“I knew I could count on you, Michael.” Shaw smiled and gestured past them, to the reception area they’d passed on their way in. Sitting there quietly was an older gentleman in a suit slightly less expensive than Shaw’s. Michael guessed him in his early seventies, with a full head of silver hair and sharp brown eyes. He looked haggard, worn down—like he was trapped in hell and couldn’t find his way out. He knew that look. Had seen it in the mirror.
Shaw stood and circled the desk. “Michael, Benjamin, I’d like you to meet Senator Leon Maddox. His grandson is missing and you’re going to find him.”
PROMISES TO KEEP: Chapter 4
He and Ben had been called into FSS’ Barcelona office at three AM. By Livingston Shaw. Whatever was about to go down couldn’t be good.
Michael thought of the last time he’d been called into a private audience with Shaw. He’d been told that the implant in his back wasn’t just a tracking device, used to keep tabs on him. It was also there to kill him if he got out of line.
He reached for the base of his spine. It was still there. It would always be there—a capsule, the size of a dime. Inside was enough military-grade bio-toxin to wipe out a small town. It was rigged with a detonation chip that responded to a phone number. Once the number was dialed, voice recognition software would take over. One word code and a seven digit code was all it would take to kill him.
He looked at Ben. He and his father were the only two who could detonate the capsule. One was his boss. The other was his partner. Ben looked at him and smiled. Michael dropped his hand and stared at the floor.
First Security Solutions had offices all over the world. On the surface, they were a private firm that provided protection to visiting U.S. dignitaries and supplemental security to American Embassies, worldwide—but that was a bunch of bullshit.
In reality, FSS was a privatized military organization that specialized in government-sanctioned covert ops. They were wolves in sheep’s clothing. They went places that'd give the CIA a case of the flop-sweats and did things that’d make a SEAL hide in his mother’s skirts. Michael had been on board for three years now and he’d hated every single second of it.
They took the elevator to the thirty-second floor. The doors slid open, revealing an expansive office—blood-red carpet surrounded by endless banks of bullet-proof windows. He didn’t have to see it to know what it looked like. Eleven offices in as many countries and they all looked the same, right down to the throw pillows and drink coasters.
“Shit,” Ben said under his breath. Michael looked up to see Brian Lark standing next to the boss’ desk, poised like a pet dog. Which was exactly what he was.
He felt the rage—years old and bone-deep—rear its ugly head. Their eyes met and Lark’s dimples popped out as the smirked deepened to an actual smile. Heavily-muscled arms covered in coffee-colored skin crossed over his massive chest. Lark knew exactly what he was thinking—he could read his bring it on, asshole expression from across the room. His hand fell to the grip of his Kimber .45 and began to lift it off his hip.
Ben stepped in front of him, suddenly all business. “Don’t do it,” he said in a low voice. Michael looked at him, the I’m just a fuck-up vibe he usually threw off was gone in favor of something closer to the truth.
“Michael. Benjamin, please join us,” Livingston Shaw said from his desk. His tone and words were warm, welcoming even, but Michael knew better. Livingston Shaw was Genghis Khan in a ten-thousand dollar suit. He didn’t do warm or welcoming unless it served a purpose.
The kid nailed him with a hard look. “Keep it together,” Ben said in that same low voice before he turned to his father and flashed him a smile. “I’d rather be playing X-box,” he said as he strolled across the room. Michael stayed where he was, taking a few seconds to get himself under control. Lark just kept grinning.
“Michael…” Livingston let the word trail off but its meaning was clear. Get your ass in here—now. He left the elevator and made himself follow the kid. Stopping a safe distance away, he stood, feet planted shoulder-width apart, hands behind his back to hide the fact that they were balled into fists. Shaw smiled up at him, his guileless blue eyes alert and sharp despite the fact that it was in the middle of the night. “I just received confirmation that the first phase of the Cordova operation is complete.”
“Yes, sir,” he said in a barely controlled tone while staring at the spot just above Shaw’s head. "Cordova is due back in Barcelona tomorrow night. I'll be ready to move."
"Good. After which, the two of you will be without assignment,” Shaw said. “I have a private matter that needs your attention.”
Ben's head snapped up from studying his fingernails. “What? Oh, hell no. A month between jobs, that’s the deal,” he said. “I’m going—”
“Benjamin.” Shaw’s tone said that anyone else would be dead by now.
“—to Vegas.” Ben sighed and cut him a sidelong glance. “I had tickets to see Celine.”
“What do you need done, sir?” he said. The sooner they got their assignment, the sooner he could get the hell out of here. Every second counted when you’re fighting a losing battle against a homicidal urge to kill the man who betrayed you.
“I knew I could count on you, Michael.” Shaw smiled and gestured past them, to the reception area they’d passed on their way in. Sitting there quietly was an older gentleman in a suit slightly less expensive than Shaw’s. Michael guessed him in his early seventies, with a full head of silver hair and sharp brown eyes. He looked haggard, worn down—like he was trapped in hell and couldn’t find his way out. He knew that look. Had seen it in the mirror.
Shaw stood and circled the desk. “Michael, Benjamin, I’d like you to meet Senator Leon Maddox. His grandson is missing and you’re going to find him.”
PROMISES TO KEEP: Chapter 5
Missing.
Michael cut his partner a sidelong glance. His usual smartass grin had given way to an expression that left little question to how he felt about the implication that word offered.
“You were right to come to me, Leon. I only wish you’d done so sooner,” Shaw said, sitting next to the senator before looking up at the small cluster of men. “I assure you, my son and Mr. O’Shea are the best FSS has to offer. Both have extensive experience when it comes to rescue and recovery.” Shaw gave him a slight smile that caused the muscle in Michael’s jaw to clench tight.
Leon Maddox swept a skeptical gaze over him, one that said he knew exactly who he was, exactly what he’d done, and that he was not to be trusted. “Thank you, Livingston. In the interest of foreign relations, I foolishly agreed to allow the Spanish authorities to handle the situation. I regret it.” He settled his gaze on Ben. “I understand you’re quite the tracker.”
“I’m the best,” Ben said, shooting a hostile glare at his father. “But green-lighting an off the books black-op to find junior is a bit overkill, don’t ya think?”
“Benjamin—”
“No, Livingston—the boy’s right.” Maddox looked at the man sitting next to him. “It’s a total abuse of my power and our friendship that I should even be here, asking for help.” He looked up at the kid. “But I am. And I’m not ashamed to say I’ll use you and your friend here, along with whoever and whatever is necessary to see my grandson returned,” Maddox said as he stood. He held his hand out to Ben, who in turn shook it. Maddox turned to Michael, gave him a long quiet look. “I don’t trust you.”
“I don’t blame you.” He looked the old man in the eye. Maddox issued a quiet bark of laughter before holding out his hand.
“I want my grandson home and I want the bastards that took him dead. Every last one of them. I want it understood that they’ve messed with the wrong man—am I clear?”
“As a bell, sir.” He took the hand offered, gave it a firm shake before moving to the side, letting the Senator pass on his way to the elevator.
______
“They were visiting family friends—an old boarding school roomm
ate of Senator Maddox’s son, Jon.” Livingston used a discreet button panel on his desk to activate the large LCD screen behind his desk. “It was to be a quick trip, before school started for their children, Claire—age nine and Leo—age six.” The screen behind him flipped through various family photos. The Maddox family, on the steps of the Alhambra palace in Granada. Leo and Claire sitting in the stands at the Plaza de Toros Monumental. The screen flashed to a close-up of Leo. “He and his mother took an early morning trip to Mercat Del Encants. She became distracted by a merchant and when she turned around, Leo was gone.” Livingston dropped his hands onto his desk.
“No ransom demands?” Michael said.
“No," Livingston said.
“Surveillance?”
His boss nodded and hit another button. Leo’s picture was replaced by surprisingly clear security footage. The camera was aimed directly at a string of high-priced booths. To the left of the screen, a well-dressed blonde strolled the aisle with a small boy in tow. The blonde was stopped in the middle of the thoroughfare by a young girl peddling scarves and the boy pulls away, eager to use his mother’s distraction to his best advantage. She turned her head for a few seconds—five at best—but it was enough. The instant her back was turned, a man swept into the frame, ball cap pulled low to hide his face, and scooped the boy into his arms. He clamped a hand over Leo’s mouth and was gone before the blonde even manages to tell the girl, no thanks.
Livingston paused the feed. “That’s it—ten seconds of tape. Less than helpful, I’m afraid.”
Michael stared at the frozen image on the screen. The guy on the screen kept his face turned away—seemed to know that the camera was there so it was safe to assume that whoever he was, he’d planned the abduction. He studied at the frozen images on the screen, tried not to let the look of absolute terror on the boy's face bother him.
“Where was their security detail?”
Livingston inclined his head and shrugged. “Jon Maddox is an up and comer—his father is pinning presidential hopes on his chest—but his wife, Sara, is... less than cooperative. She’d been expressly forbidden from taking Leo from the hotel without his detail and she agreed.”
“But she did it anyway,” Ben said, shooting him a sidelong glance.
“Any chance she’s involved?” he said.
Livingston shook his head. “No. She’s completely beside herself. Leon said she’d been under heavy sedation since the abduction.”
Michael said nothing. He wasn’t counting anyone out—not even the old man. Leon Maddox played the part of bereaved grandfather to a tee but if he'd learned anything it was that the face most people showed the world was a lie.
“What about her?” He tipped his chin at the screen, indicating the young woman with the scarves. “Anyone talk to her? Ask her what she saw?”
“Spanish authorities haven’t been able to find her.”
“Bullshit. They can’t find one girl?” This came from Lark, who until now had been content to sit quietly. He crossed his arms over his chest, shooting a pointed look his way. “Either they don’t care or they’ve been paid not to look,” he said.
“My guess is both,” Michael said, studying the frozen video. The girl looked scared, that’s for sure, but she didn’t look surprised by what was happening.
“I guess we have our square one.” Michael stood, ready to get started but his partner had different ideas.
“I have a question.” Ben said, his clear blue eyes gone ice-cold. "Why the hell do you care about some kid that got snatched from a flea market?”
“Leon Maddox is my friend.” Livingston folded his hands on his blotter and pinned his son with a pointed look.
“You don’t have friends. You have chess pieces.” Ben shook his head. “There’s always something in it for you—so what is it?”
“Believe it or not, Benjamin, I happen to care a great deal about what happens to Leo Maddox—”
“You care?” Ben shot to his feet. “Well, look at you… all magnanimous and shit,” he said with a laugh. “I’d like to know where your nobility was the day Mason and Emily—”
“That's enough, Benjamin."
Ben went still. That’s where you’re wrong, dad. It’ll never be enough,” he said and Michael was sure he was seconds away from launching himself across the desk at his father. Instead, he turned and stalked his way toward the elevator. They watched him go in silence.
“Benjamin has always had a flare for the dramatics, I’m afraid,” Livingston said, turning his attention on Michael. “Despite his suspicions as to where my motives lie, it’s imperative that Leo Maddox be found... so much so that I’m willing to offer you a deal. I’m giving you one week. If you can find and bring the Maddox boy home within that time, I’ll set you free.”
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Promises to Keep, Sabrina Vaughn #3
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About the Author
Maegan Beaumont is the author of the award-winning Sabrina Vaughn thriller series. Her debut novel, CARVED IN DARKNESS, was awarded the 2014 gold medal by Independent Publishers for outstanding thriller as well as being named a Forward, Book of the Year finalist and Debut Novel of the Year by Suspense Magazine. When she isn't locked in her office, torturing her protagonists, she's busy chasing chickens (and kids), hanging laundry and burning dinner. Either way, she is almost always in the company of her seven dogs, her truest and most faithful companions, and her almost as faithful husband, Joe.
The Sabrina Vaughn series Set 1 Page 61
