Alexander King Thriller Series: Books 1-3

by Bradley Wright

“We’re fine. You’d be proud of Kyle. He isn’t the horny manslut you left two years ago. He now has a quick wit to go with the combat skills you taught him.”

  “Well, don’t tell him that. His head will still blow up like a balloon,” King said. “Listen, Sam, I’m in a real spot here without you. I need to know who is doing this if it isn’t Ortega acting alone.”

  “Well, Ortega might be after you, X, but he’s not the one in charge. I’d bet Kyle’s life on it that it is someone from our side.”

  “An American?”

  “Yes,” Sam said.

  “I know I’ve made a lot of enemies, but an American? Who would want not just to kill me but to ruin all the work I’ve ever done for my country by making me look like a traitor? I’m at a loss.”

  “I know. I’ll get what I can out of these minions, then report back. And I have to call Director Lucas. If the reality of these men posing as federal agents doesn’t prove you’re not to blame, I don’t know what will. What’s your next move there?”

  “It was to go after Ortega, but I think I’ll go for the computer where these fake videos were made. At least I’ll have some proof it wasn’t really me.”

  “I like that. Keep me posted. I’ll be in touch.”

  Sam ended the call. King had walked into José’s bedroom to listen to the call from Sam. He hadn’t bothered turning on the lights. He took a seat at the foot of the bed and let out a sigh. He couldn’t believe the lengths someone was willing to go to make sure he was made out to be a traitor. Before he could take yet another look into the past to try to figure who was after him, Lawson’s shadow filled up the doorway.

  “Everything all right?”

  The big man clicked on the light switch close to the door.

  King’s phone vibrated in his hand. It was a text from Dbie:

  Lawson Raines is former FBI but a PI now in OC like you said. Went to prison for the murder of his wife in Vegas a long time ago. Got pardoned and took down an entire crime ring. That’s all I got.

  King looked up and answered Lawson. “No. Nothing is all right. My friends got taken off the plane by some fake FBI agents.”

  Lawson looked confused. “Fake FBI in a federal airport? Good God. Who the hell did you piss off to get into this kind of trouble?”

  “I know, right?”

  Lawson glanced back out the door, then walked on inside. “Listen, I know a little about you just from being a curious citizen over the years. When you supposedly died a couple of years back, they talked about a lot of the things you did for our country. I didn’t want to believe it could have been you who kidnapped Brittany. And I really didn’t until I saw her with you driving out of the airport. I’m sure I don’t know a hundredth of the shit you’ve been through, but I just want to say I’m sorry for what happened back in that parking lot. That was a man fueled by past circumstances of my own, and I—”

  “You don’t need to apologize, Lawson. Just promise me you’ll fight like that if we find trouble later. I’ve fought in a lot of hand-to-hands in my day, and that was the toughest I’ve been in. You said you learned in prison. How long were you in?”

  “Ten years.”

  “Jesus,” King said, not expecting to hear that.

  “Yeah.”

  “Can I ask what happened?”

  “Let’s just say I know what it’s like to be set up.”

  King nodded. He didn’t need more from Lawson. He knew what happened to his wife. “We all have our stories, I suppose. You’ll have to tell me that one sometime when we’re not running for our lives.”

  “It’s not a happy tale. Needless to say, it’s what ended my FBI career in Vegas.”

  “You get the chance to make it right?” King said.

  “People paid for what they did, but it will never be made right.”

  “I hear you. Now you’re a PI in the OC? California is a long way from Kentucky. And I don’t mean distance.”

  “You’re telling me.” Lawson leaned back against the wall.

  “I used to have a place in San Diego. Back before I ‘died.’”

  “I didn’t have a funeral like you did,” Lawson said, “but the old me died in that prison cell. So I can relate.”

  King was quiet for a moment. Lawson walked back to the door and looked out into the hallway again.

  “What is it?” King asked. “You seem paranoid.”

  Lawson turned back toward King and lowered his voice. “How well do you know José?”

  King was genuinely surprised by the question. His answer was knee-jerk. “Well enough to know he’s good people. Why?”

  Lawson winced a bit. “I don’t know. Can’t really say. Just enough of a vibe to ask.”

  “We have a lot of things to worry about, but José isn’t one of them.”

  “Just trying to put our ducks in a row. So what do you want to do now that we’re just a three-man operation?”

  José came walking in with haste. “You guys holding a private meeting for a reason?”

  King stood. “Good God, you guys need to chill. I understand we’re in a tough position, but let’s take it easy on the paranoia. Both of you.”

  Lawson and José looked at each other for a long moment.

  “Like I was telling Lawson,” King said, “my agents have been delayed. It’s just the three of us tonight. That is, if you two are still dead set on fighting a fight that isn’t yours.”

  “I just got off the phone with one of my subordinates.” José answered King’s question by ignoring it. “He told me where Manuel and his computer are tonight. Apparently he’s celebrating his video of you making national news at a strip club not too far from here.”

  “Why does it always have to be a strip club?” Lawson said. “Can’t a gangster get a girl naked without paying for it?”

  “This good or bad that he’s at this club?” King said.

  “It’s a really seedy place.”

  “Shocker,” Lawson said.

  “Yeah,” José laughed. “Seedy here isn’t like seedy in the US. It’ll be packed with itchy trigger fingers with short tempers. And you’ll be the only white dudes in there.”

  King put his hands on his hips. “Okay, that good or bad?”

  “Great, if you’re looking for a fight.”

  “Do we even need to go in?” Lawson said.

  “What do you mean?” José said.

  “Who carries a laptop into a strip club? Don’t you know what his car looks like? We can just break in and take it in the parking lot.”

  “A man who gets paid only to do tech for a crime boss probably carries his laptop into a strip club. And he won’t be out in the main area. He’ll be in a private room.”

  “I’m confused,” King said. “If what you’re saying is true, they’ll never even let us white boys in.” King motioned between him and Lawson. “Much less let us in his private room. So again, is this good or bad?”

  “Good for me,” José said. “They’ll lead me right to him. You guys can just wait in the car. Then can we go take down Ortega?” José gave Lawson a pat on the shoulder as he walked out the door. “I’m gonna need some more tequila before we go. And while you two were chatting, I took the weapons out to the car. We’re good to go.”

  King smirked at Lawson. “Still think José’s not on our team?”

  Lawson shrugged, conveying a whatever-you-say attitude. “Got any more bourbon?”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Sam had driven about fifteen minutes from the airport before she turned the SUV into a Walmart parking lot. The lot was filled with cars, but she found a few empty spaces at the far end beneath a glowing streetlight. The sky was black beyond the light now. Time was running out for Sam to find out what the hell was going on. She’d just ended an anonymous call to the DC police, informing them that in the short-term parking garage at the airport there were three subdued criminals tied to the running board of a red Ford F-150. It wasn’t an easy phone call due to the moans coming from the man
with the hole in his leg in the backseat, but she got it done.

  Sam parked the car and dialed CIA headquarters. “Robert Lucas, please,” she said to the woman who’d answered.

  “I’m sorry, he’s not taking calls right now. You can try back—”

  “Tell him it’s Samantha Harrison. Trust me, he’ll take the call.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kyle smirk.

  “Going by Samantha now, are we?” Kyle said. “What else has changed since the last time I saw you?”

  Sam would like to say she hated the way Kyle was always riding her, but honestly she’d missed him and Xander giving her hell all the time. Like two brothers picking on their sister. Sam rolled her eyes and tuned into the elevator hold music playing in her ear. The CIA couldn’t be more of a bore.

  “Sam, where the hell are you?” Director Lucas interrupted the sleepy music with a growl.

  “Thanks to you, I’m not in Mexico City helping our teammate in the fight of his life.”

  “Don’t, Sam. What the hell is going on?”

  “Kyle Hamilton and I just got pulled off a plane headed to Mexico—”

  “You were fleeing the country?” Lucas interrupted.

  Sam didn’t waver. “By four men claiming to be FBI.”

  “FBI? How would they know where you were?”

  “Exactly. That’s why one of them is in the backseat of my car with a hole in his leg. I am calling to inform you that you need to get on board finally and understand that King is being set up.”

  “Where are you, Sam? Come in to the office and let’s talk.”

  “Okay. But I need a favor first.”

  “No favors, Sam. You are the fugitive here, remember?”

  “Okay, Robert, if you believe that, then this call is over. I’ll find a way to help Xander on my own.”

  She heard Lucas take a deep breath.

  “What do you want, Sam?”

  “This will help us both, so untwist your knickers. I took the FBI credentials from the four men we escaped from. Run them and find out who they are—or at least who they are not—so we can end this nonsense and go help our friend.”

  “Okay, Sam. But just because men pose as FBI agents and pull you off a plane to keep you from getting to Xander doesn’t mean he is innocent.”

  “No?” Sam said. “Because I think that is precisely what that means. They will be one of the many clues you’ve had to show you Xander did not do this.”

  “You mean like video evidence?” Lucas said.

  “We still doing this? It’s not 1999, Robert. Those videos are easily faked and you know it. Run these credentials and you’ll see.”

  “All right. I’ll call FBI Director Simmons directly to run them and see if he gave any such order.”

  “You know he didn’t. This is just a formality.”

  “Maybe, Sam. But it’s an important one. So you’d better hope you’re right.”

  Sam read off the names of the four men from the credentials in her lap and ended the call.

  “You think it’s enough for the CIA to call off the dogs?” Kyle asked.

  “If we’re right about these guys, it will be.”

  “You think they could actually be FBI?”

  “No,” Sam said with confidence. “But the first rule in espionage is that you are rarely right about someone.”

  Sam turned toward the backseat. The man, strapped in by the seat belt, was sweating in his suit, his hands tied behind his back. Blood was running onto the tan carpet below his injured right leg. Kyle reached back and undid the tie that kept the sock stuffed in the man’s mouth.

  “As you heard, I’m in direct communication with the CIA,” Sam said. “So we’re going to know who you really are in a matter of minutes. It’s up to you if you live to hear the director call me back to tell me if you are a liar or not.”

  The man laughed. “You’re not going to be happy with what you find out.”

  “So you really are FBI?” Kyle said.

  “He might be FBI,” Sam said. “But he isn’t acting on their behalf. Not tonight.”

  The man shot her a look that was covered with a smile. “You don’t know shit.”

  “No, I don’t know that. But I do know that you will be dead if you don’t tell me who hired you. You can try to keep playing your game, but it will lead to you lying in this parking lot with your balls in your mouth and your teeth on the blacktop.”

  Sam felt Kyle look at her in shock. Fortunately, the man in the backseat was staring into her eyes. She knew he could tell she meant it.

  “You have no way out of this,” Sam told him. “You’re either dead here and now because you didn’t tell me what I need to know, or the CIA will put you away for treason. So now it’s your choice how you want this to go.”

  “I am FBI Special Agent Steven Richards,” the man said with full sincerity. “You kill me, both of you will spend the rest of your lives in jail.”

  Not the answer Sam wanted. And it was said in a way she really didn’t like—with truth.

  “Bullshit,” Kyle said. But before Steven could say anything in response, Sam reached back and jammed a knife into the top of the man’s thigh. The man screeched in pain, but his hands were tied, so the knife stayed standing in his quadricep muscle.

  “Sam?” Kyle said. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Sam ignored him and spoke directly to Richards. “Right now you aren’t in any danger.” Sam reached forward and wrapped her hand around the handle of the knife. “But when I pull this blade just a couple of inches to your inner thigh, right through the femoral artery, you’ll be dead in a matter of minutes. You sure you want to keep playing games?”

  That got the man’s attention. He no longer wore a spiteful smile. Suddenly he looked horrified. Kyle was speechless.

  “Your move, boss,” Sam said as she sliced the blade a little toward the man’s inner thigh.

  The man screamed in pain.

  Sam’s phone began to ring. Richards was in too much pain for his face to give anything away about what she was about to hear.

  Sam removed her hand from the knife and answered the phone by putting it on speaker. “And?”

  “And,” Director Lucas said, “Steven Richards is who he says he is.”

  Kyle whipped his head around in shock. Sam was holding the same expression.

  “But . . .” Lucas spoke again. “Director Simmons didn’t give any such orders, and the other three men are not FBI.”

  Just before Steven Richards began to plead his case, Sam ended the call so Director Lucas wouldn’t hear what happened next. This man in the backseat had been sent by the person responsible for King being in danger, and Sam wasn’t letting him leave until she knew exactly who she was dealing with.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  José turned into the parking lot of Queen’s Mexico. It was actually more understated for a strip club than King had imagined. He was waiting to see the neon naked lady sign out front, but instead, he saw the golden Queen’s logo. The parking lot was full, even at that early hour.

  “There’s Manuel’s Impala right there. He’s here.”

  King looked around and noticed a mostly empty parking lot across the street. “Park over there. We can see the entire place from there.”

  “I don’t want to look suspicious,” José said.

  “More suspicious than two white men sitting in the car of a strip club parking lot in Mexico City?” Lawson said.

  “Good point.” José pulled across the street and parked facing the club. “I won’t be long, but if I come with trouble, you have all the firepower you need next to Lawson.”

  King looked back. Their small stack of a twelve-gauge shotgun, two suppressed Daniel Defense AR pistols, and an AK-47 were sitting in the seat. “Yeah, I think we’re good.”

  “They are locked and loaded, so just pick ’em up and shoot,” José said as he tucked his pistol in the back of his jeans.

  “Thought you weren’t e
xpecting trouble?” Lawson beat King to the words.

  “Plan for the worst, hope for the best.” José got out and began walking toward the club.

  The two of them watched José enter. King did a perimeter check. There was light traffic in this part of the city. Not a whole lot of other businesses on their particular corner. On his right, across the street were all residential apartments. The weather was decent, so several people were out walking the streets. King thought of Cali. He wondered how her travel was going. Then he wondered if he would ever see her again. He really liked her. But that hadn’t meant a thing with other women in his past. Product of the job. It was hard to stay with a man who was never around and who was always in danger.

  Lawson was in the back, talking on the phone to his partner, checking on his daughter and asking Cassie if she would look into the things Dbie was currently investigating.

  Like he did on a regular basis, King thought of Natalie Rockwell. She was the one woman he’d never been able to forget. Usually, thinking about her made him homesick, because his memories with her were at the Kentucky Derby, then at his home that night in celebration. There were a lot of things he loved about her, but five years later, whenever he closed his eyes, he saw her smile. It was a smile everyone in the room noticed wherever she went.

  Then his mind would always jump, as it did then, to the memory of her in his hallway, on her knees, sobbing as the man in black held a gun to her head. After that image he would do his best to forget she existed all over again. But it never worked. She always came back to haunt him. Her laugh. Her touch. That’s when he wondered if she was the woman in his mind when Lawson was choking the life out of him. Was she the one silhouetted in sunlight holding his baby? King rubbed his hands across his face and scolded himself for thinking of her. Then he did what he always did when thoughts of her came around. He wished her well in his mind, hoping that she found love and that she was happy. It was all a man from the shadows could do for the woman he loved.

  “I said, is there any update from your partner?” Lawson said.

  King shook the thoughts floating in his mind and turned in his seat to face Lawson. “No. Everything okay back in Orange County?”