Bound by Steel

by J. B. Havens

  “True enough. Are we done talking about our feelings now?” Laughing, she embraced him quickly. “I think that’s enough for this year.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. Any more of this and I’ll be getting a mani/pedi and drinking margaritas,” Carter quipped.

  “You can leave anytime, fucker,” Jordon snarled.

  “I was about to anyhow. I have a thing.” Carter gave Mic a small salute. “See you soon, sweetheart.” He exited the room as quickly as he’d arrived last night.

  Nickoli rubbed his thigh. The ache in his leg was an echo of the ache in his chest; he was unsure as to which was worse. The holiday season was supposed to be a time of joy and gathering with family and friends, but for him it felt like a rebirth. He was a shell of the man he once was. Losing his leg was more than just an amputation; it was a loss of self. He was no longer able to go on missions with his men. Even with therapy, it was going to take him a lot of time to learn to run again. His dreams were full of doctors and their knives. Almost every night he had the same dream—his leg being chopped off while he was still awake. Sometimes he’d be lying on an operating table, strapped down and helpless, as leering doctors held their instruments and said this won’t hurt a bit, son. His attackers would be standing behind the surgeons, rubbing their hands with glee, while his blood spattered over their clothes from the beating they’d dealt out.

  “Nickoli?” Mic’s voice drew him back into the present.

  “Da?”

  “You went somewhere else for a minute.” It wasn’t a question; it was pretty obvious that he’d checked out.

  “I will be okay.” Uncomfortable with the conversation, he turned to Jones. “What would you like me to help you with today?” His words spurred the others into action. They all left the room, off to complete whatever tasks they’d assigned to themselves. The festivities wouldn’t begin until this evening.

  “Mic says the intercom in her quarters is full of static. Go pull off the panel and see if there are any loose wires. It’s a good place to start troubleshooting.” Jones went back to answering emails from God only knew who. The stoic man was fiercely intelligent and a very patient instructor. Nickoli was enjoying learning from him. While combat was no longer an option, helping with security was a vital role to both the business and the safety of the compound.

  Nodding his understanding, Nickoli slowly made his way up the stairs. The landing above the foyer had a large window looking out toward the grounds. Nickoli spotted a new pirate bird resting in the windowsill. Yellow and red, with a matching eye patch and wooden leg, the stuffed creature drew a welcome smile from him. He knew it was Flynn’s way of making him one of the family. Flicking the bird’s beak, he continued up the stairs, stopping at his room for his tools before getting to work. This job was small, but it made him feel useful and needed, emotions that had long been absent.

  ****

  Rook followed Mic out of the room, wanting a minute with her in private. “Mic. Hold up a second.”

  Turning toward him, she stopped in the hallway outside of the kitchen, her empty coffee cup in her hand. “What’s up?” This was one of the things he’d come to really respect about her. No matter what she was doing, she always made time for her men.

  “We need to talk about the Russians.”

  “What about them?” Leaning back against the wall, she waited for him to continue.

  “They aren’t going to wait forever. They will attack; it’s only a matter of time.”

  Sighing heavily, she ran her hand through her hair. “I know that. We’re as prepared as we can be here. Security is just about buttoned up.” Pausing, she glared at him. “Wait; you’re not saying you want to go back, are you?”

  “Maybe. Best defense is a good offense and all that.”

  “We have a good thing going here. I don’t want to fuck it up by attacking the Russians again. Plus, we’re civvies now. We can’t just go globetrotting and kicking ass anymore. Prison is a real threat for us.”

  “I get it. And on the one hand I agree with you. I just hate this fucking waiting around bullshit. You saw what they did to Nickoli and you know what they did to me. We took down Anton and Yusef, but it wasn’t enough. This is a matter of honor and reputation; it isn’t a choice for them. They will come after us.”

  “Get with Jones. See what you can dig up. Ask Brody at Trident for help if you need it; they have contacts we don’t. Keep it damn quiet. Just put out some feelers and get me an idea of when and if they are going to move against us. Also, who the new players in the mob are.”

  “Copy that, Staff Sergeant.”

  “After Christmas, I’ll go talk to the local fuzz. Get an idea of what measures we’re allowed to take beyond what we have already. I’ll call Liam too, make him grease some palms for us, if need be. I want our asses covered if shit goes sideways.” After tapping her fist against his shoulder, she pushed open the kitchen door. “I’ll admit I’ve been hoping it would just all go away. I’m tired of war, Rook. I don’t want to fight anymore.”

  “If the choice was up to us, I’d be right with you. That’s the problem with bad guys; they don’t give a flying fuck about what we want.”

  “Truer words have never been spoken, my friend.”

  As Rook headed toward the war room and Jones, he ran the possibilities through his head, wanting to anticipate any scenario. Mic was right; they couldn’t just go in, guns out and dicks waving. With no more government backing, they were on their own. He’d leave the handshaking to Mic and Liam; he was going to do as much digging as he could. Even if it meant calling in some favors back in Russia.

  Chapter 6

  After trading my coffee for a bottle of water, I went in search of Chris. We needed to get going to pick up Jackson and Aunt Beatrice. Spotting Flynn and Pierce by the door with rifles in hand, I called out. “Hey, have you two seen Jordon?”

  “It’s not our job to keep track of your boy, Mic,” Flynn smart-mouthed, earning a glare in response.

  “Fuck you very much, ass wipe. We have to leave for the airport. I just got the text from Jackson.”

  “Didn’t see him. Check the cameras. Jones should have eyes on him somewhere,” Pierce added.

  “Why didn’t you think of that, Oh Great and Powerful One?” Flynn just couldn’t help himself.

  I was waiting for the day when a woman would come along to put him in his place and keep him there. “Right. Here, I have something for you.” Flipping Flynn the bird, I went back into the war room. “Screw this.” Pulling out my hated phone, I punched in his speed dial number. I heard his signature ringtone, Thunderstruck, coming from the table. His phone was vibrating across the polished wooden surface. “Dammit. Jones, do you have eyes on Jordon? We need to go to the airport.”

  “Hang on.” Wheeling his chair over to the security monitors, he cycled through the cameras rapidly. I saw Flynn and Pierce at the range, puffs of snow and dirt flying into the air as they emptied their magazines. “There.” Jones stopped on the camera in the upper hallway, which showed Chris exiting our room, buttoning his coat, and slipping his fedora on at an angle over his left eye. “Seems he can read your mind.”

  “Apparently so.”

  I headed for the staircase and stood at the bottom to watch him descend, feeling very much like a princess awaiting her knight. The box hidden among my underwear came to mind again. Excitement bubbled within me, followed quickly by bone-crushing nervousness. I admired Chris’s grey wool coat. It fit his shoulders snugly, with just a hint of the blue from his shirt showing at the neck. His green eyes gleamed and his smile flashed below his fedora. He’d only just begun to wear the hat, thinking it looked cool. He wasn’t wrong. I wouldn’t tell him that, though.

  Unable to resist, I returned his grin and held out my hand. “Time to go to the airport.” I jingled the Rover keys in my other hand. I wanted to take the Jeep, but it was too tight of a fit in the back for Jackson.

  “Let’s roll, baby.” Winking and slipping on dark
sunglasses, he opened the door for me. I snagged my coat and headed out, shaking my head at his antics.

  “You’re a dork,” I said, looking over my shoulder at him.

  He tipped his sunglasses down and looked over the top of the lenses at me. “Maybe that’s true, but you were the one screaming this dork’s name last night.” Without another word, he pushed his shades back up and strutted to the Rover. I couldn’t help but laugh and admire the view.

  “When you’re right, you’re right,” I muttered outside of his hearing and climbed into the driver’s seat. Chris didn’t like driving into Perth. He didn’t do too badly in the village, but in heavier traffic he kept trying to drive on the right side instead of the left. After a couple of near misses, I had taken the keys from him.

  “Ready to see Jackson again?” Chris asked as he fiddled with the radio. Not finding anything to his liking, he switched to XM and selected a rock station.

  “I suppose.” My feelings about Jackson were still unsettled. Phillips had been on my mind recently and it just rubbed salt into the wound that Jackson had created.

  “I know you’re pissed, babe, but he did what he thought was best. He wasn’t given any more choices than we were. You do see that, right?”

  I glanced at him, then quickly shifted back to the road to avoid a rabbit hell-bent on committing suicide by Rover. I gave myself a second before answering. “In theory, yes, I understand that. But Phillips… he’d dead. You didn’t get a chance to know him like I did. He was the first member of Steel after me; I trained him. We didn’t always get along, but he was my brother. This will be our first Christmas without him. It’s hard not to lay all the blame at Jackson’s door. He should have said something to us. Maybe we could have pulled out sooner.”

  “Maybe, but then who knows how much more damage the Fernandos would have caused? Phillips’s death was a tragedy and Jackson isn’t innocent, but neither is he the only one responsible for it. Diego is; Riley too.”

  “I fucking know all that,” I snarled, pissed that he was throwing my anger out with logic.

  “Don’t snap at me because you know I’m right.” Reaching over, he patted my thigh, quickly snatching his hand back before I could grab it. He gazed out the window, ignoring me until I cooled down.

  The rest of the drive passed uneventfully; traffic was heavy, but moving. I took the exit for the airport and sped around the ramp a little too fast. As I slowed for the turn into the pick-up/drop-off area, a small blue car whipped around me, cutting me off and forcing me to slam on the brakes. Laying on the horn, I rolled down the window and flipped the fucker off. He waved in response before stopping at the curbside check-in.

  “Don’t do it,” Chris cautioned.

  “Do what? Pull up behind him and beat the living daylights out of him? Would I do that?” I couldn’t resist parking behind the blue hatchback, which I now could see was a Volkswagen. I inched forward until the bumper of the Rover was nearly touching the car. I could see down into the compact with no trouble. The driver was staring at me in the rearview mirror. I couldn’t make out his features very well, but he looked like a kid. I waved cheerfully. Boy, was he in for a wake-up call.

  “Bea. What are you doing?” Chris sounded worried as I stepped from the car, but he followed me out, having my back even when I was acting like a maniac. I waited a few seconds for him to walk behind the Rover, as there wasn’t enough room for him to squeeze between it and the cock bag’s car.

  “Just follow my lead and watch for security.” I tucked my hands into the pocket of my coat, tension tightening my muscles.

  “Why do I get the feeling we’re going to spend Christmas in jail?” Chris said from behind me.

  “It’s a possibility. As long as we share a cell, it’ll be okay. Liam will spring us if need be. The fucker owes me some favors.” I had reached the car and the man/boy inside had yet to get out or move. His hands were on the wheel, firmly clasped at ten and two o’clock. I rapped my knuckle on the window hard enough that it hurt. The kid jumped as if he’d been shocked. Reaching down, he rolled down the glass. A hand crank, nice.

  “M-may I help you?” He stuttered in a thick accent, his voice cracking at the end.

  “Sure can, boy. You have a driver’s license? I mean, they do have them here in Scotland, right?”

  “Excuse me?” His face was bright red with scars from acne shining white against the scarlet. His eyes tracked down my face, seeing my own scar. He was nineteen if he was a day, just a young punk with more balls than brains.

  “Got a hearing problem along with a driving problem?” My hands itched to reach inside the window and shake the shit out of him.

  “N-no, ma’am.”

  “You scared him; come on, let’s go pick up Jackson.” Chris tugged on my arm, but I jerked it from his grasp.

  “Listen here, you little shit; next time you cut someone off, make sure it’s not someone like me who can kill you in ten different ways with her bare fucking hands, because the next time you might not be so lucky. If we weren’t quite so public, I’d give you a beating that would have you huddled in your ‘safe space’ until you’re old and grey. Understand me, you fucker? Don’t cut people off!”

  Not waiting for his reply, I smacked my hand against his door, making him jump again. He was shaking in fear and I expected him to piss his pants and cry for his mommy any second. Stepping back, I lifted my heavy boot and kicked in his taillight, smashing the red plastic into tiny pieces. “Oops,” I snickered.

  Chris hissed a curse and pulled me by the hand until we were inside the airport and well away from any security. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

  “Sure. I guess so. But you were screaming this crazy lady’s name last night.” Winking, I followed the signs to the security point where we would wait for Jackson and Aunt Beatrice to come from Customs.

  A heartbeat later, Chris’s arm was firmly around my shoulder. “I should tell your Aunt on you.”

  “You do, Chris, and you’ll be on the couch. Worse, I’ll return your presents.”

  “Well, we can’t have that now, can we? Mum’s the word then.” As he kissed the top of my head, I leaned into his side. Before I could say anything else, Jackson came through the crowd of people. His big hand was wrapped around my aunt’s smaller one, leading her through the crowd.

  “Bea!” My aunt screeched and ran toward me. She pulled me out of Chris’s embrace and into her own. I was immediately enveloped in a cloud of Chanel No. 5. “It’s so good to see you, child. I missed you so much! I told this man we should come sooner, but he kept insisting that you had clients or something. As if I care about that.”

  Laughing, I pulled back from her enough to get a look at her face. She was golden brown from the sun and the happiness in her eyes transformed her whole face. “You look amazing.”

  “That she does,” Jackson rumbled in agreement from where he was shaking Chris’s hand. “Mic, it’s good to see you.”

  “Master Sergeant.” My voice was cool, even though my heart was in my throat.

  “Don’t call me that. I’m not your Master Sergeant anymore.”

  I opened my mouth and Chris must have seen the words forming before I could speak them. “Don’t, Bea.”

  “What?” My faked innocence didn’t fool Chris; to be honest, it didn’t fool anyone.

  “We talked about this,” he hissed in my ear. The look on his face was earnest; he really needed me to fix this. We were a family, and even though every family has issues, we were all each other had. He didn’t want me to waste what little time we had together this week on old wounds.

  “Fine.” Sticking my hand out to Jackson, I extended the proverbial olive branch. “It’s nice to see you; Merry Christmas.”

  Not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, Jackson’s huge paw enveloped my hand. “Likewise.” Letting me go, he wrapped his arm around Aunt Beatrice. “Let’s go get our bags and get out of here. After travelling all the way from the Caribbean, we’re read
y to be out of airports for a while.”

  “Oh my, yes, as much as I love running all over the world with Fisher, I’m ready to sleep in a home instead of a hotel. Baggage claim is this way. We have a lot of luggage, I’m afraid; we had to bring everyone’s gifts with us. There was no time to ship them ahead.”

  Laughing, I took her arm and followed the signs to baggage claim. “Come on; as if you can pack light anyhow!”

  “Hush your mouth.” Aunt Beatrice swatted my arm. “You know a lady needs her clothes and accessories. How else am I supposed to keep those young vultures away from my man? I need to be put together all the time.” I knew she was joking. Setting my issues with Jackson aside, I knew he only had eyes for her. She didn’t have anything to worry about and knew it.

  Chapter 7

  Dimitri propped his feet up onto the desk and stroked his goatee as thoughts raced through his mind. He’d taken power after Yusef’s death, but he could feel his authority slipping. Reputation was everything; one had to be strong and ruthless to lead. Although he was ensconced in the plush mansion that he had inherited from his former boss, there were still enemies above ground. This was unacceptable. That lying bitch and her men needed to pay. The members of the organization that hadn’t ended up in prison were doubting his leadership and resolve.

  He pressed the intercom button to summon his second in command, Borya Orlov. Borya hadn’t been his first choice, but with much of their manpower behind bars, he must make do until a better option presented itself.

  “Da. What do you need of me?” Borya spoke, his shoulders and back stiff as he stood at rigid attention.

  “We must send a message to our enemies. I want them to fear us, to quiver and tremble at the mere mention of our names.” Standing, he turned his back to Borya and gazed out of the window. “I want the skin trade to resume. Much of our capital is tied up in legal fees and payoffs to the police. We need more cash coming in. Whores always sell.”