Pitbull
GSG 9 CIRO 3 - Special Forces: Operation Alpha
Kendra Mei Chailyn
Contents
Blurb
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
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Blurb
Weeks after hell broke loose in Rotterdam, Daniel "Pitbull" Hunt finally gets a chance to take a vacation. With Tex and Mozart in tow, he jets off to adventures in Canada. When he receives a phone call that plunges him back into his past, he is beyond livid.
Anke Fisher's best friend is missing. To make matters worse, the cops around her area are no help. Frustrated and with nowhere else to turn, she puts in a call to Daniel Hunt. But the sexy, stud of a man wants nothing to do with her or her problems.
With bullets flying, Anke begins seeping beneath his skin. But Pitbull knows, no matter what happens, he cannot fall for Anke for about to be drawn into a past he's been running from. Those who pull him in will learn, when Pitbull gets angry, things go boom!
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
© 2018 ACES PRESS, LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this work may be used, stored, reproduced or transmitted without written permission from the publisher except for brief quotations for review purposes as permitted by law.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please purchase your own copy.
Prologue
The dimly lit street was silent as the grave except for a buzzing stoplight swinging against an electrical wire above the damaged road. Periodically, the silence was interrupted by sirens as emergency vehicles zoomed across the overhead bridge. Other than that, nothing moved below—nothing breathed.
It was hot and muggy as if the air was sucked from the street leaving it un-breathable.
The buildings were all dark. Their outside walls covered in graffiti showcasing some crudely spelt cuss words or someone’s name. One building standing behind the only mailbox on the street had two broken front windows. The store across from the only tree on the street had bars against the windows facing the loathsome street. The front door was always locked with a note stating ‘to gain service, ring bell.’ Beneath, taped to the door were two other signs:
Shoppers permitted one at a time.
The premises is under video surveillance. Shoplifters will still be quartered, hanged and shot.
The one stoplight outside was stuck on red. It had been broken for so long, the people couldn’t remember the last time it worked. They simply treated it as a four way stop, the first person to arrive had the right of way. No one wanted to venture out to fix it.
Everything was broken there—even the people—more so the people. They ambled around like the streetlight, barely holding on, forgotten. They didn’t have to worry about outsiders not understanding the rules. The small community couldn’t be found on any German maps—old or recent. Still, someone had to be a special kind of stupid to wind up there. When tourists asked where to avoid, it wasn’t hard to guess the answer.
A page from a newspaper blew fell from the bridge overhead and danced in the wind across the wrecked asphalt before slamming into the front door of the store. The section facing the inside read Politicians Forgot About Metro Valley. That, in a sense was like beating a dead horse.
Metro Valley hadn’t been on anyone’s lips for over twenty five years. Metro Valley was the name whispered in the dark, the dirty little secret most people merely wish would go away. So, they did the next best thing—pretended it didn’t exist.
Behind this street, the small ghetto of Metro Valley lay like rodents on the land. The tossed together homes sat against each other in one giant jig-sawed mess all over the filthy land. They were built in haste for survival not to please the eyes. The earth there had long since died from some kind of government testing years prior—years before many of the adults there were even born. But they had nowhere else to go.
This was home and there was no place like it.
The dark cloud over the street was interrupted by a slow moving car. It jerked to a stop before lurching forward only to stop again quite violently. A dark figure within the four doors leant close to the dashboard, peering pensively at the controls and meters before slamming a fist into the dashboard. The engine rattled fiercely like someone was inside it banging on a tin drum. Once again, the car eased forward and stopped at the red light. Still the engine made the god-forsaken sound even as the car waited.
A stranger—a dumb as hell stranger. At the light he’d be waiting forever.
A second car screeched around Dead Man’s Curve and jammed to a stop a slight distance behind the first car. They turned off the headlights and sat in the dark watching the car before them. One of the hooded figures in the second car looked around, as though expecting someone to be on the street at such a horrid time of the night. No one with any brain cells left would be there after dark.
The man in the passenger seat of the second car reached into his jacket. There was a beep and the car before them erupted into a giant ball of fire.
Düsseldorf, in a gated community, lays the sprawling beauty of wealth. The houses were spread out wonderfully with white picket fences and two and a half kids. Lush parks and trees were situated all over the landscape and as far as the eyes could see, everything was perfect. Down Gilbourne Circle, all the houses sat well lit and painted in the same shade of Seashell Brown. The front yards were wonderfully manicured, trees perfectly carved and sprinklers came on only after midnight. The moon shone above as though abandoning Metro Valley like the politicians had.
Further down, to the end of Gilbourne Circle, in house number forty five everything is still except for the crying phone. The children were tucked in their beds, and mom and dad had finished their compulsory coupling. Mom was pretending to be asleep, hoping her husband wouldn’t want more while he snored like a stuck pig beside her.
The phone stopped ringing but only for a breath.
It began again and she rolled over and whacked him against the side. Grunting, he jerked upright in bed.
“What now?” He questioned.
“Your phone is ringing again!” She snapped, pushing her feet out of bed and into her slippers. She grabbed her pillow and a nearby Japanese bathrobe and scuttled from the room muttering under her breath. He watched her leave wondering what he’d done to deserve such a burden before turning his attention to the phone.
“What?”
“It’s done.” A hoarse voice replied from the other end of the line.
The man groaned and peered at the clock. He reached and flipped on the bedside lamp. “Are you sure?”
“Yes—I did it m
yself.”
A Grinch-like grin spread the man’s face. “I’ll send the rest of the money to the account now. Give me five minutes.”
“Very well.”
He dropped the phone into its cradle and flopped against the pillow. Overwhelming joy built within him and he couldn’t resist the urge to flop around on the bed. He stifled his cry of sheer happiness and did one last jerk against the bed before climbing out and rushing to his library. There, he glanced behind him into the hall to make sure his nosy wife wasn’t following and locked the door behind him. At the large bookcase, he pulled out the one book he knew his wife would never read Finances: A Complete Look at Your Money. It fell out only half way before a small partition in the case gave way to a hidden safe. Entering his combination, he gathered the laptop into his arms and sat down at his desk. He was humming by the time he logged into the computer, the one his wife had no idea about, and sent fifty thousand dollars from his off-shore account to the promised one. He then chucked the paper with the account number into the fire and closed the computer then replaced it in the safety of his hidden hole. With that done, he glanced down at the front of his boxers. Even his cock knew what had happened and wanted to celebrate. He may not love her, but she had her uses.
Pushing from his desk, he exited the room for the guestroom. In no time at all, the bed could be heard squeaking in the night.
Perfection, is an illusion.
1
Working should be illegal.
Anke Fischer was tired and her feet throbbed from being on them all morning. Every muscle in her body ached and she could feel the beginning of a migraine pulsing behind her left eye.
Ugh—just what I needed today.
Each day she arrived a work, she planned a way of escaping—go back to school, win the lottery, marry rich—all spectacular ideas but all wound up taking a back seat to her exhaustion at the end of each shift. By the time she made it home, all she wanted to do was have a shot of tequila and pass out atop her sheets. Sometimes she didn’t even make it to the shower. She’d wake up the next morning at the ass-crack of dawn, smelling like day old grease and regret.
There had to be more to life—right? There had to be more to life than being born, working oneself into a coma then death.
There had to be!
But there she was again at Brutus’ Food Bonanza serving enough junk food to kill a small village trying to make sure her rent was paid. They had the same customers daily. They were too far off the beaten path to cater to many tourists. The only ones who came through were those on their way to Sankh Augustin or on their way to somewhere else. Hennef was a stopping point between the middle of nowhere and God’s nowhere until they could get where the beautiful people were.
No one truly wanted to eat at a place called Brutus’ Food Bonanza but they didn’t really have a choice. It was the only place to eat and get gas for miles. She supposed it made sense then—capitalizing on a need.
Still she sighed softly.
Mom was right—I wasn’t going to amount to anything.
It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried—far from it. Anke pushed and fought her way through high school. Not only did she graduate, she did so at the top of her class. It was before Germany abolished tuition at its universities for undergraduates and though her parents were wealthy, at eighteen they told her they were finished with their obligation to her.
Anke scoffed.
Over the years, even after the government dropped tuition, Anke couldn’t find her way back. School would be covered but the bills wouldn’t stop. She was stuck in a cycle of self-destructive unhappiness and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.
Frustrated with where her mind went, Anke glanced at the clock for what felt like a million time. The last time she’d checked, she had twenty minutes to go before the end of her shift. Well, technically, it hadn’t been hers. Her friend Claudia Hunt was supposed to be working but she hadn’t shown up. Their other friend secretly called Anke and she broke every speed limit to get to the diner. To cover, Anke apologized to her boss, explaining she’d switched shifts with Claudia and had merely forgotten. Since, she wasn’t usually late for work, her boss nodded and the situation was settled.
Claudia missing a shift hadn’t at all been like her. No matter what, Claudia would have been there. Rain or shine, Claudia had been one of the most responsible people Anke had ever met. If she was going to be away, very rarely, Claudia would call Anke to take the shift.
It wasn’t like jobs were easy to come by for anyone without a university education. They all needed the money and with the little education they had, this was as good as it was going to get.
The next nineteen minutes slipped by painfully slow. Still, she danced around other servers and customers to get her orders filled, cleared tables and somehow managed not to drop anything or fall over. When her time was up, she dumped all the cash into the safe, accepted her tips and grabbed her things.
“What’s the rush?” Ruby Foster asked. Her bright eyes shimmered like it always did.
“I’m heading over to Claudia’s.” Anke dragged her fingers through her hair in a way of combing it after removing her hairnet. “Something isn’t right.”
“What do you mean?”
“Claudia missing a shift and not calling in?”
“You’re right. That’s new.”
“Yeah.” She spritzed some perfume to her neck in an attempt to not smell like subpar food, slammed her locker and kissed Ruby’s cheek. “Be safe going home later, okay? If Patrick flakes picking you up, you call me.”
“You don’t have to. I can figure out a way home.”
“Like hell. That boy needs a swift kick in the family jewels.”
Ruby laughed. “I guess.”
“See you later.”
Anke hurried out to the parking lot and tossed herself behind the wheel of her second hand car. She dumped her things to the passenger seat even as she turned on the engine with her free hand. Buckling up, she exited the parking lot and to Claudia’s apartment. The building seemed as if a good breeze would knock it over. It always gave Anke the creeps but it was what Claudia could afford. Sadly, even with both their pay the couldn’t afford something better together.
There had to be more to life than this.
There was no judgment on Anke’s part since her building wasn’t any better. Life hadn’t been easy for either of them. Life was made up of one depressing story after another and Anke knew them well.
It wasn’t hard to gain access to the building—all she had to do was lean her shoulder into the entrance door hard enough and it slipped open. There were cameras but she knew for a fact they were only there for show. She was pretty sure anyone who visited knew the cameras didn’t work. After a while, Anke began wondering who believed that tired story. They couldn’t afford to fix the unground garage door how could they afford state of the art cameras.
The building was nice once—once.
Taking the stairs up to the second floor, because of course, the elevators were out, she headed left and stopped by Claudia’s door. A newspaper was sitting just to the left of the door so Anke picked it up. Before knocking, she pressed her ear to it and listened. She couldn’t hear anything from the other side so she knocked. “Claudia?”
No reply.
“Claudia, it’s Anke. Claudia, are you there?”
When she received no answer, Anke rummaged through her purse for Claudia’s spare key and let herself in. The moment she stepped in she knew something was wrong. Though she had a mind to run and call the police, she figured whoever had broken in had to be long gone. Her shift had been nine hours and she’d worked the day before. Anke worked through the math and frowned—it all added up to Claudia being missing for at least sixteen hours. That was definitely not something Claudia would have done—ever.
Further encouraged to investigate, Anke closed and locked the door behind her and continued further into the apartment. Though she knew nothing of law
enforcement, she avoided touching anything.
The window in the living room was standing open. The blue curtain danced in the early evening breeze. Claudia would never leave it open—Anke couldn’t even remember a time she’d visited and it’d been open.
Secondly, it was as if a tornado had blown through. The sofa cushions were yanked from the seating, the DVDs and CDs were all on the floor. Someone had toppled the big screen television and Claudia’s laptop was crushed and sitting against a wall.
The bedroom was no better. The sheets were all ripped and sitting in a messy pile on the bed and a picture of Claudia was smashed but still on the bedside table. The kitchen hadn’t escaped the person’s wrath—every cup, plate, bowl, glass pot cover had been smashed to pieces on the floor. Coffee was dumped all over the table and cupboard doors hung off their hinges.
As she surveyed the damage, Anke’s pulse quickened.
What in the hell happened here?
She was further confused when she opened Claudia’s closet and found not clothes but a memorial—pictures taken without the person knowing, newspaper clippings, internet searches, more newspaper articles printed off websites. She leaned in to read a couple of them.
Daniel Hunt has been chosen to be a part of Germany’s CIRO, A GSG 9 elite team.
GSG 9 CIRO saves the day with Daniel Hunt leading the charge.
“Claudia has a brother?” Anke asked in a loud whisper. “A cop brother? Who are you, Claudia Hunt? And what are you into?”
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