by HK Savage
Reese held up a hand and took a few moments, glancing at notes that may or may not have existed, until the only sound was a throat clearing and cameras snapping.
“By now most of you have heard of the tragic assassination of my colleague, my friend, the senator from the great state of Pennsylvania, Bill Jordan.”
“Assassination,” Michael repeated flatly. “He’s going to martyr him.”
“Senator Jordan was a war hero, a champion for veterans, and a dear friend.” Reese hung his head, for dramatic purposes or genuine grief one couldn’t be sure in this town where men didn’t piss without posturing first. “His passion and commitment were without compare and his presence has left a gaping hole that will not easily be filled.” He took off his glasses, taking another moment to rub the bridge of his nose, maybe to capture a tear or two before they rolled.
“We will bury our friend, comfort each other, and grieve our loss.” Glasses went back on, bland brown eyes zeroed in on the camera and up came the pointer finger. “Then we will root out the cowards who committed this act of terrorism not just on American soil but in the very heart of our country.”
“Think he knows who’s responsible?” Ryan asked casually, sitting on a corner of the far bed.
Kenneth made a rude mouth noise. “Not a chance but when has that stopped these d-bags?”
“Our country faces enemies abroad as well as domestic, more now than ever before. This administration has shown a lack of leadership leaving us adrift and without direction in a sea of uncertainty.” Soft fist pounded the podium. “Some of us are tired. Tired of watching our president appear on late night tv. Tired of seeing our president share his social reform through social media. Tired of seeing tweets from our president around town instead of seeing him where he belongs; out front, leading. There have been over fifteen separate acts of domestic terrorism right here at home in the last year alone. We have been waiting for our president to show us he is willing to protect our home, the people who put their faith in him as leader, protector, defender. Well, I for one am tired of being tired. I am tired of waiting. There is a time to act and that time is now!” Fist slammed the podium again. “I am personally forming a committee.”
“Oh great, a committee,” Becca coughed.
“A committee of equally tired men and women ready to do what it takes to find and eradicate these enemies on our home soil. It has recently come to my attention there is a faction in our own military, a faction funded byyourtax dollars and allowed to operate outsideourfederal laws with no oversight whatsoever. No one to call them on the carpet for their actions, no one to question why they command a sizable portion of our military’s budget while they are clearly notourmilitary. They are the rabid attack dogs of a few men who have abused our trust far too long. It is time to show them that every one is accountable for their actions. No one is exempt. No one is outside the law. Everyone is accountable and theywillanswer for their sins.”
Cameras whirred and snapped, reporters fired off questions too fast to follow. Didn’t matter, their questions were answered. Their enemy was no longer hiding, he was loud and proud, demanding heads roll.Theirheads.
Michael’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn’t bother stepping away, they all knew what this would be about, question was how to handle it. Defense or offense?
A few brief moments of low hums of conversation, the phone slid back in his front jeans pocket and Michael faced his team. A grim expression creased his careworn features.
“We have our assignment.” He turned to Becca. “You and I are on Reese.” Blue eyes rimmed with jet lashes met Gabrielle’s. “You have yours. The Unitarian.”
Did Michael know of her thirst for Almohad’s blood? What secrets did Black keep from his second? A silent nod was her response. Let him lead this one, she had no interest in bringing them in now. Especially with Ryan here, the first thing that giant hearted man would do is demand he go with her and get his fool self killed.
“You have Kenneth.”
“Wait, where’s that leave me?” Ryan was on his feet.
“Black has Kyle monitoring the usual channels, he wants you on this end receiving and keeping us in the loop.”
“Are you fucking with me?”
Michael’s poker face gave him nothing. A few steps and he opened the armoire that should have held a television. Instead it had been replaced by two rows of monitors, a keyboard, a headset lay across the keys.
“I’m playing Cindy, the Time Life operator? Seriously?”
Kenneth tittered.
“We need you and Kyle watching our backs.” Michael put a hand on his friend’s big shoulder. “We’re running two ops in a city on high alert. We’ll be dancing between Secret Service and operators from every branch of the military amidst the political spin machine this town never shuts down. Kyle on his own is good, so are you, but there isa lot of information to sift through. Each team needs eyes and ears dedicated to bringing them home safe.” An unspoken exchange and Ryan’s shoulders dropped. He would do it. As much as he hated to stay behind he was the best of them at it. Before Kyle, it was Ryan who handled the eyes and ears of their ops. The two of them together were their best bet with so many moving parts and two very powerful men in a town each owned in his own right.
“Twenty minutes and we meet out front.” Michael opened the door and stood back, his message clear.Get out and get your shit, we’re hitting it.Ryan took the key card Michael held out as he passed.
Outside the door Ryan waited. “Gabs.”
Her guts clenched painfully at the helplessness in his plea. “Ryan.” So many things to say.
Don’t worry about me.
Don’t follow me.
Don’t let me go.
Don’t leave this room and do something stupid.
All she managed was an inadequate “Don’t.”
Strawberry brows peaked. “Don’t? Don’t what, Gabs? Huh? Don’t worry? Cause I can’t not worry about you, I love you, Gabrielle.”
I love you too.“You’re keeping us safe, Ryan.” She touched a fingertip her ear where her com device would be shortly. “You’ll be with me the whole time. Stay on point and we don’t have anything to worry about.”
He shifted, nervous energy firing through him was contagious. “I can’t trust Kenneth to have your back out there, Gabs.”
She made herself remain still while her insides hopped and jumped.I’m gonna throw up.“You have it, it’s all I need.”
Ryan’s face said he was still unsettled. He wrapped a gentle hand around her arm. “Come back to me.”
So sweet, so tender, this big man. Leaving him was never going to work.I’m fucked.“I will.”
Chapter 23
“Drop me off at Mario’s.”
The driver raised his eyes to the rearview mirror. “Craving a steak tonight, Sire?”
Shining rims flashed in the street lights as the black SUV changed lanes.
“I do have a taste for a cut of meat, yes.”
Several blocks up pale blue neon announced they had arrived at their destination.
The vehicle pulled up and the valet opened the back door. “Sir.”
Young male, tender, budding with masculine potential wafted on a barely discernible breeze. Broadening chest shrouded in a white polyester shirt and blue vest tied off with a cheap blue bow backed away and pale cheeks came into sight. Pale neon backlit an Irish fro, illuminating orange-blonde stubble on youth rounded cheeks.
“David, I’ve changed my mind.”
“Sire?” The driver twisted in his seat.
“I prefer something a little more lively.” Tanned, perfectly manicured fingers flicked where they rested on charcoal Hugo Boss suit pants. A man of subtlety, if one weren’t familiar he would miss the signal. He was excited, he wanted to hunt.
Closing his eyes to take in the symphony of youth and body soap that washed over him, he heard the door whoosh closed and sighed.
“K Street, David. I believe it suits
my mood better.”
“Of course, Sire.”
They eased back out into late night traffic. New York might be the city that never sleeps but Washington was no slouch. A town where deals were made and broken over linen tablecloths and martinis, the dinner crowd lingered long into the evening hours.
The waterfront not far from the National Mall. For as close as it was to the seat of government and law makers, was the place to go to get a taste of the taboo.
“Pull over here, I feel like walking.”
“Of course, Sire.”
Outside, sensitive nostrils picked up smells, too many to sift through. No matter, he knew what he was looking for and it didn’t take long to pick up the scent.
Half a block down he caught sight of him. No more than sixteen, smooth cheeks with only a faint hint of dark stubble showing on his long upper lip and pointed chin.
Almohad’s fingers danced, then stilled as he forced himself calm. Funny, in all the places and all the times in the world he’d been paying for flesh, it was always the same. A meeting of the eyes, lift of the chin, and diversion into the shadows.
Walking slowly ahead, he chose the spot that suited his needs. The backside of a building, there were dumpsters and loading docks aplenty meaning low spots leading to underground parking and, yes, there. A box truck parked for the night, tail backed up tight to the dock. The heads of the tallest men would be impossible to see, the green dumpster on the near side hid feet, or bodies. He stopped. Facing the light stone side of the building he closed his eyes and waited. Senses heightened. The smell of sweat, too much cologne, and semen closed in. Worn sneakers scuffed concrete when the elevation changed and the child failed to navigate it. He was tired. There was money to be made in this district, but it came at a price.
The youth’s feet stopped. His heart beat steadily, he was not scared. The reason this was easy prey for hunters through the ages? Who else would follow a stranger away from safety without making a sound?
Finally, he turned slowly, letting his eyes savor his bounty. The prostitute blinked, heart rate picked up. Humans found him attractive. The child would be thinking this to be one of his more pleasant transactions. Almohad’s full lips pulled into a satisfied smile.
***
“Here we go.” Ryan flipped a switch and was live with Kyle, his counterpart back in California supplying Michael and Becca with intell support.
Kyle groaned. “What, a fiery death wasn’t enough, he’s got to nuke his reputation too?”
“It’s how they do it at the top; destroy the reputation, destroy everything with the guilty party’s name attached. The guy’s trashing Jordan’s career and legacy. Give it a week and nobody will even acknowledge the guy, and he isn’t here to defend himself.” He snorted, shook his head. “Brilliant. Shitty, but brilliant.”
Flip. That line cut off. Another flip. He opened up communication to his team. “The Post is leading the early edition with a story on Senator Jordan. Sounds like they have everything on the heroin but the way they’re spinning it he pulled the trigger himself in Vietnam.”
“Who’s the reporter?” Gabrielle asked.
“Jed Allen.”
“Do we have an address for him?”
“It’s not gonna do any good, Gabs. The source might lead you back to him but you aren’t gonna be able to get names from him. These guys protect their sources and there’s gonna be too much attention on him to do anything drastic to scare it out of him.”
“I don’t need to scare him, I’ve got Touchy Feely with me. I just have to find him and ask a question, Kenneth will do the rest, right Kenneth?”
“Sure.” Kenneth’s response was bored, like Gabs asked him to loan her a pen.
“Perfect.”
“Cell phone has our guy in a neighborhood in Georgetown.” He rattled off the address.
“Thanks.”
“Careful, Gabs.”
“What did I tell you, Ryan? I’ll come back.” Tense, there was a hint of smoke under her reply.
Ryan’s shoulders eased. They weren’t in imminent danger. Not yet. That would come later as their trail heated up. “You better.”
“So will I, if anyone cares.”
“If she doesn’t you’d better not,” Ryan growled.
Kenneth muttered something rude.
Not wanting the half mad bloodsucker with his woman’s back to get pissed, Ryan let it go.
He flicked the communication line closed.
***
Michael stepped out of the town car and gravel crunched under Italian leather. He turned and reached for hers. “Gotta love the accessibility of this town. Always a dinner or party going on when they’re in session, the movers and shakers hit three or four a night. Good thing I brought a tux.” Michael smoothed a long fingered hand down the front of his black coat and held out an elbow.
Becca smiled and slid her small hand through the opening he presented to rest on his forearm. “Lucky for me I thought to bring something presentable.”
“Presentable” was a black dress from a retro shop in Los Angeles Gabrielle took her to on a slow Saturday, insisting she needed to stock up on “girlie” clothes for their evening ops. This one was a black version of the one Marilyn used in combination with a heat grate to welcome a generation of men into the modern sexual age.
One of the security staff at the gates of the Belgian embassy gate met her eyes and smiled. She smiled back, making a mental note to give Gabrielle a fruit basket or something.
Michael lowered his face to brush his lips to her ear. “Lucky meIget to make you less presentable later.”
“Gross guys.”
“Sorry, Kyle.” Becca ducked her face, feeling her cheeks redden. “I forgot we were live.”
“Just please remember big brother is listening? I’ll be right back, I have to wash my ears out with bleach.”
“Shut up, Kyle,” Becca muttered.
“Behave yourselves now, I don’t want to get a call I need to bail you out of jail,” Kyle teased.
No need to answer, they were too close to an audience now.
“Good evening.” The plainclothes did nothing to disguise the soldier’s build or thorough visual inspection he gave them both, especially Becca’s plunging neckline. “Bon nuit.”
“Good evening,” Michael answered, outwardly unruffled by the Belgian’s bold man’s gaze.
“Invitations and identification please.”
The pair of uniformed guards with rifles resting across their chests watched closely while appearing to barely have an interest in their surroundings.
As though he were invited weeks ago, not finagled an invitation by means of a few phone calls less than an hour ago, he slid a hand into his pocket and drew out his passport. “My love?”
“Of course.” Becca withdrew her passport and their hastily printed invitation from her matching black clutch.
The guard cross checked their papers with his list, finally looking up after an interminably long time, he offered them a reserved smile. “Enjoy your evening.”
“Merci,” Becca took back their papers and shut them in her clutch with a quiet click.
The guards on the door didn’t acknowledge them as they passed through the open oversized Georgian doors. A short walk through the grand entry, her heels clicking on marble, his leather soles soundless, and a formally attired gentleman opened the smaller steel doors. The gentle sound of strings welcomed them inside.
The doors closed behind them and together they moved aside. Best to survey the crowd from a better vantage point than remaining exposed on the steps where enemies and prey alike could identify them. A face to face meeting with the man intent upon their unit’s destruction was their goal for the evening. Considering they had no clue what he knew of them or if he would recognize any of them, subtlety was their best course of action.
“Over there, by the big brass,” Michael pointed with his chin.
Sure enough, after his bold declaration of war on d
omestic terrorists and on his own military, Senator Reese had the top generals’ full attention.
“If there’s someone inside who’s misusing our military might, Senator Reese will be joining Senator Jordan in Arlington far too soon.”
“That’s horrible,” Becca inhaled sharply and bit her lip.
“And true,” Michael stroked her shoulder. “Champagne?” He took two from a tray making its way around the room.
“Thank you.” A test sip and Becca’s tongue sang its gratitude. Even an occasional drinker such as she could appreciate good champagne when she was so fortunate. “Mmm.” Taking another slow sip she closed her eyes, savoring one of the few sips she would afford herself this evening. They were on the job and she was weak, she couldn’t wobble tonight. Not with so much riding on this. If Reese knew who they were he sure as hell couldn’t see them as less than one hundred percent effective and necessary.