Table of Contents
Kings of Guardian, Book Seven
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Epilogue
The End
About Kris
Chief
Kings of Guardian, Book Seven
by
Kris Michaels
Chief
Kings of Guardian, Book Seven
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, transmitted, or distributed in any form or by any means without permission.
Proofreading by: Kim Ginsberg
Editing by: Patrica A. Knight
Cover Art by: Digitally Imagined
Interior Formatting by: Digitally Imagined
Copyright © 2017 Kris Michaels
Published by Kris Michaels
Blurb:
Cloaked in the identity of David Xavier, a billionaire player in multiple world theaters, Mike White Horse worked to enter the Russian Mafia's liar, by stalking a shadowy creature named "The Concierge." The Russian woman brokered young innocents into slavery and Mike meant to destroy her and the organization she worked for. He should have despised her for the atrocious crimes she facilitated, but too often love and hate are the flip sides of the same coin, and what Mike felt for Taty was not hate. It didn't matter. He'd destroy the Bravata and all its associates—even if it meant part of his soul sat in prison for the rest of her life.
Driven by heartbreak, Tatyana Petrov joined the elite British M16 unit, and for eight years, wormed her way into the trust of the Bravata as she strove to identify the human filth selling those innocents to billionaires like David Xavier. She'd found it easy to loathe the wealthy men who bought her "toys"—until David. For reasons that she wouldn't acknowledge, she wanted to protect this one man from the retribution rapidly approaching.
Neither knew the other's true mission but even as mortal adversaries, they'd each given the other a part of their soul and now only devastation and sorrow waited.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Epilogue
The End
About Kris
Other Books by Kris Michaels
Chapter One
One year ago-an undisclosed, secure facility near Washington D.C.
"You don't have to do this, Chief." Gabriel, his boss and mentor, leaned forward grasping his drink in his hand. The man was ageless, but Mike White Cloud could tell the constant worry about when the Bravata would strike next was wearing on him. Gabriel took care of his people, and since the Russians had targeted his immediate family and several members of the King family, Gabriel was on guard. The man had practically adopted the Kings into his family. The Bravata made a huge tactical error by targeting the key players at Guardian. The Kings were the lifeblood of the organization and more than friends to both Gabriel and Chief.
"I understand the dangers, but someone has to infiltrate at the highest level, and the cover is a good one. It has to work." Chief pulled down the French cuff of his handmade shirt and ran his hand nervously over his freshly cut hair. He'd spent five months prepping for this assignment. There was no way he would stop now.
"The lack of time to prepare you for such a deep cover has me the most concerned."
Chief nodded. It was a valid point. He'd made great strides, but there was no way he'd be able to impersonate David Xavier without making mistakes. Only a handful of people knew that the billionaire, David Xavier, and Gabriel were, in fact, the same person. He leveled his stare at Gabriel. "I'll do my best."
"I know you will, but I've pulled in a favor. When my father died, I inherited his assistant, who is a Harvard-trained lawyer and, in my opinion, a certified genius. He retired about three years ago when I started diversifying and giving more control to the CEOs of the companies that I oversee. He is one of the very few who knows me. He has agreed to come back and stay with you until you no longer need him. Joel can't be bought, and his loyalty is without question." Gabriel took a sip of cognac.
"I won't say no to some assistance." Chief knew the obstacles he faced. Hell, they were the size of mountains, and he had very little climbing gear in his undercover pack.
"I will manage the majority of the business end of my holdings and the CEOs I have in place will manage the rest. I will give you enough, so people see you working the events, but not so much to overwhelm you. Hell, I've been doing this my entire life and is still swamps me. But remember, you are here to set the trap. You are not to engage the bastards. Period. You are the bait, not the trap. You will not engage."
"I understand. I'm portraying a businessman, and that is the way I'll act. But, thank you for bringing someone in to help, I appreciate it." Gabriel's comments instilled relief. When they'd developed the idea of his assuming David Xavier's persona, the business end had always been a concern.
"Don't thank me. You will still be swamped, but we want that appearance. Nothing sells a cover more than being immersed in the world. Believe me; you are going to be baptized by fire. But, all we can do is prepare you for the worst case scenario." Gabriel sighed and swirled the liquid in his glass.
"And you have. I leave tomorrow and become you… or rather David Xavier. I won't let you down, sir."
"Mike, you could walk away this second and you wouldn't let me down. Walking out that door tomorrow morning sets a host of events into action. You will be on your own except for Joel. I can't
reach out to help you without compromising your cover. You will be David Xavier."
Chief nodded and found an interesting spot on the floor as he thought. He knew the score, and he was willing to take the risk if it meant his friends, hell—the Kings were his family—he'd risk it all if they'd be safe from the Russian threat. He shook his head and expanded his focus to the thousands of young lives that he'd be able to help. No, he didn't have a choice, not really. He was going to do what it took to get to the top of the Bravata while Guardian worked to take out the bottom. With a two-pronged attack from Guardian and the help of the foreign agencies working in concert with them, there was a chance they could decimate the Russian Mafia's human trafficking organization. His undercover operation wouldn't be shared with the other agencies. They couldn't take the risk of a leak, but if it worked… Chief leaned back and gazed out the window. His words were almost a whisper, but they needed to be said, "The worst case scenario is I die. I'm expendable."
"Bullshit!" Chief's head whipped around at the shouted response. "You are part of my family, and I'll be damned if you are going into this plan without an exit strategy. We are asking you to become someone you are not, to buy human beings for Christ's sake! You'll be dealing with the scum of the earth who will kill you rather than look at you if they think for a moment you are not who you say you are." Gabriel stood up and strode over to the window that overlooked the New York City skyline. "You are not expendable, Mike. Not to me. Not ever."
Chief swallowed hard. Outside of his team, he'd never been told he was important. Gabriel's words pointed to a place in him that he'd thought was long dead. "I am willing to do what it takes to make sure we get to the top of the organization. Are you sure the introductions I need will be available?"
"After the groundwork is laid, yes. The old money at that club is well connected. However, if my source is correct, you are looking for one man in particular."
Present day-Bern, Switzerland
Mike glanced out the tinted window of the brand new Rolls-Royce Wraith he now 'owned.' His phone beeped, and his glance flicked over the emails highlighted as urgent. The Rolls-Royce slowed, and he glanced at the completely unremarkable limestone building his car approached. The car slowed drastically and entered the underground parking area that allowed the occupants of the facility to come and go without notice. An immaculately uniformed doorman ran out of the plain entrance, the only indication the building was anything other than another in a series of office buildings. The man stopped immediately when Chief's bodyguard pushed open the passenger door and blocked the man's attempt to do his job. A second guard dismounted from the front of the sedan. The protective detail, while excellent, had no connection to Guardian. There could be no tie between Mike White Cloud and David Xavier. He waited until his men motioned for him to exit and then strode into the building "he" owned and handed his gloves, coat, and scarf to the butler waiting for him inside the door. He'd seen numerous pictures of the interior and had the blueprints memorized.
Chief paused, gathered his thoughts, and focused on the assignment he had undertaken. He nodded to his security detail and entered the main room of the most prestigious, private club in Europe. The wait list to join this establishment was longer than his arm, which was impressive considering the membership dues to join tallied no less than seven figures. He glanced at the $4,000,000 Louis XV Savonnerie carpet flanked by the original Henredon furniture. Designed exclusively for David Xavier, the furniture for the entire building cost over $25,000,000. Chief turned right, striding through the main lounge. Several people did a double-take, and two older gentlemen lifted fingers summoning their assigned servant. How long would it be before he was identified and approached? He glanced at his Cartier watch. Fifteen minutes? Chief headed straight for his reserved seating area. He had no more lowered himself into the chair than a snifter of cognac appeared.
"1858 Cuvee Léonie?" He carefully modulated his words in the speech pattern and inflection he'd adopted over the last year. His listeners heard upper-class, eastern seaboard United States with a slightly British warp to the vowels.
"But of course, sir. Your private reserve." The man who served him wore the dark maroon vest of the club's premier staff. The owner rated only the best.
Chief took the proffered drink and cradled it in his hand as he swirled the caramel-colored liquor to warm it gently. His security detail took up position, standing discreetly behind him. His gaze took in the men and women in residence at the club today. He'd arrived with less than three minutes notice, so the members present weren't staged unless they'd been camping out for the last five months in hopes of meeting him. There was a total of fourteen members in the lounge. Wait staff floated around the periphery filling glasses and replenishing small delicacies that were casually assessed and consumed by the ultra-rich in attendance. He wondered how many were upstairs in the sound-proofed, secluded quarters constructed to ensure total privacy?
Chief raised the crystal balloon snifter to his nose, closed his eyes and enjoyed the fragrant bouquet of the cognac. Over the course of the last year, he'd learned to appreciate the nuances of David's life. This spectacular cognac, in particular, had become his favorite. If he made it out of this assignment alive, he was going to hit up Gabriel for a bottle. A bonus for surviving. His lips lifted in appreciation of the graveside humor. He had every intention of surviving. If he was very careful, he could make a bottle last for years. Hell, with a price tag of over $150,000 a bottle, he would be very, very careful.
Chief lifted the lip of the glass and drew in a small amount allowing enough air in his mouth to properly "feel" the decadence against his tongue. Perfection.
He felt rather than saw his bodyguards tense. Chief glanced to his right. Hans Schneider, one of the original members of the club, approached. Chief stood, extended his hand, and in impeccable German, greeted the man. "Mr. Schneider. A pleasure to meet you in person. I appreciate your membership."
The man's red cheeks turned even ruddier while he blinked back his surprise. "Mr. Xavier?"
"David. Please, sit." Chief kept his expression blank, a talent he'd perfected long before this assignment.
"Thank you… David, this is a unique and may I say, startling surprise."
"Really? How so?"
"Well, to be honest, I thought you'd be…." The man accepted a glass of the reserve cognac as he spoke.
"I assure you, Mr. Schneider…"
"Hans, please."
Chief dipped his head in acknowledgment. "Hans. I assure you that my parents, despite all their idiosyncrasies, had a valid reason for concealing my identity. I am, after all, not my mother's son."
Chief took a small sip of his cognac and watched as Schneider put two and two together. Anyone who had met David Xavier's father and mother would know he wasn't their biological child. His American Indian characteristics could be attributed to a myriad of cultures but not to the Anglo-Saxon couple captured in numerous photographs. The Xavier's actual son had never been photographed or seen. Raised under another name and never publically acknowledged, David Xavier was a ghost. Dealing with his ethnicity was simple. Chief outed himself as a bastard. Nothing like fiction copying fact.
"I've noticed you take after your father, not your mother."
What a load of horse shit. Chief lifted an eyebrow and nodded before he took another sip from his crystal snifter.
"Is there a reason we are enjoying your presence in Switzerland?"
Chief glanced down at his glass and swirled the remaining liquid. Hans Schneider was a bastard with a capital B. He'd followed in his father's footsteps and sold weapons to the highest bidder. Chief would lay odds he'd been shot at with weapons the fucker had sold illegally.
Schneider's paltry billion, however, was comprised of new money, and that was an advantage Chief leveraged. Old money, like David's, had connections that new money
would never be able to understand or utilize. He glanced at the others in the room. He could identify their weaknesses immediately. He'd memorized minutiae about many people connected to the Russian syndicate or Bravata—the Russian word for brotherhood.
"Business. I'm in search of a… discrete vendor… for a very specific item." Chief leaned back in his chair. The cushion wrapped him in comfort as he continued to scan the people gathered. Three more had entered since he had. They were either upstairs or had been summoned when he'd arrived. Three of the richest members were currently working their way through the lounge area. Schneider was a poor, unkempt urchin compared to the wealth that now circled the waters. Sharks smelling fresh blood, no doubt.
Schneider followed his gaze. The man's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. He leaned forward, and Chief returned his attention to the conversation and sighed as if bored by the entire exchange.
"I happen to be well connected to several such vendors who provide specialty items and guarantee anonymity to their clients. What type of product are you trying to obtain?" Schneider eyed the current Crown Prince of Historia as the man's robes flowed around him when he stopped abruptly to speak to several other members.
Chief stared at Schneider. It took all of fifteen seconds before the man's gaze fell. Schneider lacked the spine Chief needed in a go-between. He wouldn't trust the ogre with any information he didn't want to be bartered or sold.
"I'm sure you are well connected; however, I don't believe I need any assistance. I appreciate the offer. If you will excuse me?"
Chief rose, summarily dismissing the German. He'd been taught the subtleties about snubbing the ultra-rich and had no problem using them. He strode forward, stopping to introduce himself and speak at length with each member. The early afternoon slipped by coated in thinly disguised curiosity and veiled innuendo. The constant twists and turns of old money versus new, power versus prestige and self-important posturing became a dance, and Mike led his partners across the club lounge like a champion ballroom dancer. Finally, his dance led to Prince Khalid Tawfeek. The man Chief had hoped to find here tonight.
Chief (Kings of Guardian Book 7) (The Kings of Guardian) Page 1
