Redemption: Triple R Security, Book 3

by Imogen Wells

  Jay reels off a barrage of information about how it works, and I listen carefully as I return to the lounge.

  “So, this needs to be done in the website setup?”

  “It’s the easiest way, yes. Why, what are you thinking?”

  I stare at the note on the sheet in front of me, and another puzzle piece falls into place. “Rendezvous’ website was designed by Tobias’ company.” I let that hang in the air a moment while my mind works to put it together. Because something doesn’t add up here.

  “Jay, do a search on Adam Masters.” He taps away on his phone no questions asked. I get up needing to keep moving as my body thrums with restless energy.

  “…Adam Masters, died in action, sister is Alicia, which we know. Parents are… mother works at a local bank, father…”

  “What?”

  Jay looks up at me. “Peter Masters died in an accident a month ago on his way home from work at Lux Designs.”

  “Looks like we found another link to Rendezvous and Tobias. I think we need to go and have a chat with Alicia.” I take a quick snap of Alicia’s address from Jess’ folder before we leave.

  It takes us twenty minutes to get to Alicia’s house. And we pull up just as she’s entering the house.

  Jumping from the car, I jog across the road and catch her door with my foot before she can shut it.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” she exclaims as panic widens in her eyes, and she tries to close the door on my foot again.

  “Alicia Masters?” I ask, and her eyes narrow suspiciously.

  “Yes. Who are you?”

  “I’d like to have a word with you about Rendezvous, you work there, right.”

  “I don’t know who you are, and where I work is none of your business, so please leave before I call the police.”

  “Calling the police sounds like a good idea. I’m sure they’ll be really interested in what goes on at that place.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, sounding less than convincing. “Please leave.”

  “Do you know someone called Garcia?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, she shoves the door, squashing my foot, before bolting away inside the house.

  I don’t hesitate to go after her. It’s obvious she knows something, and I’m not leaving here till I get answers.

  I catch her as she leaps a footstool in the lounge heading for the back door.

  “Please, please, I haven’t told anyone about the auctions. I swear.” Her hands are flying all over the place as she tries to get away. I get a slap to the face for my trouble, but eventually we get her restrained long enough to explain that we aren’t here to hurt her.

  When she’s finally calmed down and with a little bit of persuading, she spills everything she knows.

  Turns out that when her dad, Peter, died a month ago, she got a visit from a man claiming that Peter owed him money. With no way to pay and not wanting to involve her mother, who had been struggling since her dad died, she’d agreed to sign on at the agency.

  She had no idea about the secret auctions the agency ran until she overheard a conversation a week ago. When she tried to leave with the promise to pay her father’s debt another way, they had threatened to kill her mother, and effectively forcing her to stay.

  Before we leave to pay Tobias a visit, I call Scott and arrange for Alicia to be moved to a safe house.

  We park down the road from Tobias’ Mayfair house and walk the rest of the way. We stop and watch from across the street for a few minutes, but there’s no movement from inside.

  “Come on,” I say, taking a step forward.

  “That’s not a good idea,” a female voice says from the left, and we both turn to find Roxy walking towards us.

  “I think it’s a very good idea if it means I can find out who took my son and Jess,” I tell her.

  “He doesn’t know anything, Rick.”

  “And how do you know that?”

  “Because he’s at the station being grilled by a very persuasive colleague of mine. One I trust to get the answers we need. Unfortunately, our little millionaire friend as no clue about Rendezvous or where JJ and Max are.”

  “Hang on a second, how do you know about Rendezvous? How is it you’re always one step ahead, huh, Roxy? I’d be forgiven for thinking that you’re inv—”

  “I would choose your next words very fucking carefully, Sullivan,” she warns, pointing her finger at me. “This is my city. It’s where I grew up, where I live and where I fucking work. I make it my business to know everything, and if you’re a criminal in London, then you can’t take a shit without me knowing about it.” She then turns her attention to Jay. “Jay Michaels, teen delinquent turned tattooist come hacker, father unknown, mother, Theresa Michaels deceased, long-time friend of Sebastian Roberts and currently employed by Triple R security.”

  “Holy shit,” Jay exclaims.

  “Do not underestimate me, Sullivan. Do not assume because I know everything that I’m a corrupt arsehole like so many others. I may walk the line, push the boundaries, but I never do anything without good reason. Now, you want to tell me what you have on Rendezvous, Jay, and you, Sullivan, can tell me how the fuck Major Richard Cole ended up dead on your doorstep.”

  We follow Roxy to a nearby cafe and fill her in on Alicia Masters and the dark web back door. While her and Jay talk, I check my phone and notice the earlier email.

  * * *

  I hope you enjoyed my little gift. I had planned for it to be someone a little smaller and of the same blood, but it appears that I’ve been fucked over again. You and I have a common enemy, and both of you will get your reckoning where you’ll pay for your sins. Until then, enjoy hunting for your son and the whore you’re fucking.

  * * *

  There are several photos attached, and each one worse than the last. My son, Jess, even one of Ryder, Seb and Jamie, one of Kuffs, one of Richard and the final one is of Archie Collins. There isn’t one of my parents, and that’s reassuring and confirms the fire report findings of a gas leak and not a bomb.

  “It’s Collins. He has Jess and Max.” I shove the phone at Roxy and turn away as my mind spins with how the fuck I’m meant to get them back now.

  “Okay, this is good.”

  Spinning back round, I say, “Good? How is this fucking good, Roxy? The man is a fucking judge looking to climb the ladder. He has a reach way above my pay grade, and even above yours given who your father is.”

  She scowls at me for my comment about her father. “What I meant was, we can connect the dots, Rick. And yes, it does make it difficult because of who he is but not impossible.”

  I let out a sigh, but I understand what she’s saying. “This is Garcia. He wants revenge for Luca, but why now? Why wait almost six years to seek revenge?”

  “What’s the connection with Garcia and Collins? When you were being held with Christian what were they looking for?”

  I rub my hand over my face and send my thoughts back to a place I’d rather forget. “They received a large delivery of military grade weapons before they caught us. We thought we were there to gain intel on insurgents or Taliban not fucking gun running. They knew who we were after the first three days, Roxy, and it didn’t come from either of us.”

  “You’re sure? Christian wasn’t trained in special ops missions, Rick. It was one of your arguments for not wanting him assigned.”

  I narrow my eyes at her. Is there anything that this woman doesn’t know? “The first time they questioned us, they already knew who we were, so no, Christian didn’t fucking snitch.”

  “Wait, wait,” Jay says, holding up his hands. “Are you saying that Christian was not the first choice for the surveillance op?” I nod. “And Garcia, not this guy—” He points to my phone in Roxy’s hand. “The other one, Luca, was asking you about The Archer, right?” I nod again. “So, what’s a quick way to make some fast cash when you’re desperate to climb the political ladder as a judge, who is clearly corrupt, and buy your
self some much needed support from other officials?”

  “Okay, say that’s true, why would they kill Kuffs, Jay?”

  “Because Garcia thinks Collins fucked him over. He said so himself.” He points to my phone again. “Think about it. You and Christian were sent on a recon mission and captured, and they knew who you were, so what if someone sent you there to discover the gun running and expose it?”

  I pick up on Jay’s thread of reason. “But Kuffs was never meant to be there, and so they thought Collins sold them out.” I look at Roxy, then Jay. “The Salcido cartel all but collapsed after that op, so baby Garcia would want revenge on me for the death of his brother and on whoever cost them their, no doubt, very lucrative business.”

  “Exactly. I mean it’s not perfect and doesn’t explain Marcus’ part in all of this, but it’s a start. At least we know where Jess and Max are. Kind of,” he finishes with a shrug.

  I turn it all over in my head, and it makes perfect sense. But it still leaves the Marcus question unanswered, and also why now and not earlier.

  Then the fucking light bulb goes off in my head like a damn firework. “Trafficking. Alongside drugs and guns, trafficking is one of the most profitable organised crimes in the world. Donovan, Blackwood and Garcia, so what’s to say that Collins wasn’t involved too.” My phone rings before I can say anymore.

  “Ryder,”

  “Sully, I just got off the phone with Ray, and he told me that Travis is dead. Someone shanked him. It looks like someone is tying up loose ends and covering their tracks.”

  “Shit. Did he give you anything on the Tempest members, anything on The Archer, any fucking thing at all that we can use?” My voice rises along with my temper. This staying calm crap is starting to wear very thin. The fact that it’s looking as though Archie has them has not settled my nerves at all. People who have as much to lose as he does are unpredictable and dangerous. If he’s the reason Kuffs died, the favourite blue-eyed boy, then getting rid of Jess will be a walk in the park, and Max will just be collateral damage.

  “No, nothing good. He’s heard of him, but they have no leads and none of the members appear to have a connection to him. I’m sorry, man.”

  I try to focus on the positive things. Not too sure what they are right now, but I’m sure there are some. I give Ryder a quick run down of what we know and who we think has Jess and Max. He’s driving, and I know he’s on his way here, even though he hasn’t said so.

  “Have you heard from Seb,” I ask.

  “Nah, not since earlier when I let him know what had happened. He’s radio silent, and Jamie too. Do you think we should be worried?”

  “No, not yet. I’ll call you in a bit and drive safely.” He chuckles before saying goodbye.

  When I get off the phone, Roxy is on hers. Whilst she’s distracted, I beckon Jay, and we leave the cafe and head back towards the car.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Someone got to Travis inside, and I’m not sitting around waiting any longer. I’m going to get my son and Jess back.”

  “The fuck you are, Sullivan,” Roxy calls out behind me, jogging to catch us up.

  I stop and turn to face her. “For whatever reason, Collins is using my son to get to me, so if he wants me, then why not give him what he wants. I’m not breaking the law turning up unannounced at his house. You do what you need to, Roxy, and I’ll do what I need to. Simple.” I continue towards the car, reaching it as my phone rings again.

  I hold Roxy’s irritated gaze as I bring it to my ear. “Hello,” I snap.

  “Daddy.”

  Forty

  Jess

  I’ve been pacing for the last thirty minutes. I’ve literally chewed every fingernail and bitten my lip so many times and so hard, I made it bleed.

  The door opens behind me, but I don’t look. I know who it is. Her cloying floral perfume permeates the air like a fucking toxic gas.

  “Jessica, darling.” I hear her heels brush against the long pile carpet as she crosses the room. Her hand touches my shoulder, and I spin, snatching her wrist.

  “Don’t you fucking dare touch me. Don’t you dare ‘darling’ me.” Her eyes widen in shock at my words and the anger that’s impossible to hide. “What kind of mother are you?” I shove her away from me, and she stumbles back.

  “You don’t understand, Jessica. You don’t know everything. I was trying to help, but your father—”

  “My father? That man isn’t my father. He isn’t any type of father, except the worst fucking kind. And you, a mother? It’s laughable.” I walk toward the window, which overlooks a field. In the distance, I see cars racing along the motorway. The drivers cocooned in their own little world and most of them are oblivious to the dark world we live in. That we play but a tiny part in and never truly know the dangers of. Most of them will never be touched by the evil that walks among us like some ghostly spirit, and whose touch infects even the purest of us when it comes.

  That’s what I used to think about my mother. Then I got older and wiser, such a cliche but so true. They say that children see more than adults, and they do in some ways, but I don’t think that’s true when it comes to parents. We don’t see their faults, or maybe we do, but we’re designed to overlook them. Trusting that they are our guides, teachers and role models. But there inevitably comes a point where, as you age, you see past the facade of parenthood to the real them beneath. And sometimes, it really isn’t pretty.

  When I was raped, my mother stood by and allowed my father to make me feel ashamed, disgusting, to debase me, like I deserved it, and I felt worthless for a long time. That’s the moment the veil was torn from my eyes, and I saw the true nature of my parents.

  “Jessica, please listen to me.”

  “I don’t want anything to do with either of you ever again. You’re both dead to me.” I keep my back to her, not able to look at her, but I hear her gasp at my harsh words. A solitary tear slides down my cheek, and it will be the only one I shed for this woman.

  I hear a sniff and something being dropped to the bed as the sheets crinkle in the silent room, then the door closes as she leaves.

  As soon as that click sounds, my heart explodes into a thousand tiny pieces of every lie and every betrayal. My knees collapse beneath me, and I drop to the floor, allowing myself this one moment of weakness. There are no tears, just pain and a need to catch my breath before I get to my feet.

  My moment over, I pick myself up and walk to the bed to see what she dropped there.

  A phone and a USB stick.

  A tiny little piece of me feels a pang of remorse when I pick the phone up and see what’s on it. It seems Gigi, or the part that was the mother I remember as a child, does have some good left inside her.

  I find a small second pocket, if you can call it that, on one side of my shorts and shove the USB stick in there, then make a call.

  Another long thirty minutes has passed since I made the call, and when my door opens for the second time to reveal Gigi, I actually feel relief. It’s not at her but for the little boy she bundles into the room with her.

  As soon as he sees me, Max runs and dives into my arms, squeezing me tight.

  “It’s okay. I’ve got you,” I whisper into his hair and squeeze him right back. I may not have spent any time with this amazing little boy, but my heart literally aches for him. I would do anything for him. Just like I would do for his father. The man I undoubtedly love, and Max is an extension of that love.

  I look up to find my mother, and it is her, the true her I see this time, watching me.

  “Thank you.” So choked with emotion, the words barely make it past my lips, but she heard me.

  “I—” Her words are cut off as shouting comes from somewhere in the house, and Max flinches in my arms.

  “Go,” I tell her, and I see the battle within. I finally see the maternal instinct that’s been missing all these years, but it’s too little too late. For us both.

  She gives me a solemn smi
le, tears glistening in her eyes, before she turns and leaves, locking the door behind her.

  The shouts are lessened once the door is closed, and I quickly check Max over.

  “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

  He shakes his head. “Jessica, t-t-they made me call Dad. H-h-he sounded angry. Do you t-think he’s mad at me?” he sobs, finally allowing a little fear to escape.

  “No, Max. God, no.” I look up at the ceiling as I try to hold back my own tears. Taking a deep breath, I look back to him. He’s studying my face and reaches out a hand to brush away a tear that managed to slip free.

  “Don’t cry. He will come for us you know.”

  “I know he will. I know.” That’s what I’m afraid of, but I keep that part to myself. I know Rick will be losing his mind right now, and I worry what that will mean for him and us if he comes here.

  Moving Max to sit on the bed, I tell him to stay there. I look around the bare room before heading for the bathroom. Seeing absolutely nothing of any fucking use, I stand in the middle of the tiny bathroom with my hands on my hips.

  “What are you doing?”

  I spin around to find Max standing just outside the door, a puzzled look on his face.

  “I’m looking for something.”

  He pushes his hand into his pocket and pulls something out. Stepping forward, he holds it out to me. Taking it, I finally see what it is.

  “Where did you get this?” I roll the small pocketknife around in my hand.

  “Uncle Ryder gave it to me. He said I was only to use it in an emergency. This is an emergency, right?”

  “This is most definitely an emergency. Uncle Ryder is a smart man.” I don’t voice how insane it is to give an almost six-year-old a pocketknife, but I can’t fault Ryder’s thought process, or the fact Max has grown up around men who would have been, consciously or not, teaching him how to look after himself since he was born.

  A crash echoes up from downstairs, reminding me that we don’t have a lot of time.