Exposed (Eternal Brethren Military Romantic Suspense Book 7)

by Shirleen Davies

  “We will need to get some information from Timmy so it can be reported to Child Protective Services. I could also call the sheriff. One of his deputies is excellent with children.”

  “Wouldn’t this go through the police department?” Ali asked.

  “If he lives inside the town limits. We can always contact them after the deputy has a chance to speak with him.”

  The tech left the X-ray room, approaching Justine. He hesitated a moment when he spotted Ali.

  “It’s all right,” Justine said. “She’s a nurse from the hospital and the one who brought Timmy to us.”

  The tech nodded at Ali. “All right. You’ll need to check out the images, Justine, but that boy has been abused over a long period of time. There’s no mistaking previous broken bones in his leg and arm. His left wrist is broken, and he has a large contusion on his right hip. Those are the only X-rays requested. Would you like me to go ahead with a few more?”

  Their budget was already tight. Running the free clinic required grants, donations, and money allocated by both the city and county. If they could save one child from further abuse, though, the cost would be worth it.

  “Yes.”

  “I may need help. He’s becoming groggy from the meds you gave him.”

  “Let’s get it done.” Justine turned toward Ali. “Why don’t you wait in the exam room? This shouldn’t take long. Then I’m going to contact Deputy Vela Bettencourt to see if she has time to talk to Timmy.”

  “Bettencourt? The name is familiar.”

  “Her husband is the new police chief. He’ll be a huge improvement over the one before him. I’d better get in there. I’ll come and get you as soon as we’re done.”

  Ali checked her watch. She’d run out of time.

  “You’re on your lunch break, aren’t you?” Justine asked.

  “Afraid so. But I can’t leave Timmy here alone, thinking I abandoned him.”

  “Give me your number. I’ll call you with what we find. Timmy will also know you didn’t run out on him. The truth is, once CPS gets involved, there won’t be much you can do. You already did a great deal by bringing him here.”

  “Thanks, Justine.”

  As Ali walked to her Jeep, she felt a deep, gnawing emptiness in her gut. She felt as if she’d dumped Timmy on someone else, swept his pain aside as if what happened didn’t touch her. But it did.

  Climbing inside, she slid the seatbelt into place. Ali had a regular job, one she couldn’t afford to lose with rent and other bills. Somehow, she’d find a way to keep in touch with Timmy, at least monitor what happened to him once he left the clinic. It wasn’t much, but it was all she could do.

  Night Devils Clubhouse

  “Listen to me, Manny. We have an agreement for you to supply twenty passengers for the next trip. That trip is scheduled for one week from today and you damn well better come through.” Mario’s voice, hard and unforgiving most days, turned deadly with warning. “I don’t accept excuses.”

  Manuel Lazo-Ramos, Mario’s MS-13 contact, and three of his men had arrived from the valley to discuss changes they wanted made in the contract. Specifically, they wanted more money for the risk of grabbing the passengers Mario required. He’d known the Night Devils president would be tough, but hadn’t counted on his hard-line, inflexible stance.

  Crossing his arms, Manny leaned back in the chair across from Mario. “No excuses. We can no longer take the risk for the percentage you pay. If you believe that is unfair, then find others to fulfill your contract. It is simple business.”

  It had taken Mario months of negotiation to arrange a partnership with the vicious Mara-Salvatrucha, more commonly known as MS-13, gang. He’d traveled to their headquarters in Los Angles more than once during that time to finalize details. They’d made several successful runs to the border since inking the final agreement. Just one had failed when the shipment had been intercepted miles before the border. Thousands of dollars and days of planning wasted. Mario still didn’t know who’d disrupted the transport, but he had his suspicions.

  Their major rival in the area, Demons Blood, had the most to gain. Drago, their president, was smart and shrewd, as were his most trusted men, Pacho and Snake. They’d even formed a loose association with Eternal Brethren, and used Wrath’s wife, Cara, as their attorney.

  Resting his arms on the table, Mario glanced at his vice president, Hammer, who narrowed his gaze on Manny. “Seems to me MS-13 already gets a lot more out of our deal than they deserve. Bringing in another partner isn’t going to be a problem for us. How will canceling our agreement affect you?”

  Next to him, the Devils’ sergeant-at-arms, Slider, nodded in agreement, his hand moving to the sidearm at his side.

  Manny squirmed in his chair, although his back remained rigid, his features cold as granite. “It would be a mistake to ignore our contract.”

  Mario clasped his hands together, sneering at the men on the other side of the table. “If I’m not mistaken, you’re the ones who came here to renegotiate the terms. I am stating our position and how we will respond.”

  Without warning, Manny’s men drew their weapons, aiming them at Mario, Hammer, and Slider. Their response was immediate. The three jumped up, guns trained at the MS-13 members. The door burst open, six more Devils entering to surround Manny and his men.

  “It would be more than stupid for you to fire on us.” Mario didn’t lower his weapon. “Sit down so we can finish this.”

  Manny shot a look at his men, who holstered their weapons, returning to their seats.

  Mario, Hammer, and Slider did the same, his other men backing up, but not leaving the room.

  “Do you want to renegotiate the terms, Manny, or leave the partnership the way it is?”

  “For now, we continue. Know this. We are not done with this discussion, Mario. We are far from finished.” Shoving back his chair, he stood and walked out the door, his men following.

  “They will come after us, Prez.” Hammer stood in the doorway, watching them drive away in a large SUV.

  Mario joined him, hands clenched at his sides, barely containing his anger. “And we will be prepared.”

  Chapter Seven

  Eternal Brethren Clubhouse

  “Grayson isn’t going to allow you two to put this off any longer.” Wrath looked up from the schedule on his calendar, his gaze moving from Gunner to Fargo. “Neither am I.”

  “He couldn’t have picked a worse time, Prez. We’re involved in an ongoing op to disrupt human trafficking through Arizona to Mexico. You need all of us.” Gunner gestured to his teammates.

  Wrath’s lips twitched. Their ranks were thick with well-trained, dedicated SEALs. “It’s for one week. I believe we can get by without your contributions for that long. It’s time the newest members have a chance to show what they can do. So far, they’ve proven themselves on the easier missions. I need to see what they’re made of.”

  Fargo crossed his arms, mouth twisting into a grimace. “Hell, Prez. They came from DEVGRU. You know exactly what they can do, the same as you knew our strengths and weaknesses.”

  “You’re right. That doesn’t negate the fact you are required to complete this training assignment.” Wrath grabbed their itineraries from a drawer, handing them out. “You leave tomorrow morning. Report to Sully no later than noon. You’re all scheduled for six days. Don’t embarrass the Brethren.” His voice rang with rare sarcasm.

  Mumbling to himself, Fargo opened his envelope, scanning his courses. “Seriously? Training in urban warfare? I’ve taught this class myself, Wrath.”

  “Appears the teacher is now the student. That applies to both of you. Gentlemen, you need to suck it up and get out of my sight. I’ve got real business to complete.”

  Watching them shuffle out, grumbling as they shut the door, Wrath pulled another file from a locked drawer. This one stamped top secret, the highest level for military personnel. He, Ghost, and Rock were cleared for the type of information included in the newest rep
ort from Grayson.

  Opening it, Wrath read the pages for a third time. The FBI Director had compiled a brief report on an agent he believed could be involved in traitorous activities. It was succinct, damning in its conclusion. His stomach dropped, gaze locking on a name he recognized.

  Special Agent Quentin Fraser.

  “Sonofabitch.” Wrath couldn’t wrap his mind around what the name implied.

  Quent, former SEAL and one of the most honorable men he’d ever known. And one of Wrath’s best friends. He’d left DEVGRU for a position as an FBI special agent a year before Eternal Brethren was founded.

  They’d stayed in touch for a few years, but Wrath hadn’t received responses to his last few messages, assuming Quent was buried in work. Now he had to wonder if his friend had changed sides, was buried in work of another kind.

  “No fucking way…” The conviction in Wrath’s whispered words signaled what he thought of the director’s list. “Bullshit.”

  He slammed his hand on the desk, stood, and headed outside to where he knew Ghost and Rock would be trying to outdo each other on the weapons range. He watched until there was a pause, then stepped forward.

  “Ghost. Rock. I need to see you in my office.” He didn’t wait to explain. There’d be time for that inside where no one else could hear.

  Most of the Posse knew Quent, had fought side-by-side with him on numerous missions. For now, Wrath would keep the investigation close to home by questioning the other two men with top security clearance.

  “What’s going on?” Ghost took a seat at the conference table where Wrath waited.

  He waited for Rock to join them before explaining the file, the implication Quent could be a traitor.

  Ghost crossed his arms, jaw clenched. “That’s bullshit.”

  “I agree,” Rock said. “There’s no chance Quent would betray his country.”

  Wrath slid the file across the table to Ghost. “Read while I get us coffee. This is going to take a while.”

  Raider watched through night vision binoculars as Officer Eddie Katz left the station, walking with purposeful steps to his truck. Looking around, the man pulled a phone from his pocket, making a call as he slid into the driver’s seat.

  Fuse sat in an older model coupe, ready to follow Katz when he left the lot. “Wish we knew who he was talking to,” he said into his comm unit.

  “And what the hell they’re talking about.”

  “Could be nothing but a booty call, Raider. The same as the last four nights.”

  Chuckling into the earpiece, Raider adjusted his binoculars to get a better view inside the truck. “If nothing else, he’s an energetic SOB. We need to talk to Wrath about getting a tap on Katz’s phone.”

  “He’s pulling out, Raider. You ready to roll?”

  “I’m right behind you.”

  They’d set up schedules to overlap watching Katz between nine at night and two in the morning. If nothing went down, Fuse would head home, leaving Raider to complete the surveillance until being relieved early the next afternoon.

  For most, the hours would be too grueling to continue for more than a few days. Fuse and Raider were born for this type of assignment, thrived on the long hours.

  Over the last few days and nights, they’d learned that Eddie filled his off-duty hours with a string of different strippers. Fuse believed Katz received free services for assuring other officers didn’t arrest the women for prostitution. Raider thought he paid a discounted rate. Either way, the man hadn’t done anything to connect him with the Night Devils.

  Following Fuse, ready to make a move if Katz made him, Raider found his mind going to Ali. He’d been thinking about her more often since she’d moved to Liberty Lake. The story she told of the little boy ate at him. Even though he hadn’t met him or knew the child’s name, it twisted Raider’s gut to think of a young boy being abused the way he’d been.

  If it hadn’t been for his grandparents, he would’ve ended up dead by David’s hand or another of his mother’s men. His grandparents had fought for him, winning custody after his mother made an appearance before the judge. High on drugs, she’d been escorted out by deputies, booked, and from what Raider had heard, spent a good deal of time in jail. Her performance was enough for the judge to award guardianship to his grandparents. From that day on, his life had turned around.

  “He’s making a turn away from town, Raider.”

  Fuse’s voice through the earpiece had him refocusing on the job. As he did, his phone rang. Thinking it was Wrath, he put the phone to his other ear.

  “Yeah?”

  “Is this Jace?”

  Shock reverberated through him. “Ali?”

  “Yes. I know it’s very late…” Her voice trailed off, the line going silent for long moments.

  “Ali, are you still there?”

  “You know, this was a mistake. I’ll talk to you another time.”

  “Ali, wait…” Raider realized he was talking into dead air. She’d hung up, and he didn’t have time to call her back. Not now anyway. “Shit.”

  Sliding the phone back into a pocket, he fought to switch his attention to Katz. Raider had always been able to compartmentalize, turn off less significant thoughts to focus on the critical. He’d allow himself to think about Ali, and the reason for her call, later.

  “Katz is heading out of town.”

  “I’m right with you, Fuse.” Thoughts of Ali fled, his attention back on the mission.

  “This may be what we’ve been waiting for, Raider. He’s heading into the county.”

  “It’s going to be easier for him to make us, Fuse. Drop back and let me move ahead of you.”

  “Roger. I’ll pull in behind you.”

  Raider stayed a car behind Katz as he headed along a winding road up into the mountains. When the car turned off, he fell back, giving Katz more space. Tailing anyone late at night on a sparsely used road raised the potential of being detected. Katz being a police officer meant he would be more vigilant than most, especially if his actions bordered on illegal.

  “I’m going to turn off, Fuse, before he spots me.”

  “Affirmative. I’ll take your place. Wonder where our boy is going.”

  “No idea. Hoping it isn’t to visit another of his women. I’m learning way more than necessary about his private tastes.” Slowing to take a narrow road to the right, Raider made a U-turn as Fuse whizzed past.

  Five minutes ticked by without Katz making a move. In the distance, Raider heard the familiar sound of motorcycle engines.

  “Shit. Do you hear that, Fuse?”

  “Yeah. I can see at least a dozen headlights up ahead of Katz. Do you think he called for help?”

  “No idea, but whoever they are, it can’t be good for us. We’d better back off, see what we’re up against.”

  “Affirmative.”

  Long moments passed as the headlights drew closer. Raider had come up to no more than yards of Fuse’s bumper, ready in case they’d been drawn into an ambush.

  Instead of trying to cut them off, the bikers rode past, not even slowing.

  “Did you recognize any of them?” Raider asked.

  “No. They’ve got to be associated with the Devils or Blood. Citizens don’t usually ride this late, and all of them were solo.”

  Raider agreed. “We’d better see if we can find Katz.”

  “No worries, man. The tracker I put under his truck is working fine.”

  “Where’s he headed?”

  “Continuing up the mountain. There are only a couple more turns before he reaches the summit and starts down the other side.” A moment passed before Fuse spoke again. “Slow down. Katz is turning right onto a dirt road. I can see lights at the top. Guessing it’s a house.”

  Raider touched his earpiece. “We aren’t going to be able to follow without being spotted.”

  “Take the road to the left. We’ll follow on foot.”

  Parking the vehicles far enough off the road so only those searchi
ng could find them, they slid guns into shoulder holsters and Ka-bar knives into sheaths secured to their calves. After donning their night vision goggles, they spread out, taking different but parallel paths toward the house.

  Reaching the clearing in front of the house, they counted three trucks and an old, beat-up sedan. Four doors, faded blue paint almost absent from the top and hood. The rear bumper was missing, as was the outside mirror on the driver’s side.

  “You head around the left and I’ll do the same to the right.”

  “Roger, Fuse.” Reaching to his side, Raider unsnapped the holster, retrieving his SIG 9mm.

  Several windows were open, blasting rock ‘n roll into the cooling night. Approaching from the left, Raider kept his back against the side of the house, moving until he crouched under one of the windows, listening.

  Slowly rising, he peeked inside. Katz and three men sat around a table. Raider recognized one, but not the other two. They weren’t playing cards as expected. There were no bags of chips, bowls of salsa, or bottles of beer.

  All he saw on the table were folders, the manila kind used in offices across the country. A man unknown to Raider opened the one closest to him. Even from his position outside, he could see it was a photograph.

  He tried to rise enough to get a better look at the image without being spotted. Raider knew it included a group of people, but was unable to see more or identify if they were men or women.

  The man Raider recognized, District Attorney Malcolm Wendt, pointed at one of the images, looking around the table at the others. Something unspoken passed between them before a slow smile curved the corners of the district attorney’s mouth before he spoke loud enough for Raider to hear.

  “As you know, the FBI has identified the leader of the attack on the casino as Abdul-Bari Zahir.”

  Almost half the Laughing Sky Casino had been blown apart several weeks before. Three people died, sixteen receiving injuries of varying degrees from minor to severe. At the time, everyone expected it to be worse.

  Raider could understand the district attorney’s interest in who had triggered the explosion, and even Katz’s as a local police officer, but who were the other two? If the meeting was legitimate, why was Katz at the table and not Chief Bettencourt?