Without this, without her, he’d go crazy.
Rising, he left her with Mr. Bear nuzzled under her chin, and crossed over to his desk. His downstairs office wasn’t too different from his home office, he supposed, although there were a lot more work-related files and paperwork on the desk. He preferred the minimalistic approach here, a solid reminder that this office was strictly for serious business, no play allowed.
Dropping into his chair, he roused the computer.
Tiana wasn’t the only researcher diligently earning her pay, he noted as he opened his emails and scanned the list waiting for him. He hadn’t even heard his phone chiming, he’d been so distracted by Alicia. Methodically, he read the emails from oldest first, scribbling down the pertinent details he thought were most important.
He downloaded documents, the blueprint of the warehouse and its neighboring buildings, and studied them carefully. His unease increased as he saw that there were four marked exits that would need to be blocked off or guarded, shortening his numbers in the Alpha team.
He needed every available man inside, which meant finding ways to disable the doors.
The meeting place was on the smaller side for a warehouse in that district. It did have two stories, which meant whoever got there first would have an overhead advantage.
Atticus was determined it would be their advantage.
There were two higher level fire escapes, one at each end of the building, so that was another two doors to man, although from the surveillance photos some clever soul had pulled up, the fire escapes looked rusty and ill-kept, meaning they could be more of a death trap than a lifesaver.
Sonic—being the thorough researcher she was—had gone a step further and attained the sewerage and maintenance schematics. A sewer pipe retreat wasn’t classy. He didn’t think Fable would take the route and shear her pride down to the bone by fleeing through an underground river of shit, but even psycho rats did anything possible to survive when they were cornered.
He traced his fingers along the sewer system marked on the screen. There was a manhole cover located in the east side of the warehouse, and he made a note to seal it. He’d get one of his men to cement that fucker in if he had to.
A new email popped up from Tiana with the most recent itinerary of the property, not that there was much there. A few crates, that was all. They would provide some cover under fire, but everyone in that building would be vulnerable.
Damn. He needed to give that some thought.
The warehouse was listed under BB Enterprises as owner. Fable had stepped things up more than a level if she’d registered the damn drug club legitimately. She was trying to expand, and do so in a way that didn’t raise many eyebrows.
Fable. Now she was a woman he required more information about. Scrolling through the emails he already had, Atticus scanned for any he’d missed. Nothing. So far, none of his people were on top of that aspect yet.
He sent a quick instant message to the entire research team: Fable data?
Sonic was the first to reply: Finding the main electrical points in the building, sorry.
Tiana was next: On it, boss. Not much on the top layer, bitch is good at hiding. Will update when I find something.
Well, at least there was someone digging into the source of the turmoil, he thought as several more replies came in, confirming they were searching or that they were busy with another angle. He could join in the hunt, set his fingers to work on the keyboard, but admittedly, Tiana would beat him to the punch.
Glancing over at Lisha, he saw that her foot had moved while he was preoccupied. Just an inch or so, enough to disturb the lay of the blanket, but it continued to give him hope for more. If she could move her legs when she was asleep, when her thoughts were distracted by orgasm, then there had to be a way to harness that movement when she was awake and focused. Harness it and train it back into a positive step forward, no pun intended.
For the next few minutes, he watched her carefully, leaning back in his chair and studying her for any signs of a nightmare. Occasionally, her fingers and toes twitched, and her facial expressions altered subtly, but the nightmares hadn’t come to visit yet.
She needed nourishment, he reminded himself. Letting himself forget the odd meal or two when the company was in action and steaming toward a short-notice operation was one thing—he could dismiss hunger. Alicia didn’t have that luxury.
Food and drink. Fresh tampon, because the advised limit was approaching. He had to find something to keep her occupied for the afternoon. Coloring was obviously a big hit, homework was not. Music, maybe?
Hmm, he’d have to supervise her choices. She’d already proven that certain songs linked to her depression and fueled suicidal thoughts—he wouldn’t tolerate that. There were other, healthier methods of coping with depression than blasting her eardrums out with drums, guitars, and people screaming suggestive lyrics directly into her brain.
Coloring was definitely safer on that score.
A soft knock at his door diverted his attention. Zachariah poked his head in, his brown hair military short. Observant green eyes flicked over to the couch, then back to Atticus. “Boss,” he said, reverently quiet. “Got a minute?”
“Always. Come on in.”
“Is she…”
“Alicia’s asleep, Zach, and I imagine she will be for a while yet.” Nothing like a screaming orgasm to reset body and mind. It took time to recharge the system, and recharging required sleep. “Are you bringing a problem to my attention or coming for answers to questions I haven’t answered?”
Zach stepped inside the office, gesturing his head toward the door. “Mind?”
“Go ahead.” Atticus braced himself for whatever shit was about to rain down on him now. It was rare that his men felt the need to seclude themselves in a closed room for a conversation with him—knowledge was a commonly shared resource amongst the team. “Have a seat. Say your piece.”
With another glance at Alicia, Zachariah strode over to the chair on the other side of Att’s desk and sat rigidly. Spine straighter than an iron bar, shoulders set wide, he epitomized the essence of a soldier. “I’m not sure how to say this, Atticus. I love being on this team, I take pride in what we do and what we accomplish.”
“As do I. What’s the problem?”
“I don’t like questioning your choices, Sir. You keep us safe through your decisions, and until Michael…” He swallowed hard, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he brought his emotions under control. “Up until Michael, we hadn’t suffered a loss for years. That wasn’t your fault, but he was a terrible loss to the team.”
“I know. I understand that some of the team were quick to judge both his actions and mine. I’d have done the same. But that situation came down to Michael being outwitted and caught unawares. Our targets that night were highly skilled, trained from toddlers to do that exact job—kill anyone who stood in their way. They paid a steep price for his death.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You’re being particularly formal today, Zach. Drop the bullshit and give me it straight. I haven’t got time to play twenty questions to get to the root of your issue.”
“For fuck’s sake, Att. You’re dumping five rookies on us the day before an op?”
“And there we go,” he acknowledged. “The Alpha team was a nine-man unit, Zach, then we lost Michael. Down to eight, which meant I had to look at training the next gen for the team. Not replacements,” he pointed out, “but additions to an already great unit. We’re gaining worldwide credit for getting the job done—you and the team are doing exemplary work. Expanding the team was always in the plans, because you’re needed.”
“But rookies? Come on.”
“Thomas and Isaac are in Hong Kong. Christophe is taking care of the Russian side of this clusterfuck. He’ll probably be joining the carnage tomorrow, but I can’t guarantee it. That leaves five of you. Five, Zach. I don’t want any of you coming home in a body bag, so yes, I’m sending in the best of the tr
ainees with you.”
“They’ll be the ones coming home in bags,” he muttered.
“No, they won’t. They scored immensely high on their tests across the board. Hand-to-hand, shooting, physical fitness…they’re ready to leave the testing ranges behind, Zach. And like it or not, they’re now part of the Alpha team, which means you’ve all taken them under your wing as your brothers.”
“That’s not the point,” Zach retorted grudgingly.
“Oh, it is. Brothers don’t let brothers die. It’s why Michael’s death hit everyone so fucking hard. None of us were there to save him. He died on our watch on a simple tailing mission. That rips the fucking heart out of me.” Atticus clenched his teeth. “Those men I’ve assigned to the unit will have your backs the same way you have theirs.”
Zach nodded slowly. He had an exceptional poker face when he wanted to use it, and he was doing so now, keeping his thoughts sheltered. The tension in his shoulders relaxed, his spine lost its rigidity. He ran his hand over his mouth. “Word got back to us about what you did for him, Att. For Michael and his family.”
Fuck. It was Atticus’ turn now to become stiff and unyielding. That information wasn’t supposed to have been shared between anyone but Michael’s family and him. “Oh?”
“Don’t get defensive, boss. Patrick’s been helping Florence with the house on his downtime since Michael died. The guttering went, some of the drywall collapsed in the living room, the water pipes burst in the basement…but you know all that already, don’t you?”
Oh yes, he did. He’d made it his business to keep an eye on Florence and the children, and ensured that Michael’s life insurance had paid out a bonus. “I might have heard there were a few maintenance issues in their home.”
Zach smiled. “Patrick offered to pay for the new guttering, the drywall, but Florence told him it wasn’t necessary. The life insurance policy had been paid out, as well as a tidy little sum that came from—and I quote—a guardian angel. Grown a pair of wings and a halo recently, boss?”
Okay, so maybe Florence hadn’t broken their agreement. Good. Atticus set aside the displeasure he felt at the thought that she might not be as trustworthy as he’d believed. He just lifted an eyebrow at Zach’s question.
“Thought so. Turns out that tidy little sum is enough to send the kids to college when they’re old enough, and completely renovate the house. She doesn’t want to waste the money doing that, not yet anyway. I don’t think she’s ready to wallpaper over the memories of Michael.”
Atticus said nothing.
“My point is, you take care of us, Atticus, even after death. You paid for the funeral, the service, his cremation. You’ve made damn sure that his widow and kids will never need anything for what, the next twenty years? That’s all we can ask for. You pay us well, you treat us good, and train us to the highest possible standards.”
“That’s my responsibility as your employer.”
“Don’t make me call bullshit on you, boss. There are companies out there bringing in a thousand times what you earn that don’t give a fuck. They barely cover medical and dental. We go out into the big, wide world to save people and take down the bad fuckers who want to destroy everything. We can do that, focus on our jobs, because we know that if something goes wrong out there and we don’t come home…the ones we love, the ones we’re fighting to make the world a better place for, will always be safe with you.” Zach’s eyes darkened with passion, his words emphatic and direct. He tilted his head toward Alicia without looking at her. “It doesn’t take a genius to see she’s something special, Att. Fuck, I didn’t even graduate high school and I can tell she’s changed part of you already.”
“Oh? How so?”
“Now you’re being obtuse. Never—in all the years I’ve worked for you—have you ever allowed a civilian to be in the next room during a briefing. If they’re connected to the case, they’re in the room. If not, they’re out of sight, out of mind. Plus, you don’t let them crash on your couch, bundle them up in Tiana’s special napping blanket, or hold private meetings with your A team with them in the room. You’re breaking the rules for her.”
“She breaks them herself half the time,” Atticus muttered to himself.
“She makes you happy,” Zach continued slowly, as though unsure about continuing on this path. “After Michael died, we were all fucking furious and so damn sad. It was like having a limb torn off and cast aside. Me and the guys, we could go home and relax with our girls, our families, and grieve. You…you just seemed to buckle down and mire yourself in whatever shit you could find. Don’t think we didn’t notice our workload rise by like fifty percent—I found Harry asleep on the weight bench more than once.”
It was the worst timing, Atticus acknowledged, but the vision he had of sneaking Alicia into the gym and laying her out on that particular piece of equipment was vivid. Incredibly realistic. Of course, that morphed into the idea of making it a reality—not here, no, but in Avalon. There were a couple of new pieces of furniture in the second barn that she’d be able to use without issues.
He’d have to persuade her to return to the club as a guest, instead of just meeting everyone after hours as she had once or twice in the past.
“I was hard on you.”
“Harder on yourself, boss. Listen, if a woman who kinda looks like she’s been a stray half her life and knows the value of pain can turn you into this,” Zach said quietly, jabbing his finger at Atticus and circling it, “then she has my approval. Not that you need it, want it, or care, but we’re your A team, Att. We need you on your A game. She’s it.”
She’s it. Those two words spun lazily in his thoughts as the conversation wrapped up and Zachariah made a quick, quiet exit. No doubt he would go back and relay a good portion of their discussion with the others to bolster team spirit, which was never a bad thing.
The original team needed to mesh with the new guys. Atticus was aware complications might arise from adding additional men into the unit so soon before an operation. It was a risk he had to take. Honestly, he was impressed that Zach had summoned the balls to not only call him out on it, but do it in a respectful manner.
Att had trained men who would’ve tried to gouge a hole in his hide before talking to him about a problem, but it was reassuring to know that Zach had a cooler head which prevailed even when he thought his life, and those of his unit, had been needlessly put in danger.
Sighing, he ran through his mental checklist. He should really go visit the weaponry, perform an inventory check and make sure the unit had everything they needed. Of course, they would. The room was checked on a daily basis by rotation, all weapons and ammunition tallied, and stocks were replenished as soon as an operation was done.
Leaving his men without vital supplies wasn’t permittable, and missions could be set into motion without notice.
They’d be carrying automatic firearms as their primary weapons. Handguns as their secondaries, and he knew every one of his guys had their own personal stash of knives, batons, and other vicious accessories as backup. They were all in possession of a pair of SAP gloves—weighted-knuckle gloves designed to protect the bridge of the hand and deal a savage blow.
Firecrackers and smoke canisters would be part of their kit tomorrow, as would night-vision goggles. Atticus wasn’t feeling positive about a functioning electricity supply in the warehouse, and he wouldn’t let them go in blind.
He studied Alicia, watching her feet twitch and jerk as she dreamed. He couldn’t leave her, not after what they’d shared, and he came to the realization that it was okay.
It was okay to not be in the thick of things for an hour.
It was okay to take a few minutes to be the Daddy instead of the boss.
It was okay to be a man instead of a machine.
His people were capable, they were skilled and experienced in riding the calm before the storm. To them, this was little more than a normal op with a gnarly enemy. Outnumbered, but it was nothing they hadn’t f
aced before.
But for him, this was life and death.
Alicia was at stake here, and he wasn’t entirely sure that Bodie’s safety would be safeguarded if the Bangers—sorry, Fable—decided that she’d had a hand in the McGees’ demise. The psycho certainly seemed to be the type to acquire grudges on a whim.
After tomorrow, Fable would be little more than a footnote in his team’s report.
Delegation was the way forward, he mused. Perhaps it was time to test that theory and delegate some of his workload onto some of his more trusted team leaders. That was a scary thought. As a man who held the reins—and consequently, lives—in his hands, the prospect of handing some of them over made him apprehensive.
Lisha would need looking after, especially if Julia took the course of action he was hoping for to get his princess back on her feet. Her needs—adult or little—couldn’t be delegated, and besides, he wouldn’t allow anyone else to take charge of her so completely unless absolutely, unavoidably necessary.
Huh, who would’ve thought he’d be such a possessive Daddy when he found his girl?
Snorting to himself, he brushed that aside. He would never be anything but possessive over Alicia—he’d waited too long for his perfect little to share her. Breaking fingers, hands, and possibly arms wasn’t out of the realm of possibility if someone touched her without her permission…or his.
Fuck, he was a Daddy in love.
Chapter Thirteen
Something was really wrong.
Staring into the darkness at three a.m. was never a good sign, neither was the itch of anxiety under her skin. She’d felt it before, that itch, when her body or a higher power had tried to warn her that her father was sneaking into her room, or Elliot was sliding through the shadows to torment her.
Alicia had been awake for hours. Atticus had put her to bed early, claiming she needed to rest after her busy day. If coloring all morning, an orgasm, napping for a few hours, then playing Solitaire on his iPad all afternoon, fell under the category of busy.
Walk For Me: Club Avalon Book 4 Page 32
