Exposed (Eternal Brethren Military Romantic Suspense Book 7)

by Shirleen Davies

  “Do I want to know how?”

  Wrath chuckled. “Probably not. I’ll keep you posted on Katz.”

  Police Officer Eddie Katz’s forehead beaded with sweat, hands shaking as he made short work of stuffing clothes into a duffle. Taking three strides to his closest, he reached toward the top shelf, pulling down a metal box.

  Grabbing a key from the top of his dresser, he unlocked the box. Over half a million dollars stared back at him. Dumping the contents into the duffel, he dropped a .45 Colt atop the bills, piled more clothes on top, then laid an insulated jacket over it all.

  He’d already tucked two sets of new identities in an inside pocket of the duffel to go along with the documents he’d slipped into his coat. The plans made months ago would finally pay off.

  Eddie had been wise to make friends on the local EMT staff. One had called him within minutes of verifying Wendt and Blackmore had been tortured. The D.A. was already dead. Junior not far behind him.

  With Coleman already dead, it didn’t take much effort to figure out Mario was eliminating anyone who could connect him and the Devils to human trafficking. Katz was the last link.

  Hoisting the duffle over his shoulder, he touched the pistol tucked into the shoulder holster and took one last look around. He’d owned the house through two failed marriages and the estrangement of his children. Not one would have anything to do with him. Eddie didn’t blame them.

  He’d always been what they all accused him of—a selfish bastard without a soul. Each marriage had failed because of his inability to abide by his wedding vows. Adultery came easy to him, as did the excuses he made for his actions.

  None of it mattered now. He’d be taking on a new identity, moving to Canada for a spell before relocating across the ocean to a place welcoming of rich Americans.

  Poking his head outside, he covered the distance to his car in a few steps, tossing the duffle into the back seat. It was almost too easy. He’d thought to see Mario’s men by now, expected to be battling for his life.

  Sliding into the driver’s seat, he took another look up and down the street before starting the engine. A small smile crept across his face. He’d made it.

  Inching toward the street, his heart slammed against his chest. Approaching from both directions were the unmistakable headlights of motorcycles. Slowing, they stopped less than thirty yards away, each group forming a line across the road.

  Turning his head frantically, he sought an escape route. Behind him was the garage, houses to the right and left, the other side of the residential street ahead. Nowhere to drive, but he could run.

  Throwing the car into reverse, he hit the accelerator, smashing through the garage door. Braking, he scrambled out, grabbing his duffle while pulling the pistol from its holster.

  Katz moved to the back door, kicking it open to look outside. Surprised to see not one biker, he charged toward the back fence. He found the gate unlatched. Shoving through it, he came to an abrupt stop, eyes wide.

  Before him stood a half circle of Devils, each holding a pistol or knife. Dropping the duffle, a harsh cry surged from Eddie’s throat, his lifespan altering from years to seconds.

  Lifting the pistol, he made the decision to control the manner of his death. No cutting out his tongue or staking his beaten body to the hard, desert ground.

  Aiming, he fired. Once, twice, three times before a single bullet blasted through his skull. Crumpling to the ground, his last thoughts were of his children. Two young men and a young woman who would no doubt celebrate his death.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Ali sank onto the sofa in Cara’s living room, staring out the large picture windows while sipping a glass of wine, trying to ignore the deep ache in her chest. She missed Jace, who’d left after a meeting with Wrath that morning.

  A couple hours later, a woman from CPS arrived to take Timmy back to the foster home. He didn’t want to go, begged for Ali to keep him. Her heart broke at the desperation, the tears streaming down his face.

  Having Cara beside her had helped as the woman drove away with Timmy in the back seat. He’d stared out the window at her until disappearing down the long driveway. She’d never be able to forget the look of betrayal on his face.

  Watching the taillights fade, Ali had considered her decision less than a minute before pulling out her phone to call the juvenile court. It took less than a couple minutes to schedule an appointment to complete the necessary paperwork to adopt Timmy.

  “Are you certain it’s what you want, Ali?” Cara sat down next to her, having gotten the twins in bed. “Adoption is a huge commitment.”

  Ali grinned, nodding down the hall. “Having children is a big commitment.”

  “True, but I have help with Wyatt and Clay. I don’t know how I’d manage without Caid.”

  Cara and Wrath had one of the strongest marriages Ali had ever seen. In truth, so did all the married members of Eternal Brethren. Someday, she hoped to find the same kind of relationship. An image of Jace popped into her head. Ali found herself wishing it would be with him, even as she understood her feelings for him ran much deeper than his for her.

  “It isn’t as if I’d be adopting a baby. Timmy’s eight and is used to taking care of himself. I want to give him a real home. Love, safety, and consistency. If his mother will sign off on an uncontested adoption, there’s a good chance he and I will be a family within a couple months.”

  “What about Raider?”

  “Jace is welcome to be a part of it. The thing is, he’s never expressed a desire for more than what we have.”

  “Maybe you need to talk about it with him. Especially about your intention of adopting Timmy.”

  Ali knew Cara was right, she just hadn’t generated the courage to bring it up. And what would she say. “Hey, Jace. I love you. What do you think about getting married and adopting Timmy?” She winced at the ridiculous thought.

  “I will talk to him about Timmy. Anything else…” Ali shrugged.

  “Do you love him?”

  Swallowing the last drop of her wine, Ali considered lying, changing her mind at the knowing look on Cara’s face. Thinking back over their time together, a wistful grin tilted the corners of her mouth.

  “Yes, I do.”

  Cara shifted toward her. “Does he know?”

  “Are you kidding? He’d run and never look back if he even suspects my feelings for him.”

  Reaching over, Cara placed a reassuring hand on Ali’s arm. “What if he doesn’t?”

  “What? Run?”

  “Think about it. Raider’s been with one other woman as long as you, and I guarantee he didn’t act this way with Heidi.”

  “What way is that?”

  “Comfortable. I’ve never seen him so relaxed. It’s as if he’s found what he wants and doesn’t intend to let it go. Possessive, if that makes sense.”

  Placing a hand over her mouth, Ali laughed. “Jace is not possessive of me. We’re friends, sharing a bed whenever it suits us.”

  “Which is every night, right?”

  She thought back on the last few weeks. Other than when he’d been on an assignment, she couldn’t recall a night they hadn’t been together.

  “I guess it is.”

  “Did he act as if he felt obligated to be with you?”

  “Jace? He has one obligation, which takes precedence over everything else.”

  “Eternal Brethren,” Cara said.

  “Of course. Isn’t it the same with Wrath?”

  Rolling the stem of her wine glass between her fingers, Cara shook her head. “No. I never asked, but Caid had made up his mind before asking me to marry him that he’d leave the Navy if it ever came to a choice between me and the Brethren.”

  “You’d never ask him to choose.”

  “No, I never would, and I believe Caid knew that. The same as you’d never ask Raider to give up his Naval career for you. I believe it’s one of the reasons he’s stuck around.”

  Ali lifted a brow. “Oh?
”

  “There’s a lot more to Raider than he wants anyone to see. I’d guess he’s never been as open with a woman as he is with you. And if you haven’t noticed, the looks he shoots you indicate a man in love…with you.”

  Raider tried to relax while their pilot flew the helo over the almost black northern Pacific. He’d wanted to talk to Ali before their quick departure, never finding the opportunity. For the first time in his life, he felt bad about not getting a message to a woman.

  Closing his eyes, Raider felt a wave of unexpected emotion pass through him. Ali was so much more than another woman to him. In a short time, she’d become the most important person in his perilous life, a constant he refused to lose. If he could just find a way to tell her how much he loved her. After this mission, Raider swore to himself he’d find the courage to admit it to Ali.

  “Fifteen minutes to target.”

  The pilot’s voice fractured his thoughts, bringing him back to the reason for being in the sky above the cruise ship.

  “Comm check,” Ghost called out, waiting as each man responded while the helo’s crew chief readied the fast-rope.

  “Gunner, Moses, and Banner will provide cover while Fuse, Fargo, and Raider fast-rope to the bridge. Once down, they’ll clear the area before the rest of us follow with Gunner, Moses, and Banner taking up the rear. Any questions?”

  After a moment of silence, his gaze moved over his teammates, settling on Fuse. “Stand by. On my go. Three…two…one. Go, go, go!”

  The three snipers, NVGs in place, took positions by the door, scanning the ship. One by one, the men gripped the rope with gloved hands, closing their boots around it, and glided toward the bridge.

  Dropping to a knee, Raider drew his Ka-bar knife. Three tangos were on the deck below the bridge, unaware of the upcoming peril. Moving silently, he came up behind one of the terrorists, slicing his throat from ear to ear in one clean motion. Fuse and Fargo did the same with the other two. Grabbing the bodies, they dragged the three into the shadows and waited.

  Raider touched his earpiece. “Three tangos down. Clear and secure.”

  The rest of the men slid down the fast-rope in quick intervals, settling into defensive positions around the bridge. Some had just taken a knee when two more tangos emerged on the decks below holding AK-47s, shouting to each other as they whirled around to search for their companions.

  Ghost held up a hand when Banner lifted his weapon to take them out. Even with the attached suppressor, his M4 carbine would still be heard in the silence of the ship.

  Ghost spoke into his comm unit. “Raider and Fuse. Can you neutralize them?”

  “Affirmative,” both answered.

  Hidden in the shadows, they moved with a stealth perfected by years of experience. One terrorist searched for their comrades on the port side while the other did the same on starboard.

  Sliding into the alcove of a door to the interior, Raider waited. Sensing the terrorist approach, he prepared to strike when the door behind him opened. A short, stocky man, face hidden under a balaclava, an AK-47 in one hand, froze. Before he could react, Raider slammed a fist into his face, turned him so his hands wrapped around his head, and snapped his neck.

  Dragging the body into the interior passageway, he laid it down, turning in time to see a shadow move across the alcove. Rising, he pulled the Ka-bar from his scabbard and stepped back onto the deck as the tango appeared before him.

  He also wore the traditional balaclava. Even so, Raider could see the man’s eyes widen at the same time he raised the barrel of his AK-47. He never had a chance to use it.

  Raider raised his hand, and with a flick of his wrist, the Ka-bar embedded itself in the terrorist’s neck. Removing the knife, he wiped it on the man’s clothing before sliding it away.

  Leaving the man’s body where it fell, he shouldered his M4, moving out of the shadows. On the opposite side of the deck, Fuse stood over another body. Assuming the ROTC students were correct, that left fifteen tangos.

  “Area clear,” Raider announced.

  “Roger that,” Ghost replied. “You heard him, gentlemen. Move.” The command had the men moving to the pre-designated area on the deck with Fuse, Fargo, and Raider.

  He didn’t have to say how critical it was to neutralize the remaining terrorists without alerting those guarding the passengers. According to the students, they’d divided the passengers into groups of two hundred each. They were secured in two dining rooms, theater, library, and lounge. Five groups in four separate locations with two to three guards each.

  They already had their orders for approaching and neutralizing the remaining tangos. Consulting the map of the Wind Breeze, they split into five teams of two men each, plus Ghost and Rock. Each group had their target location.

  Raider’s gaze landed on Fuse. His mouth tilted into a grin as he watched his friend murmur a prayer. They’d been paired together. All the men were excellent, but Fuse had a competent, calming quality. The same as each of the men, he undertook each mission convinced they’d succeed and return home.

  “Stand by.” Ghost glanced around, confirming no tangos were in sight. “On my order. Three…two…one. Go, go, go!”

  They moved quickly on silent steps, disappearing into the interior of the ship toward their assigned positions. Raider and Fuse leap-frogged each other as they moved down the deserted passageways toward the lounge. When they were fifteen yards away, Fuse spoke into his comm.

  “Lounge team set.”

  “Roger that,” Ghost replied.

  Once all the teams confirmed their positions, they synchronized times once more before their simultaneous strike.

  Quietly, they crept forward to within a few feet of the lounge doorway and looked inside. Two terrorists guarded a group of approximately two hundred. One held a position at the stern while the other stood with his AK-47 shouldered closer to the bow.

  Fuse and Raider communicated to each other using hand signals, nodding in agreement. They withdrew flashbang grenades, ready to release them on Ghost’s command. It came seconds later.

  The grenades hit the walls beside each terrorist. Blinding flashes of light brightened the room at the same time two earsplitting bangs had many screaming in terror.

  “U.S. Navy. Everybody drop to the floor!” Fuse aimed and fired at one of the tangos, who screamed before dropping his rifle and collapsing on the floor.

  Shifting, he aimed at the second terrorist, but didn’t fire. Raider’s shots flew over the heads of those hunkering down, slamming the man against the wall. It was over in less than a minute.

  Securing the stocks of their rifles against their shoulders, Fuse and Raider moved, sweeping the room as they drew closer to the passengers.

  Touching his earbud, Raider reported in, letting out a relieved breath hearing the other teams announcing their own success. He looked at Fuse in time to see a smile spread across his face. They’d done it, cleared and secured the ship without loss of a single passenger.

  Fuse lowered his rifle, facing the freed captives. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are with the U.S. Navy. The ship has been secured.”

  Cheers and tears of gratitude changed the mood of the room.

  “What happens next?” A man in rumbled pants and sweat-dampened shirt limped toward Fuse.

  “We wait for orders, sir. In the meantime—” A round of fire echoed from the passageway. “Everyone down!”

  Giving a quick hand signal, Raider backtracked, rifle tight against his shoulder. Halting, he dropped to a knee and fired. A scream preceded the sound of a body dropping to the floor. A moment later, he fired again into the passageway with the same result.

  Minutes passed without sighting another tango. “Lounge to base. Two more tangos down. Please advise.”

  “Roger that, Raider. Hold for orders.”

  He shuttled backward, sweeping the passageway ahead and behind him with the M4. Minutes passed before Ghost responded.

  “The ship is secure, Raider. Allow the pas
sengers to use the facilities, but keep them in the lounge.”

  “Roger, Ghost.” Returning to the lounge, he spoke with Fuse before they moved apart.

  Fuse turned his attention to the passengers. “We’ve been ordered to keep you in the lounge a while longer. We will be escorting small groups to the heads for those who need the facilities.”

  Five people closest to him, three women and two men, stood. Fuse’s gaze moved between them, breath catching with recognition. Senator Harold Blackmore, his wife, and daughter were part of the group.

  “McCall. Seems you’re making a habit of rescuing my family.” Blackmore held out his hand, which Fuse accepted.

  His attention locked on Brittany, chest squeezing at the woman he would always love but couldn’t have. “Only doing my job, sir.”

  “Well, you do your job extremely well, son. When this is over, we will talk.”

  Without dropping his gaze from Brittany, whose eyes glistened with unshed tears, he replied. “With all due respect, sir, there’s nothing more to say. You made your family’s opinion of me clear.” Fuse forced his attention from Brittany’s stricken face, giving a quick signal to Raider. “My teammate will escort you to the facilities.”

  Blackmore studied him a moment before letting out a sigh. “Very well, but this conversation isn’t over, McCall.”

  Lowering his voice, Fuse leaned toward him. “It was over a long time ago, senator.”

  Chapter Thirty

  The blades of the Blackhawk rotated as it rested on the helo pad of the cruise ship. Raider took a last look around before climbing on board to join his teammates. Fuse stood behind, the last of the men who’d rescued the hostages. Once he boarded, they’d head home.

  The last thirty-six hours had been torture for Fuse. Keeping his distance from Brittany had been difficult, especially when it seemed she appeared wherever he’d been stationed on the ship. He didn’t believe she intentionally sought him out, but he knew she suffered the same restlessness as him. Which meant she wandered from deck to deck, sometimes lounging on a deck chair to read for a few minutes before continuing on.