by Kay Maree
Jax casts me a worried look and climbs out of the car, but it takes me a little longer to join them. I don’t hear their conversation, but both men are looking at me, and they stop talking by the time I reach them.
“You saw the Wraith?” asks Alec with a frown.
“Yeah, fucker got the best of me.”
“But he let you live?” The frown deepens.
“Yes, but he stabbed me twice first.”
“Why would he let you live?”
“Alec, he was clearly sending us a message. Hook is one of us, he’s patched. I’m not worried about him.”
Alec cocks his head to the side and nods once. “Come, let’s have a drink and find out what you know.”
Alec turns and walks into the house. Jax shakes his head slightly and shrugs at me. I’m getting the distinct impression Petrov doesn’t trust me. He takes us back into his study, but this time, he sits behind his big desk, and we sit opposite him in the overstuffed tan leather armchairs.
“From the beginning,” states Alec.
I clear my throat. “We went to the wife’s address, a guy answered the door—”
“Felder, your Wraith?”
“Yes. He—”
“Did I not give you a photograph of the man?”
Shit.
“Yes, sir, you did, but he was wearing a disguise.”
“You never mentioned it before,” states Jax.
“Well, how else did I not know it was him?” I ask, defensively. “Do you think I did this to myself? And how the fuck did I transport my unconscious body to the alley you found me in?”
“All we’re saying is it seems a little odd.”
With anger and fear fueling my system, I ask aggressively, “How so?”
“Why let you live? It would have been easier to kill you.” Alec leans forward in his chair, his eyes locked with mine.
“I don’t know. Maybe he wanted me to go back and report what happened. Maybe he’s sending a message, or maybe the fucker is another psycho doing this for fun,” I reply scathingly.
Alec holds up both hands. “Be calm, Hook. I’m going to ask you a question.” He pauses as he squints at me. “Did you give him any information?”
I stand and shake my head. “Fuck you.” Turning, I make my way toward the door when Jax clamps a hand on my shoulder.
“He had to ask, Hook. Think it through, don’t be a dick.”
“Don’t be a dick?” I point at Petrov. “We do all this fucker’s dirty work. We find the girls he sells. We get guns for him to sell. We get the drugs for him to sell. And he has the hide to accuse me of being a rat. Fuck that!”
“You’re paid for all your services,” replies Alec loudly and icily.
I take a few lumbering paces toward him. “Yeah, we are, but not nearly as much as we deserve. Because of you and your family, we’ve lost members to this fucker. You threaten us because we haven’t delivered girls. I’m sorry, merchandise, but the truth is we had to get illegals to fill the void. And we all know you and your customers prefer white girls. You think we don’t want to kill this Wraith? This father? You hurt us, and we destroy you. It’s what the Harbingers of Death do. I think you’ve forgotten who you’re in bed with, Petrov,” I reply angrily, spittle flying from my lips.
Surprisingly, he begins to laugh and gestures toward the chairs. “Sit! There’s the men I’ve come to know and trust. Yes, you’re right. We don’t much like the illegals unless they are Russian or white. As for the guns and drugs, you haven’t let us down for that part of our dealings. The girls will need to be replaced. There are so many lost young girls in the cities, all escaping horrible homes or have daddy issues. Most of my buyers treat them well. Most.” He pauses, stands, and goes and pours three whiskeys. “Your club will make up for the downfalls.”
“While you sit here in your nice, clean kingdom. I think the deal needs to be changed. I think with all the loses we’ve suffered recently, we deserve a bigger cut of the pie, say… another fifteen percent.”
Jax looks surprised at my outburst but remains silent. He looks up at Petrov when he hands him a glass.
Petrov stares at me intently for a moment, then also hands me a glass. “Done.”
I throw back the burning liquid and bare my teeth, so I don’t cough. “We’d a been happy with ten.”
Petrov chuckles. “And perhaps I’d have gone higher, but we’ll never know. Now, start over and tell me what you know.”
I recount my telling of the tale between the Wraith and me. Petrov doesn’t interrupt. He lets me finish and then sits there, head bowed, swishing the contents of his glass around.
Finally, Jax speaks up, “Alec, at least we know he’s here. Maybe Ann is close by?”
With a slight shake of his head, he stands, takes in a deep breath, and says, “You’re right, it’s good he’s here. He’ll probably hunt all of us now. But this time, we’re prepared. We know he’s coming. Rest assured, he won’t get to me, but you, Jax, and your men aren’t as well protected. He could simply run over you with a truck while you’re out riding.”
The color drains out of Jax’s face. Obviously, it’s never occurred to him someone might do such a thing.
“Jax is my responsibility. I’ll make sure nothing happens to him.”
“Oh, really? And how are you going to do that with an arm that’s fucked up and a leg you can barely stand to put weight on? I think not. Jax, you need to have someone else watching your back.”
Inwardly, I’m happy. I’ve got Petrov on tape agreeing to all his sordid business dealings, and now, now the fucker’s got me released from babysitting Jax.
I’m home and hosed.
Shannon, here I come.
Jax frowns and nods. “He’s right, Hook. You have to take time off while you heal. I know you’re a tough son of a bitch, but I need someone who can fight. Right now, you’re benched.”
“Who are you going to trust to take care of you?”
Jax nods at me, lips pursed. “Reaper.”
With eyebrows raised, I sit back in my chair. “Reaper?”
“Yeah, he wants the other million Alec promised. He’ll keep me alive.”
It’s true. If there’s one thing the members of the Harbingers of Death MC love, it’s money.
“Good, it’s settled then. Now, go. Find the fucker. And if you can, find my Ann.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Wraith
Again, I’ve positioned myself across from the Harbingers of Death bar. Lots of bikers coming in and out. It’s been over a week since I delivered Hook back to them. The man is still walking around with a limp, and his arm’s in a sling. Reaper has taken over guard duty of Jax, which suits me fine. Jax lives out in the suburbs, and he and Reaper seem to have an unlikely truce. It’s evident Reaper doesn’t like Jax—every time the man turns his back, Reaper either rolls his eyes or frowns at the back of the man’s head.
The cell in my pocket is on silent, but I feel it’s vibration, so I stagger to my feet and stumble down the block. I take the first street to my right, then go down an alley turn left, and wait a moment before I take the cell out of my pocket.
I’ve missed a call from the medical facility I have Ann in. I hit redial and wait for them to answer.
“Montreux Clinic.”
“Hello, this is John Smith. My daughter, Ann, is at your clinic. I missed a call from you.”
“Hold, please, Mr. Smith.”
There’s a short pause, then some horrible music pipes down the line followed by a very loud beep as someone answers the phone. “Mr. Smith?”
“Yes?”
“This is Doctor Eriksson. Mr. Smith, we have a problem with Ann.”
Fear crawls up my spine. “What kind of problem?”
The man clears his throat. “It seems Ann has escaped.”
Fear plants itself firmly in my gut, and I lean against the alley wall to support myself. “How?”
&n
bsp; “We are unclear. But she can’t leave Switzerland, she doesn’t have a passport.”
“Doctor Eriksson, how did you let this happen?” I ask in a controlled, calm voice, which isn’t how I’m feeling inside.
“As I said, we don’t know how she escaped only that she has.”
“When?” I demand to know.
“Late last night.”
“How many hours ago?”
I hear him suck in a breath. “About twelve.”
“And you’re only telling me now?”
“We had hoped to find her.”
I end the call and hurry to where I have my car parked. Hidden in the wheel well in the trunk is another cell. I call the only number I have saved on it. It is answered almost immediately.
“Well, hello, Jamison. I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”
“Do you have Ann?”
“What? Your daughter? Why would I have your daughter?”
“Angelica, I swear if you’re trying to leverage my daughter to get what you want, you’ve made the wrong fucking call.”
“Well, well, well… you do have a heart after all. No, Jamison, I don’t have Ann. But I do have operatives in the area and can call on them to investigate. Would you like me to do that?”
“Swear it. Swear to me you don’t have her? Because if you do, I’ll put you on my list, Angelica, and trust me, you don’t want to be on it.”
Angelica Strauss’ laughter filters down the line. “Oh, I love it when you threaten me. But I swear it, I don’t have her, but we’ll find her.”
“See that you do. I’m on my way.”
“No, no, no. We need you to carry out your mission, and when it’s done, you can go wherever you wish. I’ll find your daughter. I’ll keep her safe. You do what you were trained to do and take out the threat.”
My whole being wants to get on a plane, but I know Angelica wants Petrov dead, so she’ll do all she needs to do to secure Ann. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I let out a frustrated growl.
“You’ll find her and keep her safe.” It’s not a question but a statement.
“Of course.”
“Fine. But I’m only giving you forty-eight hours, then I’m going back to Switzerland.”
“I’m sure we’ll have her long before then.”
I end the call.
This means I need to speed up my killing deadline, which means I don’t get to have fun with them, but they will be dead. I get in the car and head for Hook’s home. I’ve already broken into it a few times without him knowing. He’s the closest thing I have to an informant, so hopefully, he’ll know where all the players are going to be, so I can end this once and for all.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Hook
I live on the third floor of a shitty apartment building. The only good thing about being associated with an MC is the locals don’t try to steal my shit. They give me a wide berth and let me conduct business without interfering. I’m so fucking pleased I got Alec Petrov on tape. The fucker burned himself and the Harbingers of Death MC. I can finally go home. The last flight of steps takes me longer as I haul myself up the banister, my shoulder and leg throbbing with exertion. The door to my one-bedroom fleabag apartment was once painted white, like the rest of the ones on this level, but it’s peeling, and the number for the apartment is missing.
I unlock the door and step inside. There’s not much to it—kitchen, living, bedroom, and a small bathroom off the bedroom. I keep it clean, but the carpet in this place is disgusting—it may have once been cream, but now it’s a lovely shade of brown. I never walk around without shoes or socks on, fuck knows what’s in the carpet.
“Hello, Flint.”
I jump and reach for the gun which is tucked into my waistband at the back.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve got a gun on you. And besides, I’m not here to hurt you. I only want information.”
I take the gun out anyway. I don’t need this fucker, stabbing me again. Looking into my bedroom, he’s sitting on the end of the bed, gun in hand, smiling at me.
“You stabbed me, motherfucker.”
“I couldn’t just let you go. They would have suspected you were a rat.”
“They did anyway.”
Felder chuckles, but there’s no mirth to it. “Fucking bikers, hey, they don’t trust anyone. I need a favor.”
“And why the fuck would I help you?”
Felder stands, gun still leveled on me as he walks past and sits on my fake black leather couch.
“Well, because I can end your time here. I can dispose of all the bad guys, and you can go home.”
I chuckle at him. “I’ve got them. I’ve already sent the tapes off. Petrov incriminated himself, so I’ll be going home.”
“Yeah, but I’m a sure thing.”
My leg and shoulder are killing me, so I put the gun down on the kitchen bench. If he were going to kill me, I figure he’d have done it by now.
“You’re not listening. I have them cold.”
“Why are you still here, then? Why haven’t they arrested the bad guys and sent you home.”
“Red tape, it’s always red tape.”
“Ring your handler, see what they have to say,” says Felder with a smirk.
The smirk bothers me like he knows something I don’t. I take two steps in the direction where I have the cell hidden when Felder clears his voice.
“You looking for this?”
I look over my shoulder, and he’s holding the cell in his hand.
“How the fuck did you find that?”
“I’m trained to find shit like that.”
He tosses me the cell, and I catch it awkwardly in one hand. Limping over to the couch, I sit at the opposite end to him. I dial my handler and wait for him to answer.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Gerald, it’s Flint.”
“Flint! Good work, man. What you sent us on Petrov, nails him. We have him dead to rights.”
I grin into the cell. “Yeah, he did himself in, didn’t he? When are you coming to get me? When can I come home?” I hear murmurings in the background, and what sounds like a hand over the receiver. “Gerald? You there?”
“Sorry, Flint. We can’t pull you out yet. If we take out Alec, the father will step in. We need you to get something on him, too.”
“You’re fucking joking, aren’t you?”
“I wish I was. This comes from above. You understand, don’t you, Flint? We’ve never had anyone this far under for so long. We have to ride this out.”
“We have to ride this out? But that’s the thing, Gerald, it’s me riding shit out, alone. I’m fucking done.”
“No, you’re not.”
I glance at Felder, and he shakes his head at me. He knew what they were going to do. It appears I’m the only sucker who didn’t. I disconnect and let the cell fall onto the couch between us. “What do you need to know?”
“I need to know where Jax, Reaper, and Petrov will be in the next forty hours.”
“Why forty?”
“I have another mission to see to in forty hours. Can you help me?”
I rub my forehead and nod. “Yeah.”
“Good. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry, Flint. They were always going to use you up until they nailed all of them, or they got you killed. You know this, right?”
“No, I didn’t know that. I hoped to be home with my wife. I thought nailing Petrov would be enough.”
“Who else do they want?”
I sneer at him. “Petrov’s father, Vassili. The fear is, even if we nail the son, the father will step in.”
“I can do him, too?”
I’m surprised at his lack of empathy. “Just like that? You’ll just add another one to the list?”
Felder nods. “It’s what I was trained to do.”
“I think the CIA runs things a bit differently than the FBI.”
“Yeah, we
do,” agrees Felder.
“I can make it so they are all at the same location, and what happens next is up to you.”
Felder smiles. “You didn’t take much convincing?”
“I’m done here. I want to go home. And if you can promise me a one-way ticket, I’m taking it. But… no blowback on me. None of this comes back to hurt me, or I’ll burn you, too.”
“I can tell we’re going to be great friends.”
I shake my head. “Nah, you’re a means to an end. I don’t trust you. You kill far too easily.”
“Do you know why?”
“Why you kill? Screw loose?”
“My daughter, Ann. She was sold to Petrov, but he took a liking to her, and she believes he loves her. You see, I let her down. I let work get in the way of what’s important, and I won’t make that mistake again. And I can’t let these bastards do this to anyone else’s daughter. They have to be stopped.”
“That’s why you took them out?”
He nods, and I get a glimpse of the man underneath the monster. Make no mistake, this man would go through me to carry out his objective. I can feel it to my bones.
“Do you have a number where I can contact you?”
“Yeah, give me your other cell.”
I pull it out of my pocket, unlock it, and hand it to him. Felder pushes some buttons and hands it back. On the screen is the name Ice and a number.
“Ice?”
“In case of emergency.” Felder chuckles and heads for the door. “How’s the leg and shoulder?”
“Fuck you,” I mumble.
Felder smiles and leaves.
I have no idea if I can really hand over Reaper, Jax, and Petrov, but I know I can’t stay in this cesspool any longer.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Wraith
Flint Armstrong is a good man.
Hook is a vile bastard who lives solely to please his MC. I’m glad his task force looked into me, or I would never have found out he was an agent and may have killed him
Who am I kidding? I would have killed him.
Everyone in the MC who makes money off the backs of teenage girls deserves to die.
It’s been twelve hours since we had our chat, which only leaves me twenty-eight hours. Angelica hasn’t reported back to me regarding Ann. This means one of two things—they haven’t found her or something’s gone horribly wrong, and they have no idea how to tell me. Either scenario doesn’t fill me with a sense of joy.
