“I’m here,” Rossi responded.
“That is correct, I’m flying into California.”
“Does the name Boris Petrov mean anything to you?”
“No, should it?”
“I just got word that the guy who attacked Roscoe, a construction worker named Bob Gordon, gave us the name of Vladimir’s second-in-command, Boris Petrov, in exchange for a deal.
“Wait, after two months in jail, the guy’s talking?” Fear frowned.
“The DA told Gordon that what he was offering wasn’t worth witness protection. The DA threatened to pull the plug on the whole damned thing. Gordon spilled everything; locations, bank accounts, and people. He said that Petrov was in charge of the men who attacked Roscoe and his family.”
There was a moment of silence.
“I bet that botched hit on Roscoe’s house didn’t go over well with Vladimir.”
“I think so too, because I also heard that Vladimir is recruiting. He’s looking at hiring one of Viktor’s men,” Rossi said.
He frowned. “There’s only a handful of men that reported to Viktor and I’m familiar with most of them.”
“Good, that’ll make it easier to figure out who this new guy might be. Oh, and Gordon didn’t have a picture of Petrov and we have no record of the guy. Can you call a contact and see if you can dig up something?”
“Will do.”
“We need to get this shit wrapped up,” the chief said on a rough sigh. He heard the pain in Rossi’s voice and the silence was long.
“It’s not your fault, Chief.” He leaned against the airport wall close to where his plane would board and looked up at the sand-colored ceiling tile.
“That’s debatable.”
The man blamed himself for everything Phoenix had gone through at the hands of the Lakhonin family. It had all started when Rossi killed Junior, the son of crime boss Terrance Manning. Manning, in turn, kidnapped Rossi’s son, Noah, who he terrorized for years. The fucked up part was Manning told Rossi that Noah was dead and Rossi believed for years his son had been killed. The truth came out when Noah was rescued by US Marshal Mac Mackenzie. Several years later, Rossi brought Noah into Phoenix. Phoenix operative Storm put a bullet in Manning’s head.
To compound matters, Yakov kidnapped Rossi’s nephew, Seth. The crazy motherfucker tried using Seth as a bargaining chip to catch Noah, who they all knew could be used to ultimately destroy Rossi if anyone got their hands on his son. Of course, Yakov hadn’t planned on Phoenix operative Frost coming for him.
Phoenix then discovered that Manning, Viktor, and Yakov were half-brothers. They shared the same father, Gustov Lakhonin. Gustov was the patriarch of the Lakhonin drug and trafficking dynasty and had been running the show until the man had a stroke. They’d caught a break and apprehended the kingpin on a ranch in Texas.
In the end, most of the Lakhonin line were dead and both Yakov and Gustov were behind bars. But it seemed like the Lakhonins always had one more son of a bitch to take over. Which left Gustov’s grandson, Vladimir Lakhonin, gunning for them.
Rossi believed it had all started with him killing Junior, Gustov’s grandson. Maybe it had, but that didn’t change the fact that Junior had bought, sold, and traded people in exchange for weapons.
“Regardless if you killed a sex trafficking gun runner who happened to be related to a Russian kingpin, they all needed to be eliminated.”
“I know.” Rossi’s voice was filled with tiredness.
“Look at what we’ve accomplished, Chief. Yakov and Gustov are in custody.” It wasn’t what Alex wanted, though, but Phoenix tried to be above board on shit. He didn’t need to be. “Plus, Belton Gibson, Manning, and Viktor are dead.”
“We have accomplished a lot,” Rossi agreed softly. “I just wish things were different.”
Alex closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. “Me too.” He wished for that more than anything on earth.
His flight number was called and he shoved from the wall and got in line.
There wouldn’t be any jail time for Vladimir. The guy’s days were numbered. He’d take immense pleasure in putting a bullet in him, but only after he got the information he needed.
“I liked having you with the team. Can you come back and help us catch this bastard?”
“Yes,” Alex responded. In truth, he couldn’t have said anything else.
“I’m calling a meeting the day after tomorrow. I’ll see you here.”
Alex ended the call and took a seat on the plane. The twenty hour flight would drop him in the bay area ahead of time. He gazed out the window. Had he really just agreed to work with Phoenix again? And even though he told himself not to, he couldn’t stop the little spark of hope. Perhaps enough time had passed.
“Excuse me?”
“Yes?” He glanced up at the steward.
“Would you like something?” The man gestured to the cart.
“Coffee, thanks.”
He sighed and set his head against the backrest and closed his eyes. He’d have enough time to make a stop and shower before heading to San Francisco International Airport.
Alex
SFO was busy, and he stood leaning against one of the white pillars near the exit where security dumped the passengers. His gaze moved over the crowd.
When he caught sight of Micah, his gaze roamed greedily over every inch of the lean, tall body. The man’s head was down, dark hair loose and falling forward, as he stared at his phone. Micah did a little skip jump around a suitcase before his head lifted, his eyes searching until they landed on him.
Their eyes met, gazes collided. His gut tightened. Micah was pure beauty in motion. Every single pair of eyes, both men and women, looked at the man as he walked toward him.
“You came.”
“Of course,” he said and fisted Micah’s jacket.
Passengers paused and smiled at them as he pulled the man close and buried his face in the dark, silky strands of hair.
After one brief moment, Micah’s arms closed tightly around him. Alex lifted his face and set his cheek to rest on the top of the man’s head and briefly closed his eyes.
Too soon though, Micah pulled away and put distance between them with a brief, barely there smile. Alex held the man’s soft, brown gaze. The brown was shot through with tiny shards of gold and flecks of green. By sheer will, he stopped himself from closing the distance again. Micah’s tongue swept out and wet his bottom lip and Alex swallowed.
“Hey,” Micah said over the noise of the airport.
He quirked one side of his mouth at the belated greeting. “Hey.” He jerked his head toward the exit.
“How’s the team?” Micah asked, getting into the passenger side after tossing his bag into the back of his rental.
“I don’t know, I haven’t been there yet.”
“Good,” Micah said quietly, and then dropped into silence.
He glanced over to find Micah looking at him, but the man quickly averted his gaze.
Alex frowned. “What’s wrong?”
Micah hesitated.
“Tell me.”
After a long pause, the man whispered, “I think we should sell the house.”
The words hit like a punch to the gut. He squeezed the steering wheel and lowered the window to pay the man for parking. The long, wooden arm lifted and he eased the SUV out the exit and pulled onto the main road.
“Did you hear me?”
“I heard you,” he rasped, looking over his shoulder to change lanes and take the onramp to the freeway.
“And?”
“I don’t think we should make that decision yet.”
Micah
He turned his face away and gazed out the window. Alex wanted to bury his head in the sand. It was his typical behavior. However, no burying for however long would change the facts.
It was a short drive to headquarters, and he was slower to get out of the SUV. He came around the vehicle to find Alex waiting.
The man wore comba
t boots, well-worn blue jeans, and a black t-shirt that strained over muscles on his arms and shoulders, Alex was tall, six feet four or five, Micah wasn’t sure, and the guy probably weighed in at two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle. Way more than him. Not that he was skinny, he just didn’t have the muscle mass the squared-jawed, brown-haired man had.
With tattoos covering bulging arms, the soldier was thrust from good looking into the smoking hot category. The muscles on the man shifted suddenly and jumped, and he realized he was staring at Alex’s chest. He jerked his eyes up to find heat blazing in gunmetal gray eyes. He suddenly found it difficult to swallow.
Alex jerked his head slightly toward the back door and then spun, heading that way. Steeling himself against the man’s appeal, he followed and stepped inside.
Headquarters was hopping. Instead of heading through the busy bullpen area, they made their way down a narrow hallway and took the stairs up to the floor that held the offices.
Rossi, coming down the hallway, flagged them down.
“Lash, Fear.”
“Chief.” He returned the man’s greeting as the guy drew closer to him and Alex.
Rossi shook first his hand and then Alex’s.
“Chief.” Alex tipped his head.
“Lash,” Rossi turned to him, “I want to talk to you about telling the team.”
His heart slammed against his chest. “Are you sure?”
“I know I asked you to keep it quiet, but I think it’s time. I’ll leave it to you unless you want me to do it, but it needs to be done.”
“No,” he said hurriedly. “It’s my family. I’ll tell them.”
“All right. Do it in the next few days, please.”
“I will,” he promised.
“Stefano is waiting to speak with you both,” Rossi said. “I have to make a call, I’ll see you both at the unit meeting in a few minutes.” The man turned and strode toward his office.
He turned and held Alex’s gaze.
“Well, that’s it then.” He tried to smile.
Alex reached out and cupped a hand at the back of his neck and gave a gentle squeeze. He cleared his throat, tugged away, and headed toward Stefano’s office.
The commander’s office was just as comfortable and laid back as the man behind the desk until he was pushed, then the Phoenix commander could play hardball. Yet, Stefano could never be the hard assed son of a bitch Chief Giovanni Rossi was. When Rossi made a decision, nothing could change it until the man was good and ready.
“Lash, Fear,” Roscoe murmured from where he stood just inside of Stefano’s office.
He gripped the man’s hand. Alex stepped up and shook the offered hand. Micah hadn’t seen Roscoe since the day the man’s family had been attacked.
“Who’s that?” He gave an upward nod at the phone call Stefano had going on.
“A contact in Arizona we thought might have a sighting on Vladimir,” Roscoe murmured.
Stefano motioned them to chairs while he finished the conversation on speaker phone.
A mountain of a man came walking quietly through the door behind them. Micah nodded at Storm and the guy gave a short nod back.
“So, as far as I can tell, nothing in Arizona. My thinking is Vladimir’s operation is more than likely in one of the other areas you listed,” said a male voice over the phone.
“All right. We just wanted to make sure.” Stefano sighed.
“If I hear anything different, I’ll be in touch.”
“Thanks, Jasper, we owe you one.”
“Sure you do,” the man chuckled. “Later, Stefano, take care.” The line went dead and Stefano pushed his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair.
He nor Alex had moved from the open doorway. Stefano looked up at him.
“Come in and close the door please.”
Alex
He snapped the door closed and moved farther into the room. Stefano gestured to chairs in front of his desk. Everyone took a seat, but Alex paced to a wide window. From the sixth floor, he could see the water from the bay and sail boats jockeying for position to get out into the open sea.
“How are you, Lash?” Stefano asked.
“I’m okay,” Micah said.
Alex turned and studied Micah and the tired way he pulled his fingers across one eyebrow.
“Need some time off after Russia?” Stefano said.
“No,” Micah replied without hesitation.
Alex doubted that there was much, if anything, that could force Micah to take time off.
Stefano gazed at Micah for a few more moments and then turned his attention on him.
“Did you have a chance to get a photo of Petrov?”
Alex nodded and stepped forward, handing Micah the phone, since he was closest to him. “That’s a picture of Petrov,” Alex said. “He’s Vladimir’s right-hand man.”
Micah darted a look at him, and then studied the photo before handing the phone to Stefano. “This guy is in that video I sent you,” Micah told Stefano.
“He certainly is,” Stefano said after studying the photo.
“The video feed Lash sent may also have one of Viktor’s henchmen on it,” Stefano told him.
“If it does, I’ll recognize him,” Alex said.
“Is there anything more you can tell us about Boris Petrov?” Stefano handed him back his phone.
Alex tucked the phone away. “My contact says Petrov’s been with Vladimir for about five years. The guy’s a sneaky bastard. You already know that Petrov hired the amateurish crew that hit Roscoe’s family.”
“Perhaps Vladimir will put a bullet in this guy’s head and we won’t need to,” Storm growled.
“We can hope,” Alex answered.
“Can you tell us anything further about Vladimir?” Roscoe asked quietly into the sudden silence.
“I don’t know much more than you do. He’s known in the crime world as a psychopath and it’s almost impossible to get close enough to even see him much less apprehend him. When Frost and Seth got that snapshot of him in Russia, I’ll bet it’s the only recent photo out there,” he told Roscoe.
“Let’s disperse for now,” Stefano said, checking his watch. “We have a meeting in a few minutes.” The commander stood and they all filed out.
Micah headed down the hall in front of him and he went to follow, but Roscoe caught him.
“Fear, I didn’t get a chance to say thanks for the help saving my sister.”
“Not a problem,” he said with a nod.
Micah stopped near the elevator and looked back. Alex held the man’s gaze across the distance.
I think we should sell the house.
The words stood between them, but Micah’s eyes seemed to say something else. Or maybe that was his wishful thinking.
“I hope you’ll stick around for a while.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” He made no promises and returned the man’s brief smile before he moved toward Micah, who was holding the elevator for him.
Micah’s eyes skated down his body and then quickly back up and away. Alex stalked closer.
The elevator door pinged and Micah’s hand slapped the door to keep it open.
Stepping inside, he took a step toward Micah and opened his mouth to speak when Roscoe joined them.
Thwarted from his goal, he spun and stared at the closed elevator doors.
Micah
“Hey, Lash. Fear! Long time no see.”
When he stepped off of the elevator, Micah offered Jordan a smile.
The eighteen year old had been with them for a few months since Seth had rescued the boy from the streets.
“Hey, what are you up to?” he asked, giving Jordan his attention, but well aware of the large, quiet man standing near his side.
“Reggie has been teaching me computer stuff.”
“That’s great.” He returned the young man’s smile.
Jordan laughed. “I dunno about that, but Reggie seems to think I have potential.”
“Th
at’s impressive, Jordan, keep it up,” Alex said, the man’s voice a low, rumbling sound. Micah slipped his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.
“And I’m going to be late,” Reggie told Jordan, coming down the hallway toward them. “There’s a meeting I need to attend, so can you do that update on the PC we discussed earlier and then just kick it? I shouldn’t be too long.”
“You got it!” Jordan said and jogged down the hall toward the computer room.
Reggie jerked his chin at Micah and Alex. “You’ve been gone a while.”
“Yeah,” Micah said, dropping into step with the guy.
“Top secret?” Reggie eyed him curiously.
“I’ll share when I can,” he said, and at the crestfallen expression, he added, “I promise.”
Reggie nodded and glanced at Alex.
“I’m…” Alex held up his hands.
“Say no more!” Reggie snorted on a laugh and then hurried into the situation room.
Alex stopped near the door and gripped his bicep, preventing him from entering the room. Micah frowned and glanced up.
“Do you really want to sell the house?” Alex asked roughly.
“I do, yeah,” he said, rubbing at his forehead, and then glanced guiltily away from the pain in the man’s eyes. Alex released him.
“You had to know this was coming!” he hissed angrily, snapping his eyes back upward.
Alex shook his head, eyes filled with sadness, and a lump grew in Micah’s throat. Alex searched his face for another moment.
Micah tipped his chin upward.
Alex turned away and strode through the open door and across the situation room.
Still not giving him an answer!
Infuriated, he stared after the man. His eyes clung to Alex’s commanding form and he sighed.
He moved slower and grabbed a seat across the room from Alex, but that didn’t lessen their connection. He doubted anything in the world could sever that.
From across the room, Alex suddenly lifted his head and caught him staring. Micah tore his gaze away. Suddenly and without warning, the memory bubbled to the surface of his very first glimpse of Alex all those years ago.
Destruction (Out for Justice Book 4) Page 2
