Destruction (Out for Justice Book 4)

by Reese Knightley

  “Well, yeah. There is that.” The man smiled and wandered off to the other side of camp. This one was bigger than the last, but still afforded them some protection.

  He never regretted shaving his head as much as he did now. He’d love nothing more than to have his hair keeping his cheeks, neck, ears, and shoulders warm. He kept his coat hood up and his hoodie sweatshirt on beneath and a scarf or his face mask over his face to block as much of the elements as possible. The fire crackled and swayed on the night’s breeze. The flames were almost hypnotic.

  Micah glanced up when a man crouched across the fire from him. He hadn’t heard Wolf approach. Alex’s friend moved like a silent shadow. The warrior rarely spoke and never joined in. Wolf typically watched them all with a dark, unreadable expression.

  “Hey,” he said quietly.

  The man gave a slight nod. “I’m sorry about your brother.”

  He held Wolf’s gaze in the fire light and saw the sincerity in it and nodded. “Thank you.”

  Micah pulled a small photo from his pocket. “Here’s a picture.” He leaned forward and held it out and Wolf reached for it.

  He handed Wolf the photo of Caleb smiling. Micah knew the exact moment the pic had been taken. Alex had just come home after being away for two weeks on a job and Caleb had been ecstatic. The boy adored Alex. They’d been a family, just the three of them. It had been them against the world and it showed on Caleb’s smiling face.

  “I met him,” Wolf said softly, his thumb brushing over the photo.

  “What?” Shock held him still.

  Wolf cleared his throat and studied the picture.

  “He never said a word,” Micah said.

  Wolf shrugged slightly.

  “I’m surprised he spoke to you,” he admitted. “I’ve always taught him to watch himself around strangers.”

  “He does have a smart mouth,” Wolf said slowly with a slight smirk.

  He smiled for the first time in a long time. “Thank you for helping,” he said sincerely.

  Wolf held out the photo to him. “I’ll never stop looking.”

  He took the photo and smoothed his fingers over the picture and saw Wolf’s gaze locked on Caleb’s face. Lifting the picture up, he held it back out.

  “You keep it. I have many more. If you ever…” he struggled to keep his voice even. “Come across Caleb… you bring him home.”

  “I will,” Wolf said gruffly and took the photo of Caleb before the warrior carefully tucked it away.

  “You look alike,” Wolf murmured.

  Micah gave a half smile.

  The man bent to pick up a stick near the fire. Wolf placed it on the flames. Something seemed familiar about Wolf. It was in the way the man moved, similar to Alex.

  Micah tipped his head. “Black ops, like Alex?” he asked quietly.

  He found his gaze suddenly caught and held by Wolf’s piercing eyes through the slit in the man’s hooded mask. A mask that he never removed. It was impossible to tell what the guy looked like, but Micah had seen the color of the man’s eyes in the daylight this past week. Wolf’s eyes were a unique light blue.

  Wolf suddenly stood and turned abruptly. Without another word, the warrior stalked back to his post.

  Micah tucked his wallet back into the back pocket of his jeans, wondering at the man’s story, his gaze moving back to the hypnotic flames of the fire. Other than a few quiet conversations, the camp was relatively silent.

  The wire around his neck was sudden and deadly. His foot kicked up the wood in front of him with a loud crack.

  From across the way, Wolf spun and dropped low. A shot rang out, kicking up the snow in front of the warrior. Soft cursing from the team faded away as they moved, scattering stealthily into the darkness away from the illumination of the fire light.

  The yank took him backwards off the log he’d been sitting on and his hand reached for the ever present knife at his side.

  His own knife flashed out and sliced through the wire, freeing him, but his knife was knocked away from his cold, stiff hand. He regretted having removed his gloves. Micah sucked much needed oxygen into his lungs as he rolled and snapped to his feet.

  Several figures advanced on him and he lashed out. Wolf reappeared next to him and killed one of his assailants so quickly, Micah wasn’t quite sure what he used. Two dark figures converged on Wolf and he took them on.

  Another assailant crashed into Micah and he slammed to the ground with the guy on top of him. His head bumped the ground and his temples split with blinding pain, hands closed around his neck.

  Micah jabbed at the guy on top of him, breaking the guy’s nose, and the man toppled back, knocked out cold.

  Snapping upright, he spun and found Alex. His heart pounded. A glint in the snow caught his eye and he retrieved his knife. Bodies lay scattered around them. Some from him, Alex, and others from, he was sure of it, Wolf. The warrior was nowhere to be found.

  Together, they melted into the trees. He drew in a slow, quiet breath, leaning his pounding head back against a tree, and the next moment, he felt Alex vanish.

  The surrounding area was deathly quiet save for the crackling of the wood burning.

  Phoenix had taken the fight into the darkness, from there they’d never be defeated.

  Another series of snicks sounded in the night. A perp came from his right and he spun and stabbed with his knife, the thunk telling him he’d hit a bulletproof vest instead of skin.

  The guy jerked to the side, taking the knife with him. He was slammed back against the tree and the back of his head cracked against the bark. Pain splintered across his skull and this time, he saw stars, on the verge of passing out. Large hands closed around his throat and he fought, searching for the knife protruding from the man’s jacket.

  Suddenly, the man’s head was wrenched back. Alex yanked the man back and around by the hair and shoved the guy away like a toy. When the man stumbled and righted himself, Alex put two bullets in the guy’s heart. Micah grabbed his knife from the dead man’s coat and tucked it away.

  “Grenade!” Storm shouted, his voice booming in the dark silence.

  Micah dove behind a thick tree. Alex dove the other way. The explosion came seconds later in the middle of the camp and Micah lifted his arms, covered his head, and tucked his knees in tight until the noise abated. When he crawled to his feet, he realized that Wild was down at the edge of camp.

  Roscoe sprinted toward Wild, bullets pinged the ground and snow in the lieutenant’s wake. Frost stepped out and Alex followed, together they returned fire, giving Roscoe the cover he needed to reach Wild’s prone body.

  A crashing through the underbrush brought him around. A perp came at him and he deflected, bringing his knife up. Not this time! With each savage strike, he jabbed hard and quick into the man’s chest, multiple times. Each of his blows shoved the guy backwards. Reaching out, he covered the man’s mouth in case other perps were nearby and stabbed the guy in the heart, muffling his last gasp for breath, and then he shoved him away.

  He stepped back and stilled in the darkness and slowed his breathing. Closing his eyes, he drew in a deep, quiet breath, listening as the battle grew silent.

  The next moment, he felt him and drew in the warm, spicy scent. Then the soft nuzzle of Alex’s short beard brushed against his nape and temple.

  His arm raised slowly, quietly up over his head and around to clamp the back of Alex’s neck and squeeze. They stood for a long moment, breathing in sync. In and out, their cheeks resting against each other.

  “Clear,” Quick called out.

  Alex touched his arm and Micah followed the soldier cautiously toward camp. The rest of Phoenix converged on the edge of the camp and then stepped into view.

  Roscoe stood from his kneel and bent over Wild, who had scratches on his face but was sitting up and seemed unharmed. Rush jogged over and crouched nearby and took Wild’s pulse and checked him over. Then the medic stood and stepped back.

  Suddenly, Storm was
there, lifting Wild before cupping the man’s face. Wild nodded and whispered something. Micah felt a huge wave of relief. So did Storm, apparently, because the big man gathered Wild and Roscoe close, murmuring something to them that was too far away to hear.

  “Two got away,” Quick said, entering the camp area.

  “How many dead?” Roscoe asked, pulling from Storm’s arms.

  “Twelve that I can tell,” Quick responded.

  “I’ll get on the radio to Reggie so he can call Stefano to let him know we need a clean-up as soon as the storm ends,” Roscoe said and pulled out his radio. “Until then, let’s pack the bodies into the snow to keep the wild animals away if at all possible.”

  Micah wasn’t sure how covering the bodies with snow was going to keep wild animals away, but he said nothing.

  Wolf reappeared dragging one of the thugs. He easily tossed the guy into the camp.

  Micah was over the perp in seconds. “Who sent you?” He leaned down into the man’s face, pulling his knife.

  “Fuck you!”

  He flipped his knife, grasped the handle, and stabbed it in and out of the fatty flesh at the guy’s side, the blood quickly staining the perp’s shirt. The man screamed.

  “Who sent you?” he growled.

  “Nobody! I swear,” the man cried, clutching his side and staring at him.

  “Micah,” Alex’s voice came quietly near his shoulder.

  “What?” he gritted out, ready to stab again and again until he got his answers.

  “Let’s get organized and then we can question him.”

  Micah suddenly realized he could barely feel the knife handle inside his frozen fingers. The cold was seeping from his hands into his arms and torso. His hands were shaking, his head was pounding, and he was on the verge of getting physically sick. If he hadn’t been so pissed, he knew he would have passed out.

  He nodded abruptly and stood, watching as Alex yanked the blubbering guy to his feet and shoved him toward a tree where Frost took over handcuffing the guy. Rush tied a bandage around the man’s wound.

  They moved as a team and covered the dead bodies with snow before meeting back in the middle of camp.

  He found himself under the scrutiny of Rush. The man moved in and took his wrist. He scowled at the medic but let him check his pulse.

  “I imagine you feel like shit.”

  He nodded abruptly.

  “Try to sit down for a while,” Rush murmured.

  “I’ll try,” he said, pulling on his gloves to try and get the warmth back into his hands.

  “The food didn’t get damaged. I’ll start making something,” Seth said.

  “I’ll help,” Allison echoed.

  “We’ll get the fire restarted.” Frost nodded to Mac, Noah, and Quick.

  “It looks like some of our gear was destroyed by the grenade, but if we double up tonight, we’ll have enough tents to keep out the weather,” Roscoe said.

  Everyone agreed and before long, they had food in their bellies and a warm, dry place to sleep. Even the perp had been bound, feet and hands, and shoved into a tent. Allison stated she would watch the suspect. She pulled her knife and the perp whined until she narrowed her eyes at him and then the guy shut the fuck up, fast. Just in case, Rush accompanied her into the tent.

  They arranged a guard rotation with Wolf, Quick, Noah, and Mac on first shift.

  Micah slid in next to Alex with Frost and Seth on the other side. The pair of lovers were cuddled close, so that gave him plenty of room not to crowd Alex, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away when the man pulled him close.

  Micah turned his head, looking through the tent opening at the night sky. The black lit up millions of stars and he wondered if Caleb was looking at them.

  One time when Caleb had been young, he’d caught the boy singing a catchy tune. It had been a song about somewhere out there beneath the sky. He couldn’t remember the exact words and Caleb at five had murdered the lyrics. Caleb, curious, had asked him if they could wish upon the same star.

  Yes, Micah had promised, and that no matter where they were, they’d always be sleeping beneath the same big sky.

  Micah

  Snow had once again fallen overnight and completely blanketed the camp and surrounding area, giving the place an eerie glow.

  The quiet was all-consuming with only the occasional crack as chunks of snow fell from tree branches. The sky above was clear, but the gray clouds over the mountains ahead of them signaled their reprieve might be brief.

  Once breakfast was cooked and the tents and supplies were packed up, he spotted Wolf stalking like a ninja over to the suspect. The warrior was in full-on tactical gear, but instead of black, this morning the man wore all white. Wolf almost blended completely with the landscape. Micah couldn’t tell if the man carried a weapon because he couldn’t see one.

  The unit was dressed similarly. Each one of them wore a Ghillie suit that looked like a white shag rug. The only darkness in their gear was that designed to be there and brief glimpses of the metal on their weapons.

  Wolf reached the suspect, crouched down, and said something to the guy. From this distance, Micah couldn’t hear exactly what Wolf was saying, but shortly after that, the guy started talking. Wolf stood and yanked the man to his feet.

  The perp led them right to the trafficking site and spilled his guts along the way. Yes, there was a new guy in charge since Vladimir had gone missing and yes, there were survivors at the site.

  “How the hell can there be survivors if they torched the place?” Storm growled at the guy.

  “They only torched the main building. They didn’t burn the one with the product inside,” the guy said.

  Wild stepped up and slapped the guy’s gag back in place. “That is for your own safety.” Wild glared at the suspect and then marched him back to the front of the line.

  It took another two days of hiking before they reached a steep incline and the suspect’s feet slowed so much so, Wild pulled the guy to a stop.

  “Hold,” the lieutenant’s voice came through the mic.

  Micah dropped to his belly along with the rest of the team and through binoculars, they studied the partial remains of the building ahead.

  “I’m about a hundred and twenty five feet ahead near the far silver building,” Wolf said over the mic. Micah swiveled his binoculars near the silver barn-type building, but couldn’t spot Wolf.

  “See anything?” Roscoe asked Wolf.

  “Negative,” the man returned. “But I hear noise in the building to my right.”

  “Roger that. All right, let’s move,” the lieutenant ordered.

  Frost handcuffed the perp to a tree before joining them. Running in a crouch across the snow, they surrounded the silver building and came at it from all sides. Three of them headed toward the house to make sure there were no lingering perps.

  Alex pulled out bolt cutters and cut off the padlock on the door. They breached and found eight victims inside. Micah eagerly looked them over, but none of them were Caleb.

  Five girls and three boys made up the eight. Rush moved in and started checking the victims for injuries or sickness. Roscoe took over the questioning. He waited numbly until the lieutenant stepped back.

  Micah pulled out the photo of Caleb. All eight shook their heads. They had never seen the boy.

  Seth, Allison, and Wild stood guard while the rest of them headed to the charred remains of the house.

  “There are no survivors or perps in the house. I found three bodies,” Wolf’s voice came flatly over the mic.

  Micah stopped where he stood, eyes locked on Alex.

  “It’s okay,” Alex murmured for his ears only. “Whatever we find, we do it together.”

  He nodded and rubbed a hand over his mouth. Following the sound of Seth and Wolf’s voices, he came to a small room that held the charred remains.

  Alex moved further into the house while he stayed with the bodies.

  “We can’t identify by sigh
t, they’ll need to be transported back and tested,” Seth told him and started taking photos of the bodies.

  “Weather is moving in. Let’s get a move on it,” Roscoe’s voice came through the mic.

  Micah’s limbs felt like lead. He drew the small picture of Caleb from his pocket, his eyes glued to the smiling face and how he wanted to remember his brother.

  “This could be it,” he whispered, or another dead end.

  “It could be another dead end,” Wolf said next to him, reading his mind. The man had an uncanny way of materializing out of thin air. Wolf gestured to the picture Micah squeezed between his fingers. Not a mind reader after all, just very perceptive. Micah smoothed the picture out, working at the creases he’d made along two of the corners.

  God help him, he wanted it to be another dead end. Please god. He had never prayed before.

  Please don’t let one of them be my brother. It was probably the most selfish thing he’d ever thought. Because the alternative to death for Caleb was living in some hell on earth.

  “We will find him.” Wolf’s voice was so fierce, it brought his gaze quickly snapping up. He found the man’s pale blue eyes glittering in the late morning light. Nothing of the man’s face was seen through the mask, he still had no idea what the warrior looked like beyond the tall, muscled form that filled out the white ghillie suit. After an abrupt nod, Wolf moved away from him.

  He tucked the photo away and his hands shook as he struggled to pull on his gloves. A firm hand over his stilled his movements. He gazed blankly down before looking up into Alex’s face.

  “I’ve lost my edge,” Micah confessed on a whisper.

  “You’ll get it back.” Alex gently squeeze his hand and helped him tug on his gloves. “Let’s walk the area.”

  Micah swallowed and bowed his head for a moment. Nodding, he moved to walk the perimeter. He felt Alex at his side, his ever present shadow.

  Charred wood crunched beneath his boots and the stench of burned flesh and wood mixed together emitted a putrid scent on the air. Not even the clean, crisp wind of the Alaskan wilderness could sweep it away. He’d smelled death before, even burned bodies during war. But he knew this time he’d remember the smell for a long time.