Bad Boy Savior: The Bad Boy Series: Book 4

by S. E. Lund

  So the cells were tame compared to what I'd seen while deployed.

  From the time I was a child, I was either fighting in the ring or active in sports. After I joined up, I spent a tour of duty in the hellhole that was the Persian Gulf during the rise of the ISIS insurgency, patrolling the streets of Fallujah, calling in air strikes, clearing streets house by house, protecting civilization from the scourge of terrorism by capturing and killing bad guys.

  I'd seen so much shit, done so much shit, escaped so much shit, that if I didn’t hear incoming, if I wasn’t dodging IEDs and RPGs and cheating death, I wondered if I were still alive.

  In cells, I felt dead. Sitting in a cell all day drove me nuts. The only entertainment came when the they'd bring in a new prisoner and we'd hear their story and try to figure out what was a lie and what was the truth.

  I lay on my mattress and covered my face with an arm, wondering when they'd finally bring my info before a grand jury and either indict me or let me go.

  Burning in eternal hellfire would be preferable to this.

  I tried to divert my mind from thoughts the case to Celia, wondering how she and Graham were faring now that Spencer was dead. Although I had seen her in person, I wasn't sure she was being honest. I figured they'd both be relieved that Spencer was dead. I thought Celia was starting to warm up to me, but would she be secretly hoping I was indicted so she could forget the debt? It seemed like she wanted to be with me, but I wasn't sure.

  I needed to be with her to know the truth.

  About an hour before my scheduled visit with McNeil, two guards came to my cell and escorted me to a conference room tucked away in one of the admin wings. McNeil sat inside.

  Once the door closed and we were alone, I turned to him expectantly. "What's up? Why are we meeting early?"

  "They're dropping charges."

  "What?" I said in shock. "I thought the grand jury had to convene first."

  "Usually," he said. "The coroner narrowed his time of death estimate, and you were in Boston or on the flight to Washington when Spencer was already dead in Alexandria. There’s no way you could have killed him. And your prints weren't on the trigger. It had been smeared by something, which suggests that although you may have handled the weapon, someone else pulled the trigger."

  I leaned back and ran my hands through my hair, relief flooding through me.

  "So when will I get out?"

  "In a few hours, once the paperwork goes through."

  "Thank God," I said and sighed. "What took the coroner so long?"

  "Seems he had to be convinced to go back and redo his calculations. Spencer died a lot earlier than he initially thought."

  "Who convinced him?"

  "Someone at the FBI."

  "Well, whoever it was, I’d like to buy them a beer or two dozen."

  "I thought you'd be happy."

  "I am, believe me," I said, smiling broadly. I was thinking that, very soon, I'd be able to make good on my promise to Celia to make her pay. In a very pleasurable way. "Very happy."

  Then he folded his hands on the table and looked down at the surface like he had something difficult to tell me.

  "What's up? You look like someone died."

  "George was shot and is in Mass General undergoing surgery."

  Adrenaline surged through me. "What?"

  "And Celia's gone. She was abducted after George was shot."

  "Fuck." I covered my eyes with a hand and tried to grasp what he just said. Obviously, Sergei Romanov had Celia. "Jesus fucking Christ." I leaned forward, my head in my hands.

  Celia...

  I glanced up at him. "What happened? How did his crew get past my security? I had that place protected like fucking Fort Knox."

  "Someone inside must have been working with Romanov. Apparently, one of the guards on the perimeter was called off to help with some problem and they got in that way. They took out two of your men guarding the rear entrance. Both dead."

  I shook my head slowly, anger flooding through me that Celia was now in danger.

  Serious danger.

  It was my fault. I should have insisted she leave town once the Romanovs took an interest in her. I had known Sergei might go after her but I thought we were on good terms...

  "What do you want to do?"

  I sighed and considered. "I have to get her back. As soon as I get out, I'll have to meet with Sergei and see what he wants."

  I also knew I'd have to talk to Millar and get his okay. I didn’t tell my lawyer that, however. He couldn't know I was working as a black operator for the FBI.

  "He won't hurt her," he said, making a doubtful face. "Will he?"

  "He won't as long as he gets what he wants from me," I replied, my muscles all tense at the prospect. "Is George going to live?"

  "I just got an update from the hospital before I came over. He lost some blood and is in serious condition, but they think he should be fine."

  "Thank God."

  I leaned back, my legs stretched out straight in front of me, the heels of my palms pressed against my eyes. Celia was in danger but Sergei knew enough that he wouldn't hurt her unless he wanted outright war between us.

  He wanted something. Probably my willingness to run guns for him.

  "When exactly am I getting out?"

  "You should be processed in an hour or so. You'll be a free man."

  I took in a deep breath. "What are the police saying about Celia? "

  "She's Spencer Grant's stepdaughter. They're wondering if her abduction is connected to his death."

  "Of course it is." I frowned. "Sergei killed Spencer, and now he's got Celia. He's killing two birds with one stone. He gets rid of Spencer to shut him up so his ties to Sergei's little underage sex ring won't be exposed. He takes Celia and forces me to comply with his demands to run guns for him."

  I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees, and ran my hands through my hair. I looked up at him.

  "Do the police know Sergei is involved?"

  "Don't know," he replied. "They've said that the murder and Celia's abduction are connected but they have no suspects at this time."

  I kicked the chair across from me, anger finally overflowing.

  I spent the next hour pacing my cell like a lion in a cage, worrying about Celia, planning my response, impatient for the wheels of justice to turn and let me out of the local lock-up.

  Finally, guards came to my cell and I was escorted to processing, where I signed the release forms and was given the rest of my street clothes and my personal property – my wallet, my keys, my cell, my money clip, and my shoelaces. Since I had a permit to carry a concealed weapon, my gun was returned along, with my holster. I took the unloaded pistol from the guard and holstered it, feeling complete for the first time in a long time. My jacket went over top, and I was ready.

  The guard led me to the front entrance, where James waited with my SUV.

  "Welcome back," he said as he opened the passenger door.

  "How's George?" I sat and fastened my belt, then turned to him, waiting expectantly for an update. My cell had died while I was in custody so I couldn't still couldn't check my messages or make a call.

  "He's still in ICU but should be released in twenty-four hours if his stats are stable."

  I leaned back and closed my eyes as we drove from the jail to the gym. The first thing I was going to do was have a shower, then go to the hospital and check on George. After that, I'd call my men and we'd put out feelers to find out where Celia was being held.

  When Stepan's brother Ivan took Celia, he'd contacted me directly to let me know he had her. I expected a message from Sergei to let me know he had her and wanted to meet. He wanted something from me and cooperation with his plan was the price I would pay to get Celia back. I wished I had George with me to discuss options.

  While I showered, my cell charged, and by the time I was finished and was dressed in fresh clothing, it had enough juice that I could check my messages.

  There w
ere a dozen, several from George letting me know how things were, obviously before the abduction. A couple were from my stepmom, telling me to call her as soon as I could and let her how I was. My dad called and left me a very heartfelt message, saying he knew I was innocent and that I'd be out soon. The rest were from Donny's sons, checking in from the gym and letting me know how things were going with the clubs.

  The final message was from Sergei.

  "Hunter. I want to meet at my club as soon as you're out. We have unfinished business to discuss. By the way, your little bird is very delicate. I would hate to see any of her feathers plucked or her spirit crushed by captivity. Call me so we can arrange a time and place suitable to us both."

  Like hell.

  I was going in with as big an army as I could. I called up my contact in Romanov's business.

  "What have you heard about Sergei abducting Celia Parker?"

  There was a pause on the line, as if he were deciding to whom he should be loyal.

  "I'll pay you very, very well if you give me her location."

  "He's keeping her at one of his safe houses. I can give you a couple of addresses but I don’t know which one for sure. You'll have to monitor activity to decide which one."

  I called a few security experts I knew and asked them to do some sleuthing for me. They agreed to set up a couple of sentries to watch the two properties my informant had given me. We'd find out sooner rather than later where she was, based on the kind of movement into and out of the locations. These security experts were skilled in surveillance and I knew I'd get usable intel, and fast.

  Then I drove to Mass General to see how George was doing.

  George was still in ICU recovering. He was being cared for by a pretty young nurse when I entered the room. She turned and seemed almost fearful when she saw me. Did she recognize me from television coverage of the murder? Whatever the case, she patted George on the hand and left quickly, skirting beside me like she was afraid I'd hurt her while she passed.

  "How are you, you old bastard?" I went to George and leaned over, giving him a squeeze on the shoulder without a bandage and kissing his cheek.

  "What? You kissing now? So glad to be out of jail and see old Russian?"

  "Yes," I replied. "A thousand times yes."

  He smiled at me while I sat on the chair next to his bed, scooting closer because he sounded a bit hoarse, like talking was hard.

  "So, tell me. Have you heard from Sergei?"

  "Yes," I said. "He wants to meet to discuss ‘unfinished business.’ It’s the guns."

  "What is your plan?"

  I sat back, crossing my arms. "I'm going all in. I'm going to take her back."

  He shook his head. "No. Don't go all in. Negotiate. He might hurt her."

  I glanced away, barely able to keep my emotions in check when I thought of him abducting her, shooting George, and killing several of my men.

  "I'll talk to my contact in the FBI."

  "Good," George said and he seemed to relax. "Let them handle. Don't let anger make you reckless. He will kill Celia. He doesn't care."

  "He needs to be taken out," I said, anger welling up inside of me again.

  "Use FBI. Don't be vigilante. They want him. Work with them to take him down. Get her out first. Agree to anything. Don't do it. Get Celia out."

  Of course, George was right. As much as it would please me, I couldn't go all in, guns a-blazing. That might kill Celia and that was not my goal. I wanted her out alive. I wanted her safe.

  I wanted her in my bed, night after night, but I knew that so long as Sergei was free and his family was powerful, she would always be a target.

  I'd have to send her away.

  I sighed. "I'll talk to my handler. Maybe they can get her a new identity in return for the evidence she can provide about her abduction."

  "Would be best," George said, his eyes closing like he was too tired to continue talking.

  I stood up and squeezed his hand. "You're tired. I'll go for now and come back later."

  He nodded without opening his eyes, obviously exhausted by even this much talking.

  I left the ICU room and found my way out to the parking lot, glad I'd spoken with him and had come to my senses.

  Then I took out my cell and texted Millar, asking for a meet.

  The waterfront a few blocks away from downtown had been rejuvenated in the past decade, but farther down the coast, the buildings were still rough, with the rusting hulks of old warehouses and lots of deserted back alleys. Millar and I met without much chance of being observed.

  I pulled up to his car and opened my window as he did his.

  "How are you? How was your time in the cells?"

  "I've been in worse in Afghanistan," I replied.

  "I bet you have. So, what's the purpose of this meeting? I take it you want to go and get your girlfriend from Sergei."

  "You got it. I know he wants me to run guns for him. I said no before, but obviously, he didn’t like that answer. If I agree to his request, he'll return Celia."

  He nodded and surveyed the water. "If we can build a case against him on guns, we can take him out on a RICO warrant."

  "I won't wear a wire," I said. "It'll have to be some other way."

  "We'll see what we can do. We have some nifty ways of overhearing conversations. Micro drones, hacking electronics, that kind of thing. We may have to put a GPS chip in you so we always know where you are when you go to meet him, get him to give you orders that way."

  I nodded, willing to do whatever it took to get Celia out safely. I'd read about some of the FBI special surveillance tech before, and was sure the FBI had access to a lot of great gadgets. Sergei was an expat Russian. He would be a target of surveillance for sure.

  "You guys aren't already listening in to him?"

  He smiled at me. "That's a whole other branch of government, Hunter. We'll have ways of getting evidence on what you two discuss. That's all I'll say."

  "Okay with me," I said. "I just want to get Celia out and then nail the bastard."

  "You meet with him. Let me know where and when, and leave the rest with our little friends in the NSA."

  "Will do."

  He rolled up his window and then drove off. I sat in my car for a few moments, considering. Then I took out my cell and called Sergei.

  The number rang several times and then a man answered. It wasn't Sergei, but I didn’t expect it to be.

  "Hunter Saint for Mr. Romanov."

  There was a pause. "Mr. Romanov is unable to take your call. What is your message, please?"

  "Tell Mr. Romanov that I'll do whatever he wants. Let me know when and where I can pick up Celia. Tell him I said please don't hurt her."

  There was another pause. "I will call you back with time and place."

  Then the line went dead.

  I drove back to the gym, waiting to hear from Sergei's assistant when and where so I could get Celia back and find out how much I was going to pay for the privilege.

  I said I'd do anything to get her back. I meant it. I wanted to kill Sergei Romanov for everything he'd done to me and my family – and to Celia. But if I had to work with the FBI and NSA to take him down legitimately to get Celia back alive and in one piece, I would.

  Hours later, as we drove to the old warehouse near the waterfront where Celia was being held, I was on an adrenaline high and thought how good it felt just to act. After being in cells for a week, I realized action was in my blood – planning and executing operations. I felt best when on a mission, however dangerous it might be, for it meant I was doing something, creating my own reality, rather than sitting by passively letting events simply happen. I had decided, after Sean's death, that I would never again allow other people to determine my fate.

  As the buildings whizzed by, I realized that Celia had become too important to me, and that there was no way she could stay in Boston any longer. Until Sergei was gone, Celia was too much of a risk in my dealings with the Boston mob. My wanting
her was a whole other matter – a distraction from the bigger goal – requiring more self-control on my part. My desire for her would have to be kept in tight check. Desiring anything outside the mission too much was a liability.

  If you desire nothing beyond the mission, nothing else matters. The only thing that really mattered to me was vengeance. I tried to keep Celia restricted to a small corner of my thoughts, meant for physical gratification alone. A good sweet fuck on my way to revenge.

  Only I was finding it more difficult than I anticipated. She occupied too much of my mental life. Her closeness to me made her dangerous and made it even more of a necessity to for her to leave and start a new life somewhere else. I didn’t want that, but I would have to make that sacrifice. I'd pick her up, take her to the FBI, and demand they gave her a new identity somewhere beyond the reach of the Romanov brothers. The thought of losing her after I'd had her to myself for the past few weeks was upsetting, but it was necessary to get her out of the equation.

  Once she was gone, there would be nothing left but taking down Sergei Romanov.

  Chapter 9

  Celia

  When I woke up, I tasted blood.

  I lay on the hard concrete floor in a dark room. It was nothing more than a cell with bars on the walls. The only light filtered in from a tiny window near the ceiling.

  A basement. I had no idea where.

  When Sergei came at me with every intent to rape me, I fought back. I always fought back, even when Spencer threatened me. It just wasn't in me to let someone hurt me or humiliate me without resisting. That resistance probably brought me more punishment and pain, but at least my pride was intact.

  Sergei was so much bigger than me that my resistance only brought on more anger, but whatever he did when I was unconscious was lost to me. For that I was glad, although the ache between my thighs and in my rear suggested it hadn't been gentle.

  The last thing I remembered was fighting him, and the feel of his skin beneath my nails when I raked them over his face. I kicked him, I hit him, and finally, when he was unable to control me, he hit me, breaking my nose, the blood running down over my lips and chin. That was the last thing I remembered clearly. The rest was blurred images, sensations, sounds.