Destruction (Out for Justice Book 4)

by Reese Knightley

  “It is,” Roscoe responded. “And Fear found evidence of a location further south of here in Beverly Hills.” Roscoe nodded at him.

  “The guy’s name is Gashi,” he said when all eyes turned toward him. “The only thing I can confirm is that he’s either working with or for Vladimir. Like Roscoe mentioned, the guy runs an operation out of Beverly Hills.”

  “I’ve contacted the local authorities in Los Angeles County. They’re checking into the address,” Roscoe added, and then gave Reggie a nod to continue.

  “Yes.” Reggie cleared his throat and pointed to the Hunter’s Point documents. “I found a local address off of 98th street that I believe needs to be checked out.”

  “98th is twelve minutes away. Let’s hit that and we’ll wrap back around here. Hopefully, we’ll hear more about the Beverly Hills bust when we get back,” Roscoe ordered. Everyone headed to the tactical room.

  As the room cleared out, he made his way over to the small table that held the coffee. Unable to sleep last night, he could use the caffeine. He lifted one of the Styrofoam cups and pulled the small nob on the pot to fill his cup with hot brew. There was only powdered creamer, but it would have to do. He stood staring down into the semi-creamy mixture, using a tiny red stir straw.

  “Hey, Alex?”

  “Yeah, buddy?”

  “Will you and Micah get married someday?”

  “I believe so, why?”

  “Because I want you to be my brother.”

  “Fear?”

  “Yeah?” He jerked slightly and cleared his throat, the memory fading.

  “You okay?”

  Alex tried to shake the vision of the brown-haired boy who’d wormed his way into his heart and concentrate on Wild’s words, but it took him a moment. Turning to Wild, he gave the man a half smile, tossed the small straw in the trash, and lifted the cup to take a swallow.

  “Yeah, what’s up?” he asked, moving into step with the man toward the weapons room.

  “You looked deep in thought.”

  He didn’t answer. If he didn’t get his head in the game, he’d be useless on this mission.

  “I just can’t get over that Vladimir took Micah’s little brother,” Wild said as they walked down the hallway.

  He took a quick sip of coffee to help swallow past the sudden tightness in his throat.

  “Did you know him?” Wild persisted.

  “Yes.” Alex said. They reached the room’s open door and Wild clamped a hand on his shoulder.

  “Let’s go kick some ass,” Wild said seriously and stepped past him and into the room.

  Glad that the man didn’t offer any promises, he followed Wild into the room. They both knew that any promise would have been empty.

  He only hoped Vladimir understood the importance of keeping Caleb alive.

  Micah

  “Where the fuck is Vladimir Lakhonin?” Micah snarled.

  “I don’t know!” the suspect said.

  “I think you’re lying,” Micah snapped, tightening his fist around the collar of the shirt the perp wore. When the man threw a wild swing, Micah blocked the guy’s arm and then shoved him easily back on the couch. The suspect toppled back and glared up at him.

  “And stay there.” He pushed a boot into the man’s chest. When the guy wisely stilled, Micah lowered his leg.

  It had taken the team fifteen minutes to secure the 98th Street house and discover only one suspect inside. Rush stood guard at the front door. Frost and Seth searched the rooms for evidence. Storm positioned himself near the back of the house and kept an eye on the backyard through the curtained window. Allison and Noah searched through papers on a nearby desk. He, Wild, and Alex stood in the small, filthy den and questioned the suspect. So far, the guy had been uncooperative.

  Micah ran a hand down his face and the perp took that moment to kick him in the thigh, and he stumbled.

  Alex snapped the guy up, fisted his shirt collar tight around his throat, and slammed him against the wall next to the couch.

  “Where the fuck is Vladimir?” Alex snarled into the man’s face.

  “I don’t know! I swear! But I heard something about Boris Petrov being in Colorado,” the guy wheezed, finally giving them something. The perp gagged, clutching at Alex’s arms. The man’s shirt began to tear when Alex’s large grip tightened.

  “Why would Petrov be in Colorado?” Alex pulled the man forward an inch and slammed the suspect back against the wall.

  “It’s easier for him to get product for Vladimir there.” The guy’s voice was filled with panic. “It’s, it’s remote.”

  “They’re people, not product,” he snarled, moving closer to Alex and the perp. As if people were fucking chattel!

  “Where are the victims taken?” Alex growled into the guy’s face.

  “If they leave Colorado…it’s usually by truck, spreading out to different states, some go by plane.

  “Where in Colorado?” Alex shook the man.

  The man stared at Alex, shaking lips suddenly clenched tight.

  “Hold up,” Allison said while shifting through papers on a desk. She held up a map with bright red markings.

  “These guys are big on maps,” Frost said, having come into the room with a bundle of papers.

  “Kind of stupid when you think about it,” Seth said, carrying more papers, and he followed his lover over to the entryway and lowered the evidence on the small table near the door.

  “Well, paper makes hacking and getting information more difficult,” Allison replied reasonably.

  Alex shoved the suspect down on the couch. Wild moved in and stood over the guy.

  Allison spread the map of the United States on the kitchen table after Storm cleared the table with his arm.

  Micah stalked over to study the map. Alex stepped up to the table next to him. Micah eagerly looked over the map. It displayed several lines with arrows. The words, “transportation spots,” was scribbled at the top.

  Storm’s finger landed on the border of Texas. “Well, isn’t that familiar. It’s the CCR Ranch. We shut that place down, but according to this map, they transported victims from the CCR to this area in Colorado.” Storm’s finger tapped farther over on the map.

  “Then it looks like victims are forwarded along to other areas,” Allison murmured. “There’s the match to the Alaska map we found at Hunter’s Point.” She pointed to a few markings at the top of the map.

  “If you let me go, I can give you money or product, I mean people, the next time they drop some off,” the suspect whined.

  The rage swept over him so fast, he felt light headed. Micah went cold, spun, and stalked over to the suspect, reaching for his blade.

  Alex was suddenly at his side, preventing him from pulling his knife.

  Micah spun on Alex and jabbed quickly with his right hand and then his left. The soldier shifted and blocked his every move. He exchanged jabs until the red haze diminished.

  Micah stopped, hands fisted into Alex’s shirt, his breathing loud and rasping in the room. Alex’s chest rose and fell. Micah felt Storm at his side, probably wondering how the hell to break them apart.

  “Don’t kill him,” Alex whispered harshly.

  “I’m okay.” He swallowed.

  Alex closed his hands around his forearms.

  “There’s several truck routes listed we can check,” Allison said softly from near the spread out map.

  “By truck…they could be anywhere.” Micah stumbled back. He knocked Alex’s hands away.

  Frost suddenly towered over the suspect. The man looked up, wide-eyed. “Talk. Or we’re leaving here.” Frost paused. “And you won’t be coming with us.”

  The man’s eyes widened, mouth gaping, at the possibility of what that might mean.

  “Aren’t you going to arrest me?” the man asked, glancing wildly around.

  “We’re not the police,” Alex told the man flatly, and the suspect swallowed hard.

  The guy gulped and stammered, “On
e, one, of, of those places circled on the Colorado map is Petrov’s hideout. He would know where Vladimir is.”

  “Which one?” Frost snarled at the man.

  “I don’t know,” the man sputtered.

  “Then you’re not much use to us, are you?” Alex moved up next to Frost and stared down into the suspect’s face.

  “I swear! They keep it secret!” The guy trembled, shrinking back from the combined wrath of Fear and Frost. Alex stepped back and crossed his massive arms against his chest.

  Micah moved closer and crouched in front of the man. “Where’s Jagger Miller?”

  “I don’t know him.”

  “What about this boy?” He jerked a picture of Caleb from his pocket and shoved it in front of the perp’s nose.

  The guy studied the picture and looked up at him. “He was in a cage in Oregon.”

  “We already know that. Where was he taken after Oregon?” he rasped, heart pounding, palms suddenly sweaty.

  “I have no idea! I swear. Vladimir, he’s gone off the deep end. He’s got people.” The man gulped hard.

  “People? What people?” Alex growled.

  “There’s one…” The guy’s face grew pale.

  “One?” Micah frowned. “Which one?”

  “He’s…” the guy shuddered, “He’s sick.”

  “What do you mean?” Micah snapped his teeth and pulled his knife. He was sick of the games.

  “He doesn’t do it for the money. He gets off on torturing and raping them,” the perp whispered with eyes wide.

  “Who?” Micah snarled into the man’s face.

  “Mez.”

  “Did he rape this boy?” Micah shoved the photo into the guy’s face.

  “No! Not that I know of!” the guy cried, fear on his face.

  “Does Mez have this boy?” he gritted the words through a tight throat.

  “I don’t know. I’m sorry,” the man whispered suddenly as if sensing the seriousness and intention of every single person in the room. It was clear on the man’s face that he knew how close he was to death. “I swear to god, I’m telling you the truth, I don’t know,” the man finished quietly.

  Abruptly, Micah stood and shoved past Alex to step out of the house. Taking in huge gulps of air, he fisted his hands against his own skull.

  “Micah.”

  “Fuck, fuck.”

  “Breathe,” Alex said, and Micah concentrated on the man’s deep, rasping voice. Alex didn’t touch him, though, and after several long moments, Micah lowered his hands.

  “I need to be alone.” His voice cracked.

  The silence was long before Alex backed away.

  Rush, along with Storm, came out of the house with the cuffed perp. Storm shoved the guy into the back of one of the SUVs.

  “Wait up, I’ll go with,” Alex called out to them, and then finally turned away. Micah felt as if a string holding him together finally snapped and released. He slumped, gazing after Alex and not moving until the sound of the vehicle faded away.

  Frost came down the steps with several rolled up maps. Seth carried more in his arms.

  “We’re taking these to Reggie,” Frost said, and the pair left in Frost’s jeep.

  Robotically, he made his way to the front steps and dropped down. His ass hit the concrete hard. Sweat popped out on his forehead and Micah wiped at it with his sleeve before turning sideways to puke off the side of the porch. He straightened once he was sure he wasn’t going to blow again and took a deep breath. A slight breeze blew in and he welcomed the cool air. Leaning back on his hands braced behind him, he took another slow breath and studied the cars lining the street.

  Wild came out and stood beside him for a moment before he lowered to sit next to him.

  “Are you okay?”

  “No,” He slowly glanced over and then away.

  “We’re not stopping until we find him.”

  “You sound like Fear.”

  “You two are intense,” the man drawled.

  “He’s just possessive. We go back a long way. Fear just needs to be in everyone’s business,” he said, keeping his eyes on the cars coming and going on the street.

  “Hmm, he doesn’t strike me that way.”

  “Well, it’s true, and the last thing I need are more complications right now,” he said tightly.

  Wild stayed quiet for a moment.

  “You no longer need to do everything alone.”

  “I know.” He rubbed at his forehead. “I hated keeping it secret.”

  The silence grew between them. “Well, it’s all about finding Caleb now.”

  He swallowed down a lump in his throat and gave Wild a grateful nod. “Thank you.”

  Wild clamped a hand on his shoulder. The sound of tires pulling into the driveway brought his head up.

  Roscoe exited the vehicle before walking toward them.

  With a smile, Wild stood when Roscoe reached them and brushed a hand down the man’s arm.

  “What did you find?” Roscoe asked.

  “According to the suspect, one of the places circled on the Colorado map is Boris Petrov’s hideout, but the guy didn’t know which one,” Micah said.

  Noah stepped out onto the porch with Allison.

  “No sign or information on Caleb?” Roscoe asked.

  “No. The suspect confirmed what we already know. Caleb was with Vladimir in Oregon, but the guy doesn’t know where either of them are now.”

  “What about Jagger Miller? Anything?” Roscoe frowned. Micah shook his head.

  “Miller could be anywhere,” Allison said, coming down the steps.

  “I say we concentrate on Colorado as that seems to be where Petrov is,” Noah added.

  A US Marshal vehicle arrived, rolled up over the curb and onto the front lawn of the house. Mac got out and approached.

  “Hey, babe.” Mac draped his arm around Noah’s shoulder.

  Wild huffed. “See? They get to PDA.” The tracker smirked at his lover.

  “Behave,” Roscoe grumbled at Wild, who wrinkled his nose.

  “You sound like Storm,” Wild teased. With a smile, Roscoe reached out and brushed strands of blondish hair away from Wild’s cheek.

  “What brings you here?” Noah smiled up at his husband. The pair were happily married and it showed beyond the matching rings on their fingers.

  “I dropped by headquarters. Storm said you were here, so I drove by to see if you needed a ride home.” Mac smiled down into Noah’s face.

  “Let’s stop and get some of that orange chicken and rice on the way. Just let me wrap up inside.”

  Roscoe headed into the house along with Mac, Noah, and Allison.

  He stood staring at the empty doorway they had disappeared through. He dreaded going back inside. Their voices floated out the opened door.

  “You want a ride back?” Wild asked quietly.

  “Thanks.”

  Alex

  He entered the facility and handed the man his credentials. Dave had called ahead of time, but it had still taken a full day to gain entrance. Once here, though, they treated him like royalty. So what if he was good friends with the Secretary of Defense, it wasn’t first-hand knowledge, but it came in handy when he needed a favor.

  “Captain Hendrix?”

  Alex spun to see a man walking toward him. He smiled.

  “Hey, Wes. I didn’t know you worked here. And it’s no longer captain.”

  The man chuckled. “You’ll always be captain to me. I’ve worked here about three years now.” Wes smiled and Alex shook the man’s outstretched hand. He’d met Weston Evens several years ago during a covert operation. They become friends, but had lost touch after Wes was discharged out of the military with a busted knee cap and fractured hip from a frag grenade.

  “So, what brings you by?”

  “Just going to have a chat with a prisoner.”

  “Just make sure you leave him alive,” Wes joked.

  “Funny.” He smirked.

  “Sir,
right this way,” the guard directed.

  As he turned away, he heard the guards asking Wes about him.

  “No shit? That’s the guy they call Fear?”

  “Yes it is, and don’t fuck with him,” Wes told the guard.

  Alex stepped inside a small conference room with bars on the windows and a small metal table with two chairs.

  The door opened about five minutes later and the same guard he’d met in the hallway entered and led a shuffling Gustov Lakhonin into the room.

  The guard gazed at Alex. By the look of the man and the two other guards that came into the room, he’d guess ex-military. Not sure why they needed three guards in the room, he nodded at them.

  “You need anything else, you let us know,” the guy said with a respectful nod. For a moment, Alex thought the man was going to salute him. Alex gave another nod and the guard backed up and stood at the door with the two other men talking in a low murmur. He was used to it. After a particularly grueling battle, they’d called him a hero and he’d earned the nickname Fear. Alex hadn’t been a hero, he’d just been saving a loved one. But today, he was going to use his reputation.

  “Who are you?” The old man’s voice shook with age, but hawkish features and sharp eyes let Alex know the man’s circuits fired on all cylinders. Well, except for the certifiable crazy circuit.

  “Take a seat.” Alex pointed and one of the guards stepped forward and sat Gustov into one of the metal chairs. The cuffs around the man’s feet and hands clanged as they banged against the metal.

  “Your grandson, Vladimir, just employed Leonid Medved. You might know him better as Mez,” he said flatly.

  Gustov’s head jerked back as if he had been struck, his face turning red. A person couldn’t fake that level of rage.

  “Mez!” Gustov spat.

  “I see you’re aware of the part that Mez played in the death of your granddaughter.”

  Pain and hatred swam in Gustov’s gaze as the man’s hands clenched, chains rattling.

  “If Mez hadn’t disappeared, I believe Viktor would have killed him,” he continued.

  There was a long moment of silence. Not many knew of Viktor’s only child, a daughter. That he did spoke volumes. He could see it in the old man’s eyes as he wondered just how Alex had known Mez killed his only granddaughter before disappearing.