Ice gave him one look and then stepped close to the door, his lockpick out. He was very quiet as he took care of the rather flimsy lock. Those inside counted on their guards just a little too much.
He and Storm each stepped to a side of the door, leaving Lana in front of it. She hovered her palm a whisper from the door, her hand as steady as a rock. Ice admired her, the way she could go from soft and sweet to kill mode just that fast. They’d counted on her when she’d been just a beautiful, dark-haired child, and she’d always come through. She still did.
She held up her fingers. Six men down in front by where they knew there was another exit and four more guards. One on either side of the door. One up high, on a small balcony behind a curtain. One by the exit on the other side of the room that led to the alley.
Savage indicated for Ice and Storm to take the guards out on either side of the door. He would take the one at the far exit and Lana would take out the one behind the curtain. She was the most accurate when there was no clear shot.
Each had the men they were going to kill. Paul Bitters was the man selling the kid, so he would be last to die. They needed to know where the kid was. “In position,” Savage reported.
“In position,” Reaper said, waiting at the exit directly behind the seller and the buyers.
“Have your package, Savage,” Mechanic said, indicating they had taken the driver of the truck and were holding him, so they could extract more information about the ring and move up the chain to the even bigger fish.
“Transporter and I at back door,” Alena reported.
“It’s a go,” Czar commanded.
Ice glanced over his shoulder one last time and then at his twin. Storm. His heart clenched. Abruptly he shoved open the door, stepping through, as he turned and fired through the wood at his target. Storm moved with him, back-to-back, a practiced move they’d done hundreds of times. His gun blazed as well. Lana was right behind them, stepping in front and to one side to give Savage his shot. She fired three times at the curtain. Savage calmly pulled the trigger, and all four bodies dropped to the floor nearly simultaneously.
Savage reached back and closed the door behind them and strode down the aisle toward the six men. “Gentlemen,” he greeted them softly.
There was no child in the room. Bitters hastily tried to get to the computer projecting the image of a small boy in a dog cage sitting on the floor holding a blanket to his chest. The four guns went off a second time and Jarvis, Kent, Bernard and Churchill dropped to the floor with very loud thuds.
Torpedo Ink used silencers, but silencers only muffled the sound of a shot. The gunshots could still be heard if anyone was close. Bitters looked hopefully toward the exit that was directly behind him. George Durango edged closer to him.
“I’ve got money. Whoever is paying you, I can double it,” Durango said.
Ice shot him through the heart and for good measure shot him a second time between his eyes. Durango fell into Bitters, who automatically caught the falling body and then dropped it with a small squeak of fear.
Ice and Storm moved together right past Bitters to the computer. “Where is he?” Ice snapped, staring up at the screen. “If you don’t tell me the first time, that man right there, standing in front of you, is going to take you apart piece by piece. No one is going to come save you. The back exit is ours. The alley is ours. The front desk is ours. The cameras are not working. Where is the kid, Bitters?”
Storm worked on the computer, using a few keystrokes to allow Code to break in. It wouldn’t take long to find the boy on their own if necessary. “Code’s in,” he said.
Bitters looked around at the dead bodies as if he couldn’t believe what had happened. He was clearly still in shock. Killing nine people inside the room had taken less than a full minute. He took two steps back and held up his hands. “If you want him, of course I’ll take you to him.”
“We have a team that will pick him up. You’re going to tell us where he is,” Ice reiterated.
Savage had shoved his gun out of sight and pulled out a wicked-looking knife. The blade caught the lights from above and gleamed, drawing Bitters’s eye. Savage had no expression on his face, and his eyes were flat. Cold. Dead. It was very clear he could do exactly what Ice had said he would do.
Bitters looked to Lana. She was a beautiful woman, elegant and classy. “Please, I don’t know what’s happening.” He took another step back.
“Look over your shoulder,” Ice suggested.
Bitters turned, his face a mask of fear. Reaper, Savage’s older brother, filled the doorway, looking like the Grim Reaper. Bitters’s frightened gaze jumped from man to man. It was impossible to say which was scarier.
“In the basement, but you’ll never get into his cage without me. There’s a device—”
Ice’s head snapped up. “You fuckin’ put a device on the cage? Like a bomb? You put a fuckin’ bomb on the cage of a six-year-old boy you’ve been molesting for two years and now he’s too old and you want to sell him? You put a bomb on that cage?” He stepped closer. He could kill the bastard with his bare hands.
“You don’t understand,” Bitters said. He straightened, putting on his public face, the one he gave to the cameras and that made everyone believe. “This boy, these children, they’re sexual beings. They want love. They want what we give them. You need to open your mind. I was born to love children. To teach them.” He gave that exact rhetoric to the other pedophiles on the website they all visited. Maybe he’d said it so many times he believed it.
Ice hit him hard. He was wearing a thin pair of gloves like his brothers and Lana. Beneath the gloves they wore fingerprints that didn’t belong to any of them. He shoved a knee into Bitters’s chest when his body went down like a felled tree. Ice hit him a dozen times, smashing teeth and his nose, and breaking his cheekbone.
“Ice is losing it, Czar, with good reason,” Storm reported.
“Ice,” Czar said softly in his ear. “We need information. Back off for a minute.”
Lana put a hand on Ice’s shoulder. “Get him up, brother,” she said softly. “Don’t get any blood on you.”
Ice glanced at her over his shoulder and took a deep breath to still the beast crying out for more blood. More death. Reluctantly he stood up, jerking Bitters with him.
Bitters wiped at the blood but it kept coming.
“We’re at four minutes and counting,” Storm reported. “Move it along.”
“You hear that, Alena? Bomb on the cage. Check it out. Code says the kid’s in the basement,” Savage said and took a step toward Bitters.
Bitters let out another squeak and held up his hands in surrender. “I’ve given you the kid. I can give you the code to open the cage. You can have him. I don’t need money for him.” He mumbled his statement and coughed blood.
Savage slapped him hard. The blow was so strong, Bitters rocked back and to his left. Stumbled. Nearly went down. Blood sprayed across the floor.
“You can’t do that,” Bitters said, grabbing his face and holding it with both hands. “You have to arrest me.”
Ice looked around the room at the dead bodies. “This look like law enforcement to you? We want to know who the man is that sold the kid to you in the first place. He killed the boy’s family and took him nearly out of a crib in order to have him without repercussions. He didn’t want anyone looking for the boy. He’s established quite an MO with his ‘kill families and grab the kids’ technique. He’s a supplier. That’s what he does for sick fucks like you. Who is he?”
Bitters glanced up at the camera and then shook his head. “I don’t know him.”
“You really aren’t of any use to us then, but we have to be certain.” Ice flicked a quick look at Savage. “Transporter has the truck waiting and the Demons have a small chapter here. They’re flying under the radar. They lent us their garage for a few hours.”
“I’ll get the information we need from one of them,” Savage said. “Ice, you’re with me on this one. Between the two of us, we can get anyone to talk.”
“Wait, wait.” Bitters held up his hands again as if he could ward them off.
Lana moved close and Bitters grabbed at her. She caught his wrist, twisted, and he went flying off his feet. She retained possession of his wrist while grinding one foot into his throat. She caught the syringe Savage tossed to her and slammed the needle into Bitters’s neck. His eyes rolled back in his head.
“Now I need another shower,” Lana said and dropped the dead weight of Bitters’s arm. “He’s disgusting.”
Savage reached down and hauled the man up easily. He put him on his shoulder, so the body dangled like a rag doll. “Leave the computer and all the evidence Code collected on these men. All of it. He has plenty of copies. He’s chosen several news outlets to leak the evidence to. Burn your clothes. Everything. Lana, you’ll have to get rid of the shoes. There’s blood on them. Use the routes given to you.”
“Damn it, Ice”—she glared at him—“I love these shoes.”
“Sorry, hon, I’ll buy you another pair,” Ice said. He slung his arm around her. “Really. He just pissed me off. I needed to kill that fucker, so it’s a good thing you and Storm were here to give me a cooler head.”
“Me too,” she said. “I needed to kill him too, but we need to find the one killing families and taking the children.”
“Remove all evidence,” Czar said unnecessarily over the radio.
“Package is in our custody,” Alena reported. “Poor baby is scared out of his mind.”
“Sedate him if you have to for transport. We’ll take care of him,” Czar said. “You all need to get out of there clean.”
TWO
Soleil Brodeur had never actually used the main entrance to the hotel. She used a private entrance, and always had a concierge waiting to give her any little thing she wanted or direct her to wherever she wanted to go. There was a private car to take her places. She had wanted to walk around the strip like a normal tourist and just enjoy the day. Was that asking too much? Did she always have to dress right and talk only to the people Winston dictated she talk to? They were supposed to be having fun. Make that whatever Winston ordered was fun.
She dashed at the tears on her face and stopped to look around her. There were people everywhere. She hadn’t used the private entrance because she hadn’t wanted the concierge to see her crying like a baby, which was so ridiculous there were no words. She had no idea where to go, which elevator to take or even if she could get one to her room from the main lobby. She’d traveled the world, stayed in hundreds of hotels, but she couldn’t find her way to an elevator? She was such an idiot.
No one could force another person to marry them. The idea was ludicrous. She’d brought this entire mess on herself. There was no one else to blame. She might let everyone else do everything for her, but she always took responsibility for her own screwups. This was the worst of the worst.
She took a quick look around and caught sight of a women’s bathroom tucked behind an alcove filled with gorgeous plants. She hurried across the gleaming marble-tiled floor and ducked into the alcove. The door was opened for her by an attendant in a hotel uniform. She went on through, wondering how many people couldn’t open a door. Probably only her. A fresh flood of tears ensured her makeup would be a mess.
As with everything else in the hotel, the bathroom was the epitome of luxury. The door opened to a sitting room with faint music, comfortable but elegant chairs and a sofa, giving women a place to relax if they wanted to hide for a few minutes. A soft fragrance spread through the room, and large, lacy plants of various shades of green added to the peaceful ambience. Once the door was closed, all noise from the outside lobby ceased.
A tall woman with dark hair stood in the midst of the greenery, dragging a dark tank top over a lacy red bra. She was beyond beautiful. Her face was flawless, with dark eyes and an inviting mouth. If Soleil hadn’t been crying, she would have stopped and stared. She couldn’t stay in the sitting room, not with the most gorgeous woman on the face of the earth casually changing from what looked like a sultry afternoon dress—not a girl-next-door sundress.
Soleil went past another concerned attendant to the sink, needing to splash cold water on her face. She had to stop crying, but all she seemed to be able to do was stare at herself in the mirror with tears running down her face. She didn’t look at all like the beautiful woman with gold at her ears and a flawless body to go with her flawless face. She probably looked gorgeous when she cried, not all splotchy and red.
There was a faint bruise just on her left cheek where her fiancé had slapped her because she’d insisted on a prenup. There were bruises on both upper arms where he’d grabbed her hard and shaken her, as if somehow, by threatening her, it would make her go through with the marriage.
She’d always had a ridiculous fantasy about being with someone a little rough, although they never hit her. She never could quite feel that tingle with the men she dated. That spark. Winston hadn’t appeared rough. He had soft hands. He always wore a business suit, and his shoes were gleaming with polish. In the weeks she’d known him, he’d never had a single hair out of place. She realized having the real thing wasn’t at all what she’d dreamt about. No one had ever put their hands on her like that before.
It was ridiculous anyway. She had known better than to come to Vegas. She’d reluctantly agreed even though, in the back of her mind, she feared Winston Trent was going to try to get her to marry him. They’d argued about it several times before coming. He wanted to marry her quickly to “take care of her.” She needed breathing room. She’d told him, and he hadn’t listened.
Winston had switched tactics, saying they didn’t have to go through with a marriage, but she needed some fun. He’d planned the entire trip and “surprised” her. She should have refused to go. That would have been the adult thing to do. The intelligent thing. She’d done what she always did. She’d drifted. She had let him talk her into it because she wasn’t a fighter. She’d never been a fighter. She liked peace. She liked creating peace.
Her longtime lawyer and guardian, Kevin Bennet, had died unexpectedly in an accident just a month earlier. He had always managed her affairs, looked after her trust fund and been more like a father to her, although she didn’t really know what a father was supposed to be like. She was grieving. She’d told Winston that repeatedly, but his answer had been to get married and let him take care of things. He had rushed out and hired a lawyer, but she was uneasy around the new lawyer, a man by the name of Donald Monroe, and felt like she wasn’t ready to move on. Again, Winston’s answer had been to get married and let him handle the lawyer.
She touched the bruises on her arm and shook her head, knowing she was at her lowest point. She’d lost the one man she could talk to, figure things out with. Everything felt so tangled, and she had absolutely no real idea of what to do next.
“Honey, he’s not worth it. No matter how much money he’s got, no matter how big a ring he puts on your finger, if he puts his hands on you, you should run the opposite way as fast as you can.”
Soleil lifted her gaze in the mirror to the woman standing beside her. She had been the one in the sitting room changing. She looked at the woman and then dropped her gaze to the ring. “You’re so right,” she murmured and pulled it off her finger to shove in the pocket of her dress. “Thanks for the advice.”
Up close, the stranger was even more gorgeous. Really, really beautiful. It took some doing not to stare. The woman rinsed her hands in the immaculate bowl and Soleil couldn’t help glancing down to see if she wore a ring. She didn’t. She wasn’t quite as tall as Soleil had first thought but looked it because, although she had curves, she was on the slimmer side. She wore skinny jeans, motorcycle boots and a leather vest over a dark tee. She’d gone from glam
orous woman to hot biker babe in about three minutes. Who could do that?
“You all right, honey? I could get you a room if you needed it for the night.” Even her voice was sultry.
A perfect stranger in the women’s room of a hotel was nicer to her than her fiancé, the man who had sworn he loved her. “Thank you, I really appreciate the offer, but I have a room. I’m going to pack and get out of here fast.” The problem was, she was going to have to face Winston. They shared the room.
“Good for you,” the woman approved.
“Did you hear all those sirens?” Soleil asked, trying to change the subject so she didn’t look so pathetic. “It sounded like half the police force was going somewhere.”
The woman nodded. “Around the corner, a couple of streets over. I heard there was a shooting in a massage parlor. Someone said everyone inside was dead.”
“What is wrong with everyone these days?” Soleil asked.
The woman shrugged. “Most likely someone didn’t pay when they should have.” She picked up a small tote, started out and then stopped, turning back. “You have a cell phone?”
Soleil nodded.
“I’m Lana.”
“Soleil.”
“You here alone?”
“With him.” She held up her bruised arm.
“Where’s your family? Maybe you should give them a call.”
Soleil looked down at the floor. It was absolutely clean just like everything else. She sniffed and wasn’t at all shocked to find that even the bathroom smelled good. That citrus fragrance from the sitting room had drifted right in.
“I don’t have a family,” she admitted in a low voice.
“Friends nearby?” Lana stepped closer to her, concern in her voice. In her eyes.
Soleil struggled not to burst into tears at the obvious sympathy. The few friends she’d had, Winston had managed to alienate. She shook her head.
Vendetta Road Page 3
