Hard Play (Delta Force Brotherhood)

by Sheryl Nantus

  Jessie curled around him, bringing him close.

  He took in the warmth, enjoying the comfort she offered.

  “So you formed the Brotherhood.”

  “Yes. We help out where others won’t, do what others don’t because the rules get in the way. I promised myself I’d never get into that sort of situation again, never again sacrifice a man because it was expedient, fit in with someone else’s agenda. So when I commit the Brotherhood to a task, we do it without fail, we finish the mission no matter what happens. We’re honest about everything, all the time—we don’t lie to each other no matter how uncomfortable it might be. And we all come back home, one way or another.” Dylan felt the band across his chest loosen, the purge easing the pain in his heart.

  “Yes.” She lifted her head and kissed him. “We all come back home.”

  They lay there in a comfortable silence for a few moments before she spoke again. “So when does the club open? And do you work the bar?”

  Dylan grinned, grateful for the return to simpler, less complicated talk. “We opened at noon, actually. There are about thirty people on staff, not including the Brotherhood. Valet parking, bartenders, chefs, waitresses, cleaning staff…should I go on?”

  “No. Just curious. And you run a profit?”

  “Very much so. And for the record, we pay good wages and donate all our spare food at the end of the night to the soup kitchen over on Bellamy.” He eyed her. “Interrogation over?”

  She sat up in bed and stretched her arms out. “I don’t go out a lot, so I’ve never been here. I’ve heard of the club, of course.”

  “And you’ve never come to the Devil’s Playground?” He smiled. “Too bad you’re still technically a fugitive. Love to take you out on the dance floor tonight.”

  “I’ve already seen your moves.”

  “Not all of them.”

  “Ooh.” She batted her eyes, perching her chin on her hands. “There’s more?”

  “Yes.” He leaned over and cupped the back of her neck. “A hell of a lot more, if you want it.”

  She melted into his arms.

  He couldn’t get enough of her and wasn’t sure he’d ever want to try.

  …

  When the intercom buzzed Jessie thought for a fast, frantic second the noise was coming from inside her, that the heat Dylan generated was burning out her hearing.

  He pulled back from kissing her, sucking in a mouthful of air. “I’m here. Go.”

  “Sorry to bother you,” Trey said. “But we’ve got an issue. Nothing big compared to what we’ve got on the other burner but still…”

  He got to his feet, reaching for his shirt. “What’s up?”

  “Last minute reservation. We’ve got a huge bachelor party coming in and need some oversight. With Ace still on sentinel duty, we’re a bit stretched tight. Already called in some extra help, but could use a hand to cover until they arrive.”

  “Okay. On my way.” He tugged Jessie up and kissed her. “Guess I’ll get to show you my office.”

  …

  It was hard not to gasp, the one-way window offering her a perfect view of the entire nightclub. The dancers were in place, gyrating on their platforms. The disk jockey had already started spinning his tunes, the rhythmic thumping vibrating through the floor under her feet.

  All in all, it looked like any other nightclub she’d either read about or visited.

  Except she knew so much more about the Playground now, about the hidden rooms in the basement and the amazing men who worked there.

  Dylan stood beside her, staring out into the audience. The after-work crowd had begun morphing into the evening partiers, the businessmen wandering out to go back to their homes and the young adults coming in, eager to dance the night away.

  “Wyatt, tell the kind gentleman at the bar if he argues with Faith one more time about his drink, he’ll be removed.”

  “What’s he doing?” Jessie peered down at the thirty-foot long bar. It was hard to pick out anyone, much less the man he’d been talking about. “How can you tell?”

  “He’s sent back his drink twice. She’s getting annoyed, and rightly so, snapping her towel under the counter twice so far.” Dylan gave her a wink. “Faith is a good bartender, maybe the best. If she’s not making the drink the way he wants it, then he wants it wrong. And we’re not going to keep tossing good alcohol out because it doesn’t taste like whatever swill Mr. Fussy is used to.”

  “How do you know what to look for?” Jessie swept her gaze back and forth across the crowd. “I can’t see anyone, just a big dance mob.”

  “It takes time to figure it out, but once you have it, you’re on.” He raised his voice again. “Someone please tell the ladies at table ten not to leave their purses behind if they want to dance. We won’t be responsible if anyone snags them.” He shook his head. “We don’t have a lot of crime, but we’re always aiming for zero.”

  “I got you.” Jessie took his hand and leaned against him, savoring the entertainment below them. It was a world away from Molodavi, and she needed this.

  She also needed Dylan, more than she wanted to admit.

  “Bring over a chair for yourself if you’d like,” he offered, never taking his attention off the crowd. “We’ll be here for a bit until the rush settles down.”

  “Then what?”

  He turned, and she froze, caught in his intense gaze. “We do the final briefing. Tomorrow we’re ending this business with Molodavi, one way or another.”

  Chapter Nine

  She woke a few hours later, finding herself stretched out on a sofa in Dylan’s office. He was still at the window, arms crossed.

  Jessie watched him in silence for a few minutes, the silent sentinel. The flashing lights from below bathed him in different colors, reminding her of the statues she’d seen by military monuments.

  “Putting the night staff on,” he said without turning around. “The closers will take care of things while we talk downstairs.”

  Jessie rubbed her eyes and sat up. “Sorry I fell asleep.”

  Dylan smiled. “You needed it.” He cast one last glance over the dance floor. “Let’s go get some coffee and wait for the others.”

  “Who came up with this plan?” she asked as they headed for the elevator.

  “We’ve been talking it over for a few days, everyone adding their two cents. I think you’ll approve of it.” He paused. “And if you don’t, speak up. We’ll change it to make it work. It’s your life on the line, and I sure as hell want to save it.”

  …

  The briefing room was the same as they’d left it earlier, the lack of any windows helping hide what time it was. Trey and Finn came in not long after Dylan and Jessie entered, seating themselves. Dylan caught Finn’s eye and nodded, giving him permission to begin the briefing.

  “Right.” Finn cleared his throat. “We’re wanting a simple in-and-out operation, keeping it as quiet as possible. We can’t go in waving guns; there are civilians to think about, and while we might have reservations about firing our weapons, Molodavi’s men won’t have the same mental restrictions. We’ve got some uniforms for the Fluxxx cleaning staff along with identification cards for Jessie and Dylan.” He looked at Jessie. “Give you access to the office floors at first glance.”

  Dylan spoke. “The two of us are going for the flash drive. The others are going to be in the casino as backup, to start distractions if needed, and keep his men occupied.” He paused. “You and I should be able to get in and out if we do it right.”

  Trey placed a palm-sized black tab on the coffee table. “This is a flash drive, same type as you used to grab the files the first time you got into his office.” He tapped the drive. “Except this program is a whole lot better. All you need to do is plug it into the desktop computer and it’ll bust it wide open, give me remote access to all the data inside. I can find the original security footage and clear you of the murder.”

  Jessie nodded. “And get the original files I stole
as well, right?”

  “Maybe. Likely not.” Trey gave a non-committal shrug. “They might have been moved around, archived, or maybe even scrubbed. I don’t know Molodavi’s security or his system enough to say what he could have done. So getting the flash drive of yours is still a priority, since it’s possible it could hold the only copy of some files.”

  Finn took over. “I’ll go inside the casino as a player, keep an eye on the interior as you two come in from outside and work your way across the ground floor. If there’s a guard on the stairwell, say the word and I’ll start a fight. Flip the table, challenge another player, something like that.”

  Jessie looked at him. “Molodavi’s security is pretty rough. I’ve seen them toss men twice your size out without breaking a sweat.” She glanced at Dylan as if for support.

  “Finn’s good. He’s there to start a diversion, not beat down the staff.” Dylan turned to Finn. “I assume you’ve got some ideas how to get the crowd going.”

  He grinned in agreement. “Some.”

  “Good. What else do you have?”

  A beeping interrupted their discussion. Trey hit a button on the computer panel in front of him.

  A man’s voice cut across the communication lines, sharp and angry. “Stop what you’re doing. You need to abort the operation.”

  Dylan frowned. “What’s up, Ace?”

  “Molodavi’s got Lisa. You can’t go to Fluxxx.”

  Jessie looked at Dylan, her eyes wide with fright. “You told me she was being protected.”

  “I did. And she was,” Dylan snapped back. He looked up at the speakers. “What the hell happened? You were supposed to be watching her.”

  “What the hell did you think I was doing?” Ace snarled. “I’ve been sitting here, roasting my ass, watching her like a hawk.”

  Dylan scrubbed his face with his palms. Jessie looked around the table and saw grim, tense faces.

  Ace continued. “An hour ago, a police car pulled up and went to her apartment. Escorted her out, put her in the car. I decided to follow ’cause I got a feeling something’s off. Detectives don’t usually pull people out of their apartments in the middle of the night unless they got something, and I know they don’t got Jessie. They didn’t go to the cop shop. They came to the back of the casino here and took her inside. Sons of bitches scooped her up right in public. Figure they grabbed her at night ’cause she’d be disoriented and out of sorts—easy pickings.”

  “Molodavi’s men,” Jessie said.

  “You got it. Now, I’m no strategic genius, but I think you might want to reconsider breaking in right now.”

  “How the hell did they know we were on the move?” Trey snapped. “How did they know when to grab her?”

  “The uniforms.” Finn cursed. “Bastards must keep a tight count on them all. Saw some were missing and suspected something.”

  “Or the hacker I hired warned Molodavi about the program,” Trey interrupted.

  “Enough,” Dylan snapped, silencing them. “Doesn’t matter how it happened, it happened, and we’ve got to deal with it now. Frank Wheeler didn’t convince Jessie to turn herself over and now Molodavi’s playing hardball. Doesn’t take a genius to kick it up the next level and take Lisa. She wouldn’t suspect anything until she ended up at Fluxxx, and then it’s too late to scream or yell for help with the cops in Molodavi’s pocket.” Dylan braced his arms against the table. “And now we’ve got a whole different situation to deal with.” He shook his head. “Ace, hold position. If they move her I want to know. Call Wyatt if you need a break. We’ll be in touch.” He ground his teeth, forcing himself to stay calm.

  “They’re going to kill her,” Jessie said, her face pale. “I can’t let them do that.”

  “We won’t,” Dylan said. “We won’t let him win.”

  He looked around the table and saw approving nods.

  Jessie shook her head, staring at the smooth tabletop. “I should have known it wouldn’t be this easy.”

  Trey raised an eyebrow. “What we had planned wasn’t easy.” He fell silent as Dylan glared at him.

  Jessie sighed. “Lisa’s tough, but she can’t deal with Molodavi’s men. What they’re going to do to her… I’m going to make them pay for this.”

  “You won’t be alone,” Dylan said. “They’re going to offer to trade her for you. That’s the master plan. That’s why they took her. Stick and carrot.” He grunted. “Frank Wheeler was the carrot, the easy way of doing things when his bounty on your head didn’t work out. You refused him and now he’s going for the stick—forcing you to make a move whether you want to or not.”

  He pointed at Trey. “Get on the wire and see if there’s any chatter about this. This didn’t happen in a vacuum; people are going to be talking. Call our street contacts. Molodavi’s going to want to deal, and he’ll be putting out feelers. He needs to talk to Jessie or her representative. That’s going to be us. We’re not going through Wheeler again—I doubt Molodavi’s going to be interested in dealing with him.” He hesitated for only a second before making the decision. “Bring in the reinforcements. Anyone local who can get in here, come in. We’re calling in our tickets.”

  Trey raised one eyebrow.

  “We’re not just sneaking in to grab a flash drive anymore. We’re dealing with a full-fledged hostage retrieval with an established operation who’s going to know we’re coming. There’s no way the handful of us can do that.”

  “I’m on it.” Trey looked over at Jessie. “Don’t worry. We’re going to bring her home.” Without waiting for a response, he left.

  “I’ll trade myself for Lisa,” she said. “It’s the right thing to do.”

  “Yes. But on our terms.” He chose his words carefully, knowing how much Lisa meant to her. “The end game here is to pull both of you out of this, alive and well. Don’t go thinking about sacrificing yourself to save her. We’re here and we’re going to help you.”

  She stretched out on the sofa. “I need a few minutes to think this through. Call me when you get some news.” Jessie closed her eyes.

  Dylan headed out of the room, fists clenched and his pulse pounding in his ears. He had to do something and right now he couldn’t, leaving the energy to grind up inside him and demand some way out.

  There was only one option open to him.

  …

  Jessie stretched out on the couch, trying to still the tiny voices screaming in her mind. It took some time for her to gather herself and accept her life had once again spun sideways, out of control.

  And this time it’d taken Lisa down with it.

  She was used to the idea of having her life on the line. Back at the academy her trainer had impressed the harsh truth upon her, and everyone else in her class, that every shift might well be her last, and they should get used to the idea and accept their mortality. She hadn’t taken it as badly as some of the others, since she already knew about that from her father.

  But to counterbalance that bitter pill, her teacher pointed out that a good cop made a difference in the world on every single shift. It might not be a big thing like saving a life—it could be something as simple as helping someone find the right bus stop, or giving driving instructions. Every little thing helped change the world for the better.

  Every little thing.

  Jessie stood and then walked out of the briefing room into the hall, unsure of where to go. A soft thudding sound reverberated through the walls, and she followed the vibrations, frowning at the odd noise.

  One of the doors was ajar. She walked in and looked around.

  She’d entered a fully stocked gym, weights to one side and treadmills to the other, a boxing ring in the center and a variety of bladed weapons on the walls, waiting to be used. She noted the number of swords and knives, wooden and metal, ready for sparring.

  Dylan stood off to the side, working the body bag. He stood there in a pair of camo track pants and no shirt, fabric wraps around his hands. His fists flew hard and fast at the bag, ro
cking it under the deluge of punches.

  She quietly made her way around the room, ending up on the other side of the bag. Jessie took hold of the swinging target, forcing it to stay still as Dylan kept pounding it.

  Sweat dripped from his forehead as he continued his routine, showing no reaction to her presence. She waited in silence, letting him work out his anger and frustration at their original plan being scrapped, until at last he wound down.

  “We never set out to be heroes.” Dylan finally spoke, his face wet and flushed. “When I mustered out I had a nest egg. Thought I’d retire in New York City, take on a job as a bodyguard, or maybe open up my own security company. In the back of my mind I was already thinking about the Brotherhood, but I hadn’t worked through all the details, hadn’t gotten much farther than getting an apartment.” He wiped his face with the back of his hand, the fabric wraps now soaked through. “Then I got a call from an old buddy. His daughter had joined a cult, one of those backwoods groups. A few months in, he got a letter. There was code in it, something he’d taught her as a child in case she ever got kidnapped.”

  “She was in trouble,” Jessie murmured.

  Dylan nodded. “The group of friends she thought she’d joined was talking crazy, suicidal plans, where everyone drinks the poison and they all jump on the Great Big Shiny Spaceship and travel to another universe. She wasn’t buying it, but she couldn’t get out on her own. They’d locked down the compound out of fear of being raided, all the usual paranoid talk. Harry called me for help saving her. There was no one else willing to help him—no one in law enforcement could do anything, and he didn’t trust so-called experts to do the right thing. He was my friend, and he needed my help.” He gestured at the walls. “I called Trey and he called Finn. We went in and got her out, took her home.”

  She didn’t press for details.