Hmmm. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who could read people. He’d sure pegged her correctly.
She nodded. “No lone wolf.”
₪ ₪ ₪
Dak started down the wide aisle.
This area was quiet. Too quiet.
If the lab was anywhere around here, he’d expect more guards. A guard, at the very least.
But the space felt empty. The fact that the area had been absolutely black when they’d entered supported the theory that no one was in here.
Still, he kept his weapon out and ready. He wouldn’t be caught by surprise.
Industrial metal shelving lined the walls all the way around the room. Each unit was about twenty feet long, about eight feet deep, and stretched almost to the ceiling. Each shelving unit had two shelves, spaced six feet apart. With no base shelf and no top shelf, the metal supports were bolted into the floor and ceiling for stability.
This was probably crazy. A secret entrance leading to an underground lab? He’d watched too many movies.
Yet a maze of old streets and buried buildings existed in this city. Why not here? Maybe the discovery of underground space beneath the structure was what had started the drug business here to begin with.
He moved slowly down the shelving unit, examining the exposed floor for any sign of a trapdoor. Much of the area was covered with boxes or crates, which he nudged to make sure they were full.
No way would they want to move a bunch of boxes every time they needed to get down to the lab. Assuming the lab was even beneath them.
He was almost to the end of the row. Looked like he’d need to start scouring the main part of the room, which meant pushing on a lot more boxes.
A big crate occupied the space at the end. He pushed on it.
It shifted slightly.
What…?
A crate that size shouldn’t move, not if it had anything in it. Yet it had slid a tiny amount.
The shelf above the crate was at head level. He ducked under the shelf, inching toward the outside wall with his gun leading the way.
Something on the wall caught his attention.
A light switch.
Why would they have a light switch on a wall at the back of the room, behind a crate, underneath a shelf?
He could only think of one logical reason.
Now that he was back here, he could see that the crate didn’t go all the way to the wall. A three-foot gap separated the back of the crate from the wall.
He peeked around the corner.
The crate didn’t have a back. Or a base.
His pulse spiked and he worked to steady his breathing.
The interior of the crate was too dark to see anything.
Unclipping his flashlight from the waistband of his jeans, he shone the light around the confined space.
In the middle of the floor was a wooden hatch, painted concrete gray with a silver handle that gleamed in his flashlight beam.
He’d found it?
He’d found it!
Backing out of the confined space, he hurried across the warehouse to find Kevyn.
They’d need to call for backup. If there was a lab down there, and if it was as heavily armed as he expected it to be, they’d need all the extra help they could get.
₪ ₪ ₪
The underground passage felt claustrophobic, in spite of the wide walkway. Maybe it was the low ceiling and exposed plumbing that the taller members of the team had to duck beneath.
The SWAT officers’ boots scuffed the ancient cobblestoned path beneath their feet, the sound bouncing off the cement all around them.
Kevyn winced at the sound, even as she reminded herself that all sounds were amplified in her mind due to heightened stress.
In fact, the whole group of them sounded like a stampeding army to her overly sensitive ears. Two SWAT officers and four FBI agents had remained upstairs to make sure the scene didn’t get compromised, but the rest of them had descended into the tunnel Dak found.
Eleven people. Twenty-two feet. All shuffling down a tunnel that acted as a megaphone announcing their presence.
Boarded-over doors and windows reminded her that the wall to her left had once been a storefront, just as the cobblestones beneath their feet had once been a street.
Exposed bulbs hung from wire above their heads.
The lights had been on when they entered the tunnel. Further confirming that someone might be down here.
Probably a whole group of someones.
Voices reached her. Raucous laughter. Some profanity.
Not their team.
She and Dak had been right. There was a whole other crew down here, preparing the drugs that were being packaged upstairs.
The group approached a corner. The SWAT commander who led them slowed.
Kneeling, the SWAT commander pulled something from his pocket. She couldn’t see it too clearly, but she guessed it was a tactical mirror clipped to a baton.
He eased it around the corner, moving it for a few seconds before rising and waving them all forward.
As she rounded the corner, she saw that their path dead-ended at a pile of rubble not more than a few meters ahead of them.
Light tumbled out of an old restaurant. The doors and windows were long gone and, unlike the other storefronts down here, the openings weren’t boarded over.
They evidently felt confident that their location was isolated.
Maybe the warehouse was the only access point.
The SWAT commander made some hand motions, which the other guys on his team seemed to understand.
Good thing. The SWAT sign language meant nothing to her.
Two of the SWAT officers hurried across the cobblestones to what would have been the other side of the street, then darted through the shadows to approach the building from the opposite side.
If the guys inside were paying attention, they’d surely be seen. The exposed bulbs cast too much light to camouflage them effectively.
She waited.
For shouts. Gunfire. Something.
Nothing. The obnoxious laughter continued uninterrupted as a rough-edged voice told a joke that turned her stomach.
The two SWAT officers took up position beside the wall on the opposite side of the lit window. One of them gave a single, tight nod.
The SWAT commander held up a hand. Curled his thumb. Dropped one finger, two, three.
The last finger dropped.
Moving as one, the group surged forward.
Cries of “Police!”, “SWAT!”, and “FBI!” filled the air.
Rapid gunfire silenced the voices.
Nineteen
Kevyn hit the ground, a spark of pain lighting up her shoulder as bone connected with cobblestone.
Rolling to her left, she pressed up against the wall beneath the window.
More gunfire peppered the space above her, chipping the aging brick wall across the cobblestone path.
Had anyone been hit?
She looked around.
Most of the team stood on the other side of the door, their backs plastered to the wall. The SWAT commander’s jaw fixed in a grim line as he held his position immediately beside the door. On the other side of her, one of the SWAT officers sprawled on the ground.
Blood pooled beneath him. Not a lot of blood, but he wasn’t moving.
The other SWAT officer, as tightly coiled as a spring, waited with poised weapon.
How she had ended up here, sandwiched between SWAT officers and crouched beneath an old busted-out window rather than around the corner with the rest of her team, was a mystery to be solved another time.
Dak would probably accuse her of lone-wolfing it again.
The SWAT commander made eye contact with her and the SWAT officer behind her and mouthed cover me?
Maybe by being under the window, she’d have the element of surprise on her side.
Either way, she wasn’t about to sit this out.
She brought her gun up and nodded.
> Inside the drug lab, feet scuffed the ground. The sound of items sliding across surfaces echoed down the tunnel.
The SWAT commander pushed the button for his com, his whispered voice filtering through her earpiece. “Okay, everyone. We’re going to try to take out the shooters. Carefully. Remember there’re chemicals down here that could blow this whole place up if we’re not careful.”
Yeah. The guys inside definitely had the advantage on that one. Since they were firing out, they didn’t have to worry about igniting the wrong thing.
“On my count.”
The five finger count returned. Rolling to her knees, she got her legs beneath her and held the crouch.
She waited until the last finger dropped.
As the two SWAT officers angled around the corners and opened fire, she inched up enough to see, then fired at a gunman swinging an automatic rifle toward the SWAT commander.
The man dropped, as did another gunman on the far end of the room, taken down by the SWAT commander’s bullets.
Most of the guys in the drug lab had dropped to the floor, arms wrapped over their heads.
Three more gunmen remained.
She swiveled, squeezing off two more shots, which took one of them down.
Bullets whizzed over her head.
She dropped below the window’s surface. A bullet thunked into the rotting wooden frame just above her head.
She crawled toward the door and peered around the corner in time to see another guy go down.
One gunman remained. He dropped his gun and threw his hands in the air. “Don’t shoot!”
“Keep your hands where I can see them!” The SWAT commander ordered. Edging into the room, he swept left and right. “Clear!”
She rose as the SWAT commander reached the gunman and wrestled his arms behind his back.
Agents swarmed the room, cuffing and Mirandizing the men.
“You good?” Dak’s voice came from beside her.
She nodded.
He swept past her and joined the rest of the agents inside.
What about the injured SWAT officer?
Turning, she found one of the other SWAT guys kneeling beside the downed officer. “How is he?”
The SWAT guy glanced up. “Looks like a flesh wound.”
The injured guy moaned. “Man, don’t tell her that.”
“What, you want me to tell her you’re dying?”
The guy chuckled, a rough, breathless noise that sounded like it hurt. “Makes me seem tougher, don’t it?”
Yeah, he was going to be fine.
She headed into the drug lab, her gaze sweeping the various glass jars, jugs of chemicals, and pots.
While not monumentally huge, the operation was big enough that they’d put a serious dent in the drug supply. They may not have brought the missing persons home, but this was a win either way.
A win that might help them find Ava, Wendy, and Oliver.
Hopefully before it was too late.
₪ ₪ ₪
Ebony turned the mixer on high, the chunks of potatoes smoothing into a creamy, white mixture.
Mashed potatoes were one of her favorites.
Turning off the mixer, she watched as Jax removed the turkey from the oven. He’d insisted on making the turkey himself, leaving her to make the potatoes, rolls, and cranberry sauce.
And the pies. Apple and blackberry.
The pies sat on the counter, ready to be put in the oven.
Jax pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked a drawer, removing a knife the length of her forearm.
The knife looked natural in his hand.
The thought sent a chill into her core, although why she should be worried about that, she wasn’t certain.
Jax would never hurt her. Ever.
Especially since she always did everything he asked her to do.
He put slices of steaming turkey on a platter. “If the potatoes are done, you can set the table.”
“Of course.” She removed the plates from the cupboard, topped them with silverware, and headed into the dining room.
The image of Jax with the knife in his hand wouldn’t budge from her mind.
Did she have something to be worried about? Wendy thought so.
No. She was being paranoid. Must be a side effect of the pregnancy hormones.
Still, as she carefully aligned the silverware beside each place setting, she listened for sounds behind her.
And wondered if one day that knife would plunge into her back.
₪ ₪ ₪
“You have arrived.”
The mechanical voice announced as Kevyn slowed beside the curb in front of an older Craftsman style two story home. The straight lines, rich cherry wood door and matching window trim, and full length front porch drew her.
The house numbers posted on the column next to the porch steps confirmed that her GPS had directed her to the right house.
Two men were on the porch. One had a burning cigarette in his hand, while the other sat on the brick ledge running around the porch. Both were solidly built, with short trimmed hair.
They turned as she started up the sidewalk.
The smoker straightened. The nonsmoker stood.
“Man, do I hope you have the right house.” The smoker said, a broad grin covering his face.
A shameless flirt. Interesting.
And, unless he and Dak were very different, not likely to be one of Dak’s brothers. The man’s light complexion and sandy colored hair were a far cry from Dak’s darker looks.
The other man, however, had the same strong cheekbones, broad nose, and intense dark eyes as Dak. His coloring was lighter, and there was a hint of red brightening his dark brown hair, but there was no denying the relation.
“Well, given that you,” she nodded at the nonsmoker, “are Dak’s brother, I think I’m at the right place.”
The smoker shook his head. “You’re here for Dak?”
“I’m here for dinner,” she corrected, a laugh bubbling from her. “But Dak invited me.”
She mounted the steps and joined the two men, staying back a few feet so she didn’t smell like smoke.
Dak’s brother inclined his head slightly. “Well, welcome. Dak didn’t mention that you’d be here, but we always welcome a pretty lady. He only told us about the new guy on his team. Kevin something.”
Memories of Dak’s smirk the other day when they’d been discussing Thanksgiving flashed through her mind.
It all made sense now. Dak was pulling a fast one on his brothers.
Did she spoil it by introducing herself or let Dak do the honors?
“I’m Caiden. This knucklehead is Pete.”
Pete snuffed out his cigarette and stood, towering a good head and shoulders above her.
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Kevyn.” She waited for the words to sink in.
Caiden’s smile slipped and his brows knit together. “Kev…”
“That’s what my friends call me,” she continued conversationally, as if nothing was wrong. “And I’m sure we’ll be friends, so go ahead.”
A red flush worked up Caiden’s neck. “I-I… I’m gonna kill him.”
The words lacked conviction, especially when Caiden smiled as he slowly shook his head.
She couldn’t help laughing now. “Let me guess, he told you I was a guy?”
“No.” Dak’s voice came from the doorway. “I just didn’t tell him you weren’t.”
She turned as he crossed the porch to join them.
“You don’t get it. I’m the middle child. I don’t often get to pull one over on these guys. The fact that you flustered Caiden in front of one of his SWAT buddies, well that’s icing on the cake.”
Caiden crossed his arms, his fitted shirt only amplifying the muscle definition he had. “Yeah, laugh it off now. We’ll see how cocky you are after we clean the court with you later. That basketball game is officially ours.”
Oh, he was confident, wasn’t he? “You think you can be
at us?”
Caiden’s eyebrows rose. “You’re playing?”
“What? Because I’m a woman I can’t play basketball?”
Pete elbowed Caiden and smoothly stepped in. “Of course you can. Blaze’s wife never does, so I guess we weren’t expecting you’d want to.”
“You expected incorrectly.” She slanted a glance up at Pete’s imposing height. “I may not be six and a half feet tall, but I can hold my own.”
Pete studied her for a second. “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me in the least.”
“Well, Sid’s running late. As usual.” Dak gestured to the door. “You want to come inside and meet the rest of the family?”
“Sure.” She grinned. “See if they can top Caiden’s reaction, right?”
No hint of apology resided in Dak’s grin. “Something like that.”
As she followed him into the house, she couldn’t help thinking that if her first five minutes here were any indication, this Thanksgiving was going to be one to remember.
₪ ₪ ₪
Ava chewed her potatoes, the butter and garlic flavors mingling in her mouth. It was good, but she missed nana’s special cheese sauce that they always put on mashed potatoes.
She missed papa’s smoked turkey.
She missed the cherry pie daddy always picked up at the grocery store.
Tears blurred her vision. She kept her eyes fixed on her plate.
Mr. Jax hated tears. He’d get real angry if he saw them.
When he wasn’t watching, she quickly swiped them away.
Miss Ebony’s gaze met hers and it looked like she felt sorry for Ava. At least Miss Ebony was usually pretty nice.
Finishing the potatoes, meat, and bread, Ava set her fork down and pushed her plate back.
Mr. Jax locked hard eyes on her. “You didn’t eat the cranberry sauce.”
It was always scary when he talked to her. Especially when he didn’t sound happy. Like now.
“I-I don-don’t…”
“Speak.” Those eyes saw right through her.
“I don’t like cranberries.” Her voice came out a high squeak.
“Ava.” His tone was firm. Slightly unkind. “You will eat them. You will eat everything you are given. And you will be thankful for it.”
Nameless (Sinister Secrets Book 1) Page 23
