Retrograde (Galaxy)

by Desiree Holt

  As she moved into the cabin of the plane, she got her first look at the other two partners. Standing in the area where she and Blaze had sat was a man even taller than Blaze. His hair was dark like Blaze’s, almost midnight black, but where Blaze’s hair stopped at the nape of his neck, his was long enough that he tied it back with a leather thong.

  “Peyton, meet John ‘Rocket’ Hardin. Rocket, say hello to our client.”

  “Pleasure to welcome you aboard, Miss West.”

  Rocket’s hand was warm, his grip firm, and she felt the incredible strength behind it. She got the feeling at once that he, like Blaze, was a man she could trust with her life.

  “Please call me Peyton. Thank you so much for taking me on as a client.”

  “I respect Blaze’s judgment, as we all do for each other. And from what we’ve learned so far, I think Galaxy is just what you need. We’ll get this taken care of. Count on it.”

  “Thank you.”

  He stepped aside and Blaze nudged her forward to the middle section of the plane. Here everything had been configured to create a conference table setting. Laptop computers sat at three places with notepads covered in writing beside each. Viper looked up from scribbling on one of the pads, rose and held out his hand to her.

  “Nice to see you again, Peyton.”

  She was relieved that he didn’t have a knowing look in his eyes like a lot of men would have. When he looked from her to Blaze and back again, the hooded glance told her it had more to do with the information he’d dug up than whatever was going on with Blaze.

  “I have some interesting things to share. Blaze, you might want to look at the stuff first.”

  A knot formed in Peyton’s stomach.

  “What is it you want to hide from me? I’m a grown woman, Viper. I can take whatever crap it is you’ve dug up, even if it makes Dane and Brianne look bad. I have to know.”

  “What? No, no, that’s not what I meant.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “It’s just, some of this stuff is pretty brutal.”

  “Then I definitely need to know. Somewhere in there is the clue to who killed Dane and put Brianne in a coma. I can handle anything to get that information.”

  She sensed Blaze behind her, then felt the warmth of his hand on her shoulder.

  “She can handle it,” he told Viper. “No secrets. Okay?”

  Viper nodded. “You’ve got it.”

  Blaze eased Peyton into one of the chairs at the table then sat beside her, opening his own laptop.

  Just then, the man who she assumed was the fourth partner came up from the compartment in the back of the plane. He was the leanest of the partners, and possibly the shortest, although she judged that they all topped six feet. His hair was light brown but with an interesting white streak that ran from his forehead to the back of his head. He had piercing brown eyes and a hawk nose and he reminded her of something but she couldn’t think what.

  He held out his hand to Peyton. “Vic Bodine.”

  “Nice to meet you, Vic.”

  “Call me Eagle.” He grinned. “I’m not sure I answer to Vic anymore.”

  And that’s exactly what he looks like. An eagle, ready to attack. No wonder that was his call sign. She’d love to know how the others had gotten theirs, especially Blaze.

  Blaze cleared his throat. “Let’s get seated. I’ll go check with Saint and see how soon we’ll be taking off.”

  “Saint is right here. Welcome aboard again, Miss West.”

  Peyton turned to see yet another tall, muscular man standing in the cabin.

  “Peyton,” she corrected again.

  “Everyone, we’ll be taking off in five. I’ll let you know when we’re at cruising altitude.” He nodded at everyone and headed to the cockpit.

  Peyton settled more comfortably in her chair and looked around the table. She didn’t think she’d ever been surrounded by so much testosterone in her life. But rather than make her feel uncomfortable, it gave her a feeling of security, one that she really needed right now. She’d been on edge since she’d gotten the call from Peter Kendrick and nothing that had happened since then had done anything to make her feel better.

  Except of course for last night, but that was a whole different ball game, one she needed to put out of her mind while they focused on the business at hand. Not that it was all that easy, sitting next to Blaze and almost seeing the sexual energy crackling from both of them. She’d had a decent number of lovers, some better than others, but none had ever made her feel so exhilarated or charged as Blaze. She had no idea where it was going and right now was not the time to figure it out, but it stunned her to realize how much that connection settled her.

  There was something else there, too. They’d touched on it a little, then backed away, Because we’ve known each other such a short amount of time.

  Moments later came the roar of the engine, the smooth roll as they taxied to the runway and finally the takeoff as they lifted into the air. Peyton looked out of the window at the blue sky surrounding them dotted with puffs of clouds, so peaceful as opposed to what they were about to discuss. She hoped these men had found some real information and they could finally get some answers.

  Saint’s voice over the intercom jolted her back to the present.

  “Gentlemen and lady, we are at thirty thousand and good to go.”

  Eagle pushed out of his chair. “Food and coffee first. Otherwise my brain won’t work.”

  He headed for the compartment at the rear of the plane, which Peyton could see even at a distance was partially outfitted as a galley. Rocket followed him, and in what seemed like seconds they returned carrying breakfast sandwiches and pastries, dishes and coffee.

  “Better stoke the furnace,” Rocket told them. “We may be up here a long time and you’ll need to feed your brain.”

  When everyone was seated again with their choices, they each opened their laptops. Peyton noticed that Blaze had left his closed. She glanced over at him and lifted an eyebrow.

  “Mine’s just backup. In case. Everyone will send whatever they’ve got to me. I wanted to be able to listen without distraction.” He looked over at Viper. “Okay, you’re up first.”

  “Background before anything else.” Viper woke up his screen. “I have information you need to have to set the stage for everything else.”

  Blaze nodded. “Go.”

  Viper tapped his keyboard.

  “Like I said last night, no matter how people might try to deny its existence, there is indeed such a thing as the Tampa Mafia. They aren’t as open about it as they once were and spend a lot of time and money to cloak themselves in respectability. While they are still major players in illegal enterprises, and they control a lot of the gambling, they’ve become more sophisticated. International money laundering and sex trafficking, major drug distribution and always the age-old murder for hire, only more refined. Not to mention corruption of public employees so they can manipulate laws for their convenience. And these days, especially in the United States, everything is run under the umbrella of a legitimate business enterprise, Bistro Hotels.”

  “Bistro operates internationally,” Peyton said slowly. “I’ve even stayed in a couple of their facilities when I was traveling to do research. They are all so beautiful and classy. Are you sure the men in that picture work for them?”

  “I am.” Viper clicked a couple of keys then turned his laptop so she could see the screen.

  Peyton studied the man whose picture stared back at her. In his head shot he looked like a polished, uber-wealthy businessman, with his expensively styled hair, his classic face with high cheekbones accented by the carefully trimmed scruff beard. He was dressed in a dark business suit that she was sure cost as much as many people’s salaries, a white shirt and a precisely knotted tie that she knew from the pattern was a Hermès. He shrieked money and power, but at the same time, even from the computer photograph, he generated a presence of evil.

  “Tell us,” Blaze said.

&n
bsp; “The Kellerman family has been an integral part of the Tampa Mafia for generations. I put together a diagram so you could see the evolution.” Viper turned his laptop so everyone could see. “His grandfather was a capo in the Santo Trafficante empire. Trafficante was one of the most powerful and feared Mafia bosses in this country. Kellerman’s family had come here from Sicily, like Trafficante. That, along with his degrees in business and law, made him a prime candidate for entry into the upper echelon of the organization. When Trafficante died in 1972, Kellerman, as the heir apparent, stepped into the leadership role without an argument, even though he was just thirty-five at the time.”

  He clicked a button on the keyboard.

  “He grew the business by creating alliances with crime families as far away as Croatia and Venezuela, as well as expanding throughout the Southeastern United States. Prostitution morphed into the sex slave trade. He forged alliances with drug cartels to expand his distribution network and cemented his relationship with them by importing underage girls from Europe to marry off to the old men who have a fierce, perverted hunger for them. He’s also into everything from gambling to murder and whatever will make him money and give him control, just like the Mafia old days.”

  Peyton swallowed hard and tried to blink away the images that popped into her brain. “And no one has ever managed to stop him?”

  “He has more public and elected officials on his payroll than Congress does, I think. Not to mention owning a number of police in key places. He was untouchable.”

  “You say was,” Rocket pointed out. “He’s not still active?”

  “At eighty-four, he’s pretty much retired. This picture is actually of his son, Hayden Kellerman, Junior. He’s the one who saw the benefit of expanding the hotel chain and using it as a blind for the sex trade, drugs, gambling, even smuggling. Bistro Hotels are among the most popular spots for anyone with money or position. But while you’re enjoying the spa treatment, the gourmet food and the six-hundred-thread-count sheets on the beds, on another floor women are being drugged, brutally raped and sold to the highest bidders, either individuals or whorehouses. And card games with a minimum fifty-thousand buy-in are taking place.”

  For a moment, Peyton thought she might be sick. She wasn’t a dummy. She knew all about illegal trades in everything from girls to guns. As a romantic suspense author, she’d certainly done enough research on them. But there was a big difference between reading about it and actually being confronted with the reality. She lifted her coffee cup with shaking hands, hoping she didn’t spill the liquid as she took a sip. How on earth is Peter Kendrick involved in all of this?

  “He also,” Viper continued, “has the most efficient squad of killers anyone could ask for. And that’s only scratching the surface. Whatever you need, Kellerman and his so-called staff are the ones to see about it. He has shell corporations set up to run the Mafia money through. Deposits it in an offshore account, then hopscotches everything two or three times to a bank where he has a blind trust set up.”

  Rocket sat back in his chair and let out a soft whistle. “Jesus. How the hell is Kendrick’s firm involved with this?”

  “That’s what I want to know.” Peyton looked around the table. “I can’t tell you how far removed any of this is from my brother-in-law.”

  Rocket gave her a hard look. “Are you sure?”

  She started to answer him, anger surging through her veins, but Blaze put a hand on her forearm.

  “I checked the Hollisters out stem to stern before taking this on,” he told the others. “Dane Hollister is so clean he squeaks.”

  “Those photos.” Viper clicked a couple of keys and brought them up on his screen, turning it so everyone could see. “Why are three of Hellerman’s thugs having a decidedly unfriendly conversation with Owen Kendrick?”

  “And what bad luck had my sister driving by at that moment?” Peyton wanted to know. “I can’t believe she knew who these men were.”

  Blaze tightened the hand he had on her arm. “Don’t get upset. She probably didn’t. But she recognized Owen and saw some decidedly unpleasant people who were obviously threatening him. She took the pictures to show her husband. And to his misfortune, he went to Peter Kendrick about them.”

  She ran her hands over her hair, smoothing it back and tightening her ponytail. It was taking every bit of restraint not to scream and beat her fists on the table. How in god’s name had this happened? What ungodly twist of fate had put Brianne and Dane in the middle of this evil situation?

  “I can’t believe that Peter Kendrick himself is the one who ran down my sister and her husband.”

  Viper nodded. “I agree. I don’t believe he would have. Not his style. In all the information I dug up on him, there’s no hint of violence of any kind. But if he confronted Kellerman about it, he could easily have had someone do it.”

  Rocket frowned. “Would he really go to Kellerman? Tell him to stay away from Owen? I mean, knowing the man has a virtual staff of killers and wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger on either father or son?”

  Blaze looked around the table. “We can’t know what people will do in times of stress. How many times have we seen the unexpected in all our years as SEALs?”

  “That’s true,” Rocket agreed. “But we need to look at everything before we settle on a conclusion and move forward. Viper. What else have you got?”

  “Still looking into Peter Kendrick’s private life, checking his friends to see if he has anyone he could tap for something like this.”

  “I dropped by and had a drink with Tom Hernandez,” Rocket told them. “He said if we had anything on Peter Kendrick, he’d be shocked. The man was a star of the legal community and could be nominated for Citizen of the Year. Sits on a number of boards, contributes to charitable causes and doesn’t cheat on his wife.”

  Viper burst out laughing. “So he has nothing in his private life to worry about? We ought to clone him.”

  “He also said Owen has a reputation as a great up-and-coming litigator. Respected by the local legal and business community. Checks all the boxes, you know?”

  “That doesn’t eliminate him,” Rocket pointed out. “We all know lots of people who look good on paper but are rotten underneath it all.”

  “True,” Blaze agreed. “Don’t forget those pictures on Brianne’s phone. They’re a good indication that he plays a major role here, somehow.”

  “True. We know how that goes. We need to make sure we don’t miss anything.” Rocket looked over at Eagle. “Okay, we’ve got the background. Now let’s have the nitty gritty. Were you able to hack into the CCTV cloud and find anything?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes. Well,” Eagle amended, “sort of.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “First of all, I knew it would still be in the cloud because the company running it contractually has to store it for ninety days. They couldn’t wipe it altogether. However, they made it very difficult to find. Someone with a lot of money and-or clout is handling this, Blaze.”

  “You mean Kendrick?”

  “He has the money,” Rocket told them, “but I don’t think he has that much clout. Doesn’t have the ability to provide the pressure needed. Besides, he can’t afford to be caught doing anything illegal.”

  “So he’s got someone doing his dirty work for him. Someone he’s paying?”

  “I think it’s more than that, but we’ll get to that later. Now. I nearly went blind, first looking for the footage then trying to get a clear picture.”

  Peyton’s pulse skipped a little. “But you did find something? Like maybe the car and who’s driving it?”

  “At least the car,” Rocket told her, “but the driver’s a little harder. Here. Let me show you.”

  Like Viper, he clicked a few keys then turned his laptop so everyone could see the screen.

  “I got lucky here, sort of. At the time this happened there was a CCTV camera on the street where Calypso is. It caught the car coming down the street
at an accelerated pace at the exact moment Dan and Brianne Holloway crossed to the parking lot.”

  “But that’s great!” Peyton felt the first finger of excitement. “Why didn’t you say so when we first sat down?”

  “Because there’s a problem. Watch and you’ll see what I mean. The driver was so hunched over the wheel and the car was going so fast we can’t get a clear picture. Just watch, okay?”

  Peyton focused hard on the screen. It was just as Eagle said. The car whipped out of the space where it was parked just as Brianne and Dane began to walk from Calypso. It accelerated and hit them just as they were about to step onto the other sidewalk. The sight of the impact made her so nauseated that she thought for a moment she’d lose it sitting right there. The car just plunged right into them, knocking them flat, and sped off. It was a blur, but they could tell it was obviously brown. However, only part of the license plate was caught on camera and just as Eagle said, the driver was turned away and hunched over the wheel.

  For a long moment everyone stared at the screen in shocked silence.

  “You can’t even tell who it is.” Peyton was struck by the urge to hit something. “It could be anyone. Maybe someone they didn’t even know.”

  “I’m still trying to clear it up,” he explained. “Whoever did this meant business, and we have to find out why. I know you all agree with me that it’s a product of the situation with the Kendricks and Hayden Kellerman, so now we have to find out the details.”

  Blaze cleared his throat. “Okay, next move. We need to find that car. Eagle, were you able to do anything with a partial license plate?”

  “I ran it through every piece of software I’ve got that could pull it up, but everything beyond the first two characters is blurred. It almost looks like the driver made an attempt to cover it over with mud or something.”

  “So this definitely isn’t just some drunk who raced down the street too fast,” Rocket pointed out. “Whoever it is may not have done the best job of concealment, but they made a strong effort. This means it definitely was deliberate.”

  “And not one of Kellerman’s thugs,” Viper added. “They’d have done a better job covering it up. Or maybe used a stolen license plate. I’d say we’re definitely looking at an amateur here.”