Dangerous Connections (Aegis Group Book 9)

by Sidney Bristol

  The most difficult thing would be ensuring either he or Paxton stayed close to Ekko and Chayan. They hadn’t put tracking devices on either of them. From a logic standpoint, it made sense that either of those two would be searched were they captured. So the key had been for both Paxton and Silas to stick to their asset and if taken, go with them. Somehow, someway. Luckily for them the DSS had scooped them all up.

  The two men at the rear of the van spoke in low tones. Silas tilted his head trying to catch some hint of what they were saying.

  They knew Chayan had been arrested by local DSS, but it had been Chinese gangsters who’d come to collect the two enforcers on their tail in London. Since Dauria didn’t have an embassy on this side of the ocean, it stood to reason that they’d be leaning on their connections.

  It didn’t sound like the harsh consonant sounds of Daurian. Was that Mandarin?

  From the headlines he’d scanned at the airport, the protests hadn’t stopped. In fact, they appeared to be getting worse.

  Had Ekko picked up on that? Did she realize that by simply sharing her story she was likely one of many contributing factors that instigated this possible revolution?

  Why wasn’t Ekko waking up? How long had they been driving?

  She should be awake.

  He lifted his head and stared at the dark lump that was her head. All that blood. He’d wanted to stop, assess her wounds, but there hadn’t been time. Could she be bleeding out right now?

  Shit.

  He hadn’t thought of that.

  The van eased to a stop and someone yelled something from outside.

  The back doors of the van opened. A small army of people waited outside, their bodies swathed in dark clothing. Most wore hats, not masks.

  There was too many of them. Silas couldn’t take them on. Not with his hands bound and weapons taken from him.

  So he did the reasonable thing.

  He didn’t fight back.

  Maybe if he cooperated they’d be gentler with Ekko and Chayan?

  Hands dragged him to the edge of the bumper. His arm began to tingle as blood rushed back into the limb. He swung his leg over the edge, but someone kicked it away. Another person yanked him out of the van and Silas fell to the ground. Even being ready for it didn’t make the jarring sensation easier to deal with. His shoulder burned and ached. New bruises protested. But the bag was off his head.

  More hands dragged him to his feet.

  He glanced over his shoulder at someone getting their hands on Ekko. “Please, she’s passed out. Please—”

  One of the men drove their fist into Silas’ gut. He doubled over and grit his teeth.

  He still heard the sickening sound of a body meeting the ground.

  Ekko...

  He’d failed her.

  God damn it, he’d had a bad feeling about that van. Why hadn’t he listened to his gut?

  Two men hooked their arms under Silas’ and hauled him forward.

  He forced his head up and looked around.

  This was some sort of office building. Construction equipment lined the street. Caution signs were tacked to flat surfaces.

  Silas broke out in a cold sweat. Vito’s family was old school mafia. Vito had told them stories, things that didn’t seem real, about ways the mafia used to deal with things like bodies they didn’t want found. How many were disposed of using construction sites just like this? Was that why they were here?

  One of the men escorting him grabbed the back of Silas’ shirt and pulled it up over his head, limiting his vision somewhat.

  He had to remember everything.

  How many were outside the van?

  Five that he saw? That didn’t include the four in the van.

  How many were they dealing with? What were the chances they’d get free?

  They turned right. He thought it was the second hall they’d come to. Not far down, they turned left. His foot hit something and he staggered. It was only dumb luck that his foot found the stair and he caught his balance enough to keep up as his captors drug him up.

  So there wasn’t a working elevator.

  Come to think, the lights were wrong. They were off center, as if someone had hung a string of work lights to see by.

  How was Ekko? Was she okay?

  They went up maybe three floors before striking off into darkness. There were no lights here. The air was cool, maybe even cold. Thirty or so feet left of the stairs they stopped, turned into a room and pushed him in there. Someone followed, yanking him to the wall. A cold chain looped between his wrists then something clicked.

  A lock.

  The same man grabbed Silas’ shoulder, driving his fingers into the stitched up wound. Silas grit his teeth against the pain and went to his knees. The man kept a firm grip on Silas while another secured his ankles together.

  They weren’t taking any chances.

  The men released him and moved on.

  Silas turned his head, ducked it and his shirt slid back into place.

  Paxton was marched in next while a pair practically dragged Chayan. Last came two men carrying Ekko between them.

  In the low light it was hard to make out much of their captor’s faces, but Silas thought they were Chinese. Then again, they could be Daurians.

  Ekko or Silas would know, but their heads were covered.

  One by one their small group was restrained and left until each of their captors had left. There was no further searching of their bodies. No questioning. They were just left.

  Silas didn’t have a good feeling about that.

  The door thudded shut.

  Had they grossly misjudged the situation?

  Paxton immediately bent his head forward, grabbed the excess fabric from the bag with his knees and pulled it off.

  “Ekko? Ekko, is she okay?” Silas strained against the chain securing him to the wall, peering at the lump that was Ekko.

  “I’m okay,” she murmured.

  He yanked at the bonds, but it was futile. “You’re awake? You’re okay?”

  “Okay is relative.” She groaned and rolled partially onto her back. With a few wiggles of her head she had the bag off, too. “I didn’t know what to do, so when I woke up I played possum.”

  “Good.” Relief washed through Silas. “That’s real good.”

  She had injuries that still worried him, but he couldn’t do anything about those here. He rolled his shoulder and felt his shirt sticking to his skin.

  Had they broken open his stitches?

  Another problem for later.

  “Eleven of them,” Silas said now that he had a real headcount. “At least two vehicles, maybe three. What were they speaking? You catch any of that?”

  “Daurian?” Paxton said.

  “No.” Chayan leaned his shoulder against the wall. “Those were Chinese.”

  Silas met Paxton’s grim gaze.

  Neither of them were surprised.

  “What’s our next move?” Paxton asked.

  “Well, Brett and Vito are still out there and hopefully alive.” Though Silas had heard the exchange of gunfire. Both men could be dead.

  Paxton stretched his legs out. “Boss will have word of this by now. He’ll be tracing us. I doubt he’ll send regular cops.”

  “Which means we need to hold our own for a little while. Do we sit and wait, or do we try to get out?” Silas asked the room.

  “How can we get away?” Chayan’s voice vibrated with fear.

  Paxton inclined his head just a little.

  “There’s always a way,” Silas said.

  “Eleven people covering exits,” Paxton muttered.

  “No security cameras.”

  “Yeah?” Paxton perked up at that.

  “No electricity. So if we could control our exit point, we could get clear before they know we’ve escaped.” Silas grimaced. “Would it be safer to wait though?”

  Paxton grimaced then shook his head. “How much time do you think we have?”

  “Unti
l we know what they want, can’t answer that.” Silas’ gaze slid back to Chayan and Ekko.

  If they waited to learn more, were they risking themselves? Or was that the safe plan with Brett and Vito out there working on a rescue?

  Footsteps echoed in the distance.

  Silas turned his head and watched the door.

  “What’s going to happen to us?” Ekko whispered.

  “Nothing. I’m going to keep you safe,” Silas said without missing a beat.

  “They’re going to kill us,” Chayan said, his voice cracking.

  The footsteps paused outside the door. A lock scraped and then the door opened. A bright light blinded Silas as more people entered while a man barked orders.

  The light moved and Silas got a glimpse of two of the figures.

  Two hooded, restrained figures.

  There was no mistaking Vito’s bulk or Brett’s jacket.

  Shit.

  Silas’ shoulders slumped.

  So much for a rescue. Getting out of here on their own would be much more difficult. They had no idea when Zain would send help or if it would get there in time. Unless Vito or Brett had gotten off a call for help, they were relying on whoever was watching their trackers to realize they weren’t where they were supposed to be.

  No, Silas would have to handle this.

  The man barking orders shoved another large figure to the ground.

  Was that Brett’s friend? The driver?

  No, the man was too large.

  The light fell on the battered and bloodied face of the man.

  Pasley.

  The DSS enforcer who’d almost gotten Chayan free. The man Silas had left behind.

  The man ordering the others turned toward Silas just enough he could get a glimpse of the man’s face.

  Igney.

  He set the light down and prowled toward Silas, a knife in hand.

  He’d seen men like this, with death in their eyes. Igney was a killer. Likely not only because he’d been trained to be that way, but because it was in his nature. The way he was raised only fostered and encouraged something like that.

  Igney kneeled next to Silas. Igney brought his knife up to Silas’ chin, forcing him to tilt his head back, exposing his neck. There were three figures behind him. Faces Silas recognized from surveillance.

  The London DSS.

  So Igney had friends now on top of whoever was lending them aid.

  It was information, though what it really meant for them Silas wasn’t sure.

  “I’m going to enjoy killing you. Those other two? They’re work. You? I’ll enjoy it,” Igney said, his words heavily accented.

  “We can make a deal,” Brett said.

  Igney spat words Silas couldn’t understand.

  The man closest to Brett hauled back and kicked him in the gut.

  “You have no idea what I’m going to do to you.” Igney drew the point of his knife down Silas’ neck.

  He didn’t fear Igney. Igney was a child. A hurt, tortured kid who caused pain to keep from feeling it himself. The world hadn’t been kind to him. He’d known only cruelness and to survive, he’d imitated that.

  No, Silas pitied the man.

  Igney had never known love or hope or happiness.

  Silas wished he could change that, but he knew what was going to happen. Igney might talk about killing him, but in the end it would be Silas who put Igney down. There wasn’t a way around it.

  As if Igney could hear his thoughts, he hauled back and stabbed Silas below the ribs. The white hot pain seared through him, startling a yell out of him. Through it all he heard Ekko whimper.

  It didn’t change anything. Silas was still going to kill Igney.

  19.

  Wednesday. Unknown, New York City, New York.

  Ekko stared in shock, her head spinning as the men left the room again.

  “S-Silas?” she whispered so softly she barely heard herself.

  He slumped sideways groaning.

  Had that man—that monster—just stabbed Silas?

  “Man, Silas, dude, talk to us.” Paxton had scooted forward, his arms extended behind him, attention on Silas.

  “I’m fine.” Silas’ voice was strained. “Brett, Vito, how are you two?”

  “Alive,” Brett groaned.

  “Vito? Man?” Silas shook his head and sat up straighter.

  “Fine.”

  This was it.

  Ekko swallowed.

  They’d done everything and in the end, they were outplayed.

  The DSS would kill them. She wasn’t sure why they hadn’t already, but she didn’t doubt that death was the final move. All of these people, they were going to die because she’d been arrogant. She’d thought she knew what she was doing, when in fact she hadn’t a clue.

  A sob tore out of Ekko making her already aching head pound harder.

  “Ekko?” Silas called out. “Ekko, listen to me, this is going to be okay. Pax?”

  A chain rattled and a moment later Paxton was as close to her as he could get. He had his feet extended toward her, touching her calf. It was as close as he could get to her without her moving toward him and right now Paxton wasn’t the man she wanted to touch.

  “Listen to Silas,” Paxton said softly. “It’s okay to cry and be scared, too.”

  “This is all my fault,” she whispered.

  Paxton’s blue eyes pierced her. “So what if it is? You didn’t choose everything that happened. You don’t get that much credit.”

  “Hey, DSS?” Silas sat up straighter. “Pasley? You still alive?”

  They were all quiet for a moment, listening to the man’s ragged breathing.

  “Yes,” the man finally answered.

  “What were you two sent to do?” Silas asked.

  Ekko stared at him. Wasn’t it obvious?

  “Kill her if we could do it quiet. Get him and take him to superiors.” Between Pasley’s accent and the slurring, it was hard to understand him.

  “Anything else?” Silas prompted.

  Ekko licked her lips. The others were holding it together. They were trying, damn it. So could she.

  “Talk to me if it’s easier,” she said in Daurian.

  Pasley pushed up, his bleary gaze going to her. “I tried to keep them from finding out where you were. I really did try,” he said in their native language, the words rolling off his tongue easier. “I followed you to the flat in Ulaanbaatar. I was able to convince Igney you’d gone somewhere else. I really did try.”

  Ekko opened and closed her mouth.

  He’d really done that?

  “What’s he saying?” Silas asked.

  “He covered for us, helped hide our trail in Mongolia,” she said in English before speaking to Pasley again. “Why? Why help us?”

  The man’s eyes were sad. Mournful. “Because you got out. You got out like I’ll never be able to.”

  “You could,” she said.

  Pasley laughed bitterly. “No. No, they’ll never let me go. Igney will kill me and enjoy it. There’s only one thing I can do, and I don’t want to do it anymore.”

  “Pasley, did you email me? Was that you?”

  He nodded.

  “That was very brave of you.” She was vaguely aware of Paxton scooting away from her, toward where Vito and Brett were at the other end of the room.

  Pasley grimaced.

  Her nerves pushed her to talk, to fill the silence. “I always knew I was pissing off someone. My parents were the ones who got it into my head I was putting myself at risk. I guess... I guess I always thought we were over reacting...”

  “No. People like you are considered a great risk.”

  “Really?”

  Pasley nodded. “Our superiors, they talk about how easy the job used to be. Before the internet. Before the world was so connected. No matter what they do, they can’t keep everything out, and that’s the danger. I’m proof.”

  She blinked. “You’re proof?”

  “Yeah. Before th
is job, before going outside our borders, all I wanted was a quiet life. Maybe on a farm somewhere. I didn’t care about the truth. I just wanted to be left alone. But now?” He stared at her. “Now I know. And I’m not the only one.”

  Dare she ask?

  She couldn’t help it.

  “How bad are the protests?” she asked.

  “I overheard Igney say they were growing. A small depot in one of the villages in the south was overrun by protesters. Some DSS have died.”

  Ekko’s skin prickled.

  Protests were one thing, but taking over one of the military depots was another thing entirely. It meant access to information, weapons, supplies...

  Was this a true revolution? Was it starting in earnest?

  “Why are we so important?” she asked Pasley.

  “You, both of you, you’re symbols now. It’s your revolution.”

  “Me? I didn’t do anything.”

  Pasley kept staring at her. The rest of the room didn’t matter. Just them. “You were a voice when there were none. And now, there are many. At least I think there are many.”

  Ekko swallowed.

  All she’d done was express her feelings and talk about the truth. That was it. She wasn’t a revolutionary. She hadn’t encouraged anyone to do anything. All she’d done was be herself.

  “Got it,” Brett said.

  She turned and stared at the odd image of Brett pulling off Paxton’s belt.

  “I need everyone to be quiet so we can listen,” Silas said.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  Silas glanced at her. “We’re getting out of here.”

  How?

  She turned and watched Brett do something with Paxton’s belt. The catch, that had looked like a plan, silver buckle, was larger now with bits sticking out of it. Brett was moving his fingers, one of the little appendages hooking on to the thick plastic restraint.

  “You got it,” Paxton said.

  What the hell—?

  The wrist restraint snapped. The chain fell to the ground and Brett’s hands were free.

  “God damn it,” Silas muttered. “That fucking belt.”

  Paxton grinned at Silas. “Bet you wish you’d gotten it.”

  “Fuck you and your last number bullshit,” Silas grumbled.

  Paxton glanced at her, still grinning. “We did a gift exchange with our roommates. One of the guys put in this belt. It has things like a razor blade and lock picks.”