Destruction (Out for Justice Book 4)

by Reese Knightley

A group of soldiers had just returned from battle and one stood out so much so, he’d stopped in the middle of the base’s mess hall. While his own military uniform had been pressed, new, and unblemished, Alex’s had been wrinkled, dusty, and stained with blood. The group of men had jostled by him, joking with each other, grabbing food to wolf down.

  Alex hadn’t even noticed him.

  As fate would have it, he caught his next glimpse of Alex when Micah had just left boot camp and attended a medal ceremony for some of the soldiers. It was there that Alex had been awarded a silver star for bravery.

  Again, Micah couldn’t look away. He moved from his chair and into the man’s line of sight. When his eyes met Alex’s for the first time, it felt as if a grenade had gone off.

  Roscoe called for attention, bringing him back to the present meeting.

  He darted another glance toward Alex, but this time, the man avoided looking in his direction. He rubbed at the back of his neck, suddenly irritated all over again that Alex refused to even discuss selling the house beyond the few clipped words.

  Chief Rossi entered the room and walked to the front. “We have a few new faces in the crowd. As most of you know, Logan Cobalt and his security team have moved into the building.”

  Rossi nodded at Logan. “Logan’s team is designed to handle a number of problems ranging from security to search and rescue. There’s one significant difference between them and us. They work strictly for the private sector; we work with both the private sector and law enforcement.”

  “Anything to add?” Rossi asked the man.

  Logan stood; powerful, confident. The man’s piercing eyes traveled over the room. “Respect each other and you’ll have no problems with us. That said, my door is always open if any of you need anything.”

  Logan resumed his seat. The chief then settled into a chair near the front of the room.

  Roscoe stood and brought up a video clip on the wide monitor that hung on the wall. “This is a video taken at LAX Lash was able to get his hands on.”

  Micah, along with the room, watched the men on the clip walk through the airport.

  “Fear, do you recognized him?” Roscoe asked and paused the video on two men.

  Alex tipped his head.

  “The one on the right goes by the name of Leonid Medved. But he usually travels under a few aliases. He’s known in the Russian crime organization as Mez. He worked as Viktor Lakhonin’s right-hand man for ten years before he left. Mez dropped out of sight. I can tell you that Vladimir is probably paying through the nose for him. Mez doesn’t come cheap. He’s a man you don’t want roaming our streets. His specialty is torture, and the younger the better.”

  “Fuck,” Storm scowled.

  “Mez.” Roscoe nodded as he scanned a piece of paper in his hands. “We have him entering the country under the alias of Frank Neller.”

  “Any idea of where Mez went when he left the airport?” Alex asked.

  “No,” Roscoe said. “We picked up a license plate on the outside cameras, but it ended up being a stolen plate.”

  “Who gave you the clip?” Alex turned to him.

  “A contact told me that Vladimir was recruiting. Yesterday, he sent me that,” Micah replied.

  “The video is a month old.” Roscoe pointed to the date and time stamp. “That means Mez entered the country not long after my house was hit.”

  “It appears that Vladimir is stepping up his game,” Wild said from his spot next to Storm.

  “I doubt Vladimir knows what he’s taken on if he hired Mez.” Alex said.

  “Let’s hope that’s the case and they don’t hit it off,” Micah replied quietly. A murmur of agreement swept the room.

  “Let’s hope,” Alex echoed.

  “Fear was able to obtain a photo of Boris Petrov. He’s the man walking next to Mez at LAX.” Roscoe pointed to Petrov’s face on the screen. “He is Vladimir Lakhonin’s right-hand man.”

  Roscoe fast forwarded the clip to a minute later and paused it. “And here I give you Wyatt Hughes aka Jagger Miller, people.”

  Micah sat forward and studied the grainy face of a man walking several yards behind Mez and Petrov.

  “Some of you may remember him during the hunt for Yakov. Jagger was suspected of tripping a thug off the front porch and saving me from a bullet. We suspected that the guy was undercover. However, we haven’t been able to locate any agency the man may be working for. Looking at him here along with Petrov and Mez, Miller might be working for Vladimir,” Roscoe finished.

  “He’s walking further behind them. You can’t conclude that he’s working for them by that,” Alex said, and Micah silently agreed.

  “True but whether he is or isn’t, he’s in their vicinity. We need him brought in for questioning,” Roscoe said, and then glanced at Rossi.

  “Chief?”

  The chief nodded and stood. The man walked to stand at the front. The chief had his and everyone’s full attention. The man’s shoulders were braced with the heavy weight he carried. Micah wished he could lighten it, but his own load was overwhelming. Rossi took a deep breath.

  “To the new people here, some of you are probably wondering what the hell is going on. Why won’t the Lakhonin family quit?” Rossi paused and looked over everyone in the room. “I killed Gustov Lakhonin’s grandson, Junior.” The chief told the complete story for the benefit of Logan Cobalt’s team.

  “In short,” Rossi continued. “They’re trying to use people I care about to get to me. More than just the team’s lives are affected here. They are going after our families. That means that every person in this room could potentially come under fire from Vladimir or whomever he’s hired.”

  People looked around at each other for several minutes and then the room grew quiet as Rossi continued standing at the front of the room. The man took a deep breath and blew it out.

  “There’s more to this story, but the rest will come from someone else.”

  “What do you mean?” Wild asked.

  “Just what I said.” Rossi narrowed his eyes.

  Micah carefully looked around the room. He could have heard a pin drop. He glanced back up front and froze. Rossi was looking right at him.

  Micah stood. This was his chance. His heart pounded and hands grew clammy when all eyes shifted to him.

  “It’s me.”

  Storm spoke slowly. “What do you mean, it’s you?” the sniper rumbled.

  “The rest is my story.” He clenched his teeth hard, drew in a breath, and tried to speak, but he couldn’t get the words out. He looked around the room. The faces of his team were expectant.

  Now that he was faced with and allowed the freedom to tell them everything, he suddenly couldn’t say a damned word.

  “I’m sorry,” he said roughly, and then walked quickly from the room.

  “Micah!” Alex’s voice followed him.

  The soldier caught up with him in the hallway and took ahold of his arm. Micah stopped abruptly, but kept his face angled away.

  “Rossi gave you the okay to tell them.”

  “I know!” Micah ground the words out.

  “Talk to me.”

  He shook Alex off, but the man latched his hand on his bicep again and tried to draw him close. “Don’t take me hugging you in the airport out of context!”

  “Jesus, Micah. Hot and cold.” Alex stopped trying to draw him close, but still held his arm. The man narrowed his eyes at him and then sighed. “I can’t keep up. I don’t know what you want.”

  “I told you what I want, but you just won’t listen,” he snapped.

  Hurt filled Alex’s eyes and he had to look away.

  “I don’t want to sell the house,” the man said firmly. “And I’m pretty damned sure you don’t want to either.”

  “Don’t tell me what I want!”

  “Someone needs to.”

  He yanked his arm from the man’s grasp.

  “Not you,” he spat and walked away.

  Alex

&nb
sp; He stepped outside of the building and walked a few feet away from the back door and leaned against the brick wall. Taking a deep breath, he slowly let it out. He must have been out of his fucking mind coming back here, thinking things had changed. The man was right. He had taken their hug out of context. Well, aren’t you the fool. Fuck.

  Lighting a smoke, he took a deep pull and surveyed the area. It was fenced off with a massive eight foot wall with barbed wire at the top. Alarms were built into the structure to keep curious onlookers out of the back area. After the recent attacks on the unit, Chief Rossi had ordered the wall built so once they passed the security gate, they couldn’t be seen from the outside world.

  Movement from his right caught him off guard. He flicked his cigarette and had enough time to duck before an arm swung out. He came up fast and blocked the arm before it could withdraw and heard a satisfying grunt. His other hand came up with a jab that was blocked.

  A series of jabs and blows ensued, each hit glancing and striking. Alex easily dodged a leg sweep. They fought, becoming winded. The back door banged open and people spilled out, surrounding them.

  Alex almost smirked. He didn’t bother to look. Everyone was still, quiet as if holding their breath. The only sound other than his breathing and that of his opponent was the slap of skin when each jab was blocked. Alex dodged a blow aimed at his head and reached in quickly to slap the guy on the cheek.

  The man growled and came again, and Alex dodged in again and slapped the man’s other cheek.

  Now he was just playing.

  “You fucking suck.” The tone was disgusted.

  Alex laughed loudly, braced his hands on his hips, and stood, breathing hard.

  Frost, breathing just as hard, held out his hand. The man’s grasp was hard and firm. He clasped it back just as hard and pulled one of his oldest best friends into a tight hug.

  A smattering of applause from the vicinity of the door drew Alex’s gaze.

  “I thought for sure I’d win this time. What with you fuckin’ smoking cigarettes,” Frost groused playfully.

  “You smoke,” he pointed out.

  “Nah, I quit.”

  “Well, I only have one when I’m stressed and I’m rarely stressed,” Alex said.

  “Liar,” Frost smirked.

  Alex shrugged with a laugh. “Quit your bitching, you won last time.”

  “Wait…You two go way back, don’t you?” Reggie asked from the doorway.

  Alex only nodded with a smirk.

  “We’ve done a few missions together.” Frost slapped Reggie on the shoulder and headed back through the door.

  “Wait…” The techie jogged after Frost heading inside. “I want to hear the story. What mission?” Their voices trailed off as the door banged shut behind them.

  Wild chuckled, leaning against the wall next to him. “You’re fucking fast.”

  “Thanks.” Alex picked up his cigarette from the pavement and relit the end.

  “I haven’t seen many men take on Frost and win. Wait, I haven’t seen any, now that I think about it.” Wild chuckled and rubbed his hands together. “Just wait until I spread the news.”

  “Where’d you learn to fight?” One of the bodyguards asked from nearby. A few of Cobalt’s men had been leaning against the wall a few feet from them. Alex had noticed them come out from the back door, but hadn’t had a chance to introduce himself. Only two remained when the fight was over.

  “And you are?” Wild turned to the one that spoke and beat him to the introduction.

  “Hayden Thorne.” One of the good looking, muscled bodyguards stepped forward and shook first Wild’s hand and then his. “This is Ryder,” Hayden said when the other man didn’t speak. Ryder nodded, but didn’t offer a hand. The man stood with his arms folded against a ripped chest and one shoulder leaning against the brick wall.

  “You’ve got some moves on you.” Hayden grinned.

  Alex chuckled. “I spent a few years learning to fight in Japan.”

  “One of the first places I visited when I got my passport was two weeks in Japan,” Hayden laughed. “I loved it.”

  “Me too. It was some of the best times in my life.”

  “How long were you there?” the man asked him.

  “Eight years.”

  “How did you end up in Japan?” came from Wild this time.

  “My mom. She’s retired now, but she taught English.”

  “And that’s where you learned to fight,” Wild said.

  Alex nodded. “Yep. When I was eleven, I got a job after school working at a local monastery cleaning floors and bathrooms in exchange for teaching from the head monk.”

  Wild smiled with a huff. “That sounds brutal.”

  Alex chuckled. “It wasn’t too bad.” He made light of the extensive and harsh training.

  “So, what are your plans? Are you sticking around?” Wild asked.

  “I don’t know yet,” he hedged, thinking of Micah. “But one thing is for sure, catching Vladimir is at the top of my list.”

  “Before my family was threatened, I would have said I’m all for bringing him in. Now, I just want him dead,” Wild said.

  “I want to have a chat with him first,” he said.

  Wild laughed, obviously thinking he was kidding, but Alex wasn’t.

  “You seriously should think about joining us for good,” Wild said with a grin. Before he could answer, a voice from the door called out.

  “Hey? You guys coming in or are you going to stand out here and yak all night?” Storm growled from the door, and Wild flashed the sniper a quick smile and stalked up to the man to wrap his arms around the giant’s neck and smack a kiss onto his lips.

  “Behave,” Storm grumbled to Wild, but Alex could tell the man dug the hell out of it.

  “Hey, you two,” Roscoe’s voice floated out the back door. “Save that for later. And dinner’s ready, guys. I made chili.”

  Hayden stepped around them. “I’m freaking starving,” the bodyguard said and disappeared inside. Alex looked around, but Ryder was nowhere to be found and he wondered when the guy had slipped away.

  “Oh! Chili!” Wild linked arms with Storm and glanced back at him.

  Alex chuckled, shaking his head. “Make my apologies.”

  Micah

  Meeting, hurry up! Situation room, the one upstairs. We’ve found something.

  The text was a surprise, not only because they’d found something, but that Alex had sent it. After their earlier exchange, it was the last thing he’d expected. He jogged up the stairs and pushed open the upstairs situation room door.

  The voices stopped when he entered the room. All eyes turned in his direction, and he knew without a doubt they’d been talking about him.

  He searched for Alex and held the man’s hooded gaze for a moment before he advanced into the room.

  Storm, Wild, and Seth were sitting at the table with a stack of papers and spreadsheets laid out. Roscoe, Allison, and Frost were studying something on a computer screen. Rush and Noah both were working at terminals sitting on a table along the wall.

  The gang was all here, except for Rossi and Stefano.

  Micah returned Roscoe’s nod before glancing at the table. Curiously, he stepped forward.

  Alex handed him several sheets from the table before turning back to the laptop on the desk. Micah glanced down quickly at the papers.

  “Another CCR bank account?” His eyebrows rose. His eyes swept over the information. He’d known about the CCR financials from the bust in Texas, but these were new.

  “How did you get this?” He glanced over at Alex, but it was Reggie who answered him.

  “From that guy, Bob Gordon, the one who cut a deal with the DA.” Reggie stood from his desk and came over. “The guy told us what hotel room Boris Petrov rented for his meetings and I was able to access the hotel’s database and find the payment information.”

  “After a warrant was issued,” Roscoe amended.

  “Right,” Reggie
said with a quick grin. “And once I got the account number, I froze Vladimir’s account.”

  “Ninety nine percent of the transactions on the account are when money is deposited or electronically transferred to a second account. I’m working on getting the second one closed down as we speak. There’s also a few odd withdrawals,” Reggie continued, and nodded to the paper he held.

  He glanced down with a frown. “Odd withdrawals?”

  “Somebody has been making withdrawals from an ATM located at the general store in Hunter’s Point,” Reggie replied.

  “According to the satellite images of Hunter’s Point and we found activity around an old warehouse that has sat vacant for years,” Seth said.

  “Activity?” He turned to look at Seth.

  “Big rigs are coming in and out of there day and night.”

  “From what we can tell, it looks like there’s a transportation hub here,” Frost said as he tapped his finger on a computer monitor that displayed a map of the streets in Hunter’s Point.

  Micah leaned forward to study the evidence.

  “It’s a holding place.” His limbs suddenly felt like lead and he dropped to the chair.

  “That’s what it looks like,” Alex said. “Vladimir may be keeping trafficking victims there.”

  His head whipped around, searching for Alex, but the man avoided his gaze and walked to the table set up with coffee and creamer.

  “Road trip?” Reggie asked, rubbing his hands together.

  “We need to map out a plan and gather resources.” Storm scowled at Reggie’s excitement.

  “What about the big rigs? Shouldn’t we hit it tomorrow and at least identify as many trucks coming in and out of there tonight? We can have the local police sit back on the highway and tag those trucks. They can be followed at that point and arrested later,” Frost said.

  Micah wanted to argue, but what Frost said made sense. “More lives saved and more arrests made,” he murmured.

  “That’s a good idea,” Roscoe said. “We won’t hit it until tomorrow. I’ll make a call to tail every truck coming in and out of Hunter’s Point until we’re on-site. We don’t want cops pulling them over prematurely. That way, they can’t make a call back to their base or alert other truckers.”