And there it was, the miracle seed Alex had never intended to plant. His TEAM had matured into a family like no other.
“Thanks, Zack,” he said humbly as he took his leave. “Tell Howie I’ll talk to him when I return, or he can visit me at Maverick’s. For the record, I’d only been out of the car maybe ten minutes at most. Montego or Bitch Two has to be close by to have placed that finger between when I parked the car and when I returned to it with Kelsey. I don’t want you looking for her, though. That’s what she wants, to get one of us alone, and we’re not playing into her hands.”
Zack nodded, his weapon now holstered, and his arms folded across his big chest. “Understood. Protect home base. We can do that.”
Alex fast-tracked to his expansive in-home theater, where Kelsey now sat somberly with The TEAM wives: Mei Lennox, Libby Houston, Judy Mortimer, Shea Reynolds, Ember Dennison, Gracie Armstrong, Meredith Christian, Lacey Whelan, Devereaux McCray, Shannon Reagan Torrey, as well as Tess Hart, Lee’s wife. The children hung close to their mothers. David Tao would arrive soon with Nancy and their children. Cassidy’s husband, Jude sat on the floor with their daughter Judith.
Alex’s heart stuttered as he realized he was now charged with protecting all he held dear. He’d die for each one of these people, his incredible wife, his miracle-baby daughter, and his second-to-none family. But he was not a man given to hiding.
Surreptitiously, he sent a wink to Kelsey and received a silent air kiss in return. She was stronger than people gave her credit for, himself included. Resilient and a damned good shot, it was true. She wasn’t the battered, defenseless waif he’d found on his cabin porch all those years ago. She was extra-smart and extra-careful, and she was also right. The wives were every bit as strong as their men. They didn’t work for him, but at one time or another, he’d worked with every last one of them. Like their husbands, they also served. It was high time he admitted it.
“Listen up,” he told them, his stubborn heart still in his throat at what he was about to do. “I have to leave, but Zack will stay here to coordinate your defense strategy.” That earned him a crooked smile and a nod from the big guy. “He knows what to do, and so do you. All of you know how to defend yourselves. I’ve seen you with your husbands and some of your kids at the range.” He glanced at Mei and Libby when he said that. Their oldest daughters were well acquainted with firearms. “You’re all capable. And some of you are smarter than me.”
Kelsey shot him a tender smile that told him she was proud. And he was so damned proud of her. He couldn’t hover over her forever. She didn’t need him like that. Kelsey also had wings. It was time to let her loose, so she could fly. The wives—not just him and not just the men and women of his TEAM—had work to do.
“I’ll keep in touch,” he told them before his emotions got the best of him and he reneged on every brave word he’d just uttered. Son-of-a-bitch! This was the hardest thing Alex had ever done. But as if he were their commander-in-chief, as if they all knew what to do—because they did—he turned his back on them and the assignments just given.
He swallowed hard, but he did it. He walked away and let them do what they did best. Protect their men.
Chapter Forty-One
McKenna’s wrong. She doesn’t think I’m cold and hard, but that’s all I am. My staying here’s a mistake. It’s time to let her go. She needs to get on with her life. She’s scared now, but she’ll be okay.
Beau stood at the same kitchen window where he’d accosted Alex only the day before. Word from Stewarts wasn’t good. Besides Mother’s tragedy, Montego had left another finger for Alex, and she’d done it right under his nose. Didn’t it figure? Catalina had been here all along, just waiting to pop in and prove she could get at Alex any time she wanted. And he thought he was so smart.
Alex was lucky Montego hadn’t gotten past the rest of his fancy security and taken one of the kids. Or Kelsey, if all those questions Montego had asked McKenna meant anything. Anymore Beau wasn’t sure what these two evil women were up to. He had a feeling he and McKenna had both been pawns, used by two different, but crazy females with a death wish he very much wanted to grant. He just had to find them.
The police hadn’t yet identified the hapless owner of the latest severed offering, but Beau didn’t intend to wait for their forensic report. It was time to strike back. The best defense was a good offense—and Beau meant to be damned offensive.
As soon as he could get away without attracting attention. For now, Shelby and McKenna chatted quietly in China’s front room with Suzette and Kyrie. Lee was walking the perimeter, which meant he’d be gone the better part of an hour. Adam was somewhere in the house, hopefully not scrutinizing the security monitors in the hall closet.
Beau found it interesting that Ky’s and Lee’s wives and children were staying at Alex’s house instead of here with them at Maverick’s. What was that about? In the end it didn’t really matter. Beau had a job to do before Montego or Bitch Two struck again.
Stealthily, he slid his injured hand into the sleeve of his leather jacket, only wincing when he bent his elbow. Ducking his other arm into the leather, he zipped it shut to conceal his hardware and flipped the collar up. Lifting his gear bag from the floor, where he’d left it when Officer Crenshaw arrived, he cast one quick backward glance toward the quiet chatter in the front room.
He could see McKenna’s profile from where he stood. Seated in the corner of the couch with her arm on the armrest, her other hand lay filled with tissues on her lap. She was the picture of a woman in distress, which was why he had to leave. McKenna would be safe here. He meant to make sure of that.
Easing the glass door to the solarium open, he stepped swiftly onto the paved walkway that led to the driveway. Walking fast, Beau kept to the hedge between the barn and the house until he cleared the front property. From there, he was still a good ten miles to Alex’s place.
But that wasn’t where he planned to go. A fox with a pack of hounds on its scent was a dangerous animal, but Beau didn’t need that pack of hounds following him, either. He needed space and time to do what he did best. While he was fairly certain Alex had everyone else scouring his gated-community to locate Montego, Beau began his search for her evil twin.
Whoever Bitch Two was, he’d make sure she never hurt McKenna again.
Alex sat with Mother in one of the small consolation rooms at Fowler’s Memorial funeral parlor, where families made final arrangements. Wearing her usual crisply ironed blouse and light blue, tailored skirt, and matching jacket, she clenched a tissue in one hand, an electronic device in the other. He hadn’t bothered to change and still wore the black TEAM polo over the jeans he’d started the day with. A light jacket covered his holsters. People didn’t need to know he carried. Even holstered firearms tended to freak certain civilians.
Mother had planned for this day a thousand times over, yet he wouldn’t let her handle the last-minute details alone. Even with Justice Sandler, her steadfast companion, at her side, she was still very much alone. But that was life for you. It came and it went, and there you stood at the grave when it was done with you. Forever bereft and all by yourself.
“I need to talk to you,” she told him quietly, her voice subdued, and her heart broken. “It’s about Beau.”
Alex shook his head. “Not now. Beau can wait until hell freezes over for all I care.”
“No, he can’t. This is important,” she said as she lifted the tissue to her reddened nose and sniffed. “I’ve never seen a man as volatile as he is, not even you back in the day.” She stretched her hand out to Alex.
He took hold of her fingers. Damn, they were cold. A glimmer of tears sprang to his eyes at what she was going through. No mother should have to bury her child. No father either...
“I was a bastard when we first met,” he admitted easily as they sat there, hand in hand, the awful commonality of grief between them. “I am sorry.”
Mother nodded. “Yes, you we
re, but don’t apologize. You were hurting, and all of us understood. We’re not ourselves when our hearts are broken, are we?”
“True,” he replied, meeting her tender gaze. There were days he had fought Mother’s nosey, inquisitive, gossiping ways. She’d always known precisely how to rile him, but all he saw now were the same icy blue eyes as his, staring back at him. If not for her perfectly coifed, silvery white hair, she could pass for his twin. Which made her talent for riling him even more interesting. That was what sisters did. They knew their brother well enough to also know his triggers. Not that Alex had any brothers or sisters, but he’d heard stories. And he definitely had triggers.
“So what’s up with Beau now?” he finally asked, keeping his sarcasm to a minimum.
“This,” Mother said as she handed over the electronic device, the kind Alex hated.
He rolled his shoulder, instantly combating the cramp in his sphincter that modern technology brought with it. The IT world changed so quickly and so often. Of the two of them, she was the IT genius. Not him. Why couldn’t she just tell him what she wanted him to know? Why’d he have to figure out another computer?
Reluctantly, he set the tablet on his knee. “Whatever you found, it can wait.”
She shook her head. “No, Boss, it can’t. You asked me to look into Beau’s childhood, and I did. We both know he’s not just upset because of those trumped-up Army charges. Something else is driving him like the devil. Read what my Las Vegas point of contact found, and then talk to me about it, okay? Right now…” She dabbed at the corner of her eye, careful not to smudge her make-up. “I’ve got other things I need to do.”
“Understood.” Alex nodded and took his leave. She did have Justice after all.
But he didn’t go far. Just out to the lobby to fiddle with this damned modern invention. He tapped the screen like Mother had shown him so many times before, and, what do you know? A collage of framed boxes sprang to view. Retrieving the reading glasses from his inner suit jacket, he did what she’d requested. What the hell...
Mother had located not only a transcript of Beau’s military record, which Alex already knew, but a detailed report from her Las Vegas informant, along with vivid photos of his childhood home. Shit. Alex found himself staring at interviews the informant had with Beau’s neighbor and teachers. A baker named Gino. A social worker. His mother’s probation officer. Several LVPD officers.
Skimming the ugly revelations, Alex brushed his fingers over the screen until he came to the informant’s summary laid out bullet by bullet.
SUBJECT: Benjamin Beauregard Jennings.
Former US Army Ranger.
Current employer, Alex Stewart, Owner and CEO, The TEAM, Alexandria, Virginia.
Father: Bass Jennings, drug dealer, pimp, convicted of murdering three females in a drug-induced rage, currently incarcerated at Nevada High Desert State Prison
Mother: Fidget Jennings, alias and/or maiden name unknown at this time, possible runaway from Kansas. Deceased. Investigation continues.
Sister: Almond Joy, aka AJ. Deceased. Two-years-old at TOD.
Subject resided at aforementioned residence on East Washington Avenue in North Las Vegas, Nevada, from age two until age seven-and-a-half, at which point he vanished. I have located no sign of him in any public records from then until age ten.
Any residence subject lived in prior to East Washington Avenue is unknown at this time. Investigation continues.
I found no record subject attended pre-school, kindergarten, or was enrolled in any childcare or daycare. He attended two years elementary prior to his disappearance. Attendance spotty at best. Records are attached.
To my knowledge, subject received no healthcare until he joined the Army on his eighteenth birthday. Copies of ARMY dental and medical records are attached.
I located no state health department vaccination records. Neither have I located subject’s birth certificate. Investigation continues.
On September 22 of said year, subject’s mother died at home of a self-induced heroin overdose. See attached morgue photo.
On same day, subject’s two-year-old sister, Almond Joy, also died, also from a heroin overdose, possibly at the same time as her mother. See attached morgue photo. Interestingly, I had no problem locating Almond Joy’s birth certificate.
See attached video of local news report and interview with subject’s father.
Alex swallowed hard as, on and on, the investigator presented a dire picture of a childhood no one should have endured. The most incriminating evidence against Bass Jennings that Alex found was not that he’d killed three women, but what he’d screamed at the news reporter during the video clip. “That bastard killed her! He killed ’em both! He was always jealous of my baby girl, so yeah, I beat that little shit, and then I kicked his ass out. Don’t want no baby killer living in my house! Hell, no! If I ever see his fuckin’ face again...!”
The reporter had the good grace to cease filming at that point, but that interview was shot the same day Beau disappeared. The investigator hadn’t found any record of Beau again until the day an LVPD officer apprehended him inside a local grocery store for shoplifting. By then he was ten years old. Where had he been during all of that lost time?
Once in custody, the LV juvenile courts dropped Beau into foster care, which he promptly ditched. Seven months later, LVPD apprehended him again, once again for shoplifting, and back Beau went into the system and yet another foster home. For whatever reason, he stayed in that one until he enlisted.
Not that getting into the Army was easy. Mother’s investigator had done his due diligence. Somehow, he’d acquired transcripts of Beau’s night school classes and his subsequent GED scores. Holy shit. That Army recruiter had helped a young man who’d desperately wanted to join the Army. Alex had no more thought the question, when he found name and rank of one now retired Sergeant Emery Pickett of Henderson, Nevada.
Alex brushed his fingertips over the tablet’s screen and sure enough. Mother’s guy had also spoken with Pickett, who’d remembered Beau and admitted to taking him under his wing. Said the kid had shown promise and was a hard worker. That Beau never gave him a minute of trouble. That he’d studied hard and he’d learned quickly. That he was trustworthy. That in Pickett’s opinion, all Beau needed was a hand up and a place to stay while he caught up on his schooling.
Are we talking about the same person?
Alex stared at the bitter findings now displayed at his fingertips. The photos Mother’s guy provided of Beau’s childhood home were scary enough. It was nothing but a rat-infested, filthy nightmare, and neighbors said it had been for years.
But the video of Bass screaming at the reporter and bragging that he’d beat a seven-year-old child, then kicked him into the streets, rankled deep in the catacombs of Alex’s warrior’s soul. He’d seen a lot of shit in his life, but a father accusing his son of murder, then proudly admitting to child abuse? Of a seven-year-old, for God’s sake! Flaming asshole.
No way had that kid killed his mother and sister. Bass could have, though. Alex wouldn’t put it past a loser like that. He’d done it before. Hell, Fidget might’ve accidentally killed that little girl for all anyone knew. But how had blonde-haired Bass ended up with an intelligent Hispanic son, but had no birth certificate for him?
Alex’s fingers drummed the screen. What to do… What to do…
Since the investigator seemed to think Fidget came from the heartland, Alex suspected she’d been Caucasian as well. Yet Beau was definitely Hispanic, his skin a rich, caramel tan, his eyes dark brown, and his hair as black as coal. Not one feature linked him genetically to Bass’ ugly redneck face or pasty-white Fidget’s morgue shot. Both were definitely Caucasian. Both were some degree of dishwater blond. There was no resemblance between Beau and poor little AJ’s morgue photo, either. Not that two blondes couldn’t produce a dark-haired child. It wasn’t unheard of, but for a lean, sniveling man like Bass to have fathered a son
with completely different musculature and definite Hispanic markers of Beau? An innate sense of honor? Damned improbable.
Alex tapped his fingers to his knee, his mind wandering to thoughts he had no business thinking and challenges he didn’t have time for. He was in the middle of an active investigation that had already turned ugly. The TEAM was a livelihood, not a charity and yet...
Alex’s gut told him true. Bass wasn’t Beau’s father. Which meant what?
Mother’s investigator included his contact information at the end of his findings. He’d done a stand-up job and he’d commented that his investigation continued several times. He wasn’t yet finished with Beau.
Neither am I.
One call...
It’d take just one call...
Damn it, no. I’ve got enough on my plate. The puzzle of Beau Jennings was best left for another time when resources weren’t spread so thin. Yet even as he pushed the mega-challenge of Beau Jennings out of his mind—once and for all—Alex stared at the floor between his feet.
Thinking...
Always thinking…
Could Mother’s Las Vegas contact get his hands on a copy of Fidget’s autopsy report? He’d provided her morgue photo. The guy obviously had a solid network he trusted, maybe his version of confidential informants. Could he track down her parents in Kansas or wherever she came from? Maybe she’d kept in touch with them. A friend. A sister.
But what rankled Alex most was wondering what that little boy had eaten all those missing days and years. Where had Beau slept? How had he kept warm in winter, and what’d he do when he was sick? A kid with no inoculations would’ve caught every germ that came along. Who took care of him then? Or when he had a toothache or came down with an earache? When his belly ached? When he was sick with fever, too racked with pain and chills to move? Anyone?
The misery that kid had lived through stuck in Alex’s gut like a dead weight. The years of abuse. The neglect. All he could see was Lexie, dirty, skinny, and lost in the dark. Hungry. Frightened. Alone in some cold, underground sewer and crying for her mommy. For Kelsey.
Beau (In the Company of Snipers Book 18) Page 27