Witness Protection 4
O-Dark-Hundred
Holly Copella
Copyright © 2017 Holly Copella
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 0997106484
ISBN-13: 978-0-9971064-8-0
In loving memory of
Emry Hill
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Copella Books: First Paperback Edition 2017
Printed by CreateSpace, An Amazon.com Company
Cover Artist: Daniela Owergoor
Dani-owergoor.deviantart.com
Model by Grafvision
Model by Pindyurin Vasily
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, character, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Other books by Holly Copella!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Chapter One
The old stone sawmill had seen better days, although its stone and wood exterior was still structurally sound. At first glance, it could be mistaken for an old, two-story barn. Built partially in the river, the large water turbine remained motionless for decades or longer. The log carriage track, which once carried logs from the river into the sawmill, was deteriorating faster than the rest of the building. It was late afternoon, and the vast, secluded countryside surrounding the lonely sawmill was peaceful. There didn’t appear to be a soul around. The building interior contained various sized rollers for moving the logs into the cutting path of now rusted saws. Despite the seclusion of the mill, male voices echoed through the sturdy building.
Two men stood in a faceoff of sorts. By the looks on their faces, Monroe and Holden seemed unhappy with each other. Monroe Dallas was a tall, lanky man in his mid-thirties, who sought a stylish flair to his wardrobe. Despite not being overly muscular, he was more powerful than most suspected. Monroe’s light brown hair was neatly trimmed, although not nearly short enough to constitute a buzz cut. Holden Falcone was a ruggedly handsome man in his mid-thirties. He wasn’t built excessively muscular, but he had broad shoulders and a toned chest. His neatly trimmed, nearly black hair gave him a professional appearance. Both men were overdressed and looked out of place in the abandoned sawmill.
“What is your problem?” Monroe demanded. “You already said there was nothing that could legally be done.”
“Yeah, legally,” Holden snarled, “but that doesn’t translate into ‘going rogue’.”
Monroe stared at Holden with disbelief while touching his temple several times then gestured wildly. “Going rogue is what we do!”
A third man leaned against one of the large rusted saws. Zack Kinsley was shorter than average, being lucky if he stood 5’8”. Non-impressive by most standards, he appeared almost innocent at first glance. He wore black combat attire covering his surprisingly athletic build, which would easily go unnoticed beneath his clothes. His brown hair was kept short and neat, although moderately spiky on top. It was uncertain if the hairstyle made him look slightly intimidating or more like a child’s plaything. Zack barely acknowledged either man, although he appeared to be listening to their bantering while cleaning dirt out from under his fingernails with a Bowie knife.
“How am I supposed to justify what you’re doing?” Holden demanded.
“Justify it?” Monroe suddenly lashed out. “The guy abducted his niece out from under her mother. You’ve got a deadbeat dad on the lamb who’d do anything to get his daughter back.” He shook his head vigorously. “We’re talking about a five-year-old girl here. If they’re holding her in the brother’s mansion, we’re the only ones not sitting on our thumbs waiting for proof.”
“So I’m supposed to just sit by and let you and the littlest ninja there,” he announced while indicating Zack, “storm this guy’s mansion looking for this little girl who may or may not be there?” His look turned demanding. “What’s the plan? Kill anyone who prevents you from searching the place? That mansion is like a fortress. You’re going to end up killing innocent security guards who may not have done anything wrong.”
“This is exactly why you don’t belong on the team,” Monroe launched back. “You don’t know how to take orders, and you question everything. You’re not a team player.”
The sound of the old, rusted saw grinding stopped the two men mid-argument. Both looked at Zack near the saw. He grinned almost mockingly and hit the power switch. The grinding ceased, and the saw came to a gradual stop.
“If you ladies are finished doing each other’s hair, can we get on with this?” Zack announced with bored disinterest. “I’m sure our guest would like to use the outhouse in the near future.”
Both men looked from Zack to the man tied to the old log partially cut by the rusted saw. The man was lying on his back with his wrists tied to his side around the log and his ankles bound on either side, keeping his legs spread apart. The saw was uncomfortably close to his crotch, and the fear showed on the man’s face. Holden shook his head then glared at Monroe.
“I didn’t sign up for this,” Holden snapped.
“You didn’t sign up at all,” Monroe remarked with little interest. “You’re only here because you don’t trust your wife.”
Holden glared at Monroe with hostility. “Keep it up, Monroe. One of these days, saying things like that will get you punched in the mouth.”
“Give it your best shot,” Monroe snarled and took a step closer, placing him directly in front of Holden’s face.
“Girls,” Zack proclaimed with irritation. “You’re both about to be kicked in your lady parts if you don’t give it a rest.”
Both men glared at him.
“If you don’t mind,” Zack announced with annoyance, “I have a suspect to interrogate.” He again flipped the saw switch.
The saw buzzed loudly. The man screamed beneath the gag as the log rode the track, the saw cutting through it on its way to his crotch. Zack turned off the saw and eyed his prisoner.
“Something you’d like to add?” Zack asked while observing the bound man.
The man panted beneath the gag as sweat drenched his body and urine seeped through the crotch of his pants.
Zack eyed the urine stain and nodded. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”
Chapter Two
The three-story mansion encompassed several acres and seemingly branched out in every direction. It was nearly dark and almost every light was on inside and outside the multi-million dollar estate. A long curved driveway, secured by a guard at the gatehouse, led to the large fountain in front of the main house and also continued onward to the attached, eight-car garage in back. The garage only contained one bay door, but once inside, it held eight cars in what resembled a lavish room. It was more of a car museum than a garage. With a wide aisle, it contained four cars parked on each side to allow easy access. To the left side were classic cars and to the right were high-priced sports cars. Each car cost more than most residential homes.
A handsome, distinguished gentleman in his early fifties with a full head of moderately graying hair admired one of the new sports cars. Ross Madrid took his usual broad stance with his legs spread comfortably apart and his arms folded across his moderately muscular chest. Despite his age, he was an imposing figure. Beyond his charming smile, there hid a force beyond compare. He showed no reaction to the two large men watching him from the main entrance to the house. Although well-dressed, they were still just high-priced thugs.
A man dressed in a suit straight from the ‘goodfellas’ catalog entered the lavish garage with two other high-priced thugs on his heels. Cosmo Rembrandt, formerly Carlos Ruiz, grinned with his hands extended to greet Ross. Ross shook hands with the seemingly mousy man. Cosmo was the wealthy brains of the operation while pretending to be a recognizable force. His small stature and limited fighting skills meant he was almost nothing without his high-priced thugs to back him.
“I wasn’t sure if you intended to follow through with our little transaction,” Cosmo announced while remaining cheerful as he studied his guest.
“I can’t say I’m thrilled with the ticket price,” Ross casually replied then grinned, “but you have some hard to find items I can’t pass up.”
“Excellent,” Cosmo announced and extended his hand along the broad aisle between the cars toward an area almost resembling a living room. “Your man can bring your transport van into the garage while we complete our transaction.”
Ross glanced toward the bay door and signaled his man just inside the garage. Kirk Mandel gave a knowing nod then approached the black van he’d been leaning against for the last twenty minutes. Kirk was a large, muscular man who stood an imposing 6’4” with broad shoulders and biceps the size of tree trunks barely hidden beneath his black combat uniform. His buzz cut and thick facial stubble made him look moderately intimidating. Judging by his steely gaze, the man was incapable of showing emotion. The guards kept a close watch as the black van drove along the aisle between the expensive cars toward the living room area.
Cosmo removed a remote control from the bar and pressed a button. Several panels spun around to reveal military grade automatic weapons lining the walls. Ross stared at the assortment of weapons, grinned like a schoolboy, and shook his head.
“I have a friend who’d never leave this room,” Ross announced. He then eyed Cosmo as his look turned serious. “But you said you could get me a dozen of each. For what I’m paying, I expect more than this.”
Cosmo nodded and indicated the metal crates within a large opening. “They’re all right there.” He approached the containers and opened one to reveal the contents.
Ross eyed the neatly stacked weapons in each of the metal containers. He removed one or two, taking time to inspect them carefully, and then nodded his approval.
“Your men can load them up as soon as I see the cash in my account,” Cosmo announced.
Ross replaced the weapons and shut the lids. He removed his cell phone and pressed a single button. Once the call was answered, he kept his message short. “Do it.”
Cosmo approached a laptop computer sitting on top of the bar and pulled up his account. He waited only a moment before the enormous amount of money electronically appeared. He grinned and shut his laptop while looking at Ross.
“Load them up.”
Cosmo’s men helped Kirk load the four metal crates into the back of the black van.
“Can I offer you a drink?” Cosmo asked.
Ross nodded and flashed his usual charming smile. While Cosmo poured his drink, Ross glanced around the lavish garage.
“Some party you’re having tonight, huh?” Ross asked then eyed the man. “I certainly hope I didn’t keep you from your guests.”
“That?” Cosmo asked then chuckled in his throat. “That’s just a little something I have going on the side. Vices kindly provided to a select few for the right price.”
“What sort of vices?” Ross asked then raised a clever brow along with a cheap grin. “What price?”
“For an important customer such as yourself,” Cosmo announced, “consider it on the house. We have gambling, gorgeous women, and just about anything that’ll make you feel good.” He grinned almost deviously. “Why don’t you leave your man to his work, and I’ll take you on a little tour of the house? I’m sure we can find something to suit your taste.”
“I’m in,” Ross announced and again signaled Kirk.
Kirk nodded and finished loading the metal containers with two of Cosmo’s men. Ross headed for the connecting door with Cosmo and his two guards.
Once Kirk finished loading the last crate, he removed a cigar and gestured to the guards. “Mind if I smoke?”
Both shook their heads.
“We’ll join you,” the first man replied and removed a pack of cigarettes.
The second man indicated the bar to Kirk in silent question. Kirk puffed on his cigar and nodded his acceptance.
“How about the good stuff?” the man suggested and held up an expensive bottle.
Kirk smirked at the men and chuckled softly. “When the cat’s away--”
Both men chuckled as the second man poured them each a drink.
†
At the end of the mansion driveway, a black sedan parked near some large bushes, allowing it to blend in with the darkness between streetlights. The mansion gate remained closed with only one guard on duty. The amount of traffic entering and leaving the mansion through the main gate made it seem as if there was a party going on. Within the sedan, Holden sat in the driver’s seat and kept close watch on those coming and going from the mansion. The man sitting in the passenger seat alongside him fiddled on his laptop then glanced at Holden.
“Ross was just invited inside the mansion,” Beck announced then shut his laptop and looked at the main gate as well.
Beck Larue was a ruggedly handsome man in his mid-thirties. He stood over six feet tall and maintained an impressive athletic build. His light brown hair was moderately rumpled and his sturdy gaze lent a perfect balance between intimidating and cuddly.
“So what now?” Holden asked.
“We wait.”
“Wait for what?” Holden questioned and eyed the man in the seat alongside him.
“Ross will do a quick guard count and let the others know how and where to enter,” Beck replied while straining to see out the side window past Holden.
Holden sharply eyed Beck. “Others? Is he sending Jackie in there?”
Beck refused to look at Holden and maintained his gaze upon the closed gate. “That’s how it works, Holden. Jackie’s with Zack. You know that.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Holden muttered without looking back.
“I understand perfectly,” Beck replied and finally looked at Holden as he relaxed in his seat. “You know, honestly, I don’t get women.” He made a face and shrugged more to himself. “I thought I did, but the moment you have them figured out, they go and change the rule book.” He groaned and looked up at the ceiling. “I mean, what do they want?”
Nearly fifteen minutes l
ater, Holden leaned his head back against the seat and listened while Beck continued to ramble on about women. He complained about what they wanted, and how difficult they liked to make things on men.
Beck seemed to take a break from his tirade then eyed Holden. “She has a stalker, you know.”
Holden glanced at Beck and straightened in his seat, finally taking an interest in the conversation. “Who?”
“Pinto,” Beck announced with a slightly irritated groan. “Haven’t you been listening?”
“What do you mean ‘she has a stalker’?”
“Jesus, Holden,” he scoffed. “You’re a frickin’ fed. You know what a stalker is. Some guy.” He waved him off then looked out the side window in silence. Unfortunately for Holden, it didn’t last. He looked back at Holden and jumped right back into the conversation. “He’s supposedly a friend. He’s been coming to the club when she sings. Although she says he’s a friend, he’s definitely stalking her. He’s stalking her, and she refuses to believe it.” His eyes widened slightly. “I mean, this guy has made comments to me about my girlfriend. He says things even I don’t feel comfortable repeating to her, and she still thinks I’m the one who’s overreacting.” He threw his arms in the air in a mild hissy fit. “I’m the one overreacting?”
Holden eyed Beck and raised a curious brow. “Didn’t I get the same speech from you when Kirk was strutting around in my living room in his boxer briefs in front of Jackie?”
“That’s different,” Beck scoffed and waved him off. “Jackie’s used to the guys running around commando.”
“And that time I had to kick Zack out of my bed because he didn’t want Jackie sleeping alone while I was working late one night?” Holden demanded.
“Seriously? You’re comparing the two?” Beck demanded with irritation. “Zack is practically the family pet. He’s not dogging your wife.”
“Well, what about the time Monroe decided to use the bathroom while Jackie was in the shower?” he demanded. “You told me I was overreacting then.”
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