An Embarrassment of Monsters: A Dark Romantic Suspense Novel (Alace Sweets Book 3)

by MariaLisa deMora

  Suck it up, buttercup.

  He crouched in front of the basement door, studying the surface. Knee to the floor, he focused on the hardware, hinges, the space between the door and the floor, the frame—everything he could see, he cataloged. What he found was startling.

  The interior door didn’t have an evident lock, the paint was chipped along the edge near the doorknob, and it fit badly in the space.

  Cheek to the freshly waxed floor, he looked underneath.

  “Bingo.” His whisper scarcely stirred the air.

  Behind the shoddy door was a metal surface, fitting flush against the floor.

  Clearly the lack of permits for construction were a red-herring void, because no way was this security door part of the original construction.

  Owen gripped the doorknob as he stood, unsurprised when it turned easily in his hand. The door revealed behind was steel and fit into the opening firmly. The edges overlapped the casing and would thwart any attempts to pry it open. The lock was electronic, a digital keypad set flush into the door, making it harder to review the wiring before accessing. He pulled an electronic sensor from the front pocket of his backpack strap, using a smooth movement to run it along the frame and edges of the door. He got a hit near where he’d expect the hinges to be, and the load wasn’t excessive enough to be anything other than the connection for the keyboard.

  Walking through the house, he’d looked for and failed to find any cameras. Sensor in hand, he walked back through the house and verified what he already knew. Apart from a rudimentary system tied to the outside doors, there was no surveillance inside the house.

  How weird would it be if a guy who made his money from pornography was afraid of security cameras?

  I’ve seen weirder.

  ***

  Alace

  The green bar on her screen was both infuriating and a relief at once.

  It indicated the mic setup she and Owen used so often was currently active.

  The red dot to the side, however, was the bastard’s phone. Powered down.

  The mic needed a connection to work, such as a locally available Wi-Fi or a pairing with a phone to utilize data. The mic and headset alone were useless and had no location tracking available. The system could be on standby in his go-bag for all she knew, the long-lived batteries keeping that ghost signal alive. If that was the case, she could scream into the system from her side, and he’d never hear a thing.

  Maybe he took a burner. If he had and paired the mic, then she’d be plugged into his head with the flick of a switch.

  She hesitated, finger poised over the mouse, her cursor hovering over the Connect button.

  On the nightstand next to the bed, her phone vibrated.

  Alace left the chair spinning in her wake as she leaped across the few feet separating her from the device. An unknown number flashed at her, but the timing was too coincidental for her to ignore the incoming call. She hit Accept as she lifted it to her ear.

  Silence, then a soft, questioning, “Alace,” in a voice that did not belong to Owen.

  “Doc, what’s going on?”

  “Owen is out. On what he called a mission. He found Kuellen has something disturbing on his servers. I asked about involving you, and he claimed the hour too late and your recent pregnancy too fatiguing. I’m a doctor, I knew he was lying about the latter.” The information came in short bursts, as if Doc were reciting a patient history at shift changeover. Tersely spoken and concise, but complete and informative.

  “Did he say anything about a fallback plan?” Before he’d worked with her, Owen had been an independent contractor, and before that, a military operative. Like Alace, he had connections who specialized in their line of work. He could have called on someone to back him up, and by forcing the mic to a new channel to connect, she could terminate an active link, severing him from his support.

  “No. I don’t think he’s got anyone at his back, Alace. He didn’t look scared, though, not nervous.”

  Doc hesitated, and Alace prompted him with, “What did he look like?”

  “Enraged.”

  Oh yeah, she knew what had tweaked him. She had that same rage in her veins right now. The timestamp on the communications from his researcher meant he hadn’t found out about the video from the cabin until after she’d left him earlier today. Between then and when she’d called him upon arrival at home encompassed the full scope of his time to plan.

  No backup.

  “Doc, I’m going to let you go now. Owen needs me, even if he doesn’t realize it yet.”

  “Thank God.” The muttered words of relief were all she heard before she disconnected, carrying the phone back to the desk with her.

  “Alace?” Turning, she shaded her eyes as Eric switched on the light on his nightstand. He quickly changed it to the lowest level, and she lowered her hand to look at him. “Anything you need?” He must have heard her side of the conversation and drawn the correct conclusions. She shook her head. “No? You sure?”

  “Yeah. I’ve got to—” She thumbed over her shoulder towards the computer. “Get to it, okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Go.” He shoved up the bed, wedging his back against the headboard, covers falling to his waist, and she had a flash of his body moving above hers only a couple of hours ago.

  “I love you.” She was back in her chair, headset in her hands, when he laughed quietly.

  “I’ll never get tired of hearing that from you, beloved.”

  When she hit the toggle to change the channel on Owen’s mic, she was smiling.

  Chapter Eleven

  Owen

  Hunkered down in front of the metal door to the basement, Owen considered the electronic lock. He had a couple of options. He could disconnect the lock, hoping the malfunction would alarm on whatever system Kuellen was working on right now, drawing the man upstairs to check it out. Or he could bypass the lock and open the door—but without knowledge of what the layout looked like downstairs, he had no way of knowing if Kuellen would be positioned where he could see the basement door or the stairs. If armed, the man would have the advantage over Owen, able to react with deadly force before Owen could get even a handful of steps down the stairs.

  A barely there buzz in his ear gave him a split second of warning before he heard the voice he’d been praying for. “Do I have eyes and ears?” Without responding, Owen flicked both camera systems on and then twisted the volume control for the normal mic system. “Now, what am I looking at?”

  “It is an outswing vault door, looks to be a gun safe modified for residential use. No electronics except the keypad. No optics in the house at all.” Out of habit, he used the subvocal mic. “Do you have my location?”

  “Copy.” Keys tapped in the background, and she sighed. “It’s a Hawkish, which is good. There are only six master codes. Bad news is, enter three bad codes, and it’ll alarm and lock down.”

  “Got any more good news?” Owen wanted to relax, step back, and let Alace do the driving for the mission, but that didn’t feel right. Shiloh’s my little girl. It’s up to me to exact vengeance. “I could use some after what I saw.”

  “I saw it too, Owen. I’m here because I’m a hundred percent behind you. Now.” Her keyboard sounded off again, furious racketing noises from her typing coming through the headset. “Give me a half a minute, because I have an idea.”

  “Roger.”

  She grunted, and there were tones indicating a phone call. She next spoke in a dual presentation of her voice, female in his ear, and male for whoever was on the other end of the call she’d made.

  “Yeah, this is Aldo Kuellen, and my phone said to call you for help. I’ve got a new one, just bought it, and I’m trying to get it set up.” She provided details confirming Kuellen’s identity, and less than three minutes later, she’d disconnected with the service provider customer service, the active device profile moved as she’d asked.

  Back to a single voice, she said, “Code incoming in a minute.”

>   “You take control of his SIM card?” An affirmative sound was all he got. “What will that do for us?”

  “Password resets. I’ve seized his email and triggered a reset for the vault door. It’s coming as an email, so I’m ready to go as soon as it comes in.” Her voice took on a musing quality. “Nope, you don’t need to know passwords were updated, so we’ll delete that email, and that one, and boom, gone forever.” Becoming brusque again, she told him, “Got it. Six digits, I’ll reset using four, five, six, one, two, three. Watch the keypad for the confirmation pulse from the vendor. Should flash the lights.”

  The lights on the keypad changed from green to red, then to amber, and finally back to green. “Got it in one. Entering code now.” When he touched the screen prompt, the keys rapidly scrambled and turned green as they settled into place. “Four, five, six, one, two, three.” The keypad pulsed green twice and the door unlatched with a solid metallic sound, bounding away from the doorframe a couple of inches.

  “We’re in.” More keystrokes in his ear and Owen waited for instructions, muscles straining for action. “I pulled some old images of the basement he has on his phone. Pushing those to you now.” There was a soft ping in the background, and Alace cursed. “What number are you using? Your phone’s off?”

  “New Jersey burner.” Faster than giving her the number, and he pulled the phone out just in time to see the text message notification. “What do we have?”

  “Stairs go down to an alcove, tucked behind a room he’s built in the basement. His servers are across the north wall, directly underneath the living room, where the Internet connection comes into the home. He’s got a workstation in the middle of the room, but it’s facing west. The way the stairs are placed, you’ll be at his back.”

  “So I will be exposed while on the stairs, and if he turns around, he has me.” He stared at the images. “What is in that room?”

  “No clue, there aren’t images of the space. What’s your plan when you have him in hand, Owen?”

  “Honestly, other than subdue and interrogate, I have not thought that far ahead.” Silence, something he wasn’t accustomed to from Alace, shook him. “I was going to wing it, boss lady.”

  “Well, I guess we’ll have to wing it. I’m scrambling August to your location. He’s already in the area.” That was it, he realized, the sum total of her reaction. She wouldn’t ride him about his decisions, good or bad, but would go with the flow to provide a positive outcome for the mission. “Should he enter or wait outside?”

  “Back door is unlocked, no surveillance anywhere in the house. Our main electrical signal is the basement, and this lock is the only nod to security I have seen anywhere.” Thinking fast, he came up with a solution for the lack of eyes into the basement. “I have a telescoping rod and tape, let me secure my phone to the rod and I can extend it into the space, see what we can see. If you are not tapped into it yet, do so now.”

  “Roger.” Alace’s way of agreeing with his on-the-fly planning. Owen smiled as he separated strands of tape to bind the phone to the rod without obscuring the camera. The screen of his phone flashed, and he grinned down at the camera.

  “Hey, boss lady. I am glad to see you.” He could imagine Alace shaking her head at his tension-cutting antics. Just because she didn’t do them herself didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate them. “ETA on August?”

  “Outside right now.”

  Owen’s head lifted, and he cringed as the realization sank in that he’d derailed their op on Ashworth. “Sorry, boss.”

  “De nada.” Alace’s indrawn breath rushed through his ear, and he could practically visualize the way she’d settle her shoulders, squaring up and ready for anything. “Let’s get this show on the road. Is your telescope articulated, or a straight shot?”

  “It is bendy bendy, gets through cracks that way.” Without touching the door, he placed himself beside the two-inch gap between the flange and wall and inserted the phone. Clicking the rod, he bent the first joint to a ninety-degree angle, then advanced it until he met resistance, adjusting things so the first joint changed back to straight, and the second adopted the angle. He advanced the rod that way until the joint directly above his handle was bent. “What do you see?”

  “Rotate a hundred and eighty.” He manipulated the rod to change the direction the phone sat. “Clear visual of the workstation. Empty.” Owen’s brain did a rapid replay of the intelligence he’d gathered before entering the home. Garage held the car, there were no cab runs or ride-share calls to the house, nothing to indicate the solitary guy who lived here would be anywhere except here. “Rotate ninety to your left.” The rod disagreed with the movement, and Owen had to withdraw it by one shaft length to get the angle Alace needed. “The room boxing off part of the basement has a solid door. There’s light coming from underneath it. You’re clear to enter.”

  “Where’s August?”

  “Where do you want him?” That was Alace’s nod to Owen’s headspace. He hadn’t met August, only heard about him from Alace, and she knew he’d be buggy if she shoved an unknown into the mission with him. At least without his input.

  He made a flash decision, jaw clenching as he gave up the rest of his autonomy to her. “You decide. You want him in here, I can be cool with that. Does he have comms?”

  “He does. I can patch him in now.” She hesitated, such a change from her normal take-charge attitude it had Owen paying close attention. “I wanna make sure you’re safe and walk away from this with what keeps you healthy. I need you to be okay, Owen.”

  “I am okay, Alace. You have my back, always. I know that.”

  “Okay.” Right back into the swing of things, her tone adopted the brusque manner of speaking that epitomized Alace in the middle of a mission. “August, can you hear us?”

  “Five by five.” The military response eased even more of Owen’s nerves. “How do you read me?”

  “Loud and clear.” Owen chimed in on the channel. “I am inside in the hallway, crouched beside a door.” He began retrieving the rod, still without touching the door. “Our entrance is secured, and the subject is secluded without eyes. We are a go.” Owen’s nerves prickled immediately, and he turned his head to find a hulking mass in the process of crouching down next to him. He kept his hands working steadily and nodded, then gave a greeting, out of habit activating the nonverbal mic. “Welcome, partner.”

  “The fuck?” August’s rumbled response was quieter than a whisper but clearly audible to Owen, enunciation slurring the words into a southern slang of surprise, dafug.

  Alace actually laughed, the sound bright and cheery, at odds with what they were doing and where they were. “Owen’s got a throat mic, heard but not heard. He’s got a normal mic on his tech harness, so you’ll hear anything he hears. You ready, boys?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Owen pushed her button just a tiny bit, glad she wasn’t holding a grudge about him going off on his own with this one. “Summarize August’s brief for me.” Not knowing what August had been told would have Owen working in the dark as to what kind of reactions to expect from the guy. He’d rather know upfront if they were on the same page. “Did you read him in already?”

  “When I redirected him, yes. He knows this target is part of a circle we’re looking to crack and track, and that some of the content of his video library is personal to us.”

  Us. That was the clearest validation of their friendship she’d given him to date. Aligning herself on his side where it came to his kids was important. He’d think it was more than she knew, but Alace was smart enough to understand the instincts he worked with to protect his kids. She’d do the same for Lila, and so would he.

  “Roger.” Back to work mode, he swung to look into August’s eyes. Dark hair, full trimmed beard, and warm brown eyes behind his heads-up display visor. “Stairs are unknown construction and age. Servers and workstation come after we secure the subject, who appears to be inside a room constructed downstairs. Unknown activities.” August nodd
ed, but Owen wanted a verbal confirmation. “Target is the subject. We cannot allow him to trigger any kind of server wipe before we gain control of his servers. We clear?”

  “Roger that. Understood.”

  Owen shifted out of the space needed to swing the door open and held in place as August did the same, positioning himself at Owen’s back. He took a moment to realize his instincts weren’t screaming, reveled in the fact he’d found another person he apparently intuitively trusted, and then gripped the edge of the door, swinging it wide.

  Going down the stairs quickly but quietly, he and August kept to the wall-side of the treads, ensuring there’d be little pull on the nails or screws securing the steps into place. Feet on the sealed concrete of the basement floor, he moved to the wall blocking off a section of the basement. The persistent hum from the servers and HVAC keeping the room at a constant low temperature blocked the noise from inside the room at first. Only when August cursed lowly did Owen focus on the music and sounds coming underneath the door.

  Music to writhe to would be his title for this song. The slapping sound of flesh meeting flesh, he’d call it something else.

  “Look at how it’s set back into the wall. This has been soundproofed, except for the door itself.” August settled a hand on Owen’s shoulder as he adjusted their position, moving them both to the knob side of the door. He reached past Owen and gripped the simple knob, installed so the deadbolt control was on this side of the door.

  “It is a cage, Alace. A containment facility.” Owen shook himself, rattling the memories of another basement, a warehouse, a cabin—everywhere he’d seen people dehumanized and kept for pleasure—back to the recesses of his mind.

  The doorknob turned effortlessly under August’s manipulation, and the door slipped open—Owen grasped August’s hand, holding the door in place. He pulled out his phone and turned on the camera. “Be our eyes.” Holding the phone carefully between fingers and thumb, he eased it into the gap and angled it with a movement that should provide a clear view, sweeping from left to right.