RELENTLESS

by Christy Reece

  Liam nodded. Probably was pointless for them to return. If the house was empty, there was no one to rescue, no one to fight, no Mafia kingpin to capture.

  “Let’s head over. Be on the lookout for traps. If they knew about us, they might’ve left a message.”

  They’d definitely left a message, but not one Liam had anticipated. While the rest of the team continued to look for clues in the empty house, Liam stood over the tortured and brutalized body of Myron Hornsby. The man hadn’t deserved this. He’d had his flaws and had been prone to having sticky fingers when an expensive piece of artwork caught his eye, but with the intel he’d provided Liam through the years, he had saved numerous lives.

  Whoever had done this had wanted to send a clear message. Liam had no problem interpreting it. Now he was even more determined. These people were going down.

  “We found the tunnel.”

  Gideon’s voice punched through Liam’s fury. Getting caught up in anger would accomplish nothing.

  “Let’s go.” Following Gideon, he glanced over his shoulder once more at Myron and felt another surge of guilt and grief. Dammit, why did people do things like this?

  “Hey, man, it’s not your fault.”

  “Oh yeah? Whose is it, then?”

  “Myron was no amateur. He knew exactly who he was dealing with and what could happen. He was in the business a long time and made his choices…” Gideon held up his hand before Liam could protest. “I’m not saying he deserved this, but he played a dangerous game with a lot of dangerous people. He knew the risks.”

  “Maybe so, but this happened on my watch.”

  “And you gave him the option of protection, which he declined. You’re gonna have to let the guilt go, man. Focus that energy on finding the bastards. Remember, there are at least a dozen victims needing to be rescued.”

  As usual, Gideon’s sound reasoning was hard to argue against.

  Liam jerked his head in assent. “Let’s go.”

  While Sean, Serena, Jazz, and Xavier examined each room for any evidence that could be used, Liam, Gideon, and Eve took off down the stairs of the hidden tunnel. Even though the group was likely long gone, finding their exit point might give them a clue to where they were headed next.

  The tunnel was damp and old, almost as old as the house. It hadn’t been on the original blueprints but likely had been added not too long after the house was built. Though musty smelling, the brick work had held up well. Whoever had built the tunnel had put some work into it.

  Liam looked over his shoulder. “What are the odds that these pricks purchased the house without knowing about the tunnel?”

  “I’d say that was the biggest selling point,” Gideon answered.

  “Yeah. Chances are they’ve been transporting their victims through here all along.”

  In grim silence, they continued through the tunnel. The only evidence of recent use was the cigarette butt at the entrance to the tunnel and a small scrap of fabric hanging from a protruding nail. Liam collected both items. Might not tell them anything, but he didn’t plan to leave any stone unturned.

  The tunnel was shorter than he’d expected. Less than a mile. A small set of stairs led to an unlocked steel door. The hardware was only a few years old.

  Guns at the ready, Liam pulled back the door and walked out into a small wooded area. Hearing Gideon and Eve behind him, he turned. “Looks like the ideal spot to bring in new people and take them out, too.” He made a 360 observance. “Plenty of tree cover. No houses close by. Bring them in under the cover of night, and no one’s the wiser.”

  “Stryker, you copy?” There was a unique tension in Jazz’s voice.

  “Yeah. What’s wrong?”

  “I think we’ve figured out who gave them Myron. You’re going to want to see this in person.”

  “Copy. I’ll be right there.” He swung his gaze over to Eve and Gideon. “You guys keep searching. Let me know if you find anything.”

  With that, Liam took off back down to the tunnel and ran. Since he was no longer looking for clues, he made it to the house in less than five minutes.

  Jazz met him at the entrance. “We searched every room and was about to call it a bust, then we found this lying in an ashtray.”

  Taking the evidence bag Jazz held out, Liam didn’t need any explanation. There was only one man arrogant enough to have left the calling card. The Arturo Fuente cigar was not only one of the most expensive in the world, it was also one of the rarest. And Liam knew only one man who had a strong addiction to these cigars—Barnabas Drury.

  Son of a bitch.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Burnsville, North Carolina

  Aubrey gasped in delight as she rounded another curve and gazed up at the majesty before her. Oh how she loved the mountains! The forty-minute drive from the Asheville airport had been both awe-inspiring and breathtaking. The trees were gloriously colored in every hue and shade known to man. It took every bit of her willpower not to stop at the various pullover sites to snap a dozen pictures and just enjoy the beauty.

  When the GPS voice announced she was close to the turnoff to her destination, Aubrey frowned. Had she typed in the right address? This heavily wooded patch of road didn’t look like home to anything other than forest creatures. When the voice announced her turn, she slowed to a crawl. And then she saw a sign that blended so well into the surroundings, it almost looked as though it was part of the forest. The sign simply said, Haven.

  Intrigued, Aubrey turned onto the paved drive, following the curves for at least a mile. When she spotted the mansion, she lost her breath. It was one of the largest homes she’d ever seen in the US. That was saying a lot, since she had been to homes of some of Hollywood’s most elite. But this…this was as if someone had spirited an ancient castle away from the moors of England and dropped it into a small valley in North Carolina.

  She’d done some research. Kate Walker was a former FBI agent who had married tech billionaire Lars Walker. Lars had died a few years ago from complications of Alzheimer’s. Kate had inherited his wealth and was apparently very much a recluse. Little was known about her current life. After she’d left the FBI, it was as if she had stopped existing. Looking at her home, Aubrey could understand why she would never leave. It was magnificent.

  As she parked in front of the mansion and stepped out of the car onto the paved drive, Aubrey cautioned herself. Though Mrs. Walker could likely fund her entire project many times over, that didn’t mean Aubrey would agree to take her money. How much control would the woman want?

  She’d had creative differences with Lawrence Medford but had known they could have eventually worked things out. That didn’t mean Kate Walker would have the same goals or vision. Either way, Aubrey would give any deal careful consideration before making a decision. She knew how she wanted to do this documentary. Having someone interfere, no matter how well meaning, wasn’t something she would allow.

  “Aubrey, thank you for coming.”

  A woman of indeterminate age came swiftly down the steps toward her. Dressed in gray slacks, white turtleneck and tweed jacket, Kate Walker was the epitome of casual elegance. Her hair was pulled back into an intricate braid, and though she wore little makeup, her pale pink lipstick emphasized full lips and a light application of mascara brought out the emerald green of her eyes. She was slender but not fashionably so and had a twinkle in her eyes that made Aubrey warm to her immediately.

  Aubrey held out her hand, and Kate shook it firmly. “I was afraid you’d change your mind.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because some people would look at my offer and see strings attached. Creative types don’t usually like to take input from those not in the same field.”

  “Do you plan on giving your input, Mrs. Walker?”

  “Let’s just say I want to see what you’ve got planned. Who knows? I might have suggestions that will intrigue you.” Before Aubrey could ask what they were, she added, “And please, call me Kate.”


  “All right.”

  “Now, let’s go have some refreshments on the terrace and talk about your project.”

  Aubrey followed Kate into the house, trying not to gape like an overwhelmed schoolgirl.

  Apparently she wasn’t very good at hiding her admiration because Kate turned to her and grinned. “It’s audacious, isn’t it? My husband had it built years before we met. I thought about moving, maybe donating it for a children’s home or a hospital, but leaving behind all the memories isn’t something I’m ready to do yet.”

  Kate led her to a small side terrace, which had a lovely view of the vibrant, autumn-colored trees that surrounded the estate. A table was already set with a scrumptious-looking English tea. “My late husband was British. This is one of the traditions he brought with him that I have thoroughly embraced.” She paused in the act of pulling out a chair. “Would you like to freshen up before we sit down?”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  Pointing her to a door, Kate said, “Down the hallway, third door on the right. I’ll pour the tea. How do you like yours?”

  “Two sugars, no cream.”

  Aubrey quickly washed her hands and freshened her makeup. Kate Walker was nothing like she’d expected, and the optimism she’d lost earlier was now back in full force. Just in the brief few moments they’d had together she already knew she liked this woman. Could she work with her? That was the hope.

  She returned to the terrace to see Kate sitting at the table, sipping her tea, a faraway expression on her face.

  “Everything okay?”

  Kate gave her a wistful smile. “I get melancholy sometimes when I sit down to a full English tea.”

  “How long has your husband been gone?”

  “He passed only a few years ago, but he was gone before that.”

  “Alzheimer’s is a dreadful, hideous disease.”

  “You sound as if you have personal experience with it.”

  “My aunt Jenny suffered from a form of dementia before she died.”

  “Ah, yes. Syd’s wife.”

  “You know my uncle?”

  “By reputation only. He has an impressive track record of megahits. I’m surprised he hasn’t offered to fund your project.”

  “Oh, he has, but I prefer to keep my personal life and my business life separate.”

  “That’s understandable. It can make for uncomfortable Thanksgivings, can’t it?”

  It had been years since her family had enjoyed a traditional Thanksgiving dinner. After Aubrey’s father had died, her mother had no longer wanted to do anything remotely traditional. Elizabeth Starr now spent most of her holidays in Italy with an old school friend.

  Uncle Syd spent his holidays with friends, and Becca was always flitting somewhere around the world. In the last few years, holidays had become just regular days for Aubrey.

  When she didn’t respond to Kate’s remark, they went on to talk about other things. She learned that Kate was an avid pilot and had her own plane.

  When they finished eating, Kate sat back in her chair and eyed her expectantly. “Now, let’s talk about your project.”

  “You said that you and Lawrence were friends. He told you about it?”

  “Yes and no. I talked to him a few weeks ago, and he mentioned that he was meeting with you.”

  “His death was so tragic and bizarre. Imagine having a snake enter your home like that and strike without warning.”

  Something flickered on Kate’s face but was gone in an instant. Aubrey waited for her to comment, but all she did was nod and say, “It was indeed tragic. Lawrence had his idiosyncrasies, but he was an incredibly talented man.”

  “Yes he was. I looked forward to working with him. We had our differences, but I knew we could work them out.”

  “Tell me about your project. Lawrence told me the basics, which had me so intrigued.”

  “The title is Still Lost. It’s a follow-up to the documentary I did a few years back.”

  “The Lost Ones. Which was excellent, by the way.”

  “Thank you. Part of the new one will include checking in with a couple of the victims we featured in The Lost Ones. Where they are now. What kind of life they’ve been able to create. What lingering impact their experience has had on them.”

  “That sounds interesting. What else?”

  “This time, I want to cover all aspects of human trafficking—not just focus on the victims. I want to talk to some of the incarcerated traffickers to try to find out what makes them tick. What kind of person abducts, sells, and abuses another human being? How did they become who they are? Is there remorse? If not, why not?”

  “Might be difficult to obtain access to those people.”

  “I’ve received permission from two prisons for interviews, and have gotten an agreement from three traffickers already. It’s just a matter of arranging a meeting time.”

  “Excellent. What else?”

  “I want to cover the rescuers. What motivates someone to put their life on the line to save others? Is it because of a personal experience? Are they on a crusade? If so, why? What drives them?”

  “I might be able to help you with that aspect.”

  “That would be wonderful. I have a couple of prospects, but the more I have, the better insight I can get.”

  “You do realize that there are people out there who don’t want these stories told, don’t you?”

  “I dealt with that on the first film, so yes, I’m aware.”

  “But the kind of in-depth reporting you’re talking about here is the kind that could provoke some people to do whatever is necessary to keep their secrets from being revealed.”

  “That’s one of the reasons I’m doing this. They need to be exposed.”

  “You could be putting yourself and your crew in danger.”

  “We’re taking precautions, and we also don’t advertise what we’re working on. My team is a hundred percent loyal, and they never discuss the details of their specific jobs. I’m the only one who knows the names of my sources.”

  “And you take all the risks?”

  “That’s only fair. My people didn’t sign on to become martyrs.”

  “But you have no problem with putting yourself at risk?”

  “Not when the price of safety is someone’s life.”

  “Why are you so committed to this? Are you on your own personal crusade?”

  Before Aubrey could answer, Kate held up her hand. “I’ve read your bio, so I know the public answer. But I’d like to hear the personal reason. Not many people are willing to put themselves at risk unless they’ve experienced something that inspires and drives their efforts.”

  If this woman was going to give her millions of dollars, then Aubrey owed her more than the surface answer she gave everyone else. She could tell the truth without going into the details.

  “I had a close call years ago. Fortunately, my uncle paid a ransom before the sale could go through. There were others that weren’t so fortunate.”

  “I’m so sorry that happened to you. Thank God you had a better outcome.”

  “It took me a while to recover, when I finally did, I knew I had to change the direction of my life. I survived for a reason.”

  “Yes, you did. Few get to realize their purpose while they’re still young enough to accomplish it.”

  Aubrey got the idea that Kate truly did understand, and not just from an outsider’s perspective. This woman had experienced suffering and grief. And because of that, or in spite of it, she had found her purpose.

  Smiling, Kate stood. “Let’s go to my office and discuss how we can get this documentary made.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  OZ Headquarters

  Montana

  “You want me to do what?”

  Ash had a hard time keeping a straight face. Yeah, he knew he was asking a lot from Stryker, but the expression of horror on his face was priceless. Few things fazed the man, and seeing him look so nonplussed was more t
han amusing.

  Truth was, he’d had a similar reaction less than twelve hours ago when Kate had made the request. His response had been a quick and automatic no. They didn’t take civilians into dangerous situations. Period. Since Kate Walker was a good friend and a longtime ally to OZ, he had agreed to hear her out. Once he did, he had to admit he was intrigued. When Stryker settled down, Ash suspected he’d feel the same way.

  Since returning from Colombia, Ash had seen a change in Liam. The man was driven by demons—they all were—but Stryker’s demeanor had a tinge of hopelessness to it. Something he’d never thought he’d see from his usually even-keeled friend.

  Liam carried the guilt of Myron’s death. It hadn’t been his fault, but that was the problem with a conscience. Guilt didn’t always have to make sense. Which was why, even after all this time, he still carried the guilt of Cat’s torture and disappearance. None of it had been Liam’s fault but that didn’t keep him from staying awake at night. The what-ifs could drive a man crazy. Ash understood that all too well.

  Not being able to locate Drury was also weighing heavily on Stryker. The sleaze had a gift of escape even Houdini might admire. Ash knew Drury’s elusiveness only added to Liam’s frustration. Hunting down the murdering bastard was taking time away from his main focus, which was rescuing trafficking victims.

  When Ash had created OZ, his goal had been to take on the cases that were the most hopeless, to help people who had nowhere else to turn. They had done that and then some. But each team member had their own agenda as well. Liam Stryker’s was one of the most noble, and Ash fully supported his efforts.

  Ash repeated his statement. “I want you to let a filmmaker join your next trafficking raid.”

  “Uh…that would be a hard ‘hell no’ from me, Ash. I can’t believe you’d even ask me to do something so asinine.”

  “Hear me out, then decide.”

  Settling back in his chair as if he were anticipating an interesting but unbelievable fairy tale, Stryker nodded.