Latvis Security Services

by Lexie Ray

  Gwen greeted the storekeeper with a perfect French accent and a picture of Mads. The easiest one to grab had been an enlargement of the photograph used for his passport. For Willow, it was proof yet again that Mads was something beyond human. Because no one in the history of the world had managed to smolder in their passport photograph.

  Jamie wasn’t fluent in French but knew enough to lumber through it. So, after a brief conversation, Gwen looked over her shoulder to Willow and Dwayne.

  “He knows Mads.”

  “Knows him?” Dwayne asked. “Not just seen him hanging around recently?”

  “Apparently he drops by every year for a week or so,” Jamie said before stumbling through a question. His face scrunched up at the answer. “Camping? He spends a week camping every year?”

  “What?” Dwayne said. “I didn’t know that. Did you know that?”

  After Jamie shook his head, Dwayne whirled to Willow, arms spreading wide.

  “Why would he tell me?” Willow snapped.

  “Because it’s like a tailor made seduction bait,” Dwayne said. “Hey, baby, wanna come with me to commune with the natural beauty of the French wilderness?”

  “You think he uses, ‘hey, baby’?” Willow asked.

  “I’m obviously paraphrasing.”

  Willow looked at him sharply for a moment before saying in a stern voice, “No. Mads never tried luring me into the forests of France as a flirting technique.”

  “Huh. Mads and I are really different people. A European getaway would be one of the first things I brought up to impress a girl.”

  “Can we please get back to this conversation?” Gwen snapped.

  “You two are the only ones that speak French. Willow and I are just killing time until you guys finish your sleuthing gig.”

  Gwen narrowed her eyes but still gave up and turned back around to continue her conversation with the storekeeper. Without Dwayne to distract her, Willow soon felt fear trickling back down into her core. Mads was unpredictable at the best of times. But he always kept a measure of control. But, when anything concerning his past came to light, he deteriorated until he became capable of anything. She couldn’t shake the idea that whoever was behind this knew that about him and was easily playing him, luring him into a trap he might not be able to claw his way out of.

  “Little Wolf?” Jamie asked out of nowhere, his eyes skirting between Gwen and the man as they continued their conversation.

  Gwen nodded, but didn’t draw her attention away. She asked a few questions, pointing off to the side. The man nodded and, after a few hand gestures, Gwen thanked him and turned back to the others.

  “Mads was here a few hours back. He spends most of his time with a man that lives further down the road. I got directions.”

  “What was the ‘Little Wolf’ bit?” Jamie asked.

  “Apparently, that’s what the people in town know him as. He’s kind of a local legend.”

  “Why?” Dwayne asked.

  “He wouldn’t give me any details.”

  Dwayne hunched closer. “Is it some kind of cover up?”

  “I suspect that it has more to do with the fact that we’re keeping him from closing up and not buying anything.”

  “Does he know what Mads’ friend likes?” Willow asked. Dwayne gave her a sidelong look. “If we’re going to show up on this guy’s doorstep in the middle of the night, it would be rude to show up empty handed.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The snow was falling in thick blankets by the time they managed to inch the car up the final bit of incline. Night had fallen quickly under the choking blanket of clouds, making it impossible for Willow to make out much beyond the vague outline of the structure.

  Jamie brought the car to a stop and twisted around in his seat to meet Gwen’s eyes. She nodded. How she had been able to keep track of the streets in this onslaught was a mystery, but she seemed certain enough. The door opened, casting a rectangle of light over the front yard. The glow was minimal but enough to outline the man in the door and the glint off of the long barrel of the shotgun that he was holding.

  “Okay, who wants to go chat with the friendly locals?” Dwayne offered the man a smile and a wave.

  Gwen sighed and opened her door, scrambling out into the storm. She ducked back in long enough to take the bottle of local wine that was apparently the man’s favorite. Dwayne leaned forward and braced his forearm against the back of Jamie’s seat as Gwen trudged up the short path, hands held high.

  “You know, I always pictured you being more territorial in a relationship.”

  “Gwen can handle herself.”

  “Oh, no, I got that. I was referring to the time you let some guy chat her up at the bar the other night.”

  Jamie jolted and tore his eyes off of Gwen long enough to glance back at him.

  “That’s what you want to discuss right now?” Jamie snapped. He added as he turned his attention back to Gwen and the man, “And besides, I drank free that night because that guy couldn’t take a hint.”

  Eventually, Gwen turned back to the car and waved them over. Willow was the first to fold her body outside of the small confines of the car. The wind had picked up. It wrapped around her in icy tendrils, forcing the snow over the edges of Willow’s collar. Each flake quickly melted and turned into thick arctic trails down her spine.

  By the time she made it to the door, enough snow had covered her hair to make it appear white. She brushed it off as she smiled at the man. It had to be a good sign that the aged man hand had cracked his rifle open and now had it draped over his forearm.

  “This is Jean-Claude,” Gwen introduced with a sweep of her hand and a pleasant smile.

  “Does Jean-Claude speak English?” Dwayne asked hopefully.

  “From what Little Wolf tells me,” Jean-Claude said, “I speak it far better than you do.”

  The slight was lost on Dwayne as he grinned. “Mads talks about me?”

  Jean-Clause looked at him for a silent moment. “You must be Dwayne.”

  “Does he ever say I’m his favorite?”

  Jamie thumped a hand against Dwayne’s chest and pushed him back slightly.

  “We’re very sorry to disturb you so late. You must be wondering why we’re here.”

  “No,” Jean-Claude said simply. “Little Wolf said you were coming. Although, he did predict you would arrive far earlier. You do not appear to be as efficient as he led me to believe.”

  “There was traffic,” Dwayne said quickly.

  “Yes, well,” Jean-Claude dismissed. “You’d best come in. Your supper is getting cold.”

  With no further comment, Jean-Claude turned and moved deeper into the house. They all glanced at each other but none of them really seemed to know what to make of the new development. Eventually, Jamie edged over the threshold, followed sheepishly by the others.

  Like most of the town, the house was a near-perfect replica of the past. The roof was low and the building seemed to be one large room, with a bedroom tucked away in a far corner. A healthy fire burned in a fireplace with a large pot on hanging over it. A warm, hearty scent filled the limited space. Pulling off their coats, they all flocked towards the fire, using it to get the blood flowing through them once more.

  “So, Mads, huh?” Dwayne chuckled. “What a character.”

  Jean-Claude didn’t respond as he began to spoon the stew into small bowls.

  “Is Mads here?” Jamie asked.

  “No,” Jean-Claude said. “He left hours ago.”

  “Did he tell you where he was going?” Gwen asked as she held her hands over the flames.

  Jean-Claude began to pass out the bowls. “Yes. But all of that can wait until the morning. I hope none of you are opposed to sleeping on the floor. There is rather limited space.”

  “Thank you for the hospitality,” Jamie said. “But we won’t be staying.”

  “You have very little choice in the matter. The storm will have blocked the road out of town by now. I
t will not be cleared until morning.”

  “That’s great. And by great I mean very irritating. But can’t you tell us now where he’s gone?” Dwayne asked.

  Jean-Claude passed him a bowl. “Russia. He didn’t want me to be more specific than that. I believe his statement was that if you were going to so blatantly disregard his wishes, you were at least going to work for it.”

  Dwayne shrugged as he took his first mouthful of the stew. “That seems fair enough. Hey, do you have a chair?”

  “I do, actually,” Jean-Claude said as he sank down into the only chair.

  The expression that Dwayne gave the old man made it seem as if they had just been locked in a battle of wits.

  “Nicely played,” he said as he sat down onto the floor, leaning his back against the wall.

  “Jean-Claude,” Jamie ventured. “I don’t suppose Mads said anything about not telling us why he’s going to Russia?”

  “He believes he has a lead on his parents’ killer,” Jean-Claude said simply as began to eat.

  “Did you tell you who?” Willow asked.

  “He didn’t go into much detail and I didn’t ask.”

  The words were said simply enough but the message was clear. He knew exactly what was going on but he wasn’t about to reveal anything Mads had asked him not to. Willow settled down next to the fire, devouring a few mouthfuls of the soup before she asked,

  “Why do people call Mads Little Wolf?”

  “I called him it when we first met and it stuck.” It didn’t really answer much of anything and, after looking around the room, Jean-Clause realized as much. His brow furrowed. “You all have no idea what happened here, do you?”

  “Not a clue,” Dwayne was the first to admit.

  “It is in the forest behind us that Mads’ parents were abducted. And where he was left to die.”

  Jamie straightened. “Mads was with them when they were abducted?”

  “You didn’t know that?” Jean-Claude asked.

  Jamie flinched but managed to keep the annoyance off of his face. “Mads tends to play things close to his chest. He never really talks about himself.”

  Jean-Claude seemed to contemplate that as he continued to eat his meal. Silence fell over them, taken over by the crackling fire and the soft sound of chewing, as Jean-Clause stared into his stew.

  “What are you all hoping to accomplish here?” he asked at last.

  “To save him from himself,” Jamie answered instantly. “And anyone trying to hurt him.”

  Jean-Claude nodded, licked his lips, and placed his spoon back into his bowl.

  “The forest behind us is vast and filled with wildlife. Wolves. Bears. There are a few slender roads that cut through the thick plant life, but no lights, no houses. No towns for miles around. Mads and his parents were taking a drive through the area when the stalker ambushed them and forced them off the road.”

  He placed his bowl aside and struggled up in search for a drink. Opening the bottle of wine they had brought for him, he didn’t offer it to anyone as he poured himself a large glass.

  “How did Mads escape?” Gwen asked.

  “He didn’t. He was let go,” Jean-Claude said before taking a few deep mouthfuls of wine. “You see, the man who had stalked his mother had a delusional belief that he had been in a relationship with her for decades. For nothing at all, he wove tales of everlasting love and devotion. When Mads was born, the delusion extended to include him.”

  “The guy thought that Mads was his son?” Dwayne asked.

  “Yes,” Jean-Claude said softly. “On that day, alone in the middle of nowhere, his mother exploited that delusion. At least enough to convince him to allow Mads to get out of the car. The ploy saved his life. But it also left him alone in an environment he had no knowledge of or skill for.”

  He took a few deep gulps of the wine, winced, and continued on.

  “You have to understand. Until that point, Mads had lived a rather enchanted life. He had been protected from almost everything harsh and foreboding in the world. He was completely unprepared for what he would face. For what he would have to do to survive.”

  Coming back to his seat, he settled down and balanced the glass of wine on his knee. Lost in thought, he sloshed the liquid back and forth. No one tried to rush him, sure that any attempt to do so would just make the man stop altogether.

  “I had been out on a hunting trip, a few days trek into the forest, when I stumbled upon him.” He huffed a bitter laugh. “He was so tiny any scared. Barely clinging to consciousness. And he still attacked me when I got too close. That boy is nothing if not … adaptable.”

  He took another mouthful, a small smile playing over the corners of his mouth.

  “It was one hell of a battle to get him back here. Fought me every damn step of the way. When I finally got that stubborn little bastard into town, he curled up right there.” He used his glass to point to a patch of earth just before the fireplace. “Two days curled up like a hound dog and just as silent.”

  “That must have produced quite a bond,” Jamie said.

  “Perhaps.”

  “But he has been visiting you since then,” Willow said. “A man in town said that he comes back every year.”

  His small smile evaporated. “His parents never made it out of the forest.”

  “How are you so sure?” Gwen asked.

  “There are places in the forest where the brush is so thick that all you would have to do is push the car a few feet in. A few measly feet and it would never be found. Leave the corpses out and the creatures will take care of them soon enough. There are plenty of isolated places around here that would have served the man’s purposes if he had intended to keep them. That place is the perfect dumping ground. They’re in there somewhere. And when he was first found, Mads knew that too. He used to ask me to keep looking. And, when he was old enough, he came back to search himself.”

  “So why change his mind?” Dwayne asked. “He really seems to think that there’s a chance that they’re alive.”

  Jean-Claude shook his head and took another sip. “I suppose that he lost too much to let them go. They have to be alive because he needs them to be.”

  “Mads is really screwed up,” Dwayne muttered.

  “You have no idea,” Jean-Claude said and finished off his glass. “That boy is going to destroy himself if no one stops him. Please, stop him.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mads straightened his spine as he entered the main hall. The party was in full swing. Loud voices and louder music. Champagne flowed and waiters filtered through the packed crowd. The weather had taken a turn, not cold enough to snow but enough to force the weak willed off of the massive marble balcony.

  His skin prickled as he moved through the crush of bodies. While his heartbeat continued its slow pace, his senses each felt heightened, fed by the thrill of the hunt. She was here. The next step towards the answer that he had waited so long for. It had taken time, an arduous, gut-wrenching amount of time, but he had finally been able to find a link that connected them all. Each one of them seemed to have been taken in the same place.

  With a little evaluation, a lot of luck, and a small refection that had been expanded, Mads had been able to track down a location. It was an apartment in Florence. Time and multiple owners would have destroyed any traces of evidence that might have lingered. The last few property transactions had all been handled by the same realtor. It was a family operated business. At first glance, it all looked to be normal and above board. But, upon doing a few things that might be considered illegal, a few discrepancies in their banking had led Mads to believe that something wasn’t quite right.

  Performers swirled through the guests—jugglers, contortionists, and fire eaters. They were all a spectacular sight to behold, but he held deep suspicions about whether safety regulations were to being upheld. Rounding the base of a performer, Mads finally set eyes on the woman he was looking for. Her hair was a long curtain of strawberry blo
nde hair that was left down to flow around her. She talked to a small gathering of people, tossing her hair over her shoulder every so often, even when it hadn’t fallen forward. Thin lines had begun to cross her face, showing the first traces of age that she was steadfastly trying to hide.

  He had plenty of time to observe her before she ever felt his gaze. Brow furrowing slightly, she scanned the area around her until she spotted him. Fixing a flirtatious smile into place, Mads nodded to acknowledge her. The woman, with one more flip of her hair and a coy smile, lifted her glass towards him. He bided his time, waiting for just the right moment before he began to drift towards her. The woman, Natasha, followed suit. The crowd and performers offered him the perfect opportunity to keep her in line. Every time he thought she had him set, he would duck away, forcing her to peruse.

  Mads smiled and the thrill of the chase kept the woman coming nearing as he herded her across the room and out onto the balcony. The night air carried a savage chill. A thin carpet of stars covered the sky, each one barely able to break through the haze created by the city lights. He waited. With each passing second, his restless energy coiled tighter within his chest, his fingers itching to wrap around something and squeeze until it was crushed.

  Finally, the door opened and Natasha slipped out onto the balcony. She glanced around as a slight shiver moved over her body. Finally, she spotted Mads against the shadows. Slowly, making sure that each step was slow and sensuous, she came towards him. Her smile grew.

  “Good evening,” she said.

  He mirrored the sentiment and, with a smile that matched her own, drifted back into the deep shadows. She hesitated but followed, her heels clacking against the marble floor.

  “I rarely meet a man as shy as you”