Ricochet (Out for Justice Book 1)

by Reese Knightley

  “Where are her parents?” Jake asked.

  “Deceased. The file says they were killed in a car accident in 1993.” Mac frowned. “Noah would have been two at the time.”

  Jake leaned over and looked at the information Mac was reading.

  “I found the connection,” Kane said over the phone. “Giovanni Rossi, American born, he grew up in Junction City, Oregon. That’s how Noah’s mother met him. It looks like Mia and Rossi went to the same high school together.”

  “Junction City, that’s the same town Noah was born in,” Mac murmured, reading the information that Kane sent.

  “Rossi’s got to be pushing forty at least. Doubt he’s still in active duty,” Jake said, and Kane started clicking.

  “Thirty-five,” Kane confirmed, checking what little information they had on the guy. Rossi would have been eighteen when Noah was born.

  “It still doesn’t tell us how Stevenson became involved,” Mac said.

  “Nor what Rossi’s been doing since he left the military,” Jake pointed out.

  “True,” Mac agreed, rubbing his jaw.

  “I do know one thing though. Rossi’s alive, according to my contact,” Kane said.

  “I’d bet money this guy doesn’t know he has a son,” Mac said, looking at Rossi’s military record.

  “Why’s that?” Jake asked.

  Mac pointed to the screen. While there wasn’t any picture of the man, the data from Kane’s contact showed a purple star with some ungodly level of clearance. “With this type of clearance and those medals, there’s no way in hell the man would leave his son in that hell hole.” At least, Mac hoped the guy wouldn’t. Mac jotted down the name of the school listed. “I’ll call down there and see if anyone knew Rossi or his family. I’ll ask around and see if I can find out anything about Stevenson and Mia,” he added, shoving the paper into his pocket. “Thanks, Kane.”

  “No problem,” Kane said. “If I find anything else, I’ll call.”

  Mac turned back at the door. “Jake, call it a hunch, but can you check into the parents’ car accident and see if there is anything off about it?”

  “I’m on it,” Jake said, turning toward his monitor and typing.

  “Let’s put off telling Noah about his father. I don’t want him getting any ideas.” Knowing of a father wouldn’t prevent Noah from going into WITSEC, but it could emotionally complicate life for the young man.

  Jake and Kane both agreed, and Mac hoped his decision to withhold this information wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass.

  A few months later, Mac traveled back to Junction City, Oregon, to find answers. What he discovered was that somehow Ricky Stevenson had found out that Mia Brandenburg had never obtained her American citizenship.

  Mac got two different stories. From what the town officials said, Mia had been swept away by Stevenson’s money. Those who went to school with Mia said Stevenson was blackmailing her.

  Sheriff Taylor spat a wad of tobacco juice in the gutter. Mac had called to meet the man and rather than be invited into the Sheriff’s office, the man had waited outside. There was something cagey about the guy’s behavior. The older, pudgy sheriff was nervous as hell, and Mac stood, not saying a word, studying the man’s body language.

  “Ricky Stevenson had money, and Mia, well, she had the looks,” Taylor said, then sniffed and spat again. “Ain’t nobody tell you different, Marshal,” Sheriff Taylor sneered, using the word marshal as a slur. “That woman wanted it,” the man added. Mac wasn’t sure what “it” was, but he could take a good guess as to what Taylor wanted him to think.

  Mac kept his cold gaze directed at the man until Taylor fidgeted.

  “We’ll be in touch,” Mac rasped, then spun on his heel and strode to his SUV. He put a call into Kane to have the whole damned department checked into. From there, Mac went to the diner.

  Sam’s Diner sat at the edge of town, and Mac parked in one of the many empty spots on the cracked asphalt. The outside of the building needed paint and the roof looked like it hadn’t been replaced since the day it was built, but the inside felt warm and the food smelled mouthwatering. He took a seat away from the entrance at the end of the counter.

  “What can I get ya, hun?” The little badge pinned to the front of the faded blue uniform read Carol. Asking around Mia’s old neighborhood, Mac found that the person to ask his questions to was Mia’s friend, Carol.

  “I’ll have the super breakfast special, thanks, Carol.” Mac smiled gratefully at the woman and took a sip of the fresh coffee she poured in his cup.

  “Nice choice, Marshal,” Carol replied, smirking at his surprised look. He wasn’t wearing a badge because it tended to put people off when he asked questions.

  “Word gets around.” She eyed him over the top of her glasses.

  Mac smiled. “I see that.”

  Carol returned his smile before putting in his order. “So, what brings you to this little town? We don’t get too many visitors in Junction City.”

  “You were a friend of Mia Brandenburg’s, right?” Mac sipped at the hot coffee.

  Carol looked wary but nodded. “She was my best friend.”

  “I’m trying to figure out how Mia ended up with a man like Ricky Stevenson.” Mac grimaced. “It just strikes me as an odd paring.”

  “It was.” Carol pressed her lips together.

  “I heard from the sheriff that Mia went after the money,” Mac probed.

  Carol snorted. “Yeah, he would say that.”

  “So, what would you say?”

  Carol gazed off into the distance as if lost somewhere in her memories. “We all went to high school together.” Carol sighed. “Mia was fifteen the day she showed up. Her parents had just moved here from Germany. She could barely speak a word of English, but she was beautiful. Both Giovanni and Ricky fell for her. Of course, Gio won.” She cackled, wiping at the counter with a damp rag.

  “Why’s that?” Mac asked.

  “Why, because he’s hawt, darlin’.” Carol smiled, then scowled. “And that Ricky, he was a good-for-nothing, causing trouble from the get-go.”

  “So why did Mia end up with him?”

  Carol eyed him so long, Mac almost gave in to the desire to fidget. Then the woman leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “She was illegal, and Gio had gone off to the military. When her parents were killed, Mia didn’t have nobody. She told me that Ricky was going to take care of her and Noah, but I think Ricky was blackmailing her.” Carol shrugged. “Everything seemed okay for a while. Until that man showed up.”

  “What man?” Mac frowned.

  “Terrance Manning.” The woman’s voice had dropped so low, Mac had to lean forward. So, Manning had been around back then.

  “Did you know him?”

  “A little.” Carol shivered. “He’d stop by here on his way to and from Ricky and Mia’s place. They lived here in town. Manning comes in here pleasant as a rattlesnake, introduces himself, and then gets directions. The next thing I know, about two weeks later, Mia and Noah are killed in a house fire, and rumor has it that Ricky is living high off the hog somewhere in the woods.” She scrubbed at the counter and refilled his empty coffee cup. “Just ain’t right.” The woman moved off to take an order from a couple at a table.

  Mac couldn’t speak for a full minute. House fire? Carol thought Noah was dead. Something didn’t make sense.

  “What about Rossi… Gio? Does he know… I mean, did he know he had a son?” Mac dug a bit deeper when she came back.

  “He knew.” Carol shook her head and placed her hands on her hips. “They were young. After he left to join the military, she found out she was pregnant. When her parents were killed, Mia told me that Gio offered to come back, but she had made her choice with Ricky by that time. That’s why I think it’s blackmail. Mia knew that Ricky was a good-for-nothin’.” The bell rang at the cook’s window, and Carol left and then returned with his breakfast. The woman stood twisting a towel in her hands.

 
“So, what about Gio’s parents?” Mac took a bite of the hot food and closed his eyes. It was that damned good.

  “Oh, that was a foster family. Giovanni Rossi was in the system. He didn’t have any living relatives. Well, he may have, but I never knew about any.”

  “Is his foster family still around?”

  “No, they moved away…” Carol paused, as if thinking about what to say next. “They weren’t good people.”

  Mac took a bite of the hash browns, and then a scoop of eggs before savoring a piece of bacon. “How so?”

  “That house was horrible. They had more kids coming in and out of that place, it wasn’t right.” She shrugged. “But each child was a paycheck, I guess.” Carol harrumphed. “They kicked Gio out when they found out he was bisexual. Like it was a disease or somethin’.”

  “Did Mia know that Gio was bi?” Mac scooped another bite of food.

  “Yeah, she knew. We all knew, but it didn’t make no difference. He was decent.” Carol nodded and made her way down the counter when a couple came through the door.

  “And that’s the story,” she said when she returned.

  So all this time, Stevenson had kept Noah a secret, which would have been easy to do when Mac thought about it. Move to another town, stay secluded, change Noah’s name, and enter him in another school district. An easy way to make a child disappear in plain sight.

  Mac finished his breakfast. “Thanks, Carol.”

  She smiled. “Take care, Marshal.”

  Mac nodded and left Carol a large tip. Leaving the diner, he had a clearer picture of the story and the hell a family had gone through because of the actions of a drug kingpin. There was also the mystery of why people thought both Mia and Noah were dead.

  He drove back to the safe house and secluded himself in the small office. Research uncovered Mia’s death, and sure enough, it was listed that both she and her son were killed in an accidental house fire. What Carol hadn’t known or been able to tell him was if the fire had been a cover up for murder. It sounded like the town sheriff needed looking into.

  Mac made a short call to Kane and told him the details. Kane assured Mac that he’d look into the town officials.

  Mac tossed his pen on the desk. He still couldn’t figure out why Manning had gotten involved in Mia’s death. There was no connection. Maybe Stevenson had owed Manning money.

  Walking through the main hallway, Mac headed to the back patio. Jenny was running around the yard with Noah chasing her. Apparently, they had started a game of dodgeball by the look of the round, yellow, squishy ball in Noah’s hand. Mac smiled when Noah tagged Jenny with it.

  Noah had called him hot. It had thrown him off kilter, but he’d smoothly recovered. The kid probably wasn’t used to being around someone who treated him decently. That was all. Mac knew that this place and living out from under Manning’s rule had to be so very different for Noah.

  Jenny laughed and then squeaked, chasing Noah. Mac eased into one of the patio chairs. Technically, Mac only had to keep Noah safe until he reached eighteen. That would be in two weeks. Then Noah could live in WITSEC on his own until the trial. Of course, he’d need to keep under the radar with a new identity until the perps could be found, but victims were doing that every single day.

  They just needed to catch Manning and Stevenson so Noah and Jenny could testify.

  Mac

  Two years later

  Mac pulled at the tie around his neck. He’d tied it too tight and felt like it was choking him. The wind picked up some of the flowers and tossed them about on the breeze. The smell of dirt filled the air along with the soft whirling sound of a small lawn mower in the distance.

  “Ashes to ashes.” The minister’s words faded into a drone of sound.

  But all Mac saw was Noah, standing in a black suit and matching tie. Even at the age of twenty, the slim, young man stood swaying as if the next strong breeze would blow him away. In his hand, he held a white rose, which he placed on the casket.

  A few moments later, Mac touched Noah’s arm and led him to a car where a woman was waiting. Jake offered his good hand and Noah solemnly shook it.

  Then the beautiful, blond young man turned and gazed up at Mac. Large brown eyes reflecting the sun’s golden light filled with a sorrow Mac knew only too well.

  He offered his hand to Noah, but it was shoved aside, and then Mac had his arms filled with heaven. He dipped his head, closed his eyes, and breathed in the smell of peppermint and sunshine. Noah squeezed him tightly, and Mac allowed himself to return the hug.

  “Take care of yourself and listen to what Clair says,” he said with his voice cutting in and out between a rumble and a growl. He put Noah at arm’s length.

  “Mac,” Noah whimpered, his voice filled with tears. The boy refused to take a step toward the waiting car.

  “We’ve been over this.” Mac tightened his hands on Noah’s shoulders. When soft, pain-filled brown eyes met his, Mac took a deep breath. “I need you safe until we catch this guy.”

  “But you keep me safe. Haven’t we been good?” Noah asked anxiously, and Mac felt the boy tremble.

  “Yes, we were good. But we’re not now. It’s not good to become complacent. I became distracted, and that could have cost you your life. As it is, it costed Jenny hers.” Mac swallowed around the tightness in his throat. He lifted his fingers and brushed at the blond hair that fell in Noah’s eyes. He’d give anything to erase the past few days, but time didn’t reverse. And he had to live with the consequences of his actions. If this wasn’t a wakeup call, then nothing was.

  “But I don’t care about being safe! Mac, please? I just want to be with you.” Noah sniffled and wiped at his nose with the sleeve of his suit jacket.

  Mac drew the boy close, clutching him to his chest. His head dropped and he allowed himself a moment. Just one fucking moment to brush his lips against Noah’s bright hair. He had allowed himself to live in a fantasy world for the past couple of years. Fucking hell. Noah wasn’t his. Just because the man wanted it so, didn’t mean it was.

  “No.” He hardened his voice and his heart squeezed when Noah gave a soft, agonizing sob. “You can’t stay with me.” He firmly held Noah at arm’s length, then led the distraught young man to Clair.

  US Marshal Clair Holt tucked Noah into the back seat of the sedan. Through the window, Mac held Noah’s golden gaze. Tears ran down soft cheeks, making the boy’s face glimmer. As the car moved forward, Mac held Noah’s gaze until his face faded from view.

  Even then, Mac stared after the dark, black spec until Jake gently touched his arm.

  Noah

  Five years later

  A burst of speed took him the last few feet to the wall at the end of the alley. He jumped, using the wall as leverage, and ran halfway upward, grasping the end of the metal balcony on the old brick building. The brick near his head splintered with a sharp ping and concrete flew outward from the small hole. Spider-climbing up the outside of the fire escape, he pulled himself up and onto the roof. Sprinting across the wide expanse, he dodged several more bullets pinging in his wake.

  Reaching the edge of the building, he didn’t hesitate and leaped across the substantial distance to the neighboring building. He hit the roof, rolled when he landed, and popped up into a run. Around the air-conditioning unit, he found the stairs to the building and darted inside. Heading down to the third level, he ran through a carpeted hallway and out the south side of the building and down another fire escape. Dressed in all black, he was easily swallowed into the night.

  Using several alternate routes and only stopping to eat once, it took him over twenty-four hours to get from Moscow, Russia to Berlin, Germany. Once inside the apartment, Noah slipped off his jacket and tossed it on the counter before yanking open the fridge. Pulling out a lime Gatorade, he chugged until the bottle was almost empty, then stood with his hands braced on the counter.

  Wincing, he lifted the edge of his black sweater and gently pulled on the hand towel he’d
placed against the wound while on the road. A bullet had creased him good, carving through the skin on his left side.

  He walked into the study and pulled a picture away from the wall. Opening the hidden safe, he removed a laptop. This assignment had taken a long time. Locating Viktor Lakhonin, the Russian leader of an Eastern European human trafficking ring, had been a bitch. Not that his team went around tidying up other country’s illegal businesses, but when it came to light that most of the people being sold were American children and Lakhonin had illegal business dealings on American soil, Phoenix was asked to quietly “step in.”

  When Noah located the head of the snake, the man came with a whole slew of mini-snakes in the form of military trained guards. Thankfully, his only job had been to retire Viktor Lakhonin and ping the warehouse’s location. It was up to the Russian authorities to rescue the men, women, and children held at the foreign facility. At first, the Russian government had denied any knowledge of Lakhonin or the facility’s whereabouts, but when the coordinates were emailed anonymously to the United Nations Security Council, and heat was put upon them by neighboring countries, the Russian Federation had grudgingly offered their full cooperation.

  Firing up the laptop, Noah entered a DOS screen and typed in a few codes.

  Target? The green words flashed across the black screen.

  Eliminated. Noah typed.

  Take some time off. I’ll be in touch. The green words blinked across the screen.

  Noah closed out the DOS window, wiped the laptop clean of data, and placed it back into the safe. This place wasn’t his; it was used by a U.S. agency as a field location. He’d secretly borrowed this particular apartment for months and would be leaving soon.

  Heading into the bathroom, he showered and tended his wound. Dressed in loose, cream-colored lounge pants, he pulled on a T-shirt and made his way to the kitchen. A bag of pretzels from the cupboard and a jar of peanut butter in hand, he headed to the balcony’s glass door.