Clarity (The Admiral's Elite Book 3)

by HK Savage

  “And Becca.”

  Another rogue wave of emotion hit her hard. “Yeah, and Becca.”

  He pulled the device back out of his ear, clutching it in his hand. Taking the hint, she did the same. “Who is this guy?”

  “Kenneth?” She pointed at the door.

  “Don’t avoid this.” He stepped into her space, not intimidating but offering strength if she needed it. “You’ve been on edge since you heard his name. Who is this guy, this Unitarian?”

  Exhaustion pulled at her but it wasn’t time yet, she needed to keep it together on this last stretch. There would be no other chance like this again, she could feel it. Gabrielle crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “He’s the one who made me like this.”

  “He’s your sire?” Ryan gaped. “Holy shit, Gabs, is that wise? I mean, it’s not like vamps where we can’t but it’s still really hard to defy your sire.”

  “He’s not just my sire.”

  “Then what do you mean he made you like this?” His brow furrowed. “Did he hurt you?”

  “Not physically.”

  Ryan’s jaw clenched, frustrated energy zipped through his too close body making him feel twice as big as he’d been just a moment ago. “Why are you being so cryptic? What are you hiding?” Taking hold of her arms he dipped his head to make sure he had her attention. “Do you not remember how that turned out in Wisconsin? We nearly lost you, Gabs. You can’t hide your past. Not from your team, not from me. Somebody’s going to get hurt.”

  She twisted her arms, freeing them. Resting a hand on his chest to soften her message. “I do remember and that was dumb, I won’t put you in danger again, Ryan.”

  Concern crossed his face and he opened his mouth to object but she knew how to shut him up. Popping up on her toes she met his lips in a quick but passionate kiss. Breaking it off, she smiled.

  “Come on, let’s go get junior before he eats someone.”

  Nothing to do but follow, Ryan pulled the door closed behind them hoping that wasn’t the last time he would taste her.

  Chapter 32

  “Seriously, Ryan, nothing?” Becca felt her eyes wet with frustrated tears. “How can we have access to every word being spoken or typed anywhere near anything electronic and we can’t find one man?”

  “Can’t Kyle find him?”

  Biting her lip, she counted to three. It wasn’t his fault no one could locate Michael or that her brother was at ground zero for a drone strike. She forced a breath in, then out. “No, Kyle hasn’t heard anything, he says there’s too much interference or maybe his phone is off.”

  “Mikey never turns off his phone,” Ryan echoed the exact thought that had been haunting her for the last few hours since they’d parted ways at the embassy.

  “I know, Ryan,” she whispered into her phone, comm off as was procedure between actions. Couldn’t have the battery go out when they were in the thick of it. “I’m scared something happened, maybe they got him at the embassy and he’s sitting in lock up somewhere.”

  “If they did, I feel sorry for whoever’s got cell duty and doubly sorry for whoever gets the call from Black to let his boy go.” She could hear his smile.

  It was contagious; she let out a breath it felt like she’d been holding for weeks. “Yeah, you’re probably right, I know. But this thing just feels like it’s so much bigger than we’re seeing. Do you get that too?”

  “Like we’re just seeing one tiny corner of the map and we’re trying to navigate? Yeah, I’m getting that vibe.” His turn to sigh heavily. “I shouldn’t have come out to do the hooker interviews I can go back and monitor the old airwaves for signs of Mike.”

  “There’s something I haven’t told you yet,” she confessed, feeling guilty for having made him feel guilty. “Kyle’s glued to his monitors for now, he’s waiting to hear when the drone strike is set to hit.” Words filtered through guilt and worry. “Wait, why are you interviewing hookers?”

  “What drone strike?”

  “Reece is dead. Reyes is on the wrong side. They’ve decided they don’t want us out of business, they want us out of existence. Reyes’ boss has him working on a drone strike on the estate. Kyle is monitoring official and unofficial channels waiting to hear when there’s a ‘training run’ at his coordinates.” Saying it aloud brought back the swirling churning in her guts that two people she loved dearly were in danger and there was nothing she could do to save them but wait. Wait for something to happen and pray it wasn’t too late.This panic spiral isn’t helping anyone. Better to get out and do something than pace in this hotel room waiting.“What are you doing looking for hookers?” She smoothed the light blue cotton sweater she’d thrown on with jeans and low heeled black moto boots. Better suited for their line of work than this evening’s previous garb.

  Ryan filled her in on their end.

  “So this Almohad guy pretty much thinks he can do whatever he wants,” she surmised.

  “Pretty much,” Ryan agreed, not sounding very hopeful.

  “Suddenly this isn’t a different a mission than any other. Out of control bad guy needs taken out, doesn’t matter how high up the food chain he is.”

  “I like how you think, young grasshopper.”

  “Since we’re all on the same trail at this point and I’m alone for the time being, I’ll come to you. Where are you?”

  Ryan gave her that too. “Becca.”

  “What?”

  “We’ll find him.”

  “I know.” She sniffed back the tears all too close tonight. “On my way.” And hung up.

  ***

  Becca arrived at the waterfront just after sunrise, following the smell of degradation and fear. Upon arrival, she texted Ryan. He told her where to find them, sent a picture from the hospital of the victim and another of their guy’s driver’s license. Isaac, Almohad’s go to boy, was the face they had so there they would start. Ryan recommended which area she could work, each had a section. Divide and conquer.

  A young man stood apart from a mixed group of similarly aged men of varying flavors. Something for everyone’s taste. They eyed her with suspicion. She walked closer, he turned his head, scanned, and dismissed her. Not his clientele. Oddly enough, the rejection stung just a tiny bit. She stopped in front of him.

  “Excuse me.”

  “We don’t do fish here.” Not bothering to even look her way, he rubbed a hand on the leg of his skinny jeans and eyed a small blue hatchback trolling slowly up the cobblestone street.

  “You did not just call me that,” she gaped.

  “You heard me, move on. This isn’t your scene and we don’t do gawkers, either.”

  The hatchback slowed and he moved to the curb. The window lowered and a shadow leaned over from the driver’s seat.

  “Looking for company?” the prostitute leaned down, letting the deep v of his green tee fall open. Let the customers eye the merchandise.

  Not a prude, Becca still found the concept of shopping for human flesh, a human selling himself even if only for an hour or two, deeply disturbing. That and he was a prick to her. They were at the very least equals, both had a master to serve, sometimes resulting in kissing someone’s ass. He didn’t have to be a dick.

  She took a few steps toward the curb and breathed deep. “I can’t believe you gave me gonorrhea, Joey! Again! You asshole!”

  He pulled back from the car just as it screeched away. “What the hell, bitch?” Advancing on her, fists clenched, the feminine, nearly catlike face stormy. Becca remained loose. This she could do, violence suited her just fine tonight. “Are you crazy?”

  “I don’t like name calling.” She kept her voice even. “Especially not when I’m here trying to help.”

  Aqua blue eyes rolled. “Jesus, how many times we have to tell you missionaries we know where you are. We want help, we’ll come find you.”

  She had to snort at that. A missionary? That would make Black what, a priest? That was scary. “Not quite.” She pulled her phone out of her back pocket
. “Someone’s been carving up some of your coworkers. Another one just last night.”

  “Joey” backed away, fear sucking the color from his angular cheeks and full lips under the shiny pink gloss. “I don’t know anything.”

  She followed, raising her phone to show him the young man not older than this one. “Did you know him?”

  He kept retreating. “I don’t know anything.”

  “He died.”

  Joey stopped. “Davey’s dead?”

  “His name was Davey?” Becca confirmed softly. She let that name stand for a brief moment, a moment of silence of sorts. He’d been John Doe until now. Every victim was a person, deserved to be remembered.

  “Yeah, we don’t do last names around here, but he went by Davey.” He turned to the other men, not quite working since the night was done, but not leaving just yet should there be any last stragglers. Or maybe there would be a skeleton crew during the day? She wasn’t sure how staffing went around here. “Davey died, you guys.”

  The men closed in, a few rather aggressively.

  “Don’t kill the messenger, gentlemen.”

  “She’s cool,” Joey held up his hands begging peace. “She’s gonna get the guy who did it.” Turning, he stared at her, challenging and asking with an audience wanting the same brand of justice.

  Tight lipped she nodded. “That’s right.“Can you help me find him? Maybe you’ve seen this guy? He works with him.” Fingers slid and tapped, she held up the snap of Isaac’s ID.

  The men huddled around, stretching necks and grabbing to turn her phone this way and that for a better view. She had to hand it to them, they were really looking, not just offering empty promises to keep an eye out.

  One, a darker skinned latino with shaved short black hair and tons of silver in his ears flicked a pink tongue over the hoop in his lower lip, nerves. “I seen him.”

  The others backed off, letting him come forward. Shaky grin at one of them, another touched his shoulder. Street family, Becca had seen it aplenty. Strays packed up no matter the species. These men had each other out here, they protected each other, mourned their loss together.

  “He’s the guy who comes in and picks them up, after the other one’s done.”

  With physical effort, Becca held her reaction in check. “You’ve seen them both? The one who’s doing this too?”

  He nodded. Another did as well, Joey. Their eyes met.

  “You’ve seen him too?” she asked quietly.

  “Yeah.” The answer was quiet, the haunted expression screamed in panic and pain.

  “Can you describe him? Know how he gets here, does he drive or walk?”Don’t be too eager.They were skittish enough she didn’t need to overwhelm and drive them off.

  “He gets dropped off. There.” The latino pointed up the block, the top of the small rise before the road curved in toward the water.

  “Could you tell what kind of vehicle?”

  He shook his head. “A black SUV, like all the other fancy suits who come down here to get their freak on.”

  We know he’s got clout so that gives us nothing.“What else? How does he dress? Any sort of distinctive features?”

  “Always a dark blue suit,” Joey replied. “Wears sunglasses, even at night. Like he thinks we’d know which one’s a Democrat from Maryland or a Republican from Texas. They’re all the same down here, come to roll in the dirt before they go back up there to vote on ways to sweep it up.”

  “Does he always get violent? Has anyone survived him?” Hard questions but how to pussy foot around? Best just to ask.

  “He’s a ghost.” One of the other men spoke up. “We hear about the guy who comes around, wants a pretty one, young. Likes it particular.”

  “How do you know that?” Joey asked.

  The young man shrugged. Becca noted he was heavier featured than the others, sported bigger muscles. He wouldn’t be Almohad’s type.

  “Did you proposition him? He said no?” Becca asked, matter of fact. “He likes them smaller than you, doesn’t he?”

  A nod. Not offended. There were plenty of shoppers, apparently there wasn’t much competitive animosity around here. “Yes, ma’am. He barely looked at me, went right past me to Davey.”

  “You saw him last night?” Becca’s heart flipped in her chest.

  Another nod. “Yes, ma’am. He went past Davey too but he made sure to give him a good long look. So Davey saw it. Then he went up there.” He pointed where the road cut back, turned into an industrial alleyway. Narrow alleys off old narrow streets meant few people drove down them, mostly it was delivery trucks and nobody would be delivering late at night. Good spot for a few minutes of privacy.

  “Who found him? Did anyone hear him?”

  No police tape or crime scene meant no cop involvement at the scene. They were of course called at the hospital due to the nature of the injuries. Someone saw something else.

  “We heard him,” Joey spoke low. Becca had to lean in to hear. One of the other men shuddered, all huddled closer, seeking comfort from the evil they’d seen take one of their own this night. “We heard him yell.”

  “What happened? Did anybody help him?”

  Guilty looks.

  “A yell or two is sorta common.” The latino blushed. Surely not of embarrassment, shame? “Some of ‘em don’t get to do what they want often so they ask for stuff they aren’t prepared for.”

  “Yeah, that’s right. A lot of ‘em just want a blow or to be on the giving end of the party, but a few want to go straight to the big time and they’re damn near virgins. A little yellin’ ain’t that unusual.”

  An unconscious grimace wrinkled her face. “I can imagine.” Her virginity was lost in a rush, neither having a clue what they were doing. By the time the pain faded it was done.

  Surprisingly, strained laughter ran through the crowd. She imagined a young woman asking about closet homosexual activities of the prostitutes in charge of fulfilling those forbidden desires in quick exchanges did present a strange picture and it had been a long night for them all. She smiled.

  “Are any of his former partners here?”

  “Nah,” a man who looked uncannily like Kenneth shook his caramel mop of kinks. “It ain’t like you thinkin’. He don’t come often, but when he does, he makes it worth it for a boy to try. The ones who make it, get the hell out.”

  “So he doesn’t always kill? What do you mean they get out? They leave the area?”

  “I hear he pays enough you can get out, start fresh if you want.”

  That explained why he could still get takers. It was a gamble but worth it for some. It left an impression, and witnesses. The Unitarian, Almohad, believed by rewarding some he inspired maybe not loyalty, but at least silence. They talked, they lost the opportunity to play Almohad’s naked lotto. And if he had eyes on them he would see they’d been here, the admiral’s unit, interviewing witnesses. To say she had enough to identify him, link him to the murders, it would be believable. Besides, unlike police and prosecutors, they didn’t have to get enough evidence they just needed to lure him out and capture.

  “Thank you for speaking with me,” she made eye contact with each one, surprised at the acceptance she saw there.

  “Promise you’ll get him.” Joey’s flirtatious side a ghost, aqua eyes burned electric in his intensity.

  “We will,” she vowed meaning it with every ounce of her being. “You be safe.” Almohad or no, these men were some of the highest risk members of DC society. In these few minutes she’d seen human beings using what they had to scratch out a living, willing to risk bodily harm, even death, on a nightly basis.

  “Don’t you worry about us.” The latino grinned. “You worry about the suits, we might eat them up.” Big square white teeth snapped together. Several others, eager to shake off the somber mood, laughed and added their own thoughts on what they might do to a john should the mood strike.

  Becca laughed, their ability to live in the now contagious. With a wave she took
her leave, sliding the phone from her back pocket.

  There was a text on it from Michael.

  All will be fine soon. Watch your back, love.

  Relief made her weak, knees buckling so she had to sit down on a black metal bench along the road. Spots sprung up behind her eyes, she felt faint.

  Working with the others. We’re close.

  Blinking to clear her vision, hopeful she’d see another message, know he was somewhere staring at his little glowing screen talking to her at the same time. Nothing. With a sigh she texted Ryan.

  Got something. Meet?

  A few seconds, then...