Hard Play (Delta Force Brotherhood)

by Sheryl Nantus

  “Yep. Jessie’s here as well, so behave yourself.” He cast a side-glance at the fiery redhead sitting next to him.

  She was hardcore, of that there was no doubt.

  He couldn’t help wondering how far she’d go to take Molodavi down, and how far he’d let her.

  “Yes, please be careful what you say around me,” Jessie whimpered. “Because I’ve never heard anyone say something like…”

  She broke into a litany of swear words, most of which Dylan had heard before and some he suspected were made up on the spur of the moment. At the end she sputtered and he couldn’t help chuckling as she scrambled for words.

  “…buttlicking, buttkicking bumblers.” Jessie drew a shallow breath.

  Trey roared with laughter. “Got yourself a live one there, boss.”

  Finn broke in with a light chuckle. “Remind me to never piss you off.”

  “Good to see you can be trained,” Jessie shot back.

  “Okay, okay. Take it down a notch, everyone.” Dylan grinned as he pulled out onto the highway. “We’ll be at the club in a bit. How’s the crowd?”

  “Behaving themselves and putting money in the till,” Trey said. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

  “Good. We should be there not long after you close up. Meet you in the briefing room.” He tapped the button and closed the connection.

  “What’s the name of the club?” she asked. “You’ve never told me that.”

  “The Devil’s Playground.” He chuckled. “Where else would a motley bunch like us live?”

  …

  She’d heard of the Devil’s Playground, read the reviews in the local papers. It was one of many nightclubs in Vegas providing entertainment for those looking for a good night out. It’d kept clear of the local criminal element, nothing to put it on law enforcement’s radar. No drugs, no fights in the parking lot, nothing.

  Now she knew why.

  Only a fool would start something with these men around.

  Dylan pulled off the highway and onto the exit ramp, meandering his way through the morning commuters who worked in Las Vegas, keeping the magic happening behind the scenes. Jessie kept her head down, not completely trusting her new hairstyle and color to keep her from being recognized.

  The nightclub sat not far off the Strip, the square building painted deep purple and black. This early in the morning there wasn’t anyone around, the front doors barred shut until everyone came out to play in the cool night air. The surrounding buildings were slowly waking up, the convenience store at the corner burping out coffee-carrying workers and a nearby restaurant receiving a delivery, the driver reading a clipboard as he unloaded plastic tubs of fresh vegetables.

  Dylan eased the truck around the back and into an underground garage, the electric security gate sliding open to allow access. It held a variety of vehicles, including a bright red Hummer.

  He slid the truck into one of the empty spaces.

  “All these cars belong to you?” she asked.

  “No.” He smiled. “But I like to borrow them every once in a while.”

  A mechanic was working on a black Ford Charger, bent under the hood. He straightened up as Dylan got out of the truck.

  “Boss.” He stood just over six feet high, with red hair, the freckles on his face giving him a boyish look. His eyebrows rose as he looked over at Jessie.

  “Not natural.” She pointed at her matching red hair with a sad smile.

  “Good,” he grunted. He waved a small wrench in the air. “Place like this can only handle one ginger.”

  Dylan rubbed the back of his neck. “Patrick, Jessie. Jessie, Patrick. She’s going to be here for a bit, so remember her face.”

  The man nodded, wiping his hands on the sides of his black coveralls. “Done and done.” He jabbed a thumb at the far door. “They’re all in the back wandering around, waiting for you.”

  Dylan came around to her side, opened the door, and offered his hand. “Let’s go get a drink.”

  She couldn’t think of anything to say to that so she nodded.

  The door leading out of the garage went into a hallway, a series of doors visible. At the far end sat a pair of elevators.

  “We have a briefing room in here.” He gestured at the other doors. “Gym, kitchen, the usual stuff.”

  “Who gets to come down here?” Jessie asked. She pointed at the elevators.

  “Only us.” He smiled as he opened a door. “The clubbers stay upstairs and have their fun. This is where we have ours.”

  The room was about the size of her entire apartment, a rectangular wooden table taking up a good part of the space. A light panel set in the varnished wood allowed items to be lit from underneath, an interesting feature.

  Dylan went to the bar.

  She strolled around, taking it all in.

  The chairs around the table were made of good black leather, soft and buttery. She sat in one and placed her palms on the table, feeling the cool wood under her touch.

  The walls held a variety of pictures, showing most of the men she’d met recently. Jessie stood and made her way around, brushing her fingers over the black, polished frames.

  Almost all of them showed the Brotherhood men in uniform, in war zones. She saw Dylan smiling as he leaned on the hood of a car, Trey laughing as he put Finn into a headlock, others she didn’t know yet in group shots.

  This was their home. This was where the Brotherhood worked out of. This was where they’d planned to save her from Molodavi and gotten her out of that cage.

  Only to find out she’d been trapped in a bigger one, thanks to Al’s murder.

  Dylan handed her a cold water bottle and sat at the head of the table.

  He looked up. “Okay, Trey. I know you’ve got your ears on. Everyone in here, now.”

  She followed his gaze to the small surveillance camera set in the corner of the room, pressed up against the ceiling.

  The door opened and the men filed in, taking their seats around the table. Dylan gestured for her to sit next to him and she did, sinking into the rich leather cushions with pleasure.

  Finn and Trey took their seats, leaving most of the chairs vacant.

  “Ace is still on guard duty,” Trey offered. “I’ve got Wyatt on point upstairs.”

  Dylan nodded. “Good. Give me what you have.”

  “Right.” Trey tapped on the tablet in his hand. “Frank Wheeler is being watched by Molodavi’s men. Rotating shifts, two at a time. They’re not talking to him, not challenging him at all, so we don’t know whether Wheeler knows they’re there and is working with Molodavi, trying to draw you in from the cold, or if he’s working with the cops or on his own to contact you and help you out.”

  The color images from the surveillance flashed on the screens surrounding the room.

  “I have an idea how to hook Jessie up and keep her safe.” Trey brought up another image. “We drop off a burner phone to him and open the line up. We control both ends of the signal and if anyone tries to tap in, they’ll have a hell of a time working backward.”

  “And if someone comes to the Playground looking for information we can smile and tell them the phone was left behind from a customer, show them the lost-and-found box.” Dylan nodded. He looked at Jessie for her approval.

  She nodded. “Let’s do this.”

  “Right.” Dylan stood up. “Let’s make it happen today. In the meanwhile, prep for the casino run. No matter what we get from this meeting, we’re hitting Fluxxx tomorrow to retrieve the drive and get Trey’s program uploaded to hack their systems.”

  Trey grinned. “Going to be fun busting that nut wide open.” He made a popping noise with his mouth. “I’ll get on with setting up the burner phone and the drop-off arrangements.”

  He tugged on Finn’s sleeve, leading him out of the room.

  “How many men do you have?” Jessie asked as the door shut, leaving her and Dylan alone. She looked around at the twelve chairs. “Is that all of you?”

  �
�No. They come and go, drop in and drop out. We have friends and associates as well in a variety of jobs.” He gestured at the chairs. “I bought twelve ’cause I always liked the King Arthur stories. Couldn’t get the Round Table in here but figured this would work as well.”

  “Never saw you as a romantic before.” She smiled. “I like it.” She ran her hands over the varnished wood, seeing the inlaid screens and keyboards. “All the bells and whistles.”

  “Trey likes his toys.”

  “So you’ve got a large membership in addition to people who owe you favors. Is there a magical scroll somewhere listing them all?”

  “No. But I can recite their names if you’ve got a few hours to kill.” Dylan offered his hand. “Instead, how about you let me show you around.”

  “I’ve been in nightclubs.” She took hold, relishing the way his fingers entwined with hers.

  “Not like this one.” He took her into the hallway and down to the elevator. “Main floor above us has the dance floor and all the regular offices.”

  He tapped one of the three buttons. “We have a rooftop. The men like to grill up their food sometimes. It’s got a lovely view at night.”

  The doors opened and he led her down the hall. She peered at the other doors curiously as they passed.

  “Aside from my own apartment, we have two smaller units up here, available if the guys decide to stay overnight. No.” Dylan smiled, anticipating her next question. “I don’t allow the men to bring their dates up here. They’ve got their own places to entertain their women.” He paused. “Or men. Whatever works for them.”

  He stopped at his door and opened it. “Hope you don’t mind a bit of a mess.”

  …

  Jessie stepped in and looked around, expecting the typical bachelor pad.

  This wasn’t it. If anything, it reminded her of an open house, with everything in place, including the cream-colored pillows lying on the dark brown couch. Bookcases lined the wall, and a video game console on the floor beside a stack of game cases and a single light blue blanket tossed over the back of the couch all that could be called a “mess.”

  Jessie glimpsed both the bedroom and the bathroom, not far from the main room. “Not that big a place.”

  Dylan shrugged. “Don’t need a lot of room. I can live in a tent if I need to.” He waved a hand at the framed art prints and stocked shelves. “This is all extra.”

  It was hard to not stare at the photographs on the wall, many of them the same as down in the briefing room. One stood out—a youthful Dylan with his mother. He wore his military dress uniform, a handful of medals on his chest.

  An American flag sat on the mantle, folded and framed. She reached out to touch it but paused, overwhelmed by thoughts of the flag’s history.

  Instead she turned and retreated back to the photographs, studying them again.

  She resisted the urge to pull him into the bedroom and make use of the nervous energy building up inside her.

  Dylan came up from behind and embraced her. “I know you’re wired. I get it. But right now I need you to focus. If Trey can hook you up with Frank, you better make the best use of your time with him. What are you going to say?”

  “That I’m sorry for getting him into this.” She paused, weighing her words. “And that I want to know if he was responsible for the fire at the trailer park.”

  Dylan laid a soft kiss on the back of her neck. “Do you think he’ll tell you the truth?”

  “I can only ask.” She rolled her head back, giving him more access to her bare neck. “He worked with my father. I have to believe he’s cut from the same cloth.”

  “Doesn’t make him a saint. Or a sinner,” he warned. “He’s as human as the rest of us.”

  Jessie sighed. “I know. That’s what I’m worried about.”

  Chapter Eight

  Dylan looked over at where Jessie was napping on the couch. It’d taken some time and a whole lot of talking but he’d finally gotten her to calm down enough to rest, her nervous energy in anticipation of speaking to Wheeler burning off.

  He resisted looking at his watch. It’d been four hours since Trey had set out to arrange the meeting, and while he had faith in Trey’s abilities to make things happen, time was ticking along and not necessarily in their favor.

  His phone rang.

  “We’re ready,” Trey said. “Come on down.” There was no humor in his voice.

  “On our way.”

  He went to the couch and touched Jessie’s shoulder as gently as he could, trying not to shock her awake.

  Jessie opened her eyes in a flash, her attention darting around the room as she took in her new surroundings. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. “I’m good,” she said to his unasked question.

  “We’re good to go.” He offered his hand. “Once more unto the breach, dear friends.”

  She smiled at his Shakespearean quote and nodded. “Let’s get this done.”

  …

  Jessie seated herself at the briefing table again, her heart pounding loud in her ears. Trey sat across from her, placing a laptop on the table. Dylan sat next to her, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the varnished wood.

  “This is how it’s going to work.” Trey tapped a button on the keyboard. The screens around the room lit up, showing a diner from different angles, the height and quality showing them to be traffic cameras.

  She frowned. “I know that place. Coffee a’ Go Go out on Marlborough Street.”

  Trey nodded. “I’ve tapped into the nearest intersection’s local red-light cameras. They’re not great, and I can’t move them, but they’re good enough for what we’ve got planned.” He looked at Dylan. “Finn’s been watching Wheeler for the last few hours, waiting for an opportunity to do this. There was no way we could deliver the phone to him while he was in his apartment, not without drawing attention to ourselves. But about an hour ago he came out for lunch and we got our chance.” Trey pointed at the screens. “Watch.”

  Finn came into view, strolling along the sidewalk. He went up the two steps into the diner.

  “Wheeler picked up some tails when he left his apartment. Molodavi’s men are here and here.” Trey pointed out one man sitting in a car and a second sitting at a bus stop in front of the diner. “Subtle.”

  “How do you know they’re his men?” Jessie asked.

  “I monitored the police wavebands.” Trey smiled. “It’s not the cops. Not sure if Wheeler knows they’re there or not, but we know they’re there. And now Finn is aware they’re there, too.”

  The camera showed Finn standing at the counter as the waitress went to the kitchen window and placed his order. She returned to chat with him, ignoring the retired cop at the window table.

  A few minutes later the woman picked up a take-out bag and gave it to Finn. He said something else to her and left the diner, turning and walking out of sight.

  “About ready to go live.” Trey handed her a headset. “Get ready.” He gestured for her to put it on.

  The waitress walked over to where Frank was sitting and refilled his coffee. The camera picture was fuzzy at the distance, but Jessie could see her taking something out of her apron pocket and placing it down in front of Frank. He looked at her and said something, but there was no way to lip-read or even guess at what he was saying.

  “Clean drop,” Trey said. “It’s one of our own phones with the signal bouncing around the world before coming back here.” He looked at Dylan and received a nod of approval.

  Jessie shook her head. “How the hell did you manage that?”

  “Finn’s a sweet talker. Said he saw Wheeler drop it outside. Added a nice tip for her to wait until Finn was gone to return it to him. Now he’s a block away and gaining ground.”

  Jessie looked at Frank, staring at the phone as if it were a wild animal about to bite him. “You’re kidding me. He’s not going to…”

  The ringing echoed in her ears and she stopped talking.

  Frank looked at the phone fo
r a second before putting it to his ear. “Jessie?”

  “Yeah. It’s me.” She swallowed hard, bereft of words.

  Dylan touched her arm.

  She drew a shallow breath. “You said you wanted to meet me. This is the next best thing.”

  “Where are you?” He looked around, scanning the diner.

  “Someplace safe.” Jessie hesitated, afraid to ask the question that had burned in her gut for over a week. “The last time I spoke to you, when I called you right after the news broke about that man’s death…was there anyone else on the line? Did you have someone tapping your phone, waiting and hoping I would call?”

  “What? Why would you ask that?” His tone shifted, became a shade less friendly. “You know I’ve always been a good friend to you, to your father. I can’t believe you’re asking that question.”

  “Frank. I hadn’t spoken to you since the funeral. I give you a call and the safe house I was in gets attacked and burned to the ground a few hours later. You’ll forgive me if I don’t find it one hell of a coincidence.”

  The silence on the line had her tearing up. She looked up at the screen, at the blurred figure sitting at the window staring out into the street.

  “Frank. If you’ve got a message for me, say it.”

  He cleared his throat. “Look, in plain words—Eddie wants you to come in. He’ll cancel the bounty on your head. You arrange to meet with him, cut a deal, and all’s well with the world. Whoever you’re working for, he’s willing to deal. He’s a fair guy, he’ll do you right.”

  The icy grip on her heart increased with each word. “Why the hell would he do that? He had me in a cage. In a damned cage.” She fought to keep her voice down.

  “Because he doesn’t want your boss dumping the info you stole on the black market, or using it against him. He’s thinking it’s maybe the Calabrase family or the Russians.” His voice shifted, growing softer. “You shouldn’t be messing with them, Jessie. Those foreign bastards’ll cut you something awful. I’ve seen it. Take the deal and you’ll be safe.”

  Inside Jessie winced, taking the one-two punch to the gut. First, that Wheeler was working with Molodavi. Second, that they thought she was working for another crime family, adding more fuel to the fire.