Maddox (The Black Stallion Trilogy Book 1)

by Maggie Ryan

  “We’re sending over a file. We need you to identify the men in the photos.”

  “Men, not stallions?” This voice belonged to Stryder, the youngest Steele brother. “So you were right? That invitation was for more than the auction?”

  “Yes,” Drake said with a sigh. “We’re about to launch the biggest operation we’ve ever attempted. Seems like Hadi Nazar had a different agenda than his son. It will take all of us to pull this off… if it can be pulled off at all.”

  “I’m ready, shoot them over.” Though Anson’s tone was unconcerned, Maddox knew his brother would be at the computer, accepting the files, ready to run each photo through facial recognition software. Pressing a button, he sent the file, and while his father filled them in on the recent events, he could picture both his younger brothers thousands of miles away. They would have stepped behind a concealed door and walked down a tunnel before entering what the family called their operations center. The room wasn’t located in any part of the ranch house… it was part of a natural cavern system within the Chisos Mountains.

  He again thought about the debt his father was repaying. Though aware of his father’s voice as he talked to his sons, Maddox slipped back in time until he was a twelve-year-old boy on the cusp of becoming a teenager. His world changed a month before he reached that milestone in his life. It had only been by the grace of God and the intervention of a certain faction that had allowed both he and his father time to escape the fire that took the lives of his mother, his little sister, and the two agents tasked with the responsibility of protecting their family.

  That day had set him on a path that skirted the edge of legality. Yes, the Steele family bred stallions but, like the Nazars, beneath the surface, they ran a completely different operation. For two decades, first solely his father and then joined by his sons, provided a service for clients the government would at the very least frown upon and, at the most, arrest. Their clients were powerful, wealthy, and yes, corrupt. They would never be considered angels. Though the Steeles did have a line in the sand none would cross, they didn’t give a damn what your nationality was, what religion you practiced, or what business you were in. But they firmly believed that innocents should not be forced to pay with their lives for the sins of their fathers. That day had taught him that the only people he could truly rely on were his family—all sharing in the love of horses and willingly accepting the burden of providing what their own government failed to do. Protection for those drawn into the world without their knowledge or consensual choice.

  A sharp whistle drew his attention back to the present. “Since when are the Russians into horses?” Anson asked.

  “They’re not,” Maddox said. “But they are in Dubai and must be brokering some sort of deal with Fadil Nazar. Got any names yet?”

  “Just one, Vasily Poplov. His picture is here several times. Standing next to that Brit snob, Legeaux, and again in some aquarium. I’m not getting any hits on the others yet. I’ll have to hack my way into additional sites and that might take a while.”

  “So what do you think Poplov’s agenda is?” Stryder asked.

  “Not sure,” Drake said. “Fadil assures me it is nothing to be concerned about… just some business deal. But Hadi doesn’t agree and my gut’s telling me something is definitely off. Hadi contacted us—the Black Stallions—because he wants his family protected.”

  “Protected how?” Stryder asked.

  “Removed from Dubai,” Drake said. “Might be that some refuse to come but Hadi has a definite list of those who will be coming home with us, including his granddaughter.”

  “How many?” Anson asked.

  “We’ll let you know as soon as we know,” Drake said. “We’re meeting Fadil tomorrow night on his yacht. Look, I’m turning the phone over to your brother. He’s got a list of equipment he needs you to arrange delivery on.”

  Maddox took the phone and recited the list he’d been considering since his father had told him of the operation. “Got all that?” he asked when he finished.

  “Yeah, got it,” Stryder said. “I’ll contact Keith Westwood. He’s gonna bitch about the timing and jack up the price…”

  “Money’s not an issue,” Maddox said, knowing his father would agree. “Hey, little brother, don’t forget the batteries this time. There isn’t a CVS on every corner over here. Night vision goggles and cameras aren’t going to do me any good if they won’t fucking turn on.”

  “Shit, that only happened once,” Stryder griped but then added, “you can count on me. I won’t let you down.”

  “I know you won’t,” Maddox said. “Anson, send any intel you find to the phone.”

  “Will do. Have you considered all the ways this can go south? Are you sure you don’t want us to fly over to help?”

  “No, there’s already going to be a lot of people. It’ll be like trying to hide a fucking parade.”

  “Well, if anyone can do it, you two can,” Stryder assured them, “even if you are just an army grunt.”

  Maddox chuckled, used to the teasing from his brothers. “Says the jarhead who can’t remember batteries.” He could hear Anson chuckling as he handed the phone back to Drake, who thanked his sons and rang off after promising to call with more details of the operation when they worked them out.

  “Night, Pops,” his younger sons said in unison.

  “Goodnight, boys.”

  After he hung up, Maddox cleared the history on his laptop and returned it and the scanner to the safe. His father said goodnight and went into his room, looking tired from the long day. Maddox stripped off his clothes and slid between the sheets. Staring up at the ceiling, he knew that Anson was right. This could be the biggest FUBAR—fucked up beyond all recognition—operation in the Steele family history and yet, he’d do everything he could, rely upon the training he’d received while he was both at the military academy at West Point and later training as a Ranger, both of which had been extensive and paid for by the very government that had so failed his family. He figured he’d repaid that particular debt with several tours, serving in both Iraq and Afghanistan, keeping it a secret that he found it rather ironic that the very people he was fighting had reared the man who had risked his own future for his all those years ago.

  Twenty years might have passed, but one thing remained crystal clear. Neither he nor his father would be here today if it hadn’t been for the Nazar family. It was not only a debt of thanks owed, it was a debt of honor, and he’d do everything in his power to make sure it was paid in full.

  The boat Drake had rented pulled away from a small dock on Dubai Creek. It was as far from ostentatious as a piece of coal was from a brilliant diamond. Dented, scratched, and peeling paint ensured any eyes would skim over it and yet, beneath the rust and planks was every piece of equipment and dozens of batteries that Maddox had requested the night before. His old army buddy Keith had come through, not only with the equipment but with assurance that he’d stand by, ready to help if needed. As they puttered down the creek which had been dredged to accommodate large vessels, Maddox rigged a fishing pole with a heavy test line and a big treble hook.

  “To your right,” Drake said, though he didn’t turn his head.

  Standing, Maddox turned, leaning forward to place the rod in a holder while looking up. He gave a soft whistle at the sight of the yacht, the name Adira painted on the hull near the stern. A dozen of their present vessels could easily fit inside and still leave room for plenty of people to stroll about the many decks. Though boarding it was his ultimate destination, he stretched, turned again and rigged another fishing line. It would be hours before he’d need to get ready. Until then, they’d fish, moving from spot to spot as if trying to improve their luck while waiting for the mooring lines to be slipped from the cleats on the dock and the Adira to pull away from its berth to drop anchor out on the Persian Gulf for a night of celebration in honor of the boat’s namesake.

  Ignoring the ripped fabric, Maddox took a seat on a thinly cus
hioned bench, propping his feet on an overturned bucket. This was the hard part, waiting for nightfall… well, that and trying not to turn as red as a boiled lobster under the ungodly sun. Reaching into another bucket, this one filled with ice, he popped the tab on a can of Coke. Not his usual beverage while out fishing, but he wouldn’t consume any alcohol until his feet were propped on the railing of the porch that wrapped around the ranch house back home. Tipping his head back to swallow the sweet drink, he couldn’t help but compare his own home to Adira’s. Separated by over eight thousand miles, Dubai and Texas had a lot in common. Her palatial home was surrounded by the Hajar Mountains while his sprawling ranch house was nestled up against the Chisos Mountains. She rode her stallion across the sands of the Arabian Desert, he and his family rode theirs across the Chihuahuan Desert. Yes, they came from different cultures, had different religions, had a different native language, and yet a part of him was glad that when she and her relatives landed in America, at least a bit of their surroundings would remind them of home.

  Chapter 4

  Adira’s heels clicked loudly against the large, wooden planks of the pier, announcing her arrival to all the fishermen, boaters, and to her guests who were still boarding the Adira. If the sound of her Jimmy Choo stilettoes did not draw attention to her presence, the large entourage of security certainly would. Nothing about Adira’s life was modest, no matter how much she often wished it to be so. And, watching her guests, she had to smile as their appearance told of the more tolerant culture within Dubai. Twenty years earlier, all you’d have seen would be a sea of black on the women and white robes on the men. Today, as she had reminded her father only the evening before, times had changed. While some of her older relatives still chose to wear the traditional clothing, the younger women were not only dressed in their favorite couture, but their ensembles weren’t covered by any robes.

  She was wearing Vera Wang, the dress of red silk clinging to her breasts before flaring into dozens of pleats that brushed against her legs with every step. The hem swirled a few inches below her knees. Diamond and ruby earrings swung from her earlobes, a matching bracelet encircled her wrist. A large blood-red stone nestled in the hollow of her throat, the heart-shaped ruby a gift from her father on her eighteenth birthday. Her ebony hair had been coiffed into a waterfall braid that fell over her shoulder, diamond clips tucked throughout, keeping the tendrils in place.

  Her father wore a black Armani tuxedo, the Rolex on his wrist and diamond cuff links sparkling whenever the lights caught them. Seeing the variety of colors as they walked down the pier, some pale and others in deep jewel tones, she was reminded of the colorful fish that she’d seen at last night’s dinner. The men either wore the khandouras or designer suits… all she saw reminded her that the world she lived in was one of luxury and decadence.

  “I hope you aren’t too disappointed that your grandfather couldn’t make it tonight,” Adira’s father said as they walked side by side toward the multi-story yacht that loomed over the much smaller boats all around. The stark white color was broken only by the rich hues of intricately designed teak railings. There would be no doubt to anyone who glanced at the magnificence of its construction, that this boat truly was the Queen of the sea.

  “I spoke with him earlier,” her father continued, “and he wanted me to send you his love.”

  She hadn’t realized her grandfather wouldn’t be able to make the graduation party until they were leaving the house and she learned he’d apparently been called away to attend some meeting in Africa. Still, she nodded at the statement, hoping the sting of disappointment didn’t show on her face. “I understand,” Adira said sweetly, a tone and a statement she had long practiced and mastered. Business always came first with the Nazars. It wasn’t something Adira resented, or at least, not anymore. She had long ago accepted that it was the way of life… her life.

  As they neared the Adira, Fadil sighed. “You know, I really wanted to give you a far larger party. I’d already given the event planner the invitation list—”

  “And how many names were on that list?” Adira interrupted, smiling, “five hundred, a thousand?”

  “Of course not,” Fadil said and then chuckled. “I was extremely selective in choosing only three hundred and fifty, and I’m sure all would have accepted.”

  Adira had absolutely no doubt that not a soul would have declined anything that was offered by her father. His view and her view of an intimate affair differed greatly. She’d attended hundreds of his parties that included his many business associates and complete strangers, and yet his concession to her request to keep this celebration intimate touched her greatly. Looking up at the yacht again, she squeezed his arm and her soft laugh rang out.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “That is a lovely gesture, but I’m afraid even the Adira wouldn’t hold that many of your friends. We’d need a cruise ship, but thank you. I know it wasn’t exactly what you wanted, but I truly appreciate that tonight will be spent with just family and close friends. Thank you for your restraint.”

  He patted her hand and nodded, his chuckle following hers.

  The entire crew of the ship, including the captain, stood at attention in a single line as they walked past to enter the largest of all the rooms on the boat. The size rivaled many a grand ballroom, as did the elegance. Not one, but three chandeliers twinkled from above, casting a warm light over the guests as they milled around, sipping from flutes of champagne. Large banquet tables draped in fine linen were overflowing with trays of lobster, oysters, crab and every other delicacy from the sea. Carved ice sculptures blended with all the expertly placed food to create a scene of pure artistry. Waiters walked around with enticing hors d'oeuvres that seemed too beautiful to even touch, but Adira had no doubt were absolutely delicious. Flower arrangements burst from every corner of the room, adding not only their beauty but their fragrance to the setting of complete grandeur.

  A waiter in a tuxedo approached them, offering them both glasses of champagne. Taking a glass, Adira turned to her father. “Thank you. Everything is so lovely.” And it truly was. Her father never cut a single corner when it came to his daughter. All of the opulence really wasn’t necessary for Adira, but she realized that it was a way her father showed his love and devotion.

  They stood in place as all the guests took turns approaching them and formally greeting their hosts. Adira usually hated this part of the party and yet found it much pleasanter tonight as most were her friends and relatives. She didn’t begrudge the few business associates her father had invited, accepting their compliments as to how beautiful she looked, or gave the expected platitudes about the decorations and the food. None of these men actually congratulated her for the reason of the party. The only ones who expressed their joy for her graduation from the highest level of schooling were her family members.

  Adira repositioned her feet as she was forced to regain her balance when the engines rumbled beneath her and the yacht took off to sea. Despite the stability such a large vessel provided, it often took her a while to get her sea legs.

  It would be a short voyage, as they were anchoring just a bit offshore. The lights of Dubai would be their backdrop on the port side, while the wide open Persian Gulf would be their view if looking starboard. A voice drew her attention back to the receiving line. Yes, she might be the guest of honor, but she still had duties to attend to.

  “Your father always throws the most lavish of all parties, even if given for such an inconsequential reason,” her great-aunt said as she reached for Adira’s hand in greeting. Her perfume overpowered Adira’s senses, and though her denigration of her accomplishments cut a bit, Adira managed to politely nod and smile as the woman continued. “I do, however, look forward to an invitation to your wedding. That would be a celebration worth attending. I am sure that many are in line ready to take your hand in marriage.”

  Adira swallowed back any negative retort and once again smiled. “Thank you, Aunt Durar, and thank you f
or coming.” She looked to her right at the next guest, silently ending the discussion and moving the greeting progression along.

  The topic of marriage, or what was the next step in life, nearly sucked the life from her very soul. There would not be an arranged marriage as long as she breathed the salty Dubai air as a free woman. Her father had given up on broaching this subject years ago and allowed her to focus on her studies instead. But now that she had received her diploma, the pressure would surely return. What was next? What would she do with her time? Those questions haunted her, for she had absolutely no plan at all.

  When the final guest approached with a beaming smile, Adira broke formal protocol and reached out, wrapping her arms around the woman standing before her. “Farrah! I am so happy you came.” Adira almost squealed as she hugged her cousin tight. “You look so beautiful.”

  Farrah broke from the embrace with a small laugh. “Not as gorgeous as you, cousin, but I do admit, it is nice to be able to wear a bit of fashion.”

  Adira smiled and nodded, understanding that just as she had the evening before, Farrah had dressed to appease her parents. While she was wearing a dress of emerald green, her shiny black hair was covered with a floral print Hermès scarf. Reaching up, Adira adjusted the scarf slightly since their embrace had misplaced it a bit, and gave her another hug. “Where are your parents?”

  “They are outside on the deck, watching the sun set as we take off. It’s Mother’s favorite part of these events.”

  “I’ve missed you so much! I haven’t seen you for months.” Adira had grown up with Farrah. Some of her fondest memories were of them running along the estate, hiding behind the palms from security who were doing a poor job keeping their eyes on them at all times.

  “Well that is because someone here has decided to put studies before her poor forgotten cousin,” Farrah teased.