Razing Kayne

by Julieanne Reeves

  Without warning, Zeff stopped. It wasn't until he reached down that Jess saw the steel-framed grate at their feet. It looked like a jail cell door lying on the ground. He pulled the heavy door open and stepped down into the darkness, dragging Jess with him into a moldy, Cold War era, concrete bunker.

  Jess cleared the last step, and her foot splashed in an inch of stagnate water on the floor. She wanted to vomit. Everything became clear. The iron bar door, the chains on the wall, the small metal animal cage bolted down in the center of the room, and the video cameras mounted in the upper corners—they were going to be drowned.

  Jess planted her feet, refusing to budge. “No please,” she begged before she could stop herself. “Please let my daughter go.”

  Zeff cocked his head, and for a brief second, she saw compassion in his eyes, before he ripped Gracie out of Jess's arms and handed her to The Wolf.

  “Mama!” Gracie screamed the word over and over again as she struggled to get free.

  Jess fought to get to her daughter. She couldn't help it. God, what were they going to do to her? But she was no match for Zeff, who had her manacled to the wall in seconds.

  The Wolf cuddled Gracie to him, though she fought him, reaching desperately for Jess, her pleading blue eyes swimming in tears. “You know, I have clients who enjoy children. Perhaps such a beautiful child would serve me better by being sold for carnal pleasures.”

  “Get away from my daughter, you sick bastard!” Jess fought with all her strength to get to Gracie, even though she knew it was useless. Hearing Gracie's frightened pleas for her “Mama.” shredded Jess's heart.

  The Wolf laughed at Jess and stroked the barrel of his gun down the side of Gracie's face before kissing her forehead, seating her in the animal cage, and locking the door.

  He said something inaudible to the man at his left. They both looked to where Zeff stood talking to the third member of the brute squad, while he fiddled with the eye-bolt that held Jess’s chain. Though she'd seen no signal given, both men lunged and attacked Zeff. He struggled until Volkov walked up and slammed the butt of his gun into the back of Zeff's head. Jesus Christ, this was how the man rewarded loyalty?

  The brute squad searched Zeff for weapons and keys before chaining him to the wall. Without another word, Volkov and his two henchmen left, walking right past and ignoring Nina who was chained to the other side of the room, pleading for him not to leave her there. A moment later, the grate shut with resounding finality.

  Jess tugged on her restraints, desperately needing to get to Gracie. Surprise stole her breath when the chain gave. While she wasn't free, whatever Zeff had done gave her enough length that she could reach the cage. Regrettably, it was locked. Jess sat on the edge of the slightly raised platform and leaned against the cage, where she could at least reach her fingers through and touch Gracie. “It's okay, baby. Daddy's going to come find us. He'll save us,” she whispered.

  Then she prayed to God it would be true.

  THIRTY-NINE

  Kayne finally got his shit together and stepped out of Trace’s office a few minutes later. Two men in suits stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “Officer Dobrescu, you need to come with us.”

  When Kayne lost it, Trace and Rafe had quickly cleared the room. He wasn't quite sure how they’d managed it, what with all the posturing and yelling going on around him from people demanding answers, but he thought it might have been at gunpoint.

  Kayne crossed his arms and looked down at the taller of the two agents. “Fuck you! If you have anything to ask me, you do it right fucking here. But while we're at, it I have some questions for you. If you knew this goddamned sick son of a bitch was here, why were you letting him run around? Furthermore, you useless bastards have been sitting around for weeks, and yet when Volkov does finally make a move, you let my wife and child slip through the net?”

  Kayne leaned in until he was inches from the guy’s face. “If anything happens to my wife or daughter because you all are too busy tripping over each other’s dicks to work together and do your goddamned job, I will personally—”

  Rafe materialized beside him and slapped a hand down hard on Kayne's shoulder. He talked right over him. “What he's trying to say is now would be a really good time for all of us to sit down and play show and tell. Why don't we take this into the conference room?”

  “I'm the agent in charge,” the suit in front of Kayne postured.

  Rafe got in the man’s face, all affability gone. “Not any-fucking-more. I'm gonna give you the same message the Chief is giving your little InterPol witch. We've played it your way, and you fucked it up. Now we're taking command. Y'all are gonna be good little Super-Secret-Squirrels and sit down, answer our questions when they’re asked, shut the hell up when told to, and then stay the fuck out of our way while we clean up your mess. Conference room is that-a way.”

  He nodded, and amazingly, the suit turned on his heel and marched off. His partner followed.

  Kayne leaned in close, so as not to be overheard. “Is that really what the Chief said?”

  Rafe’s smile was dangerous. “I was paraphrasing what the Chief will say, you know, when he gets around to it. Saving us some time. Besides, I don't have to be nearly as diplomatic as the Chief. He's stuck serving at the pleasure of the town council, and I'm convinced that gaggle of old cronies doesn't even remember what pleasure means, much less feels like.”

  Kayne managed a halfhearted chuckle. “Remind me never to piss you off.”

  “Trust me, you've already got enough enemies. Let’s go. I've been itching to shake these boys down.” Rafe rubbed his hands together in delight.

  Kayne shook his head. “No shit. Jesus, I didn't even know half these people existed an hour ago, much less hated me for being born.” It had been over an hour since Jess and Gracie disappeared. He found himself praying to a God he still wasn't sure he believed in for their safety.

  FOURTY

  Gracie had finally fallen asleep, cuddling her rabbit close. A child's mind had such a miraculous ability to shut off when it overloaded.

  “Is she okay?” Zeff asked.

  “No thanks to any of you,” Jess snapped.

  Zeff didn't respond, which Jess was glad for. She moved around, looking at the cage. She knew it was a matter of time before the room started filling with water. The cage would be covered first, and Jess couldn’t stand by and let her daughter drown.

  The frame itself was bolted to the floor and would require a wrench to loosen the nuts. But the sides were pieced together with slot-head bolts. Jess dug in her pocket and found some change. Maybe she could unscrew the bolts enough to separate it and get Gracie out.

  “Don't do that,” Zeff said. “Not yet. They are giving Krysin time to get here. They may not wait if you start trying to escape. They can divert the water in at any time.”

  “Why are you here?” Was he some plant to watch them from the inside, like on that movie where the bad guy was in the room pretending to be dead all the time?

  He moved a step closer, and Jess moved away. He held up his hands as if in surrender. The manacle on his right wrist pulled tight. “I'm not going to hurt you. Did they say anything after they knocked me out?” He reached up and touched the spot on his head. He winced and pulled his hand away. There was fresh blood on his fingers.

  Jess shrugged. “They used the word traitor, but I didn't understand the rest, something about a police record maybe? I'm not sure.”

  “Not exactly. My real name is Ondrej Dragunov,” he said softly. “God, I haven't used that name in almost five years. I'm an undercover agent with Interpol. I was assigned to infiltrate Aleksandr Volkov's organization. It's taken this long just to get into his inner circle. He asked me along on this trip because of my American ties, or so he claimed.”

  “Well, Agent Dragunov, I think your cover’s been blown,” Jess said dryly.

  Zeff, or Ondrej, whoever the hell he was, chuckled, though there was little humor behind it.

&n
bsp; Nina chose that moment to remind them she was there. “I'm glad you two can flirt and laugh at a time like this. Perhaps you don't realize we're going to die.”

  Damn, she'd missed that memo. Thanks for the 4-1-1, bitch! Jess glared across the room at her. “You know what, if you want to talk, why don't you tell me how the hell Cody got involved in this and supposedly killed Jarred.” She may not have liked him, but Jess knew Cody hadn't deserved to die.

  “Oh, there was no supposed about it. Cody was quite an amazing man, in and out of the bedroom.”

  Ewww. It wasn't that Nina was unattractive. She was a little above average height, maybe five-seven, and slender. She had sable-colored hair and hazel eyes. She was still pretty for a woman in her early fifties, but she was old enough to be Cody's mother. Jess blinked. Holy Shit! Was she who Cody had been with the other night?

  “Cody met a girl while attending university in California. The woman who was killed in the accident.”

  “Myla,” Jess said.

  Nina waved her off. “I never knew her name. I only know what Cody told me, so shut up and listen.”

  Jess arched an eyebrow at Ondrej, who shrugged.

  Nina leaned against the wall and folded her arms. “Myla was ordered to befriend Oksana and get Ivaylo—the tattooed man—access to the house without my son there. Once that happened, they called Krysin and made a demand.” She shrugged. “He didn’t meet it, so they killed the boy and gave him another hour. When he didn’t meet that deadline, they killed the oldest girl and gave him one last hour. Of course, my son came home too soon, and they ran, taking the child with them.

  Nina lifted one foot and removed her heel, tilted it sideways, and let the water pour out of the toe. “When they were far enough away, Ivaylo had Myla dump the baby in a trash dumpster. According to Cody, she went back and found the baby alive. Apparently, she didn’t have the stomach for such things. Since she couldn’t go to the cops, she made plans to get the baby away. Cody claimed she hid the baby in plain sight, right there at the daycare, claiming she was caring for her niece, and no one questioned her about it.”

  Nina did the same to the other shoe. “She found a guy headed to Arizona on one of those Internet bulletin boards. Not knowing who else to turn to, she went to see Cody. She figured he'd help her out.” Nina shook her head. “Cody wanted nothing to do with her, of course.”

  Of course not, why would he want to be involved in saving a kidnapped baby’s life?

  Nina smiled. “She'd blackmailed him. Seemed he'd gotten drunk one night and killed someone in a hit and run. He'd never been caught, but Myla had been in the car and sober enough to remember. Cody said that's when he hatched his plan. He'd get rid of Jarred who'd usurped his place by marrying you, and get rid of Myla and the kid at the same time.”

  Jess’s stomach churned. God, why had she never seen Cody for the monster he was?

  “So what was the plan?” Ondrej asked when Nina didn’t say more.

  Nina looked disdainfully down her nose at him and directed the answer to Jess. “Cody told Myla he was taking her to a safehouse, had the vehicle follow him, and then ran them off the road. He hiked down to make sure they were both dead, then called 9-1-1. Cody had taken the baby with him, so that he could ensure she survived the accident to lure Jarred down the hill without waiting for backup.”

  Jess couldn’t stop the gasp from escaping. Good Lord!

  Nina studied her for a moment, then motioned toward Gracie. “He planted the kid when the fire truck arrived, popped the gas tank, and lit the insulation under the hood. Then he stood back and watched it all go down. As you American's say, the rest is history.”

  Cody had killed Jarred, Myla, some poor guy who'd given a woman and a baby a ride, and an innocent person in a hit and run while he had been drunk. He’d planned on killing Gracie in the explosion. As if all of that wasn’t bad enough, he’d expected to profit from it all by marrying Jess and getting access to blood money. God, she was going to be sick.

  FOURTY-ONE

  “How the fuck can there be no sign of them?” Kayne paced Trace's office. Three steps, turn. Three steps, turn back.

  They'd had a showdown with the Alphabet-Soup agents. The Special-Agent-in-Charge had still been reluctant to share until Rafe stood, slammed his palms down on the table, and leaned forward to glower at them one by one. “Don't fucking make me call my daddy.” At which he got a round of blank stares.

  “My last name is Chatham. Rafe, short for Rafael.”

  Holy shit, Rafael Chatham was a member of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Everyone started talking at once. Unfortunately, all they had was a laundry list of Volkov's crimes. Human Trafficking, Drug Trafficking, Arms Trafficking, Financing known terrorist groups…the list went on and on. But the image Kayne couldn't get out of his mind was the video they'd played that showed the brutal rape and murder of a fourteen-year-old child, the daughter of one of Volkov's enemies. There were twenty-seven similar incidents that the task force knew of having taken place in the last five years. And yet, when all was said and done, they admitted they didn't have a clue where he was. Kayne had been surprised to learn, that aside from the rapes, Krysin’s file hadn’t been much better.

  “We're looking everywhere, Kayne,” Trace assured as Joe Sutton slipped in the door. “If we could get a little cooperation from the telephone company, it would be nice.”

  “Still no sign of them?” Joe leaned against the wall.

  “Nothing, the phone isn’t sending out a signal. The bastards at the phone company can't give us a last location without a warrant. Even then, they say it can take up to twenty-four hours for the system to spit out an answer. Christ, they don't have that much time.”

  Kayne pounded his fist against the wall in frustration.

  “Judge Johnson signed it, right?” Joe nodded to the warrant on Trace’s desk.

  “Yeah, it was faxed over twenty minutes ago.” Rafe smiled. “Should have seen the secret agents. Looked like fish out of water with their mouths going and nothing coming out, because it took all of five minutes to get a warrant signed on a Sunday afternoon.”

  “Damn it, I'm on hold, again.” Trace gave a heavy sigh.

  “So how long do you think it will take for the boys in there to realize who your daddy really is?” Trace asked.

  Kayne turned around in time to catch Rafe's shrug. The room was getting too crowded to pace. “Your father isn't Rafael Chatham?” Kayne stared at him in disbelief.

  “Oh, no, I told the truth. My father was Rafael Chatham, the rancher. Born, raised and buried in Payson, Arizona.”

  “Adding poker to the list of things not to do with you,” Kayne grumbled. Rafe was a lot like him, Kayne realized. Or like he had been before Jess. A little reckless, a little on the edge, easy to be when there was no one to live for and nothing to lose.

  Rafe shrugged. “It's all in how you write the report. They just assumed I was talking about that Rafael Chatham. It's not my fault they made asses of themselves.”

  Kayne glanced at the clock. It had been four hours since Jess and Gracie were kidnapped. “I need to check on my kids.” Kayne stopped, leaned against the wall, and slid to the floor, having long since pulled his duty belt and vest off. “What the fuck do I tell them?” he asked of the four men standing in front of him.

  Rafe crouched in front of him. “The truth. We're going to find their mom and sister and bring them home. You have to believe that. Those kids need to go to bed tonight believing that. Even if it's the last night they get to believe. They deserve it.”

  Kayne nodded once and closed his eyes for a moment. Memories assailed him. All those nights of being with Jess as they made their rounds—bedtime stories, listening to their children pray, because they still believed in a merciful God who performed miracles.

  He thought of all the nights they'd made their way downstairs, sometimes making it to bed, other times barely making it behind the closest lockable door before he had his way with her. He loved her so
much it hurt. He'd been convinced he'd lost his soul, but she'd given him half of hers. He'd thought his heart was so broken he could never love again, but she'd sewn it back together stitch by precious stitch, and taken it for herself, giving him hers in return. She was his North Star and without her, he'd never be able to find his way home again.

  And sweet, sweet Gracie…She'd cheated death twice. Would her luck hold a third time? He'd barely started getting to know her. He wasn't ready to give her up. He'd never be ready, but especially not now.

  Kayne heard the door open and looked up to see Dr. Mark Oberly walk in. “What can I do to help?” he asked.

  Kayne smiled weakly. “No offense, Doc, but I hope to God we don't need you.”

  “None taken, and I'm not here in a medical capacity, at least not entirely. Look, I know you have a shitload of uniforms crawling all over the place, but I'd like to help. This goes nowhere outside this room, but I wasn't just some doctor patching up guys in an army hospital over there. I was embedded with one of the SpecWar teams.”

  It was only then that Kayne realized Mark was wearing a long-sleeved, black shirt, BDU pants, and boots.

  “I didn't know gynecologists were in such high demand on an all-male team,” Rafe said dryly.

  Mark saluted him with his middle finger.

  Kayne shook his head and pulled his cell phone out. They were all fucking crazy. And they were all here for him.

  Ash answered on the first ring. “Do you have them, Papa? Are they okay?” His voice was full of youthful excitement.

  Kayne closed his eyes, fighting to swallow the lump in his throat. God, his chest hurt. Maybe it was a good thing Mark was here—he might be having a heart attack. He cleared his throat several times before he could speak. “We're still looking for them.”

  “They weren't with the phone?” His disappointment was clear.