CANAAN (Billionaire Titans Book 4)

by Alison Ryan

  “Yes, sir,” Gilchrist responded.

  Odin dialed Raven’s number, but the call went directly to voicemail. He tried Matthias, but received the same response. Likewise, Nolan Weston didn’t answer. Finally, he called Canaan, hoping for some sort of misunderstanding.

  Canaan had always been a free spirit, but this didn’t feel like that.

  Nothing.

  Atlas called Odin during his short drive, and Odin filled him in. As he hit valet parking at Arroyo Place, he made an attempt to reach Nolan Weston, to no avail. He then moved through his mental rolodex to Annalise Rubidoux, but got no response from her, either.

  Atlas felt sick. Ever since the events at the safe house in Las Vegas and the ambush in Milan that nearly cost him his life, he’d been completely retired from the 007 world that had put his family in such danger. He’d devoted himself entirely to little Lea and beautiful Piper, concentrating on being the best husband and father he could be, all while trying to double the size of his brood.

  At first, he felt guilty as word would filter back to him of covert ops in far-flung places, and anytime one included a friendly casualty, he wondered if maybe things would have gone down differently had he been there. It took a long talk with veteran spymaster Richard Hunt, practically an uncle to Atlas, to convince him that he was lucky to have the opportunity to have retired more or less whole and that he should enjoy the beautiful family he was building.

  He thought he’d miss the action, but Lea’s wonder at the world around her and his own appetite for Piper’s luscious curves kept him completely occupied and happy. He’d only handled a gun once in over six months, a trip to a desert shooting range, at Piper’s request. It was something she missed from their time in Alaska.

  After an afternoon spent firing automatic weapons at boulders and bottles in the desert, Piper mounted her man in the twilight atop a butte behind Frenchman’s Mountain. A coyote in the distance answered her screams with a series of howls when she climaxed atop Atlas’s thick cock again and again.

  Atlas dispelled thoughts of that night in the desert as he left the elevator and walked into Odin’s penthouse.

  Odin held a finger to his lips to indicate the need for quiet, since Clara and both twins were asleep for the time being.

  Atlas nodded his understanding. “What do we know? Give me facts and we can build from there.”

  “Canaan went to his hotel room last night with a redhead. Mystery woman.”

  “Sacher?” Atlas inquired.

  “Yep,” Odin confirmed. “Duncan was supposed to meet him for breakfast and he didn’t show. Not in his room.”

  “Right,” said Atlas. “You told me that on the phone. Raven too, right?”

  “Correct. She’s completely dark.”

  “I tried Annalise and Nolan,” Atlas replied, glancing down at his phone to confirm he hadn’t missed a call or text. “What about Matthias?”

  Odin shook his head. “Nothing. Tried him, too. What other European assets do we have? That we can trust.”

  “Richard, hell, he’s even in Austria,” Atlas offered.

  “Haven’t contacted him yet, he may already know something’s happening if we’re not able to reach Nolan. He’s next on my list.”

  “I’m not nearly as plugged in as I used to be,” Atlas reminded his brother. “But I have some ideas. My best idea is that we need to have feet on the ground in Vienna. ASAP.”

  “I’ve got newborn twins right in the next room,” Odin countered. “I’ll do anything I can to help, but how the hell do I tell Clara I’m going to Europe on what might be a wild goose chase?”

  “Piper can stay here with her until we get back,” Atlas suggested. “Or not. Whatever you feel like you can do. I’ll work my European contacts and arrange some local support for us. We’re going to need somebody coordinating anyway, especially if Raven’s off the board. You call Dad yet?”

  “Not yet,” said Odin. “He was planning to visit in a few days to meet the twins. He’s still heartbroken over Achilles. I can’t tell him something happened to Canaan. But he’ll be calling soon to check on our progress on the Gutenberg Bible, so I’ll tell him. Maybe we’ll have news by then. You know how Canaan is, maybe he went out for a nightcap with the redhead and he’s sleeping it off somewhere.”

  “If not for Raven, maybe. But even if something happened in Vienna,” Atlas countered. “Nolan and Annalise are pros. Pro’s pros. Not to mention Matthias. No, this is bad. This smells bad all the way around.”

  “I’ll call Richard Hunt, you work your European assets,” Odin replied. Atlas nodded, heading for Odin’s office across the condo.

  Twenty minutes later, the brothers reconvened in the kitchen over bowls of pineapple chunks and blueberries Odin had pulled from the refrigerator.

  “I spoke to Richard,” Odin explained. “He had no idea. Nolan and his wife were vacationing in Paris. He tried Nolan and Camilla and they both went directly to voicemail. He’s on his way to Paris now. He had Annalise on assignment in Belgium. She’s dark, too.”

  Atlas began to speak when Odin’s phone buzzed with a message from Duncan Gilchrist at the auction.

  Odin typed in his reply then explained the situation to Atlas. “Duncan was able to get the house to delay the auction for one hour. But he hasn’t heard a peep from Odin or Raven.”

  “Did you ever work with Oleg? Oleg Drenik?” Atlas asked Odin, who shook his head. “Crazy motherfucker. Ukrainian. Complete badass. I’ve seen him walk away from shit that would kill an elephant. Anyway, he’s in Bratislava. Slovakia. It’s maybe an hour from Vienna. He’s on a job there but he said if it wraps up the way he expects it to, he can be in Vienna before nightfall tonight.”

  Odin nodded, reassured, but far from relieved. “Does this feel like QB to you?”

  “I don’t know. I kept my ear to the ground about him for a while but it was quiet. Beyond quiet. Once he was gone, his entire organization, such as it was, just vanished.”

  “What if it didn’t?” Odin asked. “What if they just regrouped and this whole time they’ve been plotting? Planning this whole thing. Waiting for us to get lazy, soft, build up a false sense of security, then strike when we least expected it? Is that possible?”

  “There’s no QB,” Atlas insisted. “You killed him. His people weren’t loyal enough to him to pull this off. They’re loyal to money. We’re family. They were a bunch of mercenaries. Hell, his people would come work for us if the paycheck was right and they didn’t think we’d check their ‘employment history’.”

  “You’re probably right,” Odin agreed. “No way it’s QB.”

  12

  Canaan hit the water like he’d smacked into a brick wall. He gasped painfully, the air having left his lungs in a “whoosh.”

  Annalise Rubidoux, ever graceful, swam over to him, narrowly avoiding Nolan Weston’s entry into the water. Carlton Fox bobbed to the surface out in deeper water.

  “Breathe, Canaan! Deep breaths!” she pulled him into a floating position on his back as he nodded and gulped air back into his lungs.

  A hail of bullets entered the water just past where the four fugitives treaded water, the rocky shoreline preventing the shooters far above from seeing their targets or getting clear shots.

  “Is everybody in one piece?” Annalise shouted over the waves and gunfire. There was no beach to speak of, just a treacherously rocky shoreline.

  “Nothing’s broken,” Nolan reported in.

  “Right as rain,” Carlton said. “But we can’t stay here. We’ve got to get to that dock before they do.” He pointed to the dock where speedboats were moored, several hundred yards away.

  “Are you okay to swim, Titan?” Annalise asked.

  Canaan nodded.

  “Stay close to the shoes, it’ll cut down their angle,” Nolan called out, and the quartet set out for the dock, occasional bullets still zipping through the air and hitting the water, but clearly more hopeful scattershot than aimed by a sharpshooter who could
see, and target, the escapees.

  “They’ll have boats in the water any minute now,” Nolan called out. “We need one.”

  “Let’s ambush these bastards,” Carlton replied as the quartet treaded water in a rocky cove that kept them invisible from the dock.

  “Unless they’ve got a helicopter, then we’re fucked,” Annalise responded.

  “Yeah, proper fucked,” Carlton answered.

  “Canaan, see if you can get up on those rocks there,” Nolan called out, pointing twenty yards closer to where they’d seen the dock. The spot he indicated looked like the best place to climb out of the water.

  Canaan nodded and swam for the outcropping.

  “If two or three of us can get up there we might have a chance,” Nolan explained.

  “One of us stays in the water. They won’t be expecting us all to have made it. I doubt they could see us from up there, anyway. There’s a reason nobody leapt after us. It would take a miracle not to land on those jagged rocks where we hit the water. We got very lucky.”

  “So we hide there and then what?” Carlton asked. “You don’t think they’ll search for the rest of us?”

  “Of course they will,” Annalise clarified. “Nolan, you should stay in the water. They seemed to want to keep you alive. When they pull you out, you’ll tell them you’re the only one who made it. Whatever window we have, we’ll have to take advantage of it and commandeer the boat. We’re not getting out of here, otherwise.”

  “Wherever ‘here’ is,” Nolan responded.

  Canaan scrambled up the rocks and found a small, sandy nook between boulder that might conceal two of their party. He waved to Nolan and gave a thumbs up before holding up two fingers.

  “It beats nothing,” Nolan said. In the distance the roar of engines indicated the boats were being sent to find them.

  “Keep Canaan in the water with you,” Annalise said. “I’ll go up with ‘SAS’ here and we’ll come for when the time’s right.”

  Annalise and Carlton swam for Canaan, quickly explained the plan to him, and he swam back to Nolan while the other two concealed themselves.

  The boats were closing in as Nolan finalized the plan with Canaan.

  “You’re going to hold onto the rocks right there,” he explained, pointing to a spot just past where Carlton and Annalise left the water. “I’m going to be unconscious. I hit hard, swallowed some water, and you’ve managed to keep my head just above water. Got it?”

  Canaan nodded.

  “Let yourself be taken aboard. When shit hits the fan, fight for all your worth. Get your hands on a weapon if you can. This is life and death. Do what Titans do best and kick some ass, Canaan.”

  Nolan and Canaan clasped hands and then swam quickly to the spot of the ambush. Nolan draped an arm across Canaan’s shoulders and let his head fall to the side as if he’d been knocked out. Canaan whispered a mantra to himself that he’d used in the past to calm himself before important fencing bouts and adjusted his grip on the rocks as two speedboats filled with armed men spun around the corner and pulled up just in front of him.

  13

  Canaan struggled to hold onto Nolan’s limp, intentionally unresponsive body while clinging to the rocks as the boats congregated on his position.

  Two boats inched closer to Canaan and Nolan as a third sped by and out of sight back toward where the fugitives had entered the water.

  The boat was open air, built for speed, and held a crew of three men. Two of them pointed assault rifles at Canaan as the third, the craft’s pilot, turned so that he was perpendicular to the sheer cliff and cut the engine so he could be heard.

  “Where are the others?”

  “They hit the rocks back there. They went under. He and I are the only two who made the water,” he said, indicating Nolan by pulling him up a few inches above the surface.

  The lead security man continued to question Canaan. “Is he alive?”

  “He swallowed a lot of water. I got to him just as he started to sink. He’s out.”

  The man who’d been questioning Canaan spoke into a two-way radio, relaying his findings. Moments later, he nodded his head as he received a message back through his ear piece.

  “I can’t hold him much longer,” Canaan called out to the men in the boat. “He’s slipping. If you want him, it better be soon.”

  Acting on a signal from the lead man, one of the assault rifle-toting mercenaries set his weapon down and produced a ring buoy from the floor of the boat and tossed it toward Canaan, letting out just enough slack in the rope to let it reach him.

  “Take hold of that with your free hand,” ordered the man driving the boat. “Don’t let go of Weston.”

  Canaan did his best to comply, but the water was becoming choppy as storm clouds gathered overhead. If he took his hand off the rocks to reach for the ring, he feared losing Nolan, in which case he’d blow his cover.

  “I can’t reach it,” Canaan called out.

  The response was a spray of bullets just over his head from the third man in the boat.

  “Is that enough motivation for you?” The man in charge asked.

  Canaan grimaced and redoubled his efforts. He lunged for the ring and Nolan went face down in the water for several moments before Canaan was able to pull him up. Ever the professional, Nolan gave no hint that he was conscious, despite Canaan nearly inadvertently drowning him.

  Canaan hooked an arm through the ring, and the who’d thrown it reeled him in, all under the watchful eye of the third man and the armed crew of the second boat.

  When Canaan reached the starboard side of the boat, the man pulling in the rope patted his belt holster, which held a sidearm. “Don’t do anything stupid, Titan.”

  The third man went to the back of the boat where a small ladder sat next to the outboard engine. He straddled the ladder, setting his foot on a small handhold near the top, and reached down for Nolan.

  Nolan was dead weight, offering neither assistance nor resistance, and Canaan winced as his friend’s body was summarily dumped in the center of the boat. The man who’d reeled them in bent to check Nolan for a pulse.

  At the same time, Canaan climbed warily aboard. As he advanced up the ladder, the man who’d pulled Nolan in took a step back and drew his weapon. “When you get to the top, turn around, sit down, and place your hands on the back of your head,” he commanded.

  As Nolan raised his hands to comply, and pivoted to turn, a rock the size of a tennis ball flew through the air, striking his guard on the shoulder. When the man turned face the shore, Nolan lunged.

  Simultaneously, once Nolan’s pulse was checked and the man went to roll him onto his stomach to cuff him, Nolan’s legs suddenly shot up and across the mercenary’s outstretched arm, locking him in a painful jiu-jitsu arm bar.

  All hell was breaking loose. Annalise Rubidoux dove into the water just ahead of a burst of gunfire from the escort boat. Carlton Fox popped up and threw two more rocks, more to draw fire than actually inflict damage.

  The man Canaan had lunged toward was knocked overboard and into the water. The boat captain turned to face Canaan, who rushed him before he could draw his own weapon.

  “Stay low, Canaan!” Nolan shouted as he finished off his opponent with punches before lifting him up and out of the boat.

  Canaan wasn’t traditionally trained in martial arts, but his fencing experience and time in prison had made him one tough customer. He powered out of an attempted choke hold and drove an elbow into the mercenary’s throat as bullets began to whizz past, just overhead.

  Nolan spotted Annalise in the water just in front of the boat and tossed her the Glock he’d removed from the man whose arm he’d broken before throwing him off the boat. She caught it above water, and in one motion began firing on the second boat.

  At the same time, Carlton Fox joined the fray, diving into the churning water and swimming hard for the second boat.

  A shot from Annalise Rubidoux killed the second boat’s captain, and when
he collapsed, it was onto the throttle of his craft. It lurched forward, crashing into the rocks before either of his crewmates could take control.

  Nolan used the butt of an assault rifle to finish off Canaan’s opponent, and the youngest Titan dumped him into the drink.

  Carlton Fox met the man in the water, and after a brief scuffle managed to hold him beneath the surface until his struggles ceased.

  Rain began to pelt the scene as Nolan surveyed the wreckage of the second boat for any threats.

  “Everybody get on here, quick!” he shouted. “We’ll have company any second now!”

  Annalise climbed aboard just as the third boat pulled in, announcing its arrival with a hail of automatic weapons fire. Carlton disappeared beneath the waves.

  “Conserve ammo, but take these fuckers out!” Annalise Rubidoux yelled over the din. She eliminated the man in the back of the third boat with a single shot and Nolan took aim at the captain with the AK-47 he’d used to smash the head of the man who fought with Canaan.

  The captain ducked out of the line of fire and shot back from his own Glock before laying into his own throttle in an effort to escape and regroup.

  A final shot from Annalise Rubidoux, one that would have impressed the most grizzled of marksmen, ended the attempt. The captain pitched forward and head over heels into the water. One man remained aboard the third enemy vessel, but now outnumbered four-to-one, he set his weapon down and raised his hands in surrender.

  “We need information! Don’t shoot him!” Nolan implored. Carlton swam out to the boat and climbed on, holding him at gunpoint until Nolan, Annalise, and Canaan could get their own craft moving again and sidle up to the boat Carlton Fox and the hired gun shared.

  Canaan and Nolan disembarked and joined the third boat, approaching their prisoner with caution.