Retribution

by Katie Reus

  When he opened the door, Nika was gone.

  * * *

  Yasha barely glanced at the hostess as he and Dima entered the supposedly posh restaurant. It was done in all bright gold and red colors with pineapples everywhere. Fucking pineapples. He didn’t understand the décor, but the view of the Atlantic was prime.

  Not that he cared about any of that. Yasha would be going to see his son very soon with what Andre needed. But Yasha wanted to bring him something more. Unexpected, sort of a peace offering. While he responded to an email, he watched out of the corner of his eye as Dima slipped the woman a fifty. She palmed it smoothly then murmured something too low for him to hear.

  It was positive news though, because Dima simply motioned with his head once. That meant his target was here.

  Good.

  They strode past the few diners, not surprised by how quiet it was. He supposed most people weren’t up this early on a Saturday, but the place was open almost twenty-four hours and served breakfast. Some marketing tactic.

  Winding his way through the linen cloth-topped tables, he inwardly smiled when his target spotted him.

  Manuel’s eyes widened a fraction as he shifted against his seat. Immediately he straightened and looked at his breakfast date, a tall redhead who was busy texting. Manuel said something to the woman that had her rising from her seat, phone in hand, without a backward glance. She flicked a look at both him and Dima, but just barely as she made her way to the bar. She’d left her purse so clearly planned to return.

  “Yasha,” Manuel said, nodding politely as Yasha sat where the woman had vacated.

  “You haven’t returned my calls.” Something that pissed him off. But he didn’t let his annoyance show, just kept his voice level. It would throw Manuel off more if he was civilized.

  The other man nodded once. “I just got back in town this morning. On a job. Figured it’d be too early for you.”

  “What kind of job?” he asked, as if only mildly interested.

  Manuel was a decent criminal. Fairly small-time, but did well enough to carve out a nice living for himself. He ran the occasional con and did jewelry heists—only out of town—to keep his income steady. For his low-level status, he seemed to have a decent pulse on the city. At least the criminal element.

  Yasha occasionally came to him for information even though he knew the man hated him. He could see the fear and loathing every time they crossed each other’s paths.

  Manuel shrugged in response. “Just work. You know how it is.”

  Yasha guessed Manuel wouldn’t say anything in public about any of his ‘work’ ventures. Just as Yasha wouldn’t. He could never be certain when he was being followed. The FBI and DEA often liked to put tails on him so he was careful about his public persona. “I do know.” He waited a beat of silence before continuing. “You’re a very knowledgeable man.”

  Manuel just watched him, not responding one way or another.

  Yasha picked up one of the gold forks from the table. He pressed it softly to the top of his hand. “Have you ever seen the damage a fork can do to someone’s hand? All those nerves,” he said. “I want to know what you’ve heard lately in regards to me or my son. Anything, no matter how small.”

  The other man straightened slightly, his entire body pulling taut. Unless he was a complete moron—and Manuel wasn’t—he’d understood the not-so-subtle threat. His lips pulled into a thin line as he reached around for his jacket, which was hanging on the back of his chair.

  Dima made a move, as if to pull out one of his hidden weapons, but Yasha held up a hand.

  Manuel retrieved his cell phone, swiped in his code, then his fingers flew across the screen. A few seconds later he handed the phone to Yasha. Manuel had typed up a text message but hadn’t included a recipient.

  Yasha read the message. Man named Rick was asking about your schedule a few months ago. No last name. Didn’t ask me specifically but I heard through the grapevine. Someone must have told him it was stupid to mess with you because the talk died down as quickly as it flared up. He did a few b & e’s, all local, with a guy named Spider. Spider’s dead and Rick is in the wind.

  “Why is this the first I’m hearing about this?” Yasha asked, passing the phone back to him.

  Manuel shrugged. “It was trivial and I had no concrete deets.”

  Deets. Yasha nearly snorted. “For me, not my son?”

  “You.”

  “Anything else?”

  He shook his head. Yasha was good at reading people and while he could never be certain, Manuel didn’t appear to be lying. He wouldn’t, not out of respect, but fear. Which was fine with Yasha. He’d rather be feared than anything else. “If you hear anything in the future, no matter how trivial, contact me.” He didn’t bother with threats because he didn’t have to.

  Fear flared in Manuel’s dark gaze as he nodded.

  Yasha set down the fork and stood, not bothering with any more discussion. It was unnecessary. He’d gotten what he’d come for.

  * * *

  Declan sat next to Odell, tablet in hand. He’d been digging into the financials of a portion of men on his list of Andre’s enemies but had tasked Odell with digging too. “Have you been able to eliminate any from your list?”

  Odell didn’t look over from his screen. “Only two. They’re currently out of the country. Though they could have hired someone.”

  “No, whoever is involved in this is handling things directly.” This whole thing had a personal feel to it. “I eliminated three as viable suspects,” he said, frowning as pictures flashed on the screen. He wished he could eliminate more. “Is this what you tagged me to see?”

  “Yep. I hacked into an old satellite and managed to pull up some data from yesterday. It’s very interesting.”

  “Damn it Odell, I told you—”

  “Don’t worry. It won’t be traced back to us. I piggybacked onto…You know what, never mind. The feed I got is fuzzy and I lost the signal, but look at this replay.” He pointed to the computer.

  Although the screen was grainy, they had a decent aerial view of a neighborhood. A large subdivision split into three sections. A semi-truck and Humvee turned into it. “Okay, what am I looking at?”

  “What don’t you see?” Odell asked.

  “Holy hell.” There were no other vehicles in the neighborhood. None in the driveways or parked on the curb. Even if everyone used their garage, and that was statistically slim, there were no other vehicles at all. None driving through the subdivision. “No cars.”

  The screen abruptly went black so they couldn’t know exactly what direction the vehicles had gone but it was a big start.

  “Exactly.” A map popped up on screen next. “This is the exact location of the neighborhood. The construction on it and three neighboring ones were abandoned during the construction bust a few years ago.”

  Declan nodded. Florida’s economy had been hit hard not too long ago, with innumerable people losing their homes, construction companies going under overnight and foreclosures popping up in the thousands. They were on the upswing now, but not everyone had recovered from the crisis. “How many homes in this stretch?” he asked.

  “Three or four hundred. All unoccupied. And all in various stages of construction. I can’t get a live feed but I think this is our guys. I managed to run their plates.”

  Which would also involve hacking, something Declan ignored because he didn’t care.

  “The plates are both from cars reported stolen months ago. Probably jacked the vehicles, then switched the plates.”

  “Good work.” Really good. One of these homes would be the perfect place to hide a kidnap victim. He set his tablet in his lap and pulled up the video of Alena he’d saved. “That could be a garage couldn’t it.” It was more a statement than question.

  “Shit. Yep, her wrists are bound to the pulley system. Can’t see it completely, but…yeah. That could definitely be a residential garage.”

  Declan’s heart rate k
icked up a notch. She could be in one of those homes. There were too damn many to sweep and he couldn’t risk sending in a big search party. The kidnappers could just cut their losses and run, which would mean killing her.

  “Have you seen Clay this morning?” Declan asked, starting to text the man.

  “Yeah, saw him out on the lanai talking on his cell not too long ago. What are you going to do about this?” Odell asked, nodding at the map.

  “Keep it to yourself for now.” Declan was going to put together two teams to infiltrate the place, but he needed to tell Andre about the lead first and get more information on the neighborhood itself. “I want to know who owns the subdivisions and more importantly I want the architectural plans for—”

  Odell smiled widely, the white of his teeth seeming brighter against his darker skin. “Already on it. You telling Andre about this?”

  “Yeah, as soon as he’s down here he needs to know.”

  “We’re gonna nail these fuckers.”

  Fuck yeah they were. As Declan opened the French doors to the lanai, he spotted a few of his security guys patrolling the yard, as they should be. Clay leaned against one of the pillars and nodded once when he saw him.

  “Thanks Susan, I appreciate your help.” Clay spoke for a few more moments before ending the call. His defeated expression told Declan what he needed.

  “Any news on the security feeds from the hospital?” Declan wasn’t holding his breath for a different answer from earlier. Clay had texted him the news that the videos had been seemingly erased, but a small part of him hoped it was a mistake.

  “Yeah, just talked to my nurse friend. Turns out it wasn’t a glitch. They think someone came in with a magnet and erased everything. Either that, or someone hacked in and got to the videos that way. Cops are fucking pissed.”

  “The feeds would be saved offsite though.” It was standard procedure for most places now.

  Clay nodded. “She said the cops are looking into it now but it might take a few days.”

  Declan rubbed a hand over his face. They didn’t have days. “Ethan had to have been involved with all this.”

  Clay’s lips pulled into a thin line. “Someone was tying up loose ends.”

  “Tell Odell I want the police report on his murder. And tell him to email me Ethan’s phone records.” Odell had already run Ethan’s records, but Declan wanted to scan everything himself. When Clay simply nodded, he said, “I’ll be inside in a minute.” As soon as Clay disappeared through the doors, Declan glanced at his watch before calling his assistant’s direct line. It was an hour before she was scheduled to arrive at work, but he knew her well enough that she’d be there.

  Blair picked up on the second ring. “Gallagher Security. How may I help you?”

  “Don’t you ever sleep?” he asked.

  “Do you?” she shot back.

  “Listen, I need you to pull up the GPS logs over the past six months for all the vehicles and I want you to highlight any unusual activity.”

  “You mean…for your guys?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No problem. Want me to email it to you?”

  “Yes, and keep this between us.”

  “Of course.”

  Declan reviewed the logs on a semi-regular basis to make sure his men weren’t using their company vehicles for too many personal errands, but he’d hand-picked most of the guys who worked for him. As a rule, he’d learned not to trust anybody, but most of his men had had top security clearances at one point or another in their previous professions. They were the kind of men he’d want with him during a firefight.

  Unfortunately he needed to reevaluate some things. He hated the thought of spying on his men through their dreams, but what choice did he have. If Ethan had been working against him, there was a chance he hadn’t been doing it alone. “And put together a list of eight men—none with ties to this case—with covert infiltration experience.” Most of his guys had that, but he wanted the ones with the most experience. “Contact them and tell them to gear up and head to the office. They’re on call as of now. I’ll let you know more in probably half an hour.”

  As they disconnected, Clay popped his head outside the French doors. His expression was grim. “Andre’s father is here.”

  Just freaking great. “Where’s Nika?”

  “In Andre’s office.”

  “Shit…keep Yasha occupied while I talk to Andre and Nika.” That man was a monster and Declan didn’t want him in the vicinity of her.

  “Of course.”

  Declan found Odell, Nika, and Andre in Andre’s office. Odell was running some program and muttering to his computer. Nika sat in the same place as the day before, looking worried and tense. She wore dark jeans again with a green sleeveless top that matched her bright eyes. The shirt molded to her soft curves in all the right places. Something he had no business noticing. She met his gaze, but quickly averted her eyes.

  He still couldn’t understand why she’d disappeared from his room without a word. The memory of holding her last night was impossible to erase. Keeping his eyes on her, Declan spoke to Andre, who was sitting next to Odell. He wanted to see her reaction when he mentioned Yasha. “Andre, your father is here. Just arrived.”

  Nika grasped onto the edge of the chaise lounge, and it was subtle, but her breathing kicked up a notch. That answered his question. She might not want to kill him, but she sure as hell knew who Yasha Makarov was.

  Turning, Declan faced Andre, who still hadn’t responded. “Well?”

  “Well what?” Dark circles smudged under Andre’s eyes.

  “What the hell is he doing here?”

  “I told you I was asking him for the money. He insisted on dropping it off himself.”

  Declan scrubbed a hand over his face. “I think I have a lead—a strong one—where Alena’s being held.”

  Nika jumped up, her expression so filled with hope he felt it like a physical blow. She and Andre both started to respond when the heavy door to the office swung open.

  Yasha walked in with three of his men. The tall, blond crime boss nodded at him as he set a duffle bag on the floor next to his feet. “Mr. Gallagher. Nice to see you again.”

  Declan pasted on a civil smile. He’d hunted down and interrogated terrorists all over the world, but the man in front of him always made him want to take a shower after being in his presence. “If you insist on being part of this, you can stay, but your men will wait in the hall.”

  One of his guards immediately stepped forward. “That is impossible.”

  Yasha held up a hand. “Leave us.”

  “Boss…”

  “Now. My son will not hurt me.”

  Wordlessly the three men strode out. Yasha glanced behind Declan at Andre, then his gaze narrowed on Nika who was still looking at Declan. He was glad neither her nor Andre had asked about their lead on Alena’s location. The less Yasha knew, the better.

  “You’re the kidnapped girl’s sister? Are you and she trying to con my son?” Yasha barked, his harsh words reverberating around the quiet room.

  Every protective instinct in Declan roared to life. In a few steps he stood between them, completely blocking Nika from view before she could answer. “Mr. Makarov—”

  Andre stepped forward, cutting Declan off. “Enough, father. You come in here and start interrogating a woman you don’t know. It’s nice to see some things never change.” The two men looked so similar, tall and blond with sharp features, but Declan knew they couldn’t be more different.

  Yasha’s attention zeroed in on his son, his eyes gleaming. “Ah, you remember you still have a father. So nice.”

  Andre’s pale eyes flashed angrily. “You can’t make anything easy, can you?”

  “You think getting this money was easy?” Yasha motioned toward the bag at his feet.

  Andre took a menacing step toward his father. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  Before the older man could respond, the phone rang. Immediate silence descende
d on the room as it rang a second time.

  “Boss, pretty sure this is the kidnappers. I’m running it, but can’t get a lock on the number,” Odell said, his fingers flying over one of his keyboards.

  Declan didn’t have to look at his watch to know they were hours early. He tuned out his surroundings and answered the call, pressing the speaker button. “Makarov residence.”

  “Is this Mr. Gallagher again?” The mechanical voice streamed over the line.

  “Yes. I didn’t catch your name last time.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “What happened to twenty-four hours?”

  “Since Yasha Makarov is with you, I figured you didn’t need the entire time allotment.”

  Declan’s stomach tightened at the implication of the words. He glanced over at the gangster, unable to keep the mistrust out of his eyes. “Who said Yasha is here?”

  “Don’t play games with me. I know he’s there, so I can only assume Andre has all the money now.” The stilted mechanical voice raised a few decibels. “You have two hours.” He rattled off an address that was vaguely familiar. It took Declan seconds to realize it had to be in the warehouse district.

  “We need more time to get the funds together. You’re asking for a large amount without giving us any good faith.”

  “Two hours. Andre must come alone.”

  There was no way in hell Declan was allowing Andre to go by himself, but he kept talking. The location they’d given was in the exact opposite direction of where Declan thought Alena was being held. “We need proof of life. I want to talk to Alena Brennan now and she better be at the drop point. He doesn’t let go of the money until he has a visual of her.”

  There was an extended moment of silence before Alena’s voice came over the line. “Hello?”

  “Ms. Brennan. Have you been hurt—”

  “Alena!” Nika shouted.

  “Nika, it’s me, I’m fine. They haven’t hurt me, I swear.” Alena sounded okay, but Declan couldn’t be sure it wasn’t a recording.

  “Alena, what day is it?” Declan held up a hand to silence Nika as he spoke to her sister.