Lycos (Guardian Security Shadow World Book 3)

by Kris Michaels

  “Knock it off,” Lycos growled back at the animal. It huffed and dropped its head again.

  “He’s hyperprotective of Ethan.”

  “No shit.”

  “Hi.”

  Thanatos returned his attention to the kitchen area. A petite blonde with a shock of short curly hair and huge blue eyes stood with a dish towel in her hands. The woman smiled at Lycos. She was absolutely stunning. Beautiful in a way that was natural and buoyant. He swallowed hard. Fuck him, the woman was breathtaking.

  Lycos crossed the space and wrapped the woman in his arms. Thanatos averted his eyes, suddenly finding the dropped lighting intriguing. He’d never tread on Lycos’ bond with the woman or the child.

  Seeing Lycos like this reminded him of Asp with Lyric, and Anubis with Sky, hell even Bengal and Jewell. He glanced at the wolf who had lifted his head to watch the public display of affection. Moriah was also involved with someone, and if the rumor was correct, it was a long-term thing. Thanatos hadn’t been back to the ranch in a while although he’d routinely sent little Kadey gifts. Anubis’ kid was cool, and she deserved good things.

  “Bethanie, may I introduce…” Lycos lifted an eyebrow.

  Thanatos stepped forward, appreciating the assassin’s discretion which allowed him to present the cover with which he was most comfortable.

  “Dolan, Dolan McDaid.” Thanatos let a bit of his natural Irish brogue roll through the words.

  “It is nice to meet you. Thank you for coming, for allowing Ryan to do what he needs to do.”

  Thanatos cocked his head and lifted an eyebrow at Lycos. Ryan? That was a new cover.

  The man shrugged. “She knows they won’t be safe unless we address the situation.” He glanced over at the couch.

  Ah, well, Thanatos tucked that information into his back pocket. “If that food tastes half as good as it smells, the pleasure will be all mine.”

  “Come on, I’ll give you the lay of the land, then we’ll eat before we get your gear.”

  Thanatos waited for Lycos to separate himself from his woman and followed him up the incline. He felt like an interloper in a cartoon filled with hearts and flowers. Who in the hell would have guessed that Lycos of all people would find this kind of happiness? Well, not him, but he’d do whatever it took to ensure the man could grab hold of it and keep it. If that meant babysitting his woman, kid, and killer mutant wolf, he’d put on his Uncle Dolan persona and play nice. He could do it.

  Chapter 25

  One drew a deep breath and released it. Her irritation at the unexpected communication waned as Three continued.

  “Of the twenty-one assets we had in the area, we can confirm two died in a car accident coming down a mountain during a blizzard. One was caught in a crossfire between sheriff’s deputies and a robbery suspect. The suspect evaded apprehension. Two died when a bridge they were traversing collapsed. Local police have determined the bridge, which was older than dirt to begin with, had finally succumbed to age and imploded when our men drove over it. Then we have four men missing. They were going into the area on foot. There is another that has not been found. He was the third member of the team that plummeted over the cliff during the snowstorm.”

  One clicked her fingernails against the smoked glass of her desk. “Accidents. Unfortunate accidents and the ones on foot could be running silent.”

  Three nodded. “That was my opinion, too; however, we had a report this morning. Two more of our people have died. Carbon monoxide poisoning. The heater in their hotel rooms malfunctioned.”

  “It is a rural location. Unfortunate, but understandable.”

  “Until you realize that only those two rooms had malfunctioning heaters. That is twelve of our best operatives, dead or unaccounted for.”

  “Is there any intelligence on agency operatives in the area?”

  “None. The man in the truck we ID’d via traffic cameras has not hit on any of our databases. I’m concerned that the woman has a protector—one we shouldn’t discount.”

  One sighed and leaned back in her chair. “We still have nine assets in the area.”

  “Yes.”

  “Double the incentive for her termination. I want this over.” One leaned forward to terminate the communication.

  “I have already done that. Our enforcement arm is still unconvinced.”

  One’s eyes snapped to Three. “Then convince them. If they are worried they will perish should they move forward, they need to know they will cease to exist if they do not.”

  “Sometimes force doesn’t work.” Three shook her head before dropping it to her hand and rubbing her brow. “Perhaps we should consider another candidate.”

  “Death always works. Finding another candidate will not be considered until all options are exhausted. Reminding you of this is troublesome. I thought you stronger.”

  Three lifted her head. The ice in her eyes contradicted the tiredness that lined her face. “Are you questioning my ability?”

  One cocked her head. Her hand hovered over the mouse which would terminate the call. She blinked once and then nodded. “I must admit, I find that I am.” She hit the mouse and cut the communication.

  Lycos hooked his latest victim’s phone to his laptop. The phone records downloaded, and his map lit up with four other locations. He memorized three of them and powered down the machine. The fourth was one he already knew. The head of the serpent as it were. The number was shielded. That number would be his last effort. He put his computer into the backpack he carried and headed out of the dive hotel he’d spent the night in. His eyes traveled to the west, to the mountain he couldn’t see and to his family.

  Hunting was ninety percent setting up in strategic places to sit and wait for his prey to come to him; however, he was through waiting. He had five numbers left, three of which he’d been able to ping today. He was done being subtle. The leather jacket he wore crinkled as he slipped his black nylon backpack on and straddled the motorcycle he’d been using since he’d come down the mountain. He put on his gloves and then pulled on his helmet. His shoulder holsters were well hidden in the bulk of his coat as he pulled out onto the road.

  The removal of the men so far had been rudimentary. If anyone could connect the men to Stratus, they’d see what was happening was a systematic purge of those who were looking for Bethanie and Ethan. Obviously, his shots over the bow, so to speak, weren’t as effective as he would have liked. Time to up the stakes.

  Ryan stopped and reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. He pulled his phone out and glanced at the flashing dots. He watched as two moved away from him on this road. Given his current location and the direction the third was traveling, he’d have to hurry. He secured the phone to the mount on the handlebars of his motorcycle. He dropped the face shield on his helmet. Time to go to work.

  The first car, a rust bucket with an old woman driving and an even older man in the passenger seat, wasn’t his target. He passed them carefully, giving the elderly couple no reason to notice him. Once he rounded the bend, he accelerated. He leaned into the curves of the old back-country road, his knee inches from the asphalt, as he accelerated and glided through hairpin curves and treacherous switchbacks. When he saw a car in front of him, he leaned over the engine of his Harley for a better look at the license plates. The SUV had New York plates. A sneer lifted the corner of his mouth. He slowed long enough to confirm the vehicle he trailed was his target. The yellow dot on the phone was now red. Bingo.

  He held the throttle steady with his right hand as he reached into his jacket with his left. He scanned the road in front and behind him for other traffic then withdrew the Desert Eagle from its holster. He held it low as he rolled the accelerator and sped up.

  He put on his blinker as he pulled out from behind the SUV. The use of a blinker indicated a law-abiding citizen. That simple act would mislead the driver. Ryan leaned out of the lane to clear the road ahead, as any motorcycle rider would do, and then accelerated. Two men. The driver wasn’t loo
king at him; he was glancing at the passenger, who held a cell phone to his ear. Ryan positioned himself at the driver’s side passenger door and lifted the forty-five. The first kick of the weapon exploded window glass and brain matter as the passenger’s brain misted against the windshield in front of him.

  Ryan accelerated and swerved as the driver’s reflexes jerked the SUV toward him. He aimed and pulled the trigger twice. The driver slumped at the wheel. He decelerated and used the right rear brake on the right-hand pedal and the right handlebar brake to bring his bike to skidding stop. The SUV sliced in front of him and plunged down into the ditch beside the road. It hit a deep rut and flipped nose over tail once before Ryan toed his bike into gear and hit the accelerator.

  He powered forward as he double checked the phone between his handlebars. The other target car had turned and was coming back toward him. The motherfuckers had been talking to each other. All right. He could deal. Jousting had always been an interest.

  He rounded the curve and saw the SUV barreling toward him. The passenger pushed through the passenger side window and leveled a rifle at him. Ryan laughed. Unless the motherfucker was Wild Bill Hickok, the son of a bitch had a ten percent chance of making the shot. He’d take those odds, all day every day.

  Pressing his chest low to the bike, he hit the accelerator. The approach to the SUV played out in his mind like a movie. The rifle bucked repeatedly. The vehicle crossed the broken white line on the old road. He drew a long, even breath and judged the distance between them. The driver wanted to run him down. Well, he’d go down all right, but on his terms.

  He hit the brakes and decelerated as he laid his bike down, kicking out from under it as it hit the pavement. The bike, being heavier than he was and having momentum, careened under the SUV. As his ass skidded on the asphalt, he tucked and rolled, a controlled burn, which was more than he could say for the SUV. Even at fifty miles an hour, running over a pile of metal caused catastrophic damage.

  Ryan pulled one Eagle out of its holster and stood. With his right hand, he placed the weapon in his left and then awkwardly extracted the other and limped forward. The weapon in his left hand hung lifeless. He’d dislocated his shoulder or separated it, but he needed the weapon out and available. The leathers he wore had saved his skin, but he fucking felt like he’d been through an asphalt blender. His vision was fucked up. Ryan blinked and realized his visor was pitted, scratched and cracked. He tried to flip the visor up, but it wouldn’t budge. He glanced toward the SUV. Dammit. He dropped to his knee and worked the chinstrap to remove his helmet. He flipped it off onto the road and staggered up again.

  Lycos had just gained his stance when the passenger door opened and a man fell out, holding himself against the armrest of the door. The rifle swung up at the same time as Ryan lifted his handgun. He fired twice and felt the bite of shards of pavement as they hit at his face.

  The man fell, still suspended from the vehicle. The strap of his seatbelt kept him from hitting the ground in a gruesome replica of a rearview ornament.

  He advanced on the driver’s side door and opened it. Blood seeped down the man’s face, but he was still breathing. A cursory search provided the man’s cell phone before he took aim. The echo of the shot rang in his ears. Methodically, Lycos moved to the other man, grabbed his phone and made his way to the field past the road. He pushed farther into the interior of the sparsely populated area.

  He used the first sturdy tree he found to force his shoulder back into joint. He fell to his knees and immediately vomited, the pain crushing his consciousness. “Fuck me.” He rolled to his ass and moved his arm carefully—and worked on breathing at a normal rate—nearly impossible when he had to get his backpack off. Moving that shoulder was not a fun thing, but he did it.

  Lycos winced when he saw the back of the pack. His leather had protected his skin, but the nylon of the pack had obviously left fabric all the fuck over the road. He pulled his computer out… in pieces. Fuck him. He wasn’t going to stop until he could go home and know that there was no longer a threat.

  He pulled his pay-by-the-minute phone out and laughed. He actually had three bars out here in the middle of nowhere. He punched in the numbers and leaned back against what was left of his pack. He was secluded, to an extent. At least he was out of view. That would have to do for now.

  “Operator Two Seven Four.”

  “Sunset clearance, third operative.”

  “How would you like your call routed, Third Operative.”

  Yeah, definitely not an AI. “Send me to Bengal.”

  He waited and listened to a series of clicks and whirs as the system encrypted the call, at least from the other end.

  “The line is not secure.” Bengal’s voice came across the connection.

  “Yeah, I know that.”

  “Are you secure?”

  “I’m… hell, I’m kinda tore up, but I’ll live. I need to access your wife’s systems.” There was a long pause. “For what purpose?”

  “I have a telephone number I can’t track. The same number is on all of the minion’s phones. I need to end this.”

  “Others still remain? We’ve been monitoring the local LEO’s down there. You’ve been busy.”

  “You’ll hear some serious shit soon. I took it public.”

  “As in how public?”

  “As in bullets-through-brains-type public.” Lycos sighed and winced. “I need a location on that number. I’ll handle it, but I need that fucking address. I’m sending a message.”

  “What signature will the message have?”

  “None. Just a guarantee. One they can’t afford to disregard.”

  “And if this telephone number is information Guardian needs?”

  “I wouldn't need your assistance if my computer hadn't died.” Hell, if he could get to an internet connection and a computer of any sort, he could jump his hard drive and access his program, but getting to a computer wasn't an option right now.

  “But it did die, and you want me to pull my wife into this mess.”

  “I do. Give me twenty-four hours, and then you can take any action you want. I’m calling it in, brother. Every time I was there for you, for them. I’m calling it in. Get me the address and give me twenty-four hours. You’ll never hear from me again.”

  “Give me the number and call back in an hour.”

  The line died, and Lycos turned off his phone. An hour. Okay. He’d just close his eyes for a few moments. The sun felt damn good, and he was shielded from the cool winds. He let his body relax for a few moments before he systematically tightened and contracted the muscles in his legs, arms, chest, shoulders, and back. He was bent, not broken, even though his arm wasn’t going to be a hondo for a couple weeks. He’d deal.

  He’d make his way to this address, send a deadly message, and get out. First, he needed to figure out exactly where he was. Ryan opened his eyes and scanned the horizon. The mountains were located to his right. Okay. A vehicle was the next requirement. Considering he was ass planted not a mile from the roadway, hitching a ride to the next small hamlet wouldn’t be too hard. Unfortunately, that would make him memorable, so he’d wait until night, go back to the road and walk into town. Not optimal, but he’d jack a truck from a farm or from the hamlet and drop it on the way to the address.

  He glanced at his watch and gave an abbreviated laugh. Abbreviated because it fucking hurt. The crystal of his watch was shattered and missing. There were no minute or hour hands, but the second dial swept around the circumference of the face as if nothing had altered its course. Hell, if that wasn’t an example of how things kept chugging on no matter the disasters in life, nothing was.

  The hours and minutes of life weren’t guaranteed. But in the background behind the insanity of normal people’s lives time still moved on. Seconds ticked forward, regardless of who was there to mark the time of events like life and death.

  He palmed his phone and dialed the number, one last time.

  “Operator Two Seven
Four.”

  “Sunset clearance, third operative.”

  “Third operative, stand by.”

  “Are you prepared to copy?” Bengal asked.

  “Send it.”

  He rattled off the address.

  “Thank you. Twenty-four hours, and if I can, I’ll ensure the target doesn’t crawl away. But I need to send a message, and that means the fucker has to be breathing.”

  “Understood. You do whatever it takes, my friend. As long as it takes.”

  “Wrong. Twenty-three hours and fifty-seven minutes. And lose this number. All markers have been pulled.”

  “Understood. It was good to know you. Take care of yourself.”

  “Live a good life, my friend. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other at family functions.”

  “Someday.” He hoped like hell it would happen.

  “I’m clear.”

  Lycos powered down his phone, took out the battery and gave it a toss. He glanced at the sun and closed his eyes. He had hours before dark. The only thing to do was wait. He closed his eyes.

  Lycos parked the second car he’d stolen in the last six hours three blocks away. He walked the distance, looking for alarm systems, cameras and guards. The three cameras he saw where wide-angle lenses. He pulled the University of Miami hat he’d taken from the first stolen vehicle over his face and kept his head turned away and down.

  The door was deadbolted, which, let’s face it, kept honest people honest. He wasn’t that version of humanity. The door took forty-five seconds to circumvent. He hit the stairs. His body complained with every push forward. His left side was nothing but a massive bruise including his ass, which flamed with red and black splotches from the back of his thigh to the small of his back. Fuck him for looking at the damage in a gas station bathroom.