Operation Wolf: Eli (Wolf Elite Book 2)

by Sedona Venez

  In exchange for the sanctuary the shifter bar had agreed to provide, Ian had been put to work, bussing tables and helping in the kitchen, far away from the alcohol. It seemed to be doing him a lot of good.

  “Got to say though, I’ve seen some pretty weird shit.”

  “Yeah, well, welcome to my world, buddy.” I’d had to tell Ian about what I was before we carried out our rescue operation, and while it had initially scared the shit out of Ian, it was clear he’d adapted by now. “Any news?”

  Ian nodded, his mouth twisting into a grimace. “It’s pretty bad. Word around town is that the Outfit’s got Olivia, and they’re going to kill her if you don’t turn yourself over to them.”

  “Fuck.” I gripped the armrests of my seat, my claws shredding the leather upholstery as they slid out. This was bad. “I thought they were just going to use her to put pressure on her old man to give up the money.”

  “Yeah, well, buzz on the street is that her old man’s been whacked. So, that whole game is off the table now, bro. The Outfit’s spotlight is all on you.”

  “Shit!” I slammed my fist into the dash, and it cracked like an egg, sending a spider web of fissures across the plastic.

  “Jesus!” Ian jerked, accidentally veering us into oncoming traffic. A cacophony of squealing tires and honking horns burst into the air before he managed to right our course. “Calm the fuck down, Eli! This is your car, you know.”

  “Yeah,” I muttered. It had been so long I’d nearly forgotten—or at least it felt that way. In reality, it had been less than two months since I last drove around Chicago in this car, half the time with Ian in the passenger seat or passed out in the back. “God, this is just getting worse and worse. We have to get her now.”

  I couldn’t even imagine how Olivia must be feeling after coming all this way to rescue her father, only to find out he was already dead. I might not have much love or respect for the man, but Olivia loved him, and his death was probably devastating her right now.

  What a fucking waste.

  We would have been better off just staying at the cabin, after all, rather than putting ourselves in danger for a dead man. It would have been far easier for me to organize a defense to use if we had ever been found, which I was beginning to think might never have happened if we’d just stayed put and Hunter had never sent that letter.

  “Of course we will,” Ian replied, “but first, we have to meet up with the rest of your friends. I believe they’re all here now.”

  “Where are we meeting?” I asked, feeling somewhat mollified, knowing that the rest of my comrades were here for me.

  “Your apartment.”

  * * *

  “Stop right there, Eli,” Gunner instructed upon meeting us at the elevator just as I was stepping out of it. He was dressed all in black—from the beanie covering his head to the combat boots on his feet—and he sported a healthy tan that was likely a result of his honeymoon in the Caribbean. “Eli, you don’t want to go in there yet,” Gunner said.

  His words didn’t fully register because I was so relieved at seeing his face.

  “Gunner,” I grunted before exchanging a brotherly hug with him, “it’s so good to see you, bro.”

  “Yeah, you, too.” Gunner released me, and I noticed the worried frown on his face for the first time. “Listen . . . you need to brace yourself before going in there.”

  “Why?” I looked over Gunner’s shoulder to see that my apartment door was standing ajar, and light was spilling into the hallway. “What happened?”

  “They got to your apartment,” Gunner said tersely. “Guess they wanted to send a message. It’s not—”

  Dread filled me as I pushed past Gunner, knowing full well just how horrible one of the Outfit’s messages could be. Ignoring the rest of what Gunner was saying, I rushed over the threshold and pushed past the rest of the guys waiting inside. They turned as one to stare at me.

  But I ignored them.

  All I saw was the smashed pieces of glass and wood and ceramic scattered all over the carpet and linoleum. My couches had been slashed to ribbons. Every single plate in my kitchen cupboards had been shattered, my pots dented. There were holes in the walls, likely made from smashing kitchenware or furniture into the plaster. Someone had done a very good job of ruining the place.

  But the worst of it was not the wreckage. It was the black-and-white photos pasted on every available surface.

  Photos of Olivia, lying faceup on a wooden floor with a white cloth over her mouth. Another with her bent over a desk with her legs spread and her hands tied behind her back, clearly unconscious and still clothed, but the message was clear enough. One more showed her tied to a chair with duct tape covering her mouth, her head tipped back. Her eyes were closed, but I could still see tears glistening on her lashes and the tear tracks marring her beautiful skin.

  Instantly, my inner wolf beast broke free, and I howled, bursting forward and shredding each and every picture as I snatched them all down. My claws gouged more holes in the walls and furniture. I grabbed what was left of the couch and began smashing it to bits.

  “Eli!” I heard someone shout from a distance, but I paid no attention.

  “Eli, stop!” Someone grabbed me.

  I whirled around with fury and raked my claws across my assailant’s face.

  “Motherfucker!” the person yelled.

  A fist plowed into my face, knocking me straight off my feet and onto my ass. The pungent smell of blood hit my nostrils, and abruptly, my vision cleared to see Hunter standing above me, clutching his bleeding face. Jordan and Matt quickly came around to restrain me, and I didn’t protest. Horror curdled in my gut as I gaped at Hunter’s raw, bleeding face.

  “You miserable bastard,” Hunter snarled, dropping his hand.

  Three claw marks slashed from his left temple down to his right jawline, and I could see a white flash of bone where the bridge of Hunter’s nose should have been.

  “Fuck! I’m sorry,” I said, aching with guilt. “Shit.”

  “It’s all good,” Jordan said, giving me a comforting pat on the shoulder. “We all know you’re under a bit of stress right now, and Hunter knows jumping you like that was a dumbass move.”

  “Yeah, well, I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to destroy the evidence,” Hunter grumbled, snatching a rag from a black duffel bag on the counter and using it to wipe the rest of the blood off his face. The gouge marks were already closing up, the exposed bone nothing but a memory, albeit a rather horrific one. “After all the time and effort I’ve put into helping this sorry SOB, I’d hate to see it go to waste.” But there was no heat in Hunter’s words, and I relaxed.

  “You can let me go now, guys,” I said to Jordan and Matt. “I’m good now.” As they released me, I straightened, putting the rest of my weight on my feet and taking a step toward Hunter. “I really am sorry,” I said to Hunter, holding out my hand. “We good?”

  Hunter paused, considering. “Don’t let that shit happen again,” he finally said, flashing his usual devil-may-care grin, “but, yeah, we’re good.”

  We shook hands and then stepped back.

  “Jesus,” Ian said. “That’s got to be the craziest thing I’ve ever seen you do, Eli.”

  “You’re probably going to see worse before this is all over.” I gave Ian an apologetic look.

  “All right, girls, chitchat time is over,” Gunner said, gathering us over to the granite island, which now had a huge crack in it but otherwise was intact.

  Papers were spread out all over it, including a few of the photographs that had been plastered on the walls. I forced myself to swallow back the burst of rage that sparked in me at the sight of the photos, and I stationed myself near Gunner’s elbow.

  “We’ve got to start making some waves if we’re ever going to carry out this retrieval operation, so get over here.” He waited until we were all gathered around the island before he continued, “So, in case anyone hasn’t figured this out, our mission ha
s now expanded to include two targets. We’ve got Olivia—”

  “Just one target,” I interrupted. “They killed Olivia’s father.”

  Gunner looked up. “How do you know?”

  I glanced over at Ian, who spoke up, “A source on the inside told me.”

  Gunner looked at Ian suspiciously, and I cursed inwardly. I didn’t like the fact that Ian was in touch with someone on the inside, but complaining about it wasn’t going to do any good.

  “I trust him,” I told Gunner. “If he says Sal Giordano is dead, then I won’t argue.”

  “All right,” Gunner finally said with a shrug. “So, just one target, then. Olivia Giordano.” He picked up a photograph of her, and I was relieved to see it was a photo of her smiling rather than one of the photos the Outfit had left. “According to this letter,” he said, picking up a creased piece of paper covered in bold type, “they’re holding her at a warehouse on 35th and Halsted.”

  “Let me see that.” Scowling, I snatched the letter from Gunner and quickly scanned it. “This doesn’t seem right,” I muttered, scratching my head with one hand. “Let me see those photos again.”

  “Are you sure?” Ian asked.

  “Yes, damn it.” I held my hand out impatiently until Ian passed me the photo of Olivia tied to a chair. “The floor,” I said finally, pointing to the sliver of wooden flooring peeking out from the edge of the photo. “There’s no wooden flooring in the Halsted warehouse.”

  “How do you know that?” Gunner asked.

  “I’ve been there,” I said, tossing the photo back onto the table. Ian picked it up with a frown. “The Outfit uses the Halsted warehouse mainly for storing illicit shipments—weapons, drugs, et cetera—and I’ve had to do pick-ups as well as drop-offs in the past. The whole place is steel and concrete. No wooden flooring.”

  “Well, he didn’t say they were keeping Olivia at the warehouse,” Gunner pointed out. “Just that they would make the exchange there.”

  “Yeah, but I believe they meant for me to think she was there,” I explained. “This whole thing is just one big operation to make sure I get fucked.”

  Gunner’s eyebrows furrowed. “Okay, fine, but how does this help us? Unless you know where—”

  “Hey . . . I think I know where this place is,” Ian interrupted, his eyes glowing with excitement. He held up the photograph, jabbing at it with his pointer finger as he practically bounced up and down. “I think I came up here once, back in the old days, to help unload a truckful of stolen weapons.”

  “Really?” Hope lightened my heart a little. “Where is it?”

  “Just a few blocks west of the Halsted warehouse.” Ian pointed to the map we had spread out on the table. “It’s on 43rd and Ashland.”

  “Well, that makes our job a whole lot easier,” Matt commented, speaking for the first time since I had entered the room. He was the strong, silent type who rarely spoke, so everyone looked up at him. “Why don’t we just go ahead and snatch your girl from the other warehouse and get the fuck out of Dodge? Way easier than having to fight our way out of an ambush.”

  “She’s probably heavily guarded,” Hunter warned. “I sure as hell wouldn’t leave her lying around unprotected if she were my hostage.”

  “What if you called them and told them you’d meet them at Halsted instead?” Jordan piped up. “You’d go—of course, along with some of us as backup—and the rest of us would go and rescue Olivia.”

  “No,” I growled. “I want to be there.”

  “That’s a stupid idea, and you know it,” Hunter drawled with a scowl. “Just because you want to swoop in and rescue your woman doesn’t mean that’s the best way for things to go down.”

  “What Hunter is trying to say is,” Gunner explained patiently, putting a restraining hand on my shoulder before I could launch myself at Hunter, “it would tip Carideo off if you didn’t show up to the exchange, if one of us tried to show up in your stead. For your girlfriend’s sake, it would be a hell of a lot safer if a few of us just went and grabbed her and then met up with you.”

  I sighed. “Fine. But we’re going to need a better plan than me just walking into an ambush while someone else goes gallivanting off with Olivia.”

  Gunner grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you covered.”

  And he laid out the plan.

  CHAPTER 22

  Olivia

  “DID YOU HEAR THAT?”

  My eyelids popped open at the sound of a Mafia soldier’s voice. A headache instantly exploded behind my eyes, and I squeezed them shut again in an attempt to protect myself from the too-bright light of the bulbs. Memories rushed back to greet me—coming to Chicago to trade myself for Dad’s life, finding him dead in the chair with his throat a gaping pink maw, and the sickly sweet-smelling cloth being pressed against my face. Bile rushed up my throat, and I nearly threw up.

  “Hear what?” someone else asked, distracting me a little from my grief and sickness.

  “There was a kind of creaking noise. Like a window opening or something.”

  Intrigued, I pushed past the sickness and glanced around discreetly. Two soldiers were near the door, arguing, and another one was standing by the stairs. They were all armed with guns. There was no doubt in my mind that there were probably more below, guarding the lower floor as well as the entrances. Despair threatened to drag me down into its dark, sticky depths.

  How could anyone possibly rescue me?

  “It’s probably just the wind or something,” the first soldier said with a shrug. “Not like anyone’s going to come here and find us. They told Eli they’d meet for the exchange at the Halsted warehouse, so he’s not expecting her to be somewhere else.”

  The door flew open, smashing the first soldier into the railing, and a wolf-man creature rushed through the opening, his mouth gaping wide to expose razor-sharp fangs just before he sank them into the soldier’s jugular. The man’s scream was cut off, replaced by a sickening gurgle that was masked by gunfire as the man by the stairs started shooting. The first bullet ricocheted off the wall, but the second hit the beast-man’s shoulder. He howled in pain and rage, dropping the now-dead soldier, but before he could turn, another blur rushed from the door. One that was furry and four-legged, and in the next moment, the soldier was on the ground, shrieking as what looked like a large gray wolf attacked him. As with the other soldier, the shrieks died off into incoherent burbles as the animal tore out his throat, followed by silence.

  A third man came through the door, dressed in black with a beanie over his head and equipped with a backpack. He was coiling up a piece of rope with a hook at the end of it as he moved and didn’t even spare me a glance. “I’m going with Jordan to take care of whoever’s left downstairs,” he said to the man-beast. “Take care of her and meet us in the back alley.”

  He disappeared down the stairs with the wolf, whom I assumed was Jordan, following at his heels, and the beast-man straightened, his animal features receding to reveal a handsome man in his early thirties. As he crouched down in front of me, I saw that his eyes were a deep emerald green, and he had full, sensuous lips that looked as though they had performed their fair share of seduction. But it wasn’t seduction he was after now as he ripped the duct tape from my lips.

  “Oh God!” I cried, instinctively trying to clap my hand to my mouth to ease the sting, but it was still tied behind the chair. “That shit hurt.”

  “Sorry about that, sweetheart.” The man grinned, but it was flirtatious rather than apologetic. He ducked down, his blond hair swinging into his eyes as he undid the ties at my feet.

  “Are you friends with Eli?” I asked.

  The man nodded and then moved around my chair to free my hands. I sighed in relief as I stretched my legs out, rotating my sore ankles.

  “I’m Hunter,” he said, his voice a thick Texas drawl that made me think of ranchers and cowboy hats and cacti growing under a hot sun. “The other two downstairs are Gunner and Jordan. Eli sent us here to rescue you.”<
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  The ties around my wrists came loose, and I jumped to my feet in elation, my heart soaring as freedom beckoned. But I was still woozy from the drugs and lack of food, and I would have fallen if Hunter hadn’t caught me by the elbow.

  “Steady now,” he murmured. He waited until I was solid on my feet before he released me. “Are you okay to walk?”

  “I think so,” I murmured quietly, looking back down at the chair. Chills of horror ran through me as I realized it was the same chair Dad had been strapped to. “Where is he?” I asked, panic exploding in my gut. I whirled back around to face Hunter. “Where is my father?”

  “He’s dead,” Hunter said quietly. “They killed—”

  “I know he’s dead,” I choked out. “I saw his body myself. They brought me to him, and he was strapped to this chair.” I swallowed, unable to bring myself to finish the sentence. “I want to know where his body is,” I said quietly. “What they did with him.”

  Hunter nodded, but the frustration in his eyes told me he didn’t take Dad’s body’s disappearance nearly as seriously as I did.

  “We’ll try to find him, but if we don’t, we have to move on,” he said. “Eli is—”

  “How do I know you’re a friend of Eli’s?” I asked. “I know you’ve just rescued me, but I have no idea if you’re actually friends with him or not. I’m not going anywhere with you until I know for sure.”

  Hunter smiled. “He told me you might say that and instructed me to show you this.” He unzipped his jacket partway, and then he reached in and withdrew a long gold chain.

  “Oh my God,” I whispered as Hunter carefully placed the pocket watch in my outstretched palm. “I can’t believe he parted with this.” It was the only heirloom Eli’s father had ever given him, and he never took it off his person, not for anything.

  “Well, he did,” Hunter said, “and I reckon he’d do a hell of a lot more for you. But, really, we have to get going. Eli and the others are meeting for the exchange right now, and we need to be there in case he needs backup.”

  “What?” My heart jumped into my throat. “He went anyway, even knowing that I wasn’t there? Why—”