Silent Deceit

by Kallie Lane

  “Hold up.” Blue came over her headset. "We'll walk from here."

  “Roger that.” Natasha pulled to a stop, opened the hood and tore through the wiring with her KA-BAR. “I've disabled the cart. Tracks are blocked.”

  "There's nothing like a woman who slices and dices." Skip grinned, tossing her the rifle as he moved ahead of her to take point. A half kilometer further, he whispered into his mic. “Two golf carts on a siding up ahead—and the elevator to access Trailblazer's.”

  Natasha broke into a run to catch up with him. He stepped on the lift first and tried to close the gate, thinking he'd ride solo again. Giving him a shove, she crammed in beside him. "No way. You're stuck with me, pal."

  He rolled his eyes as he punched the button. The car jerked and headed for the top. Her ears strained for sounds of a welcoming committee overhead; not easy to do with Skip puffing like a freight train beside her. She touched his arm, realizing he didn't like the dark, enclosed space. Her hand on his skin seemed to settle his breathing. Overhead, cables and pulleys shrieked the last few feet. Clunking to a stop, Natasha hit her haunches and prepared to open fire. Not a thug in sight, which was strange. Shouldn't someone be watching the back door?

  She whispered into her headset. "Black Hawke, there's no one guarding the tunnel entrance. I wonder where everyone is."

  "Send us the limo and we'll find out."

  She sent the elevator back down for Blue and Max. The whir and screech as it descended scraped Natasha's nerves raw. All she and Skip could do was crouch in the dark, rifles up and ready to fire. She could smell him beside her, his clean sweaty scent. He leaned in and murmured in her ear. "Except for Moshpit, I don't think Deuce's men know about this underground railroad. But, don't kid yourself, there could be alarm bells going off somewhere in the building."

  Blue tried the sat phone again as soon as he reached them. Connecting with Emergency Response, he gave them the green light to hit Trailblazer's. He dialed Rena next to get an update on Deuce. No answer. His jaw clenched in the light from the phone screen. "Where the hell is she?"

  "The sooner we get to her, the better" Skip touched Natasha's shoulder. "Let's go."

  He took the point position again, moving out at a fast clip, the flashlight on his Glock leading the way. With Max behind her, Blue brought up the rear. No one made a sound, infiltrating the enemy like ghosts in the night. Muffled voices filtered down the hallway. A crack of light shone beneath a door. Natasha moved left of the doorframe. Max moved right. Blue readied himself behind Skip. One kick and the door flew off its hinges. Skip and Blue entered the room while she and Max guarded the hallway.

  Skip didn't know what he expected to find, but this wasn't it. Three men shouted in Spanish and scrambled for their weapons, changing their minds damn quick with the M25 pointed at their foreheads. Hitting the floor after Blue’s quick lesson in martial arts, Falcone tossed them for concealed artillery and came up with a couple knives and handguns. He slapped on the flex cuffs, binding their wrists and ankles. Hauled out the sat phone and snapped their photos, sending them over the wire to RCMP headquarters. He added duct tape to their mouths.

  "We're missing one." Skip did a quick inventory of the room—no cupboard, no bathroom, no hidey-holes. Four bunk beds slept in. Four sports bags on the floor, yet only three men. "He's gotta be here."

  "We'll find him." Blue shut the door, leaving the men inside. "Keep going."

  Skip brushed by Natasha. He saw the question in her eyes and answered on instinct. "Zach's not in there."

  She didn't say a word and fell in behind him. God, how he wished he could waylay her fears. He had no time, and no happy ending to tell her, so he kept moving. Another doorway appeared on their left. He listened for voices...nothing. Again, Natasha and Max flanked him and Blue stood over his shoulder. He tried the handle. It gave in his palm. Flipping the light switch, he found himself in a walk-in freezer. Wooden caskets lined the walls. Jesus.

  Blue tapped his shoulder, and he backed out of the room. The time to deal with the dead was later. Right now, they had a job to do. Stop the prick who had put this in motion. Natasha met his gaze when he closed the door. She'd obviously seen the caskets. "Are you okay?"

  Her back ramrod straight and chin held high, she snarled in a low tone. "Let's find the bastard."

  Atta girl.

  The entrance to Trailblazer's led to the wine cellar, the same wall where Deuce and Moshpit had caught him and Natasha after the tree crashed into the bar. Hitting the stairs running, they skirted cases of liquor, chairs stacked in the hallway, and came face-to-face with the team leader of Emergency Response in the bar.

  Ed Galloway and Blue shook hands. "Kingman’s disappeared. By the time we got here, he was long gone. We caught a few stragglers, but I don't think they know anything."

  "Fuck!" Blue's sat phone beeped, and he took the call. He strode back and forth while he listened, raking a hand through his hair.

  Skip eyed the other members of Galloway's team searching behind stacks of tables and flipping open cupboard doors, always moving in tandem. Floodlights shone through the windows from the parking lot. He could hear shouted commands, the sounds of running feet outside the doors. These guys were thorough.

  Blue ended his call. "That was HQ. Facial recognition got hits from the pics of the three men in the tunnel."

  Natasha stared at him. "And?"

  "Columbian muscle," he said. "Working for Alexey Cortez, the most feared drug and arms dealer in Columbia."

  Christ. Skip figured Deuce was smuggling lowlifes into the country now. "You think Cortez is here?"

  "Damn straight." Blue nailed all of them with a glare. "According to my source, things have heated up in Columbia. A couple of hits were put out on Cortez, and he disappeared like the wind. What better place to hide than in a foreign country until things cool down?"

  "And Deuce, having dollar signs for eyeballs, decided to give him a helping hand." Max shook his head. "What do we do now?"

  "We find him!" Blue turned to Galloway. "Have you set up roadblocks and notified the airports?"

  "Done and done." Galloway nodded. "We'll get them."

  "Don't count on it." Blue sucked in a breath, shaking his head. "Kingman and his crew are bikers. They will head across country on the back roads. Stop along the way with gangs Deuce trusts. It's going to take a goddamn miracle to pick up their trail."

  Chapter Nine

  Natasha stood in the freezer room watching Skip pry open lids on caskets. A forensic photographer stood with him, snapping photos of each occupant. Six wooden boxes. Six men dead. Skip's head dropped when he removed the nails on the last coffin. He turned to her, shaking his head.

  "It's Zach, baby." He came forward and tugged her toward him. She took a deep breath, drawing him in to steady herself. "I'm so sorry."

  "Did he suffer?" she asked, wishing she hadn't, and yet needing to know the truth.

  "No." He held her close; probably afraid she would fly to the casket to see for herself. "One shot to the head. He died instantly."

  Oh, Zach! Tears pooled in her eyes, wanting to fall. Screams clogged her throat, making it hard to breathe. She held it all back but couldn't stop the tremors. Each one rattled her bones, shaking her limbs. God, she couldn't fall apart now. She was a cop and needed to stay strong. Skip backed her out of the room, closing the door behind them. And the damn broke, her sobs muffled by his chest. He didn't say anything, just let her cry, telling other cops to "move along" when the curious asked questions.

  How long she cried, she didn't know. But it helped to get it out, especially with Skip surrounding her with his strength and support.

  "Sorry for the meltdown. I’m okay now." She swiped her tears and looked at him. She'd mourn her brother later, after she identified his remains at the morgue, and when she had more privacy. Right now, she was on the clock. "Where's Blue?"

  "The last I saw, he was headed to Rena's apartment." Skip squeezed her nape and headed back into Trail
blazer's. "Let's find them."

  As he opened the outer door to the back lot, the glare of searchlights almost blinded her. Holding a hand up, she shielded her eyes, watching Galloway's team tromp through the woods edging the bar. Natasha could hear dogs out there with their handlers and wondered if Tigz's scent would throw them off.

  She climbed the stairs to Rena's apartment. "I hope her cat won't be upset by all the action."

  "Don't worry." Skip's arm circled her shoulders as he stepped onto the landing beside her. "It's more like the cat will scare the crap out of those hounds."

  "Oh, God!" Natasha stared through the door. Rena's apartment was trashed. She clutched her stomach, afraid she'd be sick. The coffee table was smashed, broken dishes and glass lying on the carpet. Blinds torn from the windows. "What happened?"

  Blue sat on the bed, his head in his hands. "I should never have left her alone."

  "Where is she?" Skip scanned the room as if searching for her body. "Blue, talk to us."

  "She's nowhere." Blue raised his head, his face white as a sheet. "I think Deuce took her with him."

  "It can't be." And yet, what else could have happened to her? Natasha was about to sit on the bed to comfort Blue when Tigz flew through the door. He hopped up beside her CO and lay down beside him.

  Blue gazed at the cat, stroked his fur, and stopped dead. "Jesus...blood...it's all over him."

  Skip closed the door to keep the cat inside. "What do you need, Blue?"

  He stared at both of them, a murderous glint in his eyes. He spoke slowly, his words measured and quiet, a lethal combination when it came to Falcone. "First, find me a crate big enough to put him in. Tigz is a material witness to whatever happened to Rena. He goes with me."

  "Consider it done." Skip nodded to her across the small space. "What else?"

  "Get the forensics team in here from the bar. You stay on top of them. I want this place torn apart until we find evidence. I wanted Deuce Kingman before, but he's just raised the stakes. Now I want him bad. And trust me on this, I will find Rena, if it's the last goddamn thing I do!"

  Skip grabbed Natasha's hand and pulled her out of the apartment. He paused for a minute to kiss her on the stairs. "You holding up okay?"

  "Now that I have you? Yes." She buried her face in his neck, snuggling into his arms. "I think I already knew Zach was dead. And while I'll grieve for him, I know it wasn't my fault."

  "I'm here for you. I hope you know that." Skip cupped her face in his hands. "I'll always be here for you."

  "Same goes," she said. "But first things first. We have to get Rena back.

  "We will, Tas." Skip wrapped an arm around her waist as they headed inside Trailblazer's. "For Blue's sake, as well as hers."

  One Month Later

  "Quick! Close the blinds!" Natasha shed her coat and hung it on a hook by the door.

  "Do you mind if I drop the luggage first?" Skip set the bags on the floor and made quick work of the windows.

  She began to pace their hotel room like a fugitive. Not that he blamed her. Hell, He had a few heart palpitations of his own. Finally, a day off together and they'd spend it in bed. Making love and ordering room service.

  "Did you remember to pay in cash?" She whirled on him, her eyes filled with desperation. "You didn't use a credit card, did you?"

  That did it. He pulled her into him and planted a kiss on her lips before she came up with any more orders. "I paid cash. He won't find us."

  "The phones! I forgot about the phones!" Natasha grabbed her purse and rummaged through it. Pulled out her cell phone, popped off the back and removed the battery. Skip did the same to his.

  "Okay, babe. We're officially on lockdown." He caught her by the wrist and tossed her on the bed, landing beside her. Taking her mouth with his, he lost himself in her taste, in her moaning response. He opened her blouse one button at a time. Unhooked her bra clasp with his teeth, laved and nipped her budded breasts like a starving man. The silky feel of her skin as his hands travelled south electrified him. She arched her hips as he slipped her jeans down her legs. A thong! By God, she's wearing a thong!

  "Now, Skip. Please. I can't wait!"

  To hell with foreplay, this required action. Slipping a finger under the satin, he ripped it off her body. Shed his pants, suited up, and was inside her in under a minute. Another minute and they had hot, sweaty lift off.

  “That was a fabulous entrée, bluebird, but how about we have the main course in the shower?”

  “Honey, I thought you’d never ask!” Natasha wrapped her arms around his neck as he scooped her off the bed and headed for the bathroom.

  Later, Natasha curled into his shoulder, stretching up to kiss the underside of his chin. "I'm sorry I hurried things. I was afraid if we didn't make love, we might not get the chance. Blue's out of control."

  "I hear you." Smoothing his hands in her hair, he kissed her nose. "But who can blame him, Tas? It's been a month with no leads. If you were missing instead of Rena, I'd be freaking insane by now."

  "I know. Still, he's pushing the team too hard." She leaned up on an elbow, rubbing a hand over his chest. "What does it say when we have to hide our tracks to spend a day together?"

  He waggled his eyebrows. "It says we'd better make the most of it. Now, where were we?"

  Natasha giggled and dangled a condom packet between her fingers. "It's time to get busy again. And this time, we won't rush it."

  The bedside phone rang and Skip answered. Listened for a minute and disconnected.

  "Who was that?" Natasha asked. "No one knows we're here."

  "That was Blue." Skip sighed, moving to the side of the bed to drag on his pants. "Seems I forgot to disconnect the GPS on the car."

  Natasha looked shocked at first, and then she laughed. "Time to pack up, big guy. Looks like we're headed home. But after we find Rena, we're flying nonstop to Maui!

  Turn the page for a preview of

  Silent Justice

  The next book in the Black Force Renegades series

  Available in 2013

  One Month Ago

  Blue Falcone loomed in Rena's apartment, taking up all the space between her and the door. A righteous pain in the butt, he ticked off the reasons on one hand—all the whys she must stay hidden until he and his undercover cops took down the gang at Trailblazer's tonight.

  He treated her to a steely stare. "I need eyes on Deuce Kingman, Rena, and you're the logical choice. The club isn't open for business while the roof is being repaired, but you live here, compliments of Kingman. He won't suspect you're keeping tabs on him."

  "And how do I do that while locked up in my apartment?" Rena tossed the phone he handed her on the couch, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at him. Not that he took her seriously. She looked like a train wreck, hair tousled, still sleepy-eyed from a nap, and in rumpled pajamas that had seen better days. Not her best look for an argument with a warrior, but he'd caught her off guard. "I thought we worked well together, and now you're giving me the brush off."

  "You're a confidential informant, Ms. O'Mally, and I need you to do your job. That's what you get paid for." He stepped closer, and she could smell him. His own masculine scent mixed with high-end aftershave. His clothes said biker, but his demeanor right now screamed cop on a mission. He wanted her away from the action, plain and simple. "I'll call you when we're in position. All I want you to do is look out your window. See how many cars are in the parking lot and report anything unusual."

  "Such as a bunch of bad guys running around with guns?" She laughed bitterly. "I should be down there keeping Deuce busy. It's a much better use of my time."

  Falcone grabbed her shoulders and reeled her in, his light blue gaze turning to ice chips. "Don't mess with me, Rena. Kingman is a stone cold killer. He'll slit your throat if he thinks you have anything to do with this. Do what I tell you."

  Releasing her, he strode across the room, opened the door, and stepped over the threshold. As he started down the outside st
airs, he shot a no nonsense look over his shoulder. "Lock up. Shove a bureau in front of the door, and stay safe."

  She watched him vanish into the trees. Stared at the smoky ridge of mountains in the distance and acknowledged the isolation of the place. The perfect location for a high-class biker bar dealing drugs and firearms. But she had never been afraid here before and that wouldn't change, no matter what Falcone said. She knew how to control Kingman.

  Locking up, she moved to the tiny kitchenette to brew a pot of coffee. She might as well stay up, since Blue had wrecked her beauty sleep. Grabbing a quick shower, she toweled off and pulled on sweat pants and a T-shirt, still grumbling about his highhanded tactics. She wasn't on his squad, and she'd do as she damn well pleased.

  A knock sounded at the door. Ah-ha, that's Blue back with an apology. She moved toward it and turned the handle. Kingman and some of his goons stood on the other side. A chill settled over her skin as Falcone's warning rang in her ears.

  "Deuce? What's going on?" He looked like hell, as if he hadn't been to bed in a while. Probably too many 'shrooms in his salad last night. Or too many lines of coke this morning.

  "Who's in there with you?"

  "N-nobody." She lowered her eyes and stared down at her feet. "It's just me and my cat."

  "I think you're lying, O'Mally. One of my guards saw a man sneak in here a while ago." He dragged her out the doorway by an arm, snapping his fingers at his men. "Get in there and look around."

  "Will do, boss." Moshpit pulled his H & K, ducked inside her flat and came out a minute later. "She's telling the truth, Deuce. There's nothing in there but a cat. The biggest freaking cat I ever saw."