"Police are reporting a man’s naked body was found by hotel staff at approximately eight this morning. The coroner's office reports they have a positively identified the man as Ethan Porter, a Colorado Springs native. Investigators have not released any information on how Mr. Porter died, however foul play is not suspected."
My father picked up his phone and started making calls, talking about autopsies and the grand jury. Reaching into my back pocket, I retrieved my own phone and powered it up, the signals of awaiting messages sounded in repeat succession. All appeared to be from Zach, but the last one caught my attention and held it.
Baby, please call me, we need to talk.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Zach
“Hey, man, you made good time.” I hollered as I closed my truck door after dropping off Kennedy. I hated the doubt in her eyes, especially since yours caused it truly, but Ethan needed to be dealt with. From what I knew about him, no piece of paper signed by a man in a robe is going to keep him away from her.
Reaper stood in my driveway, leaning against the hood of a massive truck, his arms wrapped around a beautiful, dark haired girl. I expected him to look different; several months out of the military will change a man. Even in the dark of the night, I could see something new in his eyes; something good had come into his world.
“How fucking far away do you think Charleston is, Viper?” His voice was different, or maybe it was the smile on his face, no doubt a result of the girl he still hasn't let go of.
“You kidnap this beautiful creature?” Extending my hand out to Reaper’s girl. She is shy, which is evident in the way she ducks her head into Reaper’s neck.
“This is Rayne Winters, the woman who single handedly saved me from myself.” Reaper pulls her closer, reaching his hand up into the back of her neck as he leans over to place a kiss to the crown of her head.
“Well, Miss Rayne, it's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Zach Michaels and please, forget everything this guy here has told you about me.” I teased in an attempt to coax a smile out of her.
“Pleased to meet you,” she responds, her eyes on the cement of the driveway as her shaking hand extends in my direction. “Matt told me you saved his life, and I thank you for that.” A chill crawled up my spine as the memory of the single incident where I questioned if I was going to make it home rushed to the forefront. Drifting my eyes from Rayne to Reaper, I wondered how much of the story he shared with her.
“No need to thank me, he saved me a few times since then.”
We had been three miles on the wrong side of enemy lines when all hell broke loose. As I went to jump across two large boulders, my boot slipped on some loose gravel, causing me to smack the shit out of my knee and sending my gun to the ravine below. With the amount of bullets flying, we were trapped against the side of the hill. Reaper stayed at the top of the boulders while I crawled the forty feet to the bottom. With all of the commotion going on, neither one of us noticed the lone shooter to the left of us. Reaper had his attention focused around the edge of the bolder he was hiding behind, while the man with a gun took his time aiming at Reaper’s back.
“He’s right Rayne, we’ve saved each other plenty of times.”
I took a single shot with the pistol I kept, ending the man's life before he could take Reaper’s. We sat behind the boulder for nearly ten hours, under near constant barrage of bullets, waiting for the enemy to run out of ammunition.
“Let's go inside and talk about this problem you need my help with.” Reaper nods toward the house. Agreeing, I move to help my friends get their things inside. Rayne stays close to Reaper and I wonder what her story is. Last time I spoke with the guys, Reaper had been adamant when it came to relationships. Unlocking the backdoor, and silencing the alarm, I hold the door open so Rayne and Reaper can enter.
“You live in this big ass house alone?” Setting the pink duffel bag on the kitchen island, Reaper turns around to face me. Rayne takes a long look around my kitchen, her fingers drifting to the hard surface of my granite countertop.
“Not by choice. I have a girlfriend, Kennedy, I’d like her to live with me, but she...it’s complicated.”
“The good ones usually are.” Reaper pulls Rayne into his embrace, placing a kiss to her lips. She raises her hand to caress his clean shaved face, something I’m shocked by. I was assuming he would have continued to hide behind the mask of his beard.
“Which is why we’re here.” I begin, knowing what I’m about to ask could blow up in our face, and quite frankly land us in jail. “Earlier today, I went to court with Kennedy and her father in hopes of an order of protection being granted. Ethan, has been stalking her, coming by her work and generally harassing her. Today, he had the audacity to threaten her.”
“Is this an ex-boyfriend or husband?”
“Neither, according to Kennedy. They had one date and she gave him the cold shoulder. She moved from Colorado Springs to Atlanta and the fucker followed her.”
“Has he touched her?” Reaper leans against the counter, his grip on Rayne a little tighter, leaving no doubt in my mind he’s battled something similar with her.
“No, but I’m not willing to let this shit go any further. You and I both know a piece of paper isn't going to keep him away from her. Hell, she told him about me and that did nothing to deter him.”
“All right, but where is she?”
Taking in a deep breath, I know this has all the ingredients for being a disaster. “At home, most likely in bed, or contemplating driving by the house to see if I’m really at home.”
“In other words, she doesn't know about this little plan of yours.”
“No.”
“And if she comes by and you're not home, she’s gonna think the worst.”
Taking a deep breath, I brace myself against the counter, “Then at least she’ll be safe.”
***
I’d given Rayne a tour of the house, welcoming her to anything she wanted. I also warned her Kennedy had a key to the house, and not to be surprised by a late night visitor. After securing my truck in the garage, I climbed into Reaper’s and we headed off toward Ethan's hotel.
When I was standing with Kennedy in the hallway of the courthouse, the fear was rolling off her in waves. It had taken everything I had not to reach over and strangle him with my bare hands. Ignoring the possibility of her hating me for the rest of her life, or the threat of jail time, I had phoned Diesel for help. He had gotten his brother, Austin, and Reaper on the line. Austin was able to track Ethan down to a hotel not far from my aunt’s stables, which is where we were headed.
Reaper pulls into the parking lot of the one story motel. The dilapidated building has seen better days. Its neon sign missing several letters and there is a group of questionable guys standing outside one of the doors.
“A few bucks and I bet we can seal their mouths.” Reaper nodded to the guy with a beer in hand, laughing at something one of the others said.
“Austin said he was in number ten, the last one on the end.” Scanning the windows, most were as dark as the surrounding buildings, including the room in question. Austin had given us the make and model of the car he drove, but so far there was no sign of the late model Jeep.
“There’s supposed to be a window on the back of the building, we can do a scan and see if he is inside.” Sliding my night vision goggles into place, and my earpiece with Austin and Diesel already tuned in.
“Diesel we have a visual on the premises, no vehicle in the vicinity.”
“Roger that, Viper.”
Reaper is out of the truck and around the building before I can get to the edge of the property. Both of us check several times to see if the partiers have noticed our presence. “Window in the back is too small for a fucking Elf to get through.”
Redirecting my attention to the front door, I’m assuming with the age of the building, there won't be a computer reader to mess with. Falling to my knee, I use a tool Ghost gave me back when I locked myself out
of my room back in Kabul.
Reaper is on my six as I push open the wooden door, careful not to draw attention from the guys out front. Removing my night vision, I pull my flashlight out of my pocket.
“Well, fuck me.” Reaper steals the words from my mouth. Covering every inch of wall space, are different pictures of Kennedy. Some are close up, while others show her riding a horse in the mountains. A few show her dining with a woman I know to be Caroline, her sister. “Fucker doesn't seem to care about you does he?”
Reaper has his light centered on the wall to the left, walking closer, I find a photo of Kennedy and myself, from the first time we met face to face. I have my arms around her, but my face is cut out.
“She is beautiful, good job, man.”
Chatter in my ear pulls me from the creepy photo. “I need visual, Viper.” Flipping the switch on my night vision, I let Austin and Diesel see what is going on in the room.
“Zach, there’s a computer to your left, open it and let me have a look.” Austin hasn't been trained like the rest of us, something we will have to rectify, if Diesel has his way. On the way over, Reaper had hinted the guys wanted to get together, forming a Mercenary for hire company. Evidently they had already done a couple of jobs together.
“Open the cover and let me see the drives.”
I do as he asks, disbelieving he will be able to do much more than order replacement parts. As the lid opens and the screen comes to life, the box in the center tells me we need a password. “Any other ideas?” I ask knowing he sees what I do.
“Type in exactly what I tell you to.” I listen attentively as he rattles off ten thousand letter and number combinations, my level of confidence this is going to work decreasing with each keystroke. “And hit enter.” Like something out of a movie, the computer screen flashes and changes to a wall of blue folder looking icons. “Thanks, Zach, you can move along now.” The mouse on the screen moves on its own, clicking on the first few folders.
“Viper.” I respond in a harsh tone.
“Excuse me?” The mouse hovers, but doesn't move.
“We don't use names, only call signs, mine is Viper.”
“Hey, Viper,” Reaper calls from behind me. “You might want to check the security of your house.” Illuminated by the light from his flashlight, is a photo of Kennedy and myself in my kitchen, she is sitting on my island, legs spread and wrapped around me. There are boxes in the background, which makes me think this was the first night I moved in.
“Reaper? Viper? We’ve got bigger problems than a sideshow peeper.” Diesel calls over my earpiece. “Get over here and see what Keys found.” I would laugh at the call sign Diesel has just assigned his brother, but the photo on the screen nearly takes my breath away.
“I’ve run her face through a recognition program I acquired access to.” The image is the body of a girl, lying on the floor, arms tied behind her back and throat slashed. “Layla Evans, nineteen, of Coopers Park, Montana. She was reported missing three years ago, on June sixth when she failed to show up for work.” Layla's eyes are wide open and, even in death, filled with fear. The mouse moves again and the photo of another girl fills the screen. “Marian Hope, twenty-two, of Deer Park, Wyoming. Reported missing six months later, also by her employer.” This girl resembled the first, dark hair and expressive eyes. “There are at least thirty pictures of girls in the same position, all dead and all with one thing in common.” Sweat began to bead on the nape of my neck, somehow knowing what he was about to say next. “They each worked with horses.”
During SEAL training, one of our instructors told us to always follow our gut. When I learned Ethan had moved across the country to see Kennedy, I knew this wasn't your standard crush. Ethan Porter was a serial killer and my Kennedy was slated to be his next victim.
“Your call, Viper. We can call the cops and have this guy arrested, or...”
“Oh, we’ll call the cops, but not until there's a conversation between Ethan and my fucking fist.”
“You could serve him a Havoc cocktail, but it's your girl, so it's your call.”
I’d already considered the many ways I could put an end to this motherfucker. Using a chemical cocktail formulated by Havoc was an option, but would minimize any gratification I would feel.
Headlights flashed the room, making a path across my face and blinding me momentarily. A late model Jeep, the same Ethan is known to drive, pulled into the lot. “Get ready, Reaper. Time to make him feel their pain.”
Sliding into the corner behind the door, I make ready to knock him to the ground the second he enters. With my back against the wall and my fist clenched and ready, I listen as a key slides into the lock. Waiting for him to turn the knob felt like an eternity, just like it had when I’d gone over to John Forrester's condo to explain what I knew.
I expected him to demand all the facts behind what I had planned. However, as he stood with his arms crossed, the soothing sounds of music rising from hidden speakers, I saw the face of a man who loved Kennedy as much as I did.
"Sir, I know I’ll be taking a huge risk in her finding out what I'm about to do, but I have to make this monster go away. I know if he’s left on the streets, he'll be another number in the game. Kennedy will be looking over her shoulder nearly every second of every day and questioning every man who passes her on the street. I can't let that happen to her, she deserves more."
John had looked at the floor; his hands resting on his dress pant covered hips. "I don't want to know your plans, ignorance is bliss. I won't lie to my daughter, not anymore, but you're right, she deserves the best of things our money can't buy." He moved to the business side of his desk and picked up his reading glasses. "You make certain the son of a bitch doesn't see the light of another day."
Shaking hands with John that night had done more than signal the meeting of the minds. It was the beginning of a new relationship, a turn in the road. My plan was set. I was risking everything, including the future I had planned with Kennedy. Her safety and reassurance were more important than anything to me. Even if she found doubt in me, time would restore her trust.
The door creaked open, groaning in protest of the movement, much like an aging man getting out of a chair. Reaper didn't give him time to reach the switch on the wall as he grabbed his arm and yanked him into the room, tossing him to the dirty floor.
"What the fuck?" Ethan tried to stand; long enough for me kick his knee, sending him crying to the floor once again.
“What do you want?” He cried as he held his leg. I ignored his question and the pain in his voice as I drew back and kicked him three more times. Reaching down, I grabbed him by the back of the neck, tossing him onto the bed not two feet away.
“You’ve got the wrong guy! I ain’t done nothing to anyone.”
Stepping over to the desk where his computer sat, I switched the lamp on, causing Ethan to squint from the light filling the dark room. “No motherfucker, we’ve got the right one.” I pointed to the girls on his screen. The number of pictures multiplied, women all tied up and dead at the hands of this bastard.
Ethan tries to get out of the bed, scrambling to reach the computer and its contents. “You’ve got no right to look at them.” Reaper shoves him back on the bed, his head hitting the headboard. “They’re mine, you can't have them!”
Walking over in three heavy steps, I pull Ethan up by the hair at the top of his head. “And her?” I shake him, pointing to the wall covered in photos of Kennedy. “She isn't fucking yours, she’s my girl.” Tossing him back against the headboard, hoping to fuck I crack his skull.
Ethan is either on something or stupid as fuck, as he tries to scramble to his feet. "Sit down, motherfucker." Reaper plants his boot in his chest, preventing him from rising again.
Ethan's eyes are wide and he gasps for air, like a fish out of water. "You fucked with the wrong girl, my friend."
Ethan slumps back, a trickle of blood rolling down from his nose. This sliver of blood is only the beginning of wh
at he is about to shed. “Tell me, Ethan. Did you move across the country after all of these girls or is Kennedy special?” He leans over, spitting a wad of red to the dingy carpet, ignoring my question, just as I had his. “Or did she not succumb to your charms, preferring a southern gentleman to a seasoned killer?”
“You can talk all you want, hit me as many times as you feel man enough, but at the end of the day we both know any decent attorney will get me off with a twenty minute psychological test. You and Scarface here can hold me until the cops arrive, they’ll see the pictures and decide I have to be a sick individual. Without a body, there’s no way a jury will ever convict me. And maybe I’ll go to jail for a little while, show the powers that be I’m a changed man, and they let me out. Guess what I’ll do then?” His body quakes with his silent laughter. “I’ll find Kennedy, and this time, I won’t wait to have a sample of her.”
He expects me to hit him, his muscles tightening in anticipation, but I have other ideas. It’s time to give him a taste of what those poor girls went through. “Cut his clothes off, Reaper. Time to teach this fucker a lesson.”
I walk back to the computer, “He’s right about not having any bodies to charge him with those murders.” Perusing the many innocent faces of the women he has killed. Ethan Porter may be as American as I am, but it doesn’t separate him in my mind from Aarash or any of his men who preyed on the innocence of his own people.
“What was it you said earlier about my lack of training in knowing your call sign?” Austin’s voice interrupts my disappointment in giving the families of these ladies the closure they deserve. “With us working together in the future, try and remember there isn't much I can’t pull from a computer.” Maps and grid markers begin popping up on the screen. “Here’s the location of every young lady who died at the hands of Ethan Porter.”
Reaper has Ethan naked and in the bathtub, water covering three quarters of his body, a washcloth shoved in his mouth to silence his screams. At least thirty girls died at his hand, and he would feel a level of pain for each life he took. During SEAL training, I learned more than how to function as a team, and hold my breath for five minutes. I gained the skills to get information out of someone, especially when they weren't too keen on giving it to me.
Signed, SEALed, Delivered (Trident Brotherhood #1) Page 18