Ricochet (Out for Justice Book 1)

by Reese Knightley

  “What exactly about Manning and your mother?” Mac’s eyebrows rose.

  “I don’t know. Apparently, there’s more to the story,” he told Mac, then turned to Stefano. “Are you finally going to tell me?”

  Stefano sighed and nodded. “We knew of you when you entered WITSEC. When you started sending out job applications to other agencies, we snapped you up before anyone else could.”

  “Who’s we and what do you mean, you knew of me?”

  “Our FBI liaison called and said the name of Noah Brandenburg suddenly appeared in their data base in 2009.”

  “That’s the year we rescued Noah,” Mac said quietly.

  “Yes. Of course, his name was entered as Noah Brandenburg-Brown-Bradford, but we knew who he was,” Stefano said.

  “Why the hell would the FBI have an alert on my name?”

  “It was programmed into their system at the time of your birth. For protection purposes. We thought you were killed at the age of eleven. Imagine our surprise when your name popped up in the system six years later.”

  “That still doesn’t answer why my name was flagged.” Noah frowned. “And how did Manning get involved?” Keeping his eyes on Stefano, Noah moved his thumb in a slow caress over the top of Mac’s hand.

  Stefano looked away for a moment, then took a deep breath. “Your name was flagged because you are the son of a very powerful man. Manning is involved because he kidnapped you and staged your death before we could retrieve you.”

  “But why did he kill my mother?”

  Noah felt Mac’s hand slip over his and he turned his hand over and weaved their fingers together.

  “Because of your father,” Stefano went on. “It gave Manning great joy to inform Giovanni Rossi that you were dead.”

  “My father?” Noah’s heart thumped. Giovanni Rossi was his father’s name. His brain finally caught up. “Wait, I don’t have a father.”

  “Yes, you do,” his commander said.

  “He wasn’t listed on my birth certificate.” Noah squeezed Mac’s hand to ground himself.

  Stefano looked surprised. “It’s on there. Didn’t you check?”

  “No, not me…” Noah looked at Mac, who in turn looked away, swallowed, and looked back, holding his gaze. He clearly remembered the day Mac told him no father was listed on his birth certificate.

  He saw Mac’s throat move as the man swallowed hard. And when Mac looked at him, Noah saw the truth.

  “What the fuck?” Noah dropped Mac’s hand as if he’d been stung.

  “I’m sorry, I thought it was best,” Mac murmured.

  “You thought it was best?” Noah growled through his teeth.

  “I did, and I thought after all these years, you would have figured it out,” Mac explained, infuriating Noah.

  “And that excuses your lies?” Noah narrowed his eyes.

  “No! Of course not.” Mac looked worried. “So, you didn’t ever look?”

  Something cold and angry slithered through his gut, and he sat forward. “No, Mac. I didn’t look,” Noah said between clenched teeth. “You told me that you checked and he wasn’t listed. I trusted you,” he said savagely.

  Mac paled. “Noah…”

  He suddenly couldn’t breathe. “You fucking lied to me.”

  “I’m sure the marshal had his reasons,” Stefano interjected.

  “Don’t defend him!” Noah snapped. Standing, he whirled on Mac. “Who is he?”

  “Giovanni Rossi, military Special Ops, I believe,” Mac answered quickly.

  “That’s not necessarily true,” Stefano piped up. “At least, not now.”

  Noah stared at them both before swiftly moving to the counter to jam his cup in the sink. He took several deep breaths in the suddenly silent kitchen.

  “Did he know about me when I was growing up?” Staring out the window, he kept his back to them. He couldn’t keep the anger from his voice.

  “Your father knew about you, Noah. Mia was pregnant when he left for the military. He wanted to stay, but she begged him to go. She gave birth to you, and you both lived with your grandparents. They were killed when you were two. Your father sent money to your mother, he offered to come back, but by that time, she had already married Ricky Stevenson. Your father honored your mother’s wishes to stay away, but he never knew of your stepfather’s abuse. Mia hid that from him. She would send him pictures of you and updates. He showed me the last picture she sent. You were age ten.”

  Whirling around, he stared at Stefano. “So if he’s not Special Ops, what is he?”

  Stefano glanced between him and Mac and then sighed. “Your father left Special Ops and became instrumental in domestic and international security,” Stefano said evasively.

  “How does Manning fit into all this?” Noah asked, still clenching his teeth.

  “Terrance Manning is the head of an international drug and sex trafficking ring,” Stefano said.

  “So, Terrance Manning isn’t just your run-of-the-mill drug lord?” Mac asked.

  “No, Marshal.” Stefano rubbed at his chin.

  “Why did he kill my mother?” Nothing was making sense.

  Stefano gave a heavy sigh. “The story goes back to what happened between Manning and your father.”

  Noah crossed his arms. “And?”

  “Many years ago, Terrance Manning and your father crossed paths,” Stefano admitted. “Your father killed Manning’s son.”

  “Why?”

  “Manning Jr. was into some very bad dealings. Jr. was running one of his father’s human trafficking rings out of France. The primary source of humans came from the U.S. Your father put an end to it.”

  “But what does that have to do with my mother?” Noah frowned in confusion.

  “After the death of his son, Manning found out about you and your mother. He killed Mia before Rossi could get back to the states. He sent your father a picture of the charred remains of your mother. He boasted to your father that you were both burned alive inside the house.” Stefano took a sip of coffee, his gaze troubled.

  “But I wasn’t,” Noah said softly.

  “No. Instead, Manning gave Stevenson enough money to set up a state-side operation, take you, change your last name, and disappear.”

  “So Manning took a picture of my mother, but not me. He just believed Manning when he said I was dead?” His father didn’t sound too bright.

  “No, your father flew out to the States, but by that time, the police chief had found not only your mother’s remains, but also the remains of a small, male child in the ashes. Stevenson even showed up at the funeral as a grieving husband and father. Rossi was there, at the funeral, but he stayed on the outskirts, hoping that Manning would come, but he didn’t. He had no reason to ever think that Manning had kept you alive.”

  “Until we found him,” Mac added, and Stefano nodded.

  “How the hell did my fa… er, this Rossi guy not know that Stevenson worked for Manning?”

  “At first, your father didn’t know about Manning and Stevenson’s connection. Remember, Stevenson played the grieving husband and father at the funeral. A year later, Rossi found out about their connection while investigating Manning. But by that time, Stevenson had disappeared.”

  “Hasn’t Rossi been searching for Manning all these years? I find it hard to believe that Rossi hasn’t found Manning before now,” Mac interjected.

  “And you Marshals and the FBI have had so much success,” Stefano countered smoothly.

  Mac’s lips tightened. But before the man could respond to Stefano’s verbal jab, Noah cut in.

  “So, my father thought I was dead.”

  “Yes, Terrance Manning spared no expense in making sure Rossi would never suspect you were alive. And he got away with it until your name was entered in the Marshals’ database.”

  “So this guy murders my mother and stages my death.” Noah met his commander’s gaze, and the man nodded.

  “And although your father thought you to be dead al
l those years, he never stopped hunting for those bastards.” Stefano threw Mac a dark look.

  “It doesn’t make sense. Why didn’t Manning kill me? Why keep me alive and groom me to be his second-in-command?” Noah asked.

  “It didn’t start out that way. I’m sure Manning thought to torture you and then kill you.”

  “He did torture me in the beginning,” Noah said, frowning.

  “I think eventually, Manning decided a son for a son.” Stefano nodded, looking sympathetic. “He was hoping to turn you toward a life of crime. Which would be the ultimate revenge on your father.”

  “So that’s why Manning changed his technique,” Noah said in understanding. That part had always puzzled him.

  “That’s what I think,” Stefano agreed.

  “Does Manning know I’m an operative?”

  “No, he knew you were in WITSEC, until Stevenson turned up dead. Now he thinks you’re on the run.”

  “Good.” Noah smiled tightly. Manning would never see him coming. “I’m the one thing he wants above everything. I’m the ultimate revenge against the man who killed his son.”

  What a clusterfuck. Mac had lied, and Stefano had kept secrets. He couldn’t even bring himself to say a word. He just turned and opened the back door and walked out.

  Shutting the door with a click, he shoved his hands into his pockets and started down the walkway that wrapped around the house. He felt sad that his father was some big wig ex-military guy and hadn’t even bothered to reach out.

  He tripped over a raised portion of the walkway and caught himself. Stepping off the concrete and into the snow, he headed toward a small bench that sat nestled beneath trees bare of their leaves. Brushing the snow from the bench, he took a seat. It was cold, but he was used to the cold.

  He wasn’t as upset with Stefano as he was with Mac. Mac had deliberately lied to his face. Noah remembered how much he’d hoped to have a father on that damned certificate. A parent to come and love him.

  A twig snapped, and Noah glanced up to find Mac approaching from the back of the house. The man’s gaze was wary, his approach cautious. Good. Mac should be careful! Noah narrowed his eyes and held Mac’s troubled gaze.

  “How much do you hate me right now?” Mac’s voice was hoarse and deep. Noah knew that raspy tone was a sign Mac was upset. He had memorized the inflections in Mac’s voice when he’d been younger. It had become a passion of Noah’s because of his love of languages and voices, and Mac.

  “I don’t hate you.” Noah sighed. Hate Mac? No, he wanted to throttle the guy, but he could never hate him.

  “Okay. How pissed are you?”

  “Very.”

  “I’m so sorry, Noah.”

  “Do you remember when I taught you to speak some French?” Noah asked.

  “I remember.” Mac nodded, looking surprised.

  “And you used it to try and set me up with that French girl at the local store near the house.” Noah continued when Mac’s lip curled just a bit.

  Mac had tried to ask the teenage girl at the store if she would go out with Noah. Instead, the phrase had been: Would you date my uncle’s goat?

  “I was so pissed and hurt at you because you completely missed what I was trying to do.”

  “And what was that?” Mac looked confused.

  “I wanted us to have something in common.” Noah felt his throat grow tight. “Something that was just for us.”

  “Noah…”

  “You sucked at the language,” Noah teased, slipping his hands into the side pockets of his sweats. “But that didn’t matter to me, and I forgave you because you were all I could see,” Noah admitted.

  He held up a hand when Mac took a step forward, and the marshal stopped.

  “I’ve been hanging on to that feeling while I’ve sat out here thinking over the possible scenarios that would cause you to lie to me.”

  Mac’s dark hair curled and lifted in the wind, and Noah longed to brush it back from the man’s forehead. So that was exactly what he did. He stood. Stepping closer, he saw Mac tense, then relax when his fingers brushed the hair back. He held Mac’s gaze.

  “You did it to protect me. I’m not sure why, but I’m sure of that, if anything.” The relief that swam in Mac’s icy gaze took Noah’s breath away. “I wish you would have told me.”

  “I had to make a judgment call,” Mac admitted, swallowing hard. His abrupt and somewhat stoic marshal struggled with words at times. When Mac’s hands came up slowly and clasped almost tentatively at his waist, Noah stepped closer. “I needed to have you hidden away.” And Noah guessed that the US Marshals couldn’t have a father interfering with WITSEC. Normally, families went in the program together, but since his father was off the radar, they probably figured it was better to leave Giovanni Rossi out of it.

  “What is done, is done. Don’t lie to me again,” Noah demanded, running his hands up Mac’s good arm and over his shoulder. Mac closed one arm around him, and Noah let himself be pulled close for a moment.

  “I won’t,” Mac promised.

  Taking Mac’s hand, he locked their fingers together and drew him back toward the house. They needed to figure out the next plan of attack.

  “Give me your phone,” Noah ordered as they walked, and the marshal didn’t argue. When he had both phones, he sent the picture of Anderson and Stevenson along with the list via text. When Mac’s phone pinged, he handed it back.

  “That’s a list I took from Ricky Stevenson’s phone.”

  “What kind of list?” Mac frowned, looking at his phone.

  “Stevenson told me before he died that it’s a list of people Manning keeps tabs on. He said if I wanted Manning, I should pay a visit to each person on that list,” Noah stated, holding Mac’s gaze.

  A line appeared between Mac’s brows. “Why do you think Stevenson told you that?”

  “I don’t know. He never did get a chance to talk to Manning again, but I have my theories.”

  “So then, Manning visits the people on the list and what, tells them to keep their mouths shut?” Mac muttered.

  “I’m thinking he might be using the people on the list to help look for me.”

  Manning would use any resource necessary to accomplish whatever job was needed. The list was Manning’s way of keeping his own private army on hand.

  “So, that’s how you knew about Betty Mae,” Mac murmured, his finger scrolling through the list.

  Noah nodded. “Manning sent men to her house to threaten her. I don’t know with what, because they didn’t have a chance to talk to her before I arrived.”

  “I can’t figure out why Manning would be searching for you in San Diego and not Ventura,” Mac wondered.

  “Me neither. It’s not like I provided a trail to there,” Noah agreed. It was a mystery, one he’d get to the bottom of before this was finished.

  “These are only names. Do you have addresses?”

  “Yeah, we found several locations to match the names on the list and it looks like they stretch from here all the way up the west coast into Washington.”

  Stefano had gone when they returned to the house, which didn’t surprise Noah. The man was known for his disappearing acts. Stefano could run, but Noah would find him and get more answers about his father. For now, Noah had bigger game to catch.

  It was later, after dinner, when Noah sat nestled into one end of the couch. Mac sat a few cushions over. Noah had his feet in Mac’s lap, and the marshal was rubbing one big, warm hand over them.

  “So, besides intimidating the people on that list, Manning might have another agenda,” Noah surmised.

  “You mean besides killing you?” Mac drawled.

  Noah snorted. “Yeah, besides killing me.”

  Mac quirked a brow in question.

  “To best my father.”

  Mac

  Noah had gone quiet, and Mac didn’t like it because he couldn’t get a read on the man. The flight back to California was uneventful. They sat side by side in coa
ch, and Noah buried himself in his email on his phone while Mac looked out the window.

  He felt like he’d gained a few gray hairs when Noah had walked out earlier. Thank God, the man had understood why he’d lied. Or at least, forgave him. Stefano had dropped a bomb about why Manning had taken Noah and killed Mia.

  A car met them at San Diego International Airport and took them to a safe house not far from his own beach house. The house, Noah assured him, was one his team used and was perfectly safe. Mac still felt leery about coming back to his hometown, but Noah seemed to think the bad guys wouldn’t look for them here. Mac wasn’t so sure. They kept their move quiet. Jake and Scott Buller were the only ones from his office that knew they were back. And Noah’s unit. He’d tried to ask Noah about them, but the man was pretty damned closed mouthed, so Mac didn’t press.

  Mac’s heart almost pounded out of his chest and his coffee sloshed over the rim of his cup. “Fight at Tent City?”

  “Yeah,” Jake said, taking a seat in the safe house’s living room.

  Tent City, San Diego’s homeless crisis. Too many people losing their homes were living on the streets.

  “Which one?” Numerous tents had gone up around the city.

  Jake looked at the alert on his phone. “It says seventeenth near J Street. In the East Village.”

  Scrolling through Manning’s list, Mac spotted the fourth name of one Martha Barnes, homeless in San Diego.

  Mac stood and pulled on his coat. “Let’s check it out.”

  Jake glanced up quickly. “You know the boss said to take it easy and lay low. You are injured,” Jake repeated.

  Mac scowled, heading for the door. US Marshals didn’t lay low. “I’m going. You can stay.”

  “Right.” His partner stood and grabbed his jacket. “Let’s check it out.”

  Noah had something to take care of that afternoon and had slipped out earlier. Mac didn’t like it one bit, but he respected the man’s need to do his job. He worried. His arms ached to hold Noah, and they’d only parted an hour ago.

  When they arrived at the crime scene, his heart did a strange dance in his chest when he spotted a familiar figure leaning against the front of an FBI vehicle. He’d recognize that bright blond head anywhere. There was also a dark-haired, dangerous hulk of a man shadowing Noah, and Mac didn’t like it.