Exposed (Eternal Brethren Military Romantic Suspense Book 7)

by Shirleen Davies

  Voices from inside drew their attention. Unlike many office buildings, White Eagle Security had installed operable windows with screens for the many days neither heat nor air conditioning were needed.

  “I’ve got to fly back to Baltimore.” Deke Caldwell directed his comment to Kell Kirkland, president of White Eagle Security.

  “What’s going on, Deke?”

  “Gina refused to give me details over the phone. Said it was too dangerous.”

  “Dangerous?” Kell’s voice dripped with incredulity. “Are you certain your sister isn’t using some of her infamous drama? It’s not as if she hasn’t done it before.”

  “I know you and Gina don’t get along, but she sounded frightened.”

  Dani and Ali glanced at each other, neither hiding their interest in the conversation.

  “Whatever it is, she’s too scared to call the police. That isn’t like Gina.”

  Kell studied one of his two vice presidents. A few moments of silence passed before he spoke. “If anything, she was always too quick to call the police.” At least that was his opinion after his few brief encounters with Deke’s sister. “You’ll take the company jet. I’ll have it ready within the hour.”

  “Thanks, Kell.”

  “No thanks needed. You take care of family business, make sure your sister and nephew are safe before thinking about coming back. Call if you need anything. I mean it, Deke. Anything at all.”

  Chapter Five

  Eternal Brethren Clubhouse

  “You’re certain that’s what you heard, Lane?” Raider stared at his own screen, fingers racing across the keyboard.

  “One hundred percent. At first, I thought it was a mistake, that I’d landed on a frequency used by a group of teenagers. And I do believe some of them are that young. Then the chatter began making sense.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She didn’t look at him, continuing to monitor the channel she’d stumbled upon. “I grew up in Miami, been hacking since I was twelve. Later, I moved to New Orleans, but most of what I learned about gangs was during my time in Florida. MS-13 was increasing in number, continuous groups coming up from Central America. I’m bilingual, which helped a great deal. I discovered they had a specific way of communicating. Phrases, words I’d never heard before. I’m certain what I heard is coming from MS-13 members.”

  “I’ve almost got their location.” Raider glanced at Penny. “You’re recording, right?”

  “Affirmative.”

  He hid a chuckle. Penny had been picking up the language of the men around her. Not surprising when she’d begun taking over many of Raider’s duties, allowing him to join the teams during ops.

  “Got ‘em.”

  “Where?” Penny’s voice rose in excitement.

  “South Phoenix. Close enough to be involved in the trafficking up here.”

  “My guess is they’re the ones taking the children off the streets or from their homes. Most of the kids you rescued on the last mission didn’t have families. They were in foster care.”

  Raider sat back, staring at his screen. “A DEA agent we know says the gang doesn’t have a huge presence in the valley.”

  “I’ve heard the same. MS-13 runs merchandise and possibly children through the state. Their western headquarters are in Los Angeles.” Penny held up a hand for quiet, concentrating on the frequency she’d stumbled onto. A minute passed before she shook her head.

  “I thought they were talking about another shipment of some kind. It sounds more like they’re having a meetup in Los Angeles. Shouldn’t the FBI or DEA be following these communications? If I can find them, they should be able to.”

  Raider thought the same. He’d wondered where the FBI was when the Brethren had rescued the children headed to the border. Since freeing them hadn’t been sanctioned by Grayson, they all believed not having the FBI involved had worked in their favor. Still, he found himself wondering if the feds were aware MS-13 could be involved in abducting and selling children.

  “We need a way to track their movements.”

  Raider’s mouth twisted as he considered options. “The best way is to get someone inside, but that could take years.”

  “And most of the members are Salvadorian, or at least from Central America. Banner would be the best choice. His father is American, but his mother is from El Salvador. He’s bilingual and bicultural. It wouldn’t take much for him to look the part.”

  Raider couldn’t hide his surprise at how much she knew about one of the youngest Brethren. “How’d you find all that out?”

  Penny shrugged. “I asked him.”

  Lifting a brow, he crossed his arms. “We don’t usually share personal information.”

  Continuing to listen, she swiveled her chair to face him. “You just heard the entire sum of data I have on Banner. He knows the same about me. What are you going to do with what we suspect of MS-13?”

  “Talk to Wrath.” It went unsaid the prez would determine whether or not to take what they had to Grayson. “Be prepared to dig deeper.”

  “Already am.”

  “I’ll be upstairs.” He took them two at a time, giving a quick rap on the door to alert Wrath he’d be entering the office.

  “Come.”

  “Do you have a minute?”

  Wrath motioned to a chair. “What do you have?”

  Raider took several minutes explaining what Penny had discovered and their conclusions. “It’s not much, but a thread we might want to unravel.”

  Wrath rubbed his jaw, tapping his pen on a pad of paper. “This is good work. We’ll need a lot more before I can report it to Grayson.”

  “What if we can catch the gang grabbing children?”

  “It’s not our job, Raider. That falls squarely within the scope of the FBI.”

  “Even if they’re doing nothing, Prez?”

  “We don’t know that. Grayson will never accept speculation. He deals with facts, as do I. I’ll need time to consider what you’ve told me. In the meantime, you and Lane do whatever you can to dig up more on MS-13 and the Night Devils. We need a connection to move this on to Grayson.”

  “Got it.” Raider stood, ready to return to the dungeon.

  “But remember our part in the operation. We are to observe and report, which is what we were supposed to do with the trucks carrying the children. Intercepting is not our mission. That’s the role of the FBI or another of the government’s infinite number of agencies. I gave it a pass last time, Raider. It won’t happen again.”

  He didn’t flinch. Wrath was right. Eternal Brethren had been founded to handle deep cover surveillance and reconnaissance, then pass the information to Grayson, who’d distribute it through channels. Those missions were critical but not the reason the men stayed with the Brethren.

  What got their adrenaline pumping, kept them on the undercover team, were snatch and grabs of high-value targets, such as Abdul-Bari Zahir, neutralizing terrorist cells, and rescuing captives. Raider thought of Brittany Blackmore, the senator’s daughter and Fuse’s ex-girlfriend. Not long ago, they’d freed her from one of Zahir’s hidden sites in the southwest.

  Those were the missions the team lived for, what got them rolling each morning.

  Then there were the people movers, human traffickers who kidnapped women and children to be sold across the globe. Technically, they fell into the observe and report category. Raider considered them of more critical importance.

  They were rescue missions worthy of more than a perfunctory report which could take days or weeks to implement. Unfortunately, the decision to change their operational role was way above his pay grade. But it ate at him. Human trafficking fell into the same category as abused children who prayed for anyone to save them. Desperate, with no one to help them.

  Returning to the dungeon, he forced himself to get his mind straight. He was a SEAL, committed to taking and completing orders, with an important job to do. Everything else would have to wait.

  Wrath, Ghost,
Rock, and Wrangler stayed seated on their bikes a block away during the ceremony to swear in the new Liberty Lake police chief. Geoff Bettencourt had been acting chief since Chuck Abernathy died during the rescue of Julia and Tori Stanifer. At least that was the story agreed upon in order to allow his widow to collect his retirement and without tarnishing his memory.

  Bettencourt was a good man, honorable, and according to Ethan, a solid leader. He’d proved it over the last few months. He was also the husband of Deputy Sheriff Vela Bettencourt, one of Ethan McCord’s best employees.

  The middle McCord brother stood on the steps of the police department. As sheriff, Ethan had struggled through a strained relationship with Abernathy. Having Geoff in the role would make his job much easier.

  “What do you think?” Ghost asked no one in particular.

  Wrangler leaned over, resting his arms across the handlebars. “He’s going to be a helluva lot better than what we had.”

  “Agreed,” Rock said.

  Wrath kept his thoughts to himself. He didn’t know Geoff well. Ethan was the only lawman who knew the full truth about the Brethren, and they could trust him to their confidence. A few of the deputies and officers in town suspected there was more to the MC, but never pushed for answers.

  There was only one man who concerned Wrath. Officer Eddie Katz had been tight with Abernathy. The dead police chief had been mentoring Katz to replace him when he retired. The committee who’d interviewed those expressing an interest in the open position had spoken with Katz. His scores were acceptable, but not nearly as high as Geoff’s.

  Bottom line, Wrath didn’t trust Katz. As a senior officer, he had supporters, making it critical the Brethren stayed out of his way. Unless they were on a short-term observe and report op, such as the one Grayson had sent to Wrath that morning.

  It was an odd request passed to the admiral from the FBI Director, one of a tight group of government officials who knew about the Brethren. Wrath was to choose a couple men to track Katz and his movements, note who he contacted, and observe his activities during and after work.

  When he’d asked Grayson for the reason behind the request, he’d been rebuffed. All Wrath was cleared for was the op itself, not the purpose behind it. Then he’d asked why the FBI or another agency, even the state police, didn’t handle the request. The answer was simple. Wrath’s men would do the job right, not get detected, and have no cause to hide anything they witnessed.

  Sitting on his bike, he studied Katz, who stood with the rest of the officers. Although his features remained neutral, his body language indicated his frustration at Bettencourt being selected over him.

  Both hands were fisted at his sides, stance rigid, jaw tight with irritation. Wrath had never been passed over for a promotion, but he could guess the animosity Katz felt for Bettencourt. Grayson’s order suggested there might be much more to the man, things the officer might want buried. If so, Wrath’s men were the ones to find out.

  He’d been considering which men would be the most suitable. They had to be men Katz wouldn’t recognize, who could blend into the surroundings to preserve their cover.

  Wrath had already made his decision. When he returned to the clubhouse, he’d call them to his office, explain the details. They were two of his best, yet hadn’t garnered attention the way Ghost, Rock, Wrangler, and several others had. Tracker and Moses were finally able to enjoy some downtime with their women. For now, he wouldn’t assign them duties requiring twelve-hour shifts.

  Raider and Fuse had been on his short list from the time he ended the call with Grayson. Single, excellent at reconnaissance, and few people in Liberty Lake would recognize them without their cuts.

  Satisfied with his decision and what they’d seen at the ceremony, he straightened his bike. “I believe we’re ready to roll, gentlemen.”

  Chapter Six

  Ali pressed a compress against the older man’s forehead, getting the injury ready for sutures. He’d stepped off a curb, falling to the street when his cane slipped.

  His case had been one more in a series of mishaps by seniors in Liberty Lake. Some speculated the increase was due to the swelling number of retirees in the area. Ali thought the reason was simpler. It had rained the last two days, making the sidewalks and streets slicker than normal.

  “Can’t believe I missed that curb. I was born here, you know. I’ve walked that street a thousand times without a problem.”

  She offered a small smile, patting his arm. “It could happen to anyone. The roads are slippery.”

  “We do need the rain, that’s for darn sure. I just wish it would come at night.”

  Ali chuckled. She’d heard the same from her grandfather too many times to count. It was an understandable, if unreasonable, thought.

  “I’ll get that cut fixed in no time and you’ll be on your way. Do you have a car?”

  “Not any longer. My daughter will come and get me. I’ll give her a call when I get out of here.”

  “I can do that for you when I’m finished.”

  A few minutes passed before Ali was finished. Escorting the patient to the front, she helped him into a seat before calling his daughter. She’d just turned back toward the exam rooms when a young boy walked through the entry. He stared down at his feet, shuffling in, refusing to look up as he headed toward registration.

  “Timmy?” She rushed forward, kneeling down so she could look at his face. His nose was broken, one eye and lips swollen. His left arm was cradled in front of him, and he favored his right leg.

  “Who did this to you?”

  When he didn’t answer, Ali stood, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Come with me.”

  Escorting him through the hall, she checked out for her lunch break and grabbed her keys. Taking his good hand in hers, she slowed her pace to match his ability to keep up.

  Unlocking her Jeep, she helped him inside. “I’m taking you to the free clinic, Timmy. You’re going to have to give them your full name and address.”

  He glanced at her, his features rigid. “I hate her!” His voice broke, a sob escaping.

  Reaching out, Ali enfolded him in her arms, careful of the injuries. “It’s all right to cry, Timmy. What she did to you deserves more than a good cry.” Dropping her arms, she buckled his seatbelt, grimacing when he winced.

  Hurrying to the other side, Ali climbed in and took the most direct route. Timmy needed treatment, antibiotics, and pain pills right away. She’d worked with both the clinic and Child Protective Services in Pine Glen, hoping the experience in Liberty Lake would turn out as well.

  Parking, Ali grabbed her purse, taking out a piece of paper to scribble her name and number. Walking around to his side, she helped him to the ground.

  “This is my name and phone number. Think of it as an emergency contact, all right?”

  He nodded, again fighting tears, as she slid it into the pocket of his pants.

  “Stay here for a minute.” Running into the clinic, she spotted a wheelchair. “I have a patient to bring inside.”

  A middle-aged woman of average height and weight wearing scrubs looked her up and down before nodding. “Do you need help?”

  “I can get him. Thanks.” Returning to the Jeep, she helped the now trembling boy into the chair.

  The woman held the door open for them. Her eyes widened at Timmy’s appearance, but refrained from commenting.

  “You come right back here. I’ll get a nurse practitioner.” She glanced down at him. “What’s his name?”

  “Timmy.” Ali lowered her voice. “I don’t know anything more. But this is the second time he’s come into the emergency room at the hospital.”

  Leaning down, she offered an encouraging smile. “Hi, Timmy. I’m Wanda Lee. We’re going to get you all fixed up.” Straightening, she sent a more serious look at Ali. “Are you family?”

  For a split second, she considered lying if it would allow her to stay with Timmy. “No. I’m an emergency nurse at the hospital. If he wants me to stay,
I’m happy to do it.”

  “Well, since you’re a nurse, I think we can work that out. Assuming Timmy doesn’t mind.”

  The young boy nodded, giving his okay.

  “There you have it,” Wanda Lee said. “You two relax while I get Justine. You’re going to like her, Timmy.”

  Ali didn’t miss the young boy’s wince of pain. If she knew her way around, she’d start cleaning the cuts and bruises.

  “You must be Timmy.” A slender, black woman of average height rushed in, making a quick scan of his injuries. “I’m Justine. Let’s get you on the table.”

  Ali helped get him settled on his back. “I can help if you want.”

  “Wish you could, but our insurance doesn’t allow it. Maybe you could talk with Timmy while I’m working. When I’m finished, we’ll get X-rays of his leg and arm.”

  As Justine quietly went about her business, Ali spoke in a soothing voice about nothing in particular. There’d be time later to question Timmy about what happened, who did this to him.

  It took close to twenty minutes for Justine to complete bandaging his wounds before wheeling him into the X-ray room where the tech took over.

  “Do you know anything about Timmy?” Justine asked.

  Ali pursed her lips, shaking her head. “Nothing other than his first name, and that might not be correct. I’m hoping you’ll be able to get more out of him. Mostly, I want to know who’s been beating him up. This was the second time he came to emergency in the last week. The first time, he ran when the doctor was, um…expressing his anger about me letting an indigent child into the hospital. As if I could stop a child from walking, or limping, inside.”

  Justine’s mouth twisted in disgust. “For people you’d expect to show compassion, there are a lot of real SOBs in the medical profession. Wish they’d go into research and leave those with a heart to work with patients.”

  Ali couldn’t hide a grin. “You’ll get no argument from me.”