Ricochet (Out for Justice Book 1)

by Reese Knightley

  “That’s a lot of years.” Kane sounded just as surprised as they had been. “And very unexpected.”

  “Yeah, for us too,” Jake agreed, glancing at Mac.

  “I’m not sure where to go from here,” Mac admitted, ignoring Jake’s worried glance. Tossing his pen on the desk, he would bet money Captain Scott Buller knew about Noah leaving WITSEC.

  “I don’t either, Mac.” Kane’s sigh came in loud and clear over the phone.

  Scott Buller came out of the elevator and headed toward his office. The door closed behind the man and the blinds that had been closed suddenly opened.

  “Kane, keep trying to locate Noah. Call us if you get any leads. We’ll work on it from this side,” Mac finished. Hopefully, they would meet somewhere in the middle and locate Noah. Kane agreed before the agent disconnected the call, and Mac and Jake sat in silence for a moment.

  “I think Ghost is the killer at the safe house,” Jake said, confirming everything Mac was thinking.

  Mac stood. “Let’s see what Buller thinks.” Mac walked across the bullpen with Jake and knocked on the captain’s door.

  “Come in.” The man’s voice was muffled, and Mac opened the door and then shut it after they stepped inside.

  Buller studied them, and then settled his gaze on Mac. After a long and tense moment, Buller sighed and tossed his glasses to his desk. “Have a seat.”

  Mac sat and didn’t wait. “What’s going on with Noah Bradford?”

  Buller rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Goddamned pain in my ass,” their boss muttered.

  “And that would be, why?” Mac asked, waiting.

  “He hasn’t been in WITSEC for years,” Buller confirmed.

  “Where’s he been?” Jake asked, sitting forward.

  “That’s classified information.” Buller pinned Jake with a harsh look.

  Mac felt pissed that for years, not one person bothered to tell him Noah wasn’t safely tucked away in WITSEC. Not like Noah had to get Mac’s permission to live his life, but it would have been nice to know. Yeah, and he’d tell me because I made it so easy. Which he hadn’t. Noah must have felt he couldn’t reach out to him.

  “Don’t you think we needed to know?” Mac met Buller’s gaze head on.

  “You know how this works, gentlemen,” Buller said, but he didn’t really need to say it. Mac knew that if Noah worked for a government agency, his cover would be protected at all costs.

  “Does he work for the government?” Mac probed.

  Buller sighed. “In a manner of speaking.”

  What the hell had Noah gotten himself into? Mac could think of several agencies that were off the grid. But there were a handful of units that were whispered about. They called them cleaners around the office. It wasn’t a nice term. It wasn’t meant to be admired. What those types of teams did was completely under the radar. Mac’s gut told him Noah just might be in one of them.

  “Can you at least tell us if he’s in the States?” Jake asked.

  Buller pinned Jake with a hard stare. “No, Marshal Coleman, I can’t. What I can tell you is that this man, or whatever you think you know about the kid who went into WITSEC, is gone. Period. He no longer exists. His replacement is a ghost. The man you’re dealing with is lethal, formidable, and dwells in the shadows of society.” Buller tapped his desk. “I don’t know if I can stress how top secret this operative is, but let me put it in layman terms. When I inquired about Noah Bradford’s whereabouts this morning, I found myself called upstairs this afternoon to my boss’s office, and inside waiting for me was his boss.” Buller’s voice rose with each word before the man paused. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” Mac nodded. He understood perfectly that somehow even inquiring about Noah had top government officials clamping down on his boss, hard. Damn it. Mac rubbed a hand over his chest and pulled out a packet of Tums from his shirt pocket before chewing a few.

  Jake snorted. “Noah grew up to be a badass? I don’t believe it. Come on, on a scale from one to ten, just how badass can he be?” Jake tried for sarcastic humor that flailed beneath Buller’s angry, molten stare.

  “The severity of how deadly this operative is, Jake, is beyond your comprehension.”

  Jake flushed beneath Buller’s scathing reply.

  Fuck…Mac went over every scenario of how he’d pictured reuniting with Noah. Only this wasn’t one of them. Clair and Buller both had held back information, and now Noah was a ghost. The man Mac had known was gone, and in his place was somebody men feared. This shit went higher than Mac thought.

  “Did you sign off on Clair’s monthly reports?” Mac asked.

  Buller shook his head. “No, but my boss did.”

  “It’s your name blocking the access,” Jake murmured, taking a guess.

  “Yes, it is. My directive came from Regenstein.” Link Regenstein was Scott Buller’s boss.

  “When did you lock the access?” Mac asked curiously.

  “2012, why?”

  “I’m just wondering how the fuck Stevenson found out about that safe house,” Mac growled.

  Buller stared at Mac for a moment longer and then picked up his phone. “Camren, I want a list of all names who accessed Noah Bradford’s records over the last five years. No, make that six. Include any name that searched for that safe house,” Buller barked into the phone. “When? I need it five minutes ago. Fine, by the end of day then.” Buller hung up with tech support and sighed. The man took a sip of coffee and made a face. “Cold crap.”

  “So, you knew all this time that Noah wasn’t in WITSEC any longer?” Jake asked.

  “Not that I owe you any explanation, Coleman, but yes,” Buller growled. “I received a phone call from someone above my pay grade. I was severely warned to keep out of any business having to do with Noah Bradford. They strongly suggested that the documentation on Noah’s monthly check-in stay vague and on time. I spoke with Clair and ordered her to keep everything quiet.”

  Mac held his captain’s gaze for a long moment. Noah was really gone. The kid he’d known had left WITSEC and joined a government agency that was so top secret, not even the captain could speak of it. Up until that very moment, Mac hadn’t wanted to believe it. He wanted to picture Noah living his life safely as a fucking college professor or something. But then that was his dream, not Noah’s. Noah’s dream had been to become someone else.

  It felt as if the floor had fallen away and Mac was perched precariously on the edge. He refused to believe that he’d never see Noah again. Kicking himself in the ass for pulling off of the Bradford detail, Mac clenched his fists, remembering how hung up he’d been about their age difference. He’d used that to push Noah away, and now nine years didn’t seem so big. Sure, Noah was younger than him. And let’s face it, way fucking hotter. But now Mac just wanted to find him.

  Mac stood, and Jake followed. “When you get the report…”

  “I’ll let you know if I can. And Mac?” Buller called out, waiting. Mac turned. “I know you two have history, but please be careful. Ghost has a reputation, and I don’t want you hurt.”

  Mac paused, searching Buller’s worried gaze, and then nodded. It appeared his captain knew a lot more about Noah than he was saying.

  “You want us to pull off?” Mac asked.

  “No. Hell no. I have a dead agent. You both are point on this case. We do our part and let them do theirs.” Buller rubbed at the back of his neck. “Just try and stay out of their way.”

  Mac would try, but he wasn’t sure he’d succeed.

  Noah

  By memory, Noah found the road they had traveled so long ago and parked his jeep down the beach in a sandy parking lot. Walking along the short, rocky ditch, the small sand dunes muffled his steps as he approached the house.

  The place was dark, too dark, which signaled that the occupant wasn’t at home. A small smile curved Noah’s lips, and he pictured a certain sexy marshal’s face filled with surprise upon arriving home.

  Habit had Noah paus
ing to get a feel for the situation, and suddenly he stopped, standing completely still. Someone was moving around inside Mac’s house. Through the side window, he saw a light swiveling left and then right in a search pattern. Well now, that was interesting. A thief.

  Pulling his black hooded mask from his back pocket, Noah slipped it over his head and glided like silk through the darkness. The back door was ajar, signaling the perpetrator’s point of entry. Noah eased the door open and it creaked, loudly. Silently cursing, he slipped back from the door and crouched. It wasn’t long before footsteps approached and someone poked their head out.

  From his crouched position, Noah sprang upward. The guy knew how to fight, and if Noah had to guess, he’d say it was from military training, only because Noah had come up against a few of them during his own training.

  Noah blocked, dodged, and waited as the guy grew winded. Military or not, someone wasn’t taking care of himself, and the smell of stale alcohol drifted between them with each labored breath the man drew. One more lunge, and Noah’s syringe hit its mark and the man slumped to the ground out cold.

  Kicking the door open, he dumped the guy on the carpet in front of a wide leather chair. He took a seat in the cushiony piece of furniture and waited. The guy looked to be about thirty, nice looking in that boy next door kind of way, but stunk of booze and sweat. The smell clung to the man as if he hadn’t showered in a day or three. One thing was for certain, this guy was not the man in the picture Allison had taken.

  The beach house was just as Noah remembered, except now it was missing Mac’s bigger-than-life presence. Mac had brought him here years ago, even though it had been against regulations. They’d hung out for a few hours, running on the sandy beach and swimming in the ocean.

  Noah suddenly wanted to see Mac. He remembered the way those icy blue eyes lit up with laughter and sometimes confusion when the sparks between them ignited out of control. Frequently, Mac had pulled back, tossing up walls during those times, claiming Noah was too young.

  Noah understood later that Mac had been filled with a sense of responsibility and personal integrity. It had stung, though. He’d trusted Mac with his heart, and it had been handed back without another thought.

  Some part of Noah knew Mac had orders to transfer him, but it had still hurt. Did the man not know how hard it had been for Noah to trust him? Of course, Noah could look back now and see that he’d had a bit of hero worship going on with Mac, but that in no way diminished the love he had felt for the man.

  He may have been young at the time, but he hadn’t been a child. And, well, Noah had news for Robert McKenzie. He wasn’t young any longer and fully intended to see if the spark between them still existed. Just for the satisfaction of being the one to walk away, and he would walk away. Relationships weren’t conducive in his line of work. Not one person in Phoenix was in a relationship.

  Just thinking about the sexy marshal had him pushing his wayward dick down to ease the pressure in his pants.

  First things first though. He had to learn the identity of the man at his feet. Searching through the man’s pockets, he found a smartphone and wallet. Ben Heins, lived in San Diego. Phone was fingerprint locked, but a quick lift of the guy’s hand and Noah was in. Scrolling through the phone, Noah found what he was looking for and transferred several photos to his own phone before tossing the other phone aside.

  It was almost half an hour later before the guy finally moaned. Noah reached down and firmly smacked the man’s cheeks several times.

  “Ow, fuck!” Ben Heins cried out, opening his eyes and blinking up at him.

  “Who are you?” Noah asked. When there was no answer from the thief, Noah pulled his switchblade. Flipping the knife open with a snap, he angled the blade so it glinted in the dim light.

  The man struggled against the zip-ties around his wrists and ankles. Hands tied behind his back, the thief flopped and rolled around on his belly until Noah shoved the man over with his boot. “I won’t ask again. Who. Are. You?”

  “Ben! My name is Ben Heins, and my boyfriend lives here,” the man spat.

  One side of Noah’s mouth tipped up. “If you’re this guy’s boyfriend, why were you searching through his house in the dark with a flashlight?”

  “Um… I didn’t want to turn on the lights because I wanted to surprise him.”

  “Surprise him with what?” Noah looked around. “There’s no dinner cooking, no sex toys lined up, no movie picked out. Just exactly what were you trying to surprise him with?”

  “Screw you! That’s my picture on the mantel,” Ben snarled, rolling around.

  Noah stood and walked over to the mantle. Just as Ben said, there was a picture of Mac and Ben in military uniforms. Ben looked fresh in a new military uniform as if just recruited, and Mac looked like he was on his way out. Noah knew a bit of their story. The man on the floor had been a selfish, superficial prick and had deserted Mac when he’d needed the guy the most.

  Mac had finally told Noah the story on one of their trips to the beach. Other pictures lined the mantel. One of a young girl standing near a younger Mac; she looked a bit like him.

  What Noah hadn’t expected was to see his own face in a picture along with Mac. The picture had been taken during a trip to the lake. When Mac had tried coaxing him to swim, he’d confessed he didn’t know how. Mac had patiently spent a few hours teaching him how to float. A family had happened upon them, and Mac asked the woman to take their picture. They were shirtless, in soaked shorts and wet hair plastered to their heads, with smiles wide and big. Mac had slung an arm around his shoulders. Mac had been his hero. That was a long time ago.

  “See?! I’m telling the truth. Now let me go.”

  Pulled away from the photo, Noah turned and advanced on the man.

  “Rule number one, no lying,” Noah said. “I think you’re a thief and I want to know what you were doing here.”

  Several screams later, some garbled, pleading words, and Noah wiped the bloody end of his knife clean on his pants.

  “Who… who the f-f-fuck are you?” the man panted, whimpering.

  Beneath the cover of the black hood, Noah met the man’s eyes. “I’m the man who’s going to hurt you if you don’t start talking. Now, tell me who the leak is at the US Marshals office.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ben swallowed hard.

  “That’s funny…because you have his picture on your phone.” Perhaps the guy didn’t know the man on his phone was a traitor, so Noah gave him the benefit of the doubt. “Are you in on it?”

  Ben shook his head frantically. “Fuck you!”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  Noah reached up and removed the hood covering his face and looked down into Ben’s startled face.

  “You!” Ben gasped.

  “Obviously, it’s me,” Noah said sarcastically.

  “I’m not telling you shit, and that man on my phone? He’s going to kill you if you cut me anymore!”

  “Well then, let’s give him a reason.” Noah lifted the knife, having used it just enough to terrify the fucker, and the man screamed.

  Mac

  Clair’s funeral had been a somber affair. She’d received the full officer’s farewell. Mac stood quietly, staring at the casket. He wished he’d done things differently, kept in touch or called to check in. Noah wasn’t at the funeral, and neither were Manning’s men that Mac could see. It would have been the perfect time for Manning to strike if Noah had shown up. Thankfully, he hadn’t. The flag had been presented to Clair’s cousin, whom Mac had never met, and he’d declined going to the house afterwards.

  Instead, he and Jake got back to work, and a short time later, they pulled into the driveway of the quaint little house that sat in a quiet Santa Rosa neighborhood. Vibrant roses and flowers stood merrily in the sun, making the yellow caution tape and crime scene signs appear uglier than usual.

  The lead detective on the scene, Justin Brick, was young, but had a keen
eye for detail. While others thought two people saved Betty Mae Lincoln’s life, Detective Brick thought otherwise.

  “One man,” the detective told Mac and Jake. “He took out the guy in the front first, using some type of sedative, before hog-tying him.” Brick led them around the house. “Looks like the other bad guy came in through the back door, and here’s where they had a scuffle.”

  Mac took in the scene; a table was toppled, and broken glass from a vase lay shattered on the rug. Fuck, Mac had neglected to ask Betty Mae if Noah had been hurt. “Looks like the good guy won because this man was hog-tied and this was left,” Detective Brick said, holding out a piece of paper.

  Mac frowned, taking the small note from Brick.

  -Mac, a gift.

  Ghost

  Mac glared at the note. A gift? Apparently, Noah had become quite the smartass.

  It was eleven o’clock at night by the time Mac pulled into his driveway. He killed the lights and set the alarm on his SUV before heading to the opened back door.

  Open…the door stood gaping wide. What the hell? Pulling his gun, Mac slowly went up the two steps before pausing to listen. He was glad the door was open because the fucker had a tendency to squeak loudly. Moving through the hallway, he saw the living room light on.

  Stepping to the entrance, Mac froze. Noah Bradford sat sprawled in his thick, comfortable armchair as if the man didn’t have a care in the world. The man looked absolutely stunning. Light blond hair was caught back in a messy man bun, displaying a squared jaw Mac vaguely remembered on a younger Noah. Along the firm jaw ran a perfectly groomed, barely there beard and mustache, short enough to show a bit of skin beneath, but long enough to run his teeth through and tug.

  Noah’s lips, fuck. He remembered the touch of Noah’s mouth against his cheek all those years ago. And the man’s shoulders were wider than before with a chest that while lean, strained the tight black shirt stretched over well-formed muscles.

  The gun with a suppressor attached was clasped in Noah’s hand and added an air of danger that was sexy as fuck… with the exception of the fact that the gun was pointed at… Ben?