Clarity (The Admiral's Elite Book 3)

by HK Savage

  “Coincidence,” Almohad looked up from his phone, eyed back to bored.

  Bill reached behind him, lifting his suit coat and pulling a sub compact Glock from his waistband.

  Realization struck and Ed reared back. “Bill, why? I’ve kept the secret for forty years, why would you think you can’t trust me?”

  “It’s not you I can’t trust.” Bill was clearly struggling, his hand shook as it rose to firing position.

  “No,” Becca whispered.

  The gun came up, finger on the trigger. It shook violently. “I can’t have you used against me. All it would take is another nosy reporter, someone who wants to do a tell all story down the line. It would destroy everything my father and grandfather built. Better to have a black sheep whose sins took him than a family’s golden child gone wrong take them all down with him.”

  “Bill, please.” Ed reasoned. “You’re not a killer.”

  “Haven’t you heard? Iama killer, I’ve done this before.” Hysterical laughter bubbled up his throat. Gun dropping, he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.

  “You’re not, he is.” Ed didn’t mind pissing off the lunatic in the room anymore.

  Almohad glanced up from his phone. “And so, so much more.” His lips curled and Becca swore she could see a hint of fang.

  “I have to,” Bill pleaded, needing his victim’s approval.

  “No. Michael, please.” Becca looked for something in her lover, some sort of reaction, an emotion. Certainly he wouldn’t let her father be killed. Would he? No human emotion displayed itself on his features, he appeared wooden.

  Bill’s hand shook. He wasn’t going to be able to do it. Hewasn’t a killer.

  “I said I have somewhere to be,” Almohad put his phone down. “Let’s move this along. Captain?”

  Becca and Michael both looked.

  He gave a brief nod toward her father’s captive form and raised an eyebrow.

  A nod of the head and Michael reached under his arm to produce a full size Glock.

  Almohad waved, dismissing his former client. “Bon voyage, Bill. Don’t send a postcard.” He flicked a hand over the couch where he could just see the lower torso and feet of his captives. “Do it,” he issued the command and strode from the room.

  “Look away, Becca,” her father told her. “Don’t watch.”

  “Michael, no!” Becca shrieked, all memory of training and negotiation gone.Dad!

  “If you’re any sort of a man, Rossi, you’ll move her. Don’t let her see.” Ed pleaded, man to man with his executioner.

  Becca’s horrified eyes were glued to her father’s face, memorizing every detail as spots flew over his features, distorting and hiding like the sun shining through trees on a summer day. The tiny lines from years in the sun, lighter little lines on one cheek where his scars didn’t tan the same. Where did those scars really come from? Now she would never get to ask, her father’s secrets would die here in this sitting room full of fragile furniture.

  She was lifted bodily with one arm under her middle, set back down on her other side, her back to her father.

  Boom

  A masculine grunt, unmistakably her father’s. She knew it in the same way she would know his sneeze, cough, or yawn. The metallic clang of a gun hitting the rug and she tuned out the rest.

  Becca’s life was gone. Her father, the man she’d lived to please, that need defining her entire life, was gone. Killed because someone might some day come looking. Murdered by the man she’d given her heart and soul to. No, not given, he’d torn it from her chest, killing so much more than her parent with that round.

  Her ears were ringing as she was hoisted like a baby, cradled against a silent chest that once brought her peace. Now it merely felt empty, like hers.

  He carried her from the house, through the back door and into the carriage house turned garage.

  “Put her in the back,” Almohad commanded.

  As he lay her gently on the hard carpet, Michael’s blue eyes met hers and Becca felt nothing.

  He opened his mouth as if to speak and she beat him to it. To hear his voice might shatter what was left of her.

  “Nothing you do will ever change who you are, Michael. You will never be anything but a killer.”

  His head reared back as if she’d struck him. She’d scored a hit, cut him deeply. She knew where to aim as only a lover, someone privy to another’s deepest fears and hidden dreams can. Who cared? Her life was a lie, she’d fallen in love with a killer and he’d stolen a good man’s life. No verbal jab could undo that.

  The shut and for the second time that day Becca was in a car, in the dark.

  Chapter 34

  “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Ryan touched Gabrielle’s arm as she paced by him on the herringbone paver of Georgetown’s riverfront.

  She paused and turned, back to the water splishing happily against the small boulders holding the shoreline back. “More than ready.”

  “You seem a little tense,” Kenneth taunted from his perch atop a block half wall separating sidewalk from the dumpsters behind the commercial buildings closed for the weekend. “Is it because it’s the full moon tomorrow or because you really really want to kill this guy?”

  No shock he’d picked up on that. Crazy but observant, Kenneth was one who should scare everyone. He was dangerous in so many ways.

  “I’m fine,” she assured them both, trying not to see the love and concern on Ryan’s face. Both would only distract her now. This was about vengeance, about stopping a monster who took pleasure in the misery of others. “I just want to get this guy.”

  “Well, thank you Captain Obvious,” Kenneth swatted at a bug looking to burrow into those thick, tempting locks. “Question is, can you do it or are you too emotionally invested?”

  “Emotionally invested?” Gabrielle and Ryan both turned, staring at the puzzle that was Kenneth.

  “You know what I’m saying. Are you too deep to do this? What if Senor Nasty has info we decide we need so we scrap the killing and go straight to hostage taking, can you do it?”

  Gabrielle felt the needles of fear prick her skin in a thousand places.Almohad can’t walk away. He can’t.She snorted, forcing half a smile. “Let’s look at his current situation. He’s actively trying to destroy Black’s unit, he’s taken out a senator in a public attack, he’s been behind more death and destruction than even we know about, and that’s a lot. Now he’s trying to blow up Admiral Black with a fucking drone, Kenneth. What possible intel do you think he could pull out of his ass that might buy him a pass at this point?” She crossed her arms. “Hmm? Elvis’s true whereabouts? The entrance to heaven? It would have to be pretty fucking good to save his hide at this point.”

  Feigning nonchalance, or maybe he’d flipped the switch and really didn’t care, he shrugged and hopped down. “Well, better figure out who gets the golden ticket, cause I think this is him.” He wiped his hands together and stepped around them, turning to face the approaching black SUV.

  Car doors slammed, soft shoe soles scuffed on paver and two faced three. Years of missions within missions had taught that sometimes when an enemy’s door opened a surprise came out. So no one spoke when Michael stepped out of the driver’s side. This was his show, they let him lead. Gabrielle’s only concern was that someone else would take her shot and steal her kill.This one is mine.

  Her eyes took him in, devoured every detail. This was the man who’d stolen her life. Who’d taken so much from so many, changed her very nature. Killed indiscriminately, butchered her friends and scores more in the years since. He looked so disappointingly ordinary after all this time. Smaller maybe? Or had she made him bigger in her memories? “Where is this witness?” Almohad gestured to the corners.

  “Do you doubt with all of the damage you’ve done down here you wouldn’t leave a witness?” Ryan answered.

  “I know full well there are witnesses.” Almohad chuckled, looking frustratingly smug. “How many of those do you t
hink will come forward? What if I send out a little reminder?” He waved a hand dismissively.

  “If you’re not worried, even a little,” Ryan cocked his head, “Then why did you come?”

  “Your plan to get me here was good enough, if I were a man who had something to fear. But what do I have to fear from meat?” He grinned, the cat with the proverbial canary. “Look what I’ve done just today. I killed the indomitable Admiral Black before lunch. I’ve been using his trusted Captain Rossi for my own means for months and when you called we were wrapping up with his little pet. You tell me why I should fear you or your filthy prostitute witness. I own this town and everyone in it, because with the right leverage, a man can own anyone.”

  His lack of concern, the way he wielded his power like a cloak of invincibility; all of it fascinated Gabrielle. Like a teeny bopper meeting her favorite heart throb, numbed to a state near shock, she could only watch the object of her life’s pursuit in a deafening fog. Not that she was much for pithy commentary but if she’d planned some sort of great revenge speech it would have been a disappointing moment. What she could do was move her arm.

  Reaching behind her back, she lifted her shirt to pull her gun. No pause to tell him why or lament life’s frailty, she merely pointed and pulled the trigger. With a bang her nemesis fell, a thin trail of blood leaked from the corner of his eye over the bridge of his nose.

  “What the fuck, Gabs?” Ryan reached for his weapon as well, prepared to defend should he have bodyguards or watch dogs nearby.

  Kenneth hooted. “That was fantastic! Not a peep, just point and shoot.” He pantomimed pulling a weapon and using it. More laughing.

  Ryan looked like he was partially amused and a little annoyed. Plenty freaked. He turned to Kenneth. “You’re sick.”

  “Me?” The sicko in question touched his chest. “I’m not the one who just took out el lobo primo at point blank range.”

  Gabrielle felt nothing. No redemption, vindication, none of those things she fed on, craved since burying her beloved Luc in the desert.

  Ryan’s warm hand touched her arm, squeezing. He supported her, loved her even, but there was work and people would come soon. They didn’t want to be there when they did. He moved around her. “Mike, what’s going on? What angle were you working with him?” He squinted. “Where’s Becca, man?”

  “She’s in the truck. In the back.” He sounded strange. “Would you?”

  Another squeeze to her arm and Ryan jogged to the back doors.

  “Kenneth, grab the body, throw it in the back.” Michael moved nothing but his mouth, his disconnection pulling Gabrielle from hers.

  Ryan returned with Becca, she rubbed red welted wrists, walking with stilted steps.

  They were an automaton troop, not a one of them functioning but Ryan. And poor Ryan wasn’t sure who needed him most. Inside her head, Gabrielle kissed his cheek and told him they would be fine. Outside, she let her eyes follow him, no words making themselves available when she looked for them. Disappointment and shock ate at her, pinning her under their dead weight. It was as though when Almohad fell he landed on her, crushing thought and will alike. A near god, he’d been taken out by one silver bullet. It was what they trained for, what they did. They were the best in the world, Admiral Black’s Elite. She’d done it so many times but never had it left her so empty.

  “You monster!” Becca came back to life violently. She lunged at Michael, getting her hands on him before Ryan could stop her. Michael made no move to defend himself. When Ryan did pull her off, again to the soundtrack of Kenneth’s bizarre laughter, Michael’s cheek and neck bled from her nails. Made sense, with the height disparity she couldn’t get much behind a punch.There’s a reason girls fight like that, it works.Nails might not knock a man out but they burned like hell and left a mark not soon forgotten. “You killed him! You killed my dad.” She wept, going limp when Ryan’s hold around her middle had her incapacitated and, recognizing it, she no longer struggled.

  “What’s she talking about, Michael?” Gabrielle pushed the words out.

  But he was staring at his woman. “I didn’t kill him. I couldn’t have.” He looked sick.

  “You shot him, I heard it.” Swollen eyes and tear stained cheeks made her freckles stand out, she looked ten years younger.

  Michael risked a step closer. Hands clenching and unclenching at his sides gave away his nerves.

  “Question.” Kenneth raised his hand, ever the asshole. “Did you kill him or not? Did you shoot him?”

  “The senator couldn’t shoot, I knew that so I let him try. Becca, I had it under control.” Shocking everyone, he went to his knees before her. The rawness of his tone, the pain in his face made Gabrielle feel like an intruder. She wanted to look away but couldn’t. Ed was their ally. Michael did nothing without Black’s consent. If Black was changing the game she wanted to know.

  His words penetrated. Becca’s eyes came to his. “I heard the shot. You couldn’t have missed.”

  “Exactly.” He touched the back of her hand, tentative. She curled hers away. “I didn’t miss, Becca. I hit what I was aiming for. It’s a flesh wound. Enough to leave a mess but not enough to kill him.”

  “Weren’t there others in the house? Why leave him wounded?” Kenneth asked a sane question. The mercurial vampire witch, could they not just kill him and get it over with? Even with Becca at her weakest at least she didn’t cause the trouble this one did.

  Michael glanced up, tearing his eyes from Becca, still hanging from Ryan’s giant bear hug. “Almohad’s cocky, he doesn’t keep guards on him because he thinks he’s in control. A few outside the doors only. He was watching, he needed to see blood and hear the shot but he couldn’t see Ed’s chest. How would he know the difference between a chest shot and a shoulder?”

  “You clipped him?” Gabrielle clarified, noting the life come back to Becca’s eyes. Her soul stirred from it’s coma.

  “Yes.” His eyes were back on Becca’s. “I wouldn’t have done it, Becca. I would have found another way if he was any closer, I swear to you. I won’t hurt you like that. Ever.”

  “Why didn’t you say?” she asked on a hoarse whisper.

  “I couldn’t, he would have heard. I’m sure he’ll contact you when he can. He knows what he’s doing.” He reached again, this time she let him take her hands. A nod between them, man style, Ryan let her go and Michael stood before her. Opening his arms, he let her slide in on her own. Relief from both sides was palatable. Again, far too intimate for the others to witness. Gabrielle shifted.

  “What have you been doing with him? He said you’ve been with him for months?” Gabrielle’s brain shook off more sludge.

  “Black wanted me with him, to get close. We’ve been taking out his soldiers, sabotaging shipments.”

  “How did you get him to trust you? He knows you’re loyal to Black.” Ryan pushed.

  Turning, Michael tucked Becca under his shoulder, arm wrapped around her, wedging her tight. Doubtful more than a breeze was getting between them for a while. “We set up a few dirty junior congressmen, a dock worker, customs agent like he said. I set up the raids, they went down, it looked like he had a mole. Then we fed him a mole.”

  “Who?” Becca looked up.

  “Remember Jordan’s assistant he said was in the car?”

  “Jordan’s alive?” The others connected the dots as sirens wailed in the distance.

  Michael nodded. “Yes, he wanted an exit. I’ll tell you on the way.” He pointed at the SUV.

  “What do you want with the body?” Ryan pointed at the man who’d held so many under his thumb and was now just a body on pavement.

  “Grab him, toss him in the back. I’m not sure we want the world to know he’s out of commission yet, upset the balance.”

  Careful not to dirty his clothes, Ryan hoisted and tossed the body in the back. Doors closed and the SUV moved out at a normal pace, entering the street behind another dark vehicle just as the first officers arrived at t
he scene.

  Chapter 34

  “He said he killed Black.” Ryan sounded worried. “Has anyone heard from him? Did Kyle get on top of the drone?”

  “He’s alive.” Michael gripped the wheel, navigating the narrow streets confidently as they made their way back to the hotel.

  “Did you hear from him?”

  “Yes.”

  He hadn’t heard from him in the sense that Black called him to tell him all was well at home. Michael knew it to be true, though it would only be tested once. When the admiral really did finally die Michael prayed he would outlive him by a few moments. To have the connection between them broken. It would kill him, but to know he died a free man, capable even for a few scant seconds to know his own mind, choose his path. He would die happy.