The Omega Team_Lethally Yours

by Denise A. Agnew

  What was in that drink?

  She’d only had one drink, right?

  She didn’t know anymore.

  An inkling of alarm made her walk faster, though she didn’t know where she planned on going. She reached the end of the alley and someone yanked her down into darkness.

  Two

  Nathan’s cell phone rang as he stepped out of the shower the next morning. He took his time toweling off. A few moments later, he heard the tiny bell that indicated he’d received voice mail. These days he didn’t get many calls or messages. The rest of his old team had careers and some of them even families. They were caught up in living their own lives. Since he’d started working at the pub, he hadn’t gone out of his way to make friends with anyone.

  The only friends you’ve got are here.

  True. He counted Malcolm as a friend. Katie…yes. But his feelings for her were too damned complex. Maybe he should move on to another job and another city. Being around Katie became harder every day when part of him craved her like a man dying of thirst in the desert.

  He shaved and dressed in a t-shirt and jeans before he looked at his phone. The call was from Gray Holden, owner of The Omega Team, a security company Gray ran with his partner and lover Athena Madero. The company was comprised of ex law enforcement, private security, and former military. Many of the men and women on part of the Omega team were former Special Forces or Delta operators. He’d known Gray for a lot of years and respected the man. Gray had tried to recruit him into Omega as soon as Nathan had left the Navy. But Nathan hadn’t wanted any cloak and dagger shit and at the time he couldn’t be certain his knee would hold up if it came down to it.

  When Nathan listened to the voice mail, it was Gray asking him to call back ASAP.

  Gray answered on the second ring. “McKay. Long time no speak. How the hell are you?”

  “Half awake. How about you?”

  “Still taking it to the limit.”

  “Athena?” Nathan asked, visualizing the stunning, absolutely amazing woman.

  “She’s kicking ass and taking names as usual. What’s new with you? Vampire hours working the bar?”

  “Yep.”

  “Still a bartender and bouncer?”

  “Yep.”

  Gray chuckled. “I can see you haven’t changed. One word here and there. Nothing extra.”

  Nathan smiled and sat on his couch. “Why use extra words when one will do?”

  “Okay, I’ll get straight to the shit. I need your help.”

  Nathan frowned, afraid of where this was going. “You’ve got a lot of people working for you. Why would you need me?”

  “Because it concerns the pub.”

  Nathan’s heart sank and his stomach felt hollow. “How?”

  “First, does the name Cormack Toole ring a bell?”

  “No. Should it?”

  “You’ve got a cook at the pub named Richard Henderson. Dicky for short?”

  “Yeah…and?”

  “Cormack Toole is his father. His very estranged father.”

  “Okay. Don’t tell me Cormack Toole is your client?”

  Gray cleared his throat. “Nope. Dicky’s mother Chandra Henderson, is. She asked us to track down Dicky.”

  “Shit. I didn’t know you guys were in the private eye business now.”

  “This really falls under protection detail.”

  This was getting complicated fast. Nathan closed his eyes and laid back on his bed. “How?”

  “Cormack Toole is a fairly well known member of the Irish mafia in New York City. Chandra escaped the mafia and went deep underground before Dicky was born. She wasn’t married to Cormack and she moved to New Mexico just to get away from him when she realized what kind of shit the guy was in to. He didn’t bother trying to track her down. Now he seems to have a hard on for finding Dicky.”

  “She still live in New Mexico?”

  “Yes. Dicky, though, is something of a drifter, and he ended up here in Tampa.”

  “Okay, so this Toole bastard is looking for his son and Chandra wants what? For us to tell Dicky to have nothing to do with his father?”

  “Cormack already found Dicky. He wants Dicky to come back to New York and go into business with him. Dicky touched based with Chandra and said he wants nothing to do with his father.”

  “Okay…and…”

  “And it gets worse. Dicky said that your employer, Malcolm Slane, is already into it deep with Toole.”

  Nathan sucked in a breath. “What?”

  “That’s what Dicky said.”

  “No fucking way.” Nathan was glad Gray didn’t care about foul language, because Nathan had a string of it ready to spew if this story got worse.

  “According to Dicky, yeah.”

  Nathan ran one hand over his face. “I don’t believe it.”

  “You’ve worked at the pub how long?”

  “A little over a year. I started here August last year.”

  “And you feel you know Malcolm Slane well enough to say he’s an upstanding man?”

  “Damn straight.”

  “How did you find the job?”

  “An old buddy from the Navy knows Malcolm. He vouched for Malcolm and said that Malcolm was looking for a bartender and bouncer.” Nathan drew in a deep breath. “It came at the right time for me.”

  “Right. Your medical discharge.”

  “Yeah. Anything you don’t fucking know about my life?” Nathan asked with a laugh devoid of humor.

  “Not much. You know our business is to know your business.”

  “You ought to put that on a business card,” Nathan said with a smile, even though the other man couldn’t see it.

  “Good advice. Look, I know this is shitty information, okay?”

  “And what do you want me to do about it? Protect Dicky from his father and Malcolm?”

  “No. Dicky says he’s going to quit his job soon and move back to New Mexico. I wanted to warn you that if what Dicky says is true about Malcolm, then both Malcolm and his niece might be hip deep in it. Maybe it’s time you find a new job.”

  “Jesus. And here I thought you were going to say I needed to save Dicky’s ass and you were going to pay me a big, fat contract.”

  Gray chuckled. “Look, man, you know Athena and I would love to have you working Omega. You’re right here in the city already. You’re one of the best operators I’ve ever known. Just say the word and you’re hired as a part of our full time team.”

  Nathan snorted. “You say that to all the girls.”

  Gray laughed again. “Screw you squid.”

  Nathan smiled, part of him missing the connection and camaraderie of working with other operators. But no. He’d left that behind.

  In the background he heard a female voice say something. Then Gray spoke again with, “Athena wants to talk to you.”

  Nathan winced. He’d met Athena twice before, so he didn’t know her well. But what he did know, he liked. Maybe she planned to cut a strip off his hide. She could certainly do it. Before she’d joined forces with Gray and formed The Omega Team, she’d been a police detective.

  “Nathan?” Athena said. “Wait, let me put this on speaker phone. It’s not like I’m going to whisper sweet nothings into your ear.”

  “Damn, I was looking forward to that,” Nathan said.

  “Hey, watch it,” Gray said with amusement clear in his voice. “Hands off my woman.”

  “Speaking of woman, has Katie done anything you’d consider suspicious since you’ve worked there?” Athena asked.

  “Hell no.” Nathan sat up, suddenly feeling protective of Katie. “She’s a good woman. Totally honest. She’d never do anything criminal.”

  “You sure?” Athena asked.

  “One hundred percent.”

  “I’ve got to ask this, though. You’re not in a relationship with her, are you?” Athena asked.

  Heat filled Nathan’s face. “No. She’s just a friend.”

  “How close a friend
?” Gray asked.

  “She’s…we’re not BFFs if that’s what you mean. We have a tight working relationship and I…” Nathan almost gulped. Fuck. He’d screwed the pooch.

  “Un-huh.” Athena’s voice held a knowing tone. “Gray, that’s code for he would like to be more than friends with her.”

  Nathan’s face went hot yet again as the truth sank home. “It doesn’t matter. She’s a good person. And so is Malcolm. I don’t believe what Dicky says about them.”

  “All right. I’ll take your word for it,” Gray said. “We’ve warned you that some serious shit might be going down near there, and you know that Dicky is leaving soon. Just stay safe and if you need us, be sure to call.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate the heads up.”

  “Do us a favor, Nathan,” Athena said. “Keep in touch and let us know if anything weird happens. We want to keep on top of things here.”

  Nathan grimaced. “You mean you want me to become a snitch.”

  “She means,” Gray said, “that we need eyes and ears in there if anything bad goes down. We’ll put you on a temporary contract if you want.”

  He considered it for all of a few seconds. A bigger paycheck sounded appealing, but he couldn’t.

  “No.”

  “No you won’t keep your eyes and ears open?” Gray asked.

  “I’ll do that, but I won’t take money for it. It wouldn’t feel right. Malcolm’s been good to me. And I still don’t believe he’s in with the Irish mafia.”

  After they hung up, he thought about Gray’s offer of a full time job. Most broken down Navy SEALS would’ve snatched up an opportunity to stay in the game and work for Gray on a permanent basis. Even the occasional temporary contract would bring in extra bucks.

  No way. You’re done. Done with all that clandestine bullshit, remember?

  Yet even as he thought it to himself, another part of him realized he was in too deep. His time working here proved to him that Malcolm and Katie were good people with good hearts. Nathan couldn’t work for Gray, because in his own heart he worked for and with Malcolm and Katie.

  Katie struggled out of a deep sleep. Some sort of alarm was going off. What the hell? She didn’t have an alarm clock in the room and she almost never set the one on her cell phone. Someone banged on her apartment door. She sat up with a groan, feeling as if she moved through molasses. She glanced around and her gaze landed on the small Waterford crystal clock on the bedside table. Nine o’clock.

  “Coming! Keep your panties on!”

  She thought about putting on her robe, but her super long sleep shirt came down to her knees. She shoved her feet into her fuzzy bunny slippers and left her bedroom. The old hard wood floor creaked as she rushed to the door. She looked out the peephole and saw Uncle Malcolm’s bearded face staring back at her.

  She opened the door. “This better be good. I was sleeping like a rock.”

  He smiled. “You really are grouchy before your first cup of coffee, young lady.”

  Uncle Malcolm towered over her. At six four, he was only a little taller than Nathan, but unlike Nathan, he was now rounder and less in shape. His tousled dark hair had only a few flecks of gray, but his beard and mustache had turned white a long time ago. His blue eyes sparkled with amusement.

  She scrubbed a hand through her hair but couldn’t suppress a huge yawn. “Can’t a girl ever sleep in? It’s Sunday. My day off.”

  Even if it hadn’t been her day off, she usually slept in until at least nine or ten o’clock. She needed her eight hours or more.

  He sobered. “Get dressed and come downstairs to my office. There’s a problem. Nathan’s already down there.”

  Concern woke her up. “What’s happened?”

  “There’s been a murder.”

  Shocked, she stared at him. “What?”

  “Around the corner less then a block from here. The cops are questioning people up and down the neighborhood.”

  “Oh my God.”

  Her uncle frowned. “Apparently there’s security camera footage across the street that shows the woman came out of our pub about thirty minutes before closing.”

  Automatically she put one hand to her mouth. “Oh, shit.”

  “My thoughts exactly. There’s a detective downstairs who wants to question us separately. He’s starting with Nathan first.”

  “Wow, that’s fast.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  She stuffed her hands in her hair. “Okay. Okay, I’ll be right there.”

  She hurried through a shower and put on a short sleeved t-shirt and jeans. She didn’t bother with blow-drying her curly hair, and she didn’t apply makeup.

  As she made her way downstairs, the old stairway from the third floor to the pub level on the first floor creaked. The place was quiet, one of the things she liked about it. She had the third floor apartment, while Uncle Malcolm lived in an apartment on the second floor. According to her uncle, the building had been a pub and living quarters for dozens of years before he purchased it thirty years ago. He’d kept the place in good shape, which was a pricey proposition.

  The idea of murder disturbed her, as it would anyone, but the fact it had occurred around the block gave her a feeling of complete unease. Suddenly this old building, originally built in the nineteen twenties, gave her a case of the creeps.

  Right. It’ll be Halloween soon.

  Her uncle stood at the bar doing some paperwork, and just as she arrived Nathan walked into the area. His face betrayed nothing. He didn’t look angry or worried. A man wearing a suit entered right behind him, his face more animated as he smiled at Katie.

  “Miss Slane?” the man asked.

  “That’s me.”

  He stepped forward and shook her hand. “I’m Detective Carl Busby. You’re next.”

  Why did those words make her stomach jumble? “Okay.”

  She passed Nathan, who by this time leaned on the bar and watched her. She wondered at his wooden expression, and then a notion hit her. Nathan had been a Navy SEAL and who knows what sort of covert operations he’d done. Perhaps he’d needed a poker face in more than one situation. Nerves started inside her—she’d never experienced a situation like this talking with cops investigating a murder. She drew in a stabilizing breath and followed him through the kitchen and to the back office. Her uncle kept his office clean. It was large with a big oak desk, several file cabinets, a refrigerator, couch and two comfortable chairs. A tall window and high ceiling made the place look even larger. Milky sun broke through cloud cover, but it didn’t dispel the disquiet inside her.

  The detective gestured to one of the oversized chairs. “Please have a seat.”

  He settled into the other chair. She’d half expected him to sit behind her uncle’s desk.

  He began writing in a legal sized notebook. The detective was slim, middle aged with craggy features, big ears and a balding head. He was about her height, which took nothing away from the seriousness he projected.

  “Miss Slane, I’m sorry to inconvenience you, but we’re interviewing everyone within a block of the area. There was a murder last night of a young woman and based on security camera information she came out of this pub.”

  She nodded. “That’s what my uncle said.”

  “Let’s back up a step. You work as wait staff here?”

  “Yes.”

  He asked her about the hours she worked, and she explained that the only other waitress was fifty-year-old Dana Simpson. Dana worked essentially the same hours as Katie, from about six in the evening until two in the morning.

  “The pub is small enough it looks like you don’t need much staff,” the detective said.

  “No.”

  “And your cook doesn’t live here?”

  “No. Dicky lives up the street several blocks and Dana lives a few blocks away as well.”

  He nodded, pen flying over the page as he took notes. “Good. Okay.” He pulled out a grainy photograph and handed it to her. It showed a woman w
alking out of the pub and heading east. “This woman, Shelby Woods, was found less than a block from the pub. She was located lying in the alley between the wall surrounding the back half of this building and the empty building behind that. Just inside the alley.”

  She frowned. “She’s heading east in this photo. That means she had to turn around and go west and then south.”

  “That, or she went behind this building down the alley, headed east and then turned left and went south.”

  A shudder ran over her skin as she studied the photo, obviously a still taken from the security cameras across the street. If the woman had passed down the alley directly behind the bar, that means she’d passed by the dumpster where Katie had been last night.

  “Are you okay, Miss Slane?” the man asked.

  She jerked out of her thoughts and looked up. “I was just thinking I was in the alley right behind here dumping trash last night.”

  More fast scribbling. “What time?”

  “About one thirty.”

  “And you close at two.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you recognize the woman? Was she in here last night?”

  She studied the photograph. The young woman looked carefree, wearing a dark blazer, wide-legged matching pants, and with a big hobo-style purse over her shoulder. She had long, dark hair. Recognition hit Katie.

  “She was sitting at the bar.” She remembered a little about the woman’s face—a very pretty young woman in her twenties.

  “Was she with anyone?”

  “No. In fact the one time I noticed her, the stool next to her was empty. I thought that was odd.”

  “Why?”

  “Because this place is packed most nights. People usually belly up to the bar first.”

  More writing on his pad before he cleared his throat. “Did you see her leave?”

  “No.”

  He nodded and continued writing. “How long have you worked here?”