, I can force the pilot to take me anywhere I want to go. I could head to Mexico, Canada, maybe even hop the pond and drop down in London. But he didn’t want to hurt her or steal Leopold’s plane. He just wanted to know what Leo’s detective had found on Alabama. In that way, Leopold was ensuring that Atlas cooperated, even without restraints or hired guards.