by J. B. Havens
“Welcome to Castle Steel, I guess. This isn’t a good time, obviously. Pierce, show these gentlemen to their accommodations. Though I will ask you again to please stay in a hotel in the village. I can’t have you here right now.” My anger was overriding pretty much everything else at the moment. I turned my back to them and went back to the table. I remained standing, with my head bowed and my fingers pressed so hard onto the surface that I should have been leaving marks in the wood.
“There are no rooms. We already checked. Everything is still booked up because of the holiday and the government didn’t give us a lodging allowance anyway, figuring we’d be staying here,” Fry replied, before following Pierce, who led the men from the room with a scowl on his face.
“Brody.” I spoke without looking up. “Jones was supposed to contact Interpol. There may be options for us there. Maybe we can use the law against them. Yes, I know. Shocker, us using the law to solve a problem instead of just killing it.”
“We’re soldiers; more than that, we were government-sanctioned assassins for years. It’s our natural inclination to kill first and ask questions later,” Jones said matter-of-factly.
“I understand that. But in this instance, killing doesn’t have to be our only recourse. They have to get into the country somehow and if we can get Interpol to help us, maybe we can intercept them.” I took my seat again, the weight of this problem settling deep on my shoulders.
“I advise against that.” Nickoli spoke up. “If you send them to prison, they remain in power. The fucking mob started in jail.”
“Don’t you fucking see? Killing won’t end it! Another boss will take Dimitri’s place, and then another and another. They will keep coming until we are all dead. You know that.” My chest ached with the thought.
“I might have an idea, Mic.” Brody drew our attention back to him. “What if they aren’t jailed in Russia? What if they get locked up in France? Their power would be weaker, right? And not just that, separate them. Interpol could arrest them in Paris and keep them from being sent back to Russia. Send them all to different high-security prisons and keep them in isolation. Put as many behind bars as possible. If the boss and all his lackeys are locked up, there will be chaos within the ranks. Maybe the rest will kill each other off with in-fighting.”
“That might work. But it hinges on Interpol being willing to be our bitch and us knowing ahead of time how the Russians intend to leave France. They could take a train or fly or even leave from Calais on a ferry.” My stomach twisted with anxiety. I was known for my strength of character and determination; but here I was, indecisive and afraid. Phillips’s death still haunted me. I couldn’t bear to lose anyone else. Not when our future was looking so bright.
“I might be able to help with that,” Red spoke up. “Liam isn’t my only contact, you know.” She pulled out her phone, hit a button, and put it to her ear before leaving the room.
“Flynn, seems like your girlfriend is going to earn her keep,” Rook teased in an attempt to lighten the mood.
“Fuck you very much, ass wipe.” Crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Rook, Flynn reached a level-ten pout in seconds.
“Indeed I am.” Stowing her phone back into her pocket, Red rejoined us, smiling ear to ear. “Interpol is sending us an agent. Said agent should arrive in a few hours. One international police force bitch, delivered with a bow. A thank you would be appreciated.”
I was stunned. In two minutes, Red had provided more help than we’d been able to muster during the twenty minutes we’d been talking.
“Keep me posted. I have to go. Boss man is screaming at someone.” Brody clicked off and the monitor went dark.
“Take a break, everyone. Jones, alert me when the agent arrives. I need to go talk to my aunt.”
Not waiting for a response from the others, I left the room and headed up the stairs. I hadn’t seen Aunt Beatrice or Jackson since they had left for town. Stopping at their bedroom door, I knocked and waited. The last thing I wanted to do was walk in on them having sex. There were some things that I absolutely just didn’t need to see.
“Come in!” Aunt Beatrice responded.
Taking a deep breath in preparation for the conversation that I was about to have, I opened the door and stepped inside. Their room was the last room on this hall, located as far away from the rest of us as possible. “Afternoon. How was the village?” Crossing my arms, I propped one shoulder against the door frame.
“It was wonderful. You’re so fortunate to live here. It’s gorgeous,” my aunt gushed.
“What’s the matter, Mic?” Jackson’s deep voice cut right through me. He’d known me for so long, he could read me in an instant.
“We have a situation. I need you both to leave. For your own safety.” I was abrupt and the surprise on Aunt Beatrice’s face confirmed it.
“Come again?” Jackson asked.
“I can’t go into details. All I can say is that there is an imminent threat to us and I need you both to leave. Right away. Today.”
“Bea, you have to tell us more than that. If it’s so serious, let Fisher help.”
“Fisher has done enough. Thanks anyway. We’ve got it under control. I won’t risk you, Aunt Beatrice.” They both noticed how I left out Jackson. Him, I would risk. But I wouldn’t work with him; not on this or anything ever again.
“I’ll go, but Fisher should stay.” She was planting her feet and drawing a line in the sand. If the stubborn set of her jaw was anything to go by, I was in for a fight. One that I didn’t have the time or energy for.
“No. And that’s final. I’m not arguing or asking. You both need to pack and leave. Right now. End of discussion. And if you won’t do it willingly, I’ll make you.” Turning on my heel, I left their room and resisted the urge to slam the door behind me. I was desperate to retain as much control as I could. I wished that I could rush to Paris, guns blazing, and eliminate the threat moving against us. I knew I was right when I had said that wouldn’t be a long-term solution. I didn’t want to have this same fight again a few years from now. It needed to be over for good. We had to keep Dimitri from discovering our location. Taking the Russians out while they were still in France was paramount; but time was a cruel mistress, too quick for our pleasure.
Chapter 14
Colette Bellerose turned her rental car down the long drive to the home of Steel Corps. Until a few hours ago, she wasn’t aware of the team’s existence. A phone call from a former colleague had her slipping on her heels and boarding a plane for Scotland. While it wasn’t a particularly long journey, it was now getting dark.
She came to a stop in the cul-de-sac, shut off the car, and patiently waited. The people inside this castle were the best and brightest, or so she’d been told, so they would know that she was here. A moment later, the large wooden, and likely reinforced, front door swung open. Standing there with his arms crossed and impatience bleeding from every pore was a man who looked like a reject from a John Wayne film. Cowboy hat and all, he couldn’t have been any more out of place if he tried. He must be Jones. She’d been briefed on all the members of the team, but their files had not included photographs and much of it had been blacked out. While she knew some basics, she was still flying blind. Colette opened the car door and carefully stepped out, grateful that the snow had been cleared from the drive. She popped the trunk and retrieved her bag. Since she didn’t know how long she would need to stay, she’d taken the liberty of packing for a few days.
“I’m Agent Colette Bellerose, from Interpol. Are you just going to stand there staring at me or are you going to take my bag?” She looked up at the man and knew she had to get on even footing immediately. These people may be the members of a former top secret military group, but they had no authority now and needed her.
“I was about to offer, until you said something. War room’s this way.” His drawling Texas accent matched his appearance perfectly. Without another word or backward glance, the tall and slender man walked dee
per into the castle. Climbing the stone entrance steps, she entered into a grand foyer. She left her bag by the door and followed the sound of voices down the hallway. Colette found a group of capable-looking people gathered around a giant oak table that gleamed with polish. The bank of computers and giant screen mounted on the wall were out of place with the stone arches and antiques of the castle.
“This is Colette Bellerose, from Interpol,” the Texan announced as he took a seat in front of the computers which had facial recognition software running, flipping through hundreds of photographs per second.
“Welcome to Castle Steel, Agent Bellerose.” A small and striking woman stood and calmly walked toward her. The large, curving scar on her face did little to distract from her beauty and commanding presence.
“You must be Staff Sergeant Michaels.” Extending her hand, Colette didn’t bother to disguise her regard of the woman in front of her. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Is that so? Well, I hope I live up to your expectations. Thanks for coming.” Giving a half smile, the smaller woman released her hand and gestured to the table. “Please, have a seat and let’s get to work. We don’t have time to dick around.”
“At least that much that I’ve heard about you is true. You cut through the bullshit.” Pulling out a chair and taking a seat, Colette grabbed a notepad and pen from the table. “Start at the beginning. Pretend I don’t know anything at all.” Over the next hour, Mic and her men outlined their problem and possible solutions. She wasn’t surprised by their level of professionalism; this is what they did. They just needed her to facilitate the execution of it. “So you want to go to Paris and take care of the Bratva? This is a huge operation. Ones like this take months, if not years, to put together, and you want it done in two days?”
“Listen, I know what we’re asking is going to be difficult. We need to meet the threat head-on. I won’t have these bastards coming here. Right now we have the advantage and I don’t want to lose it.” Mic leaned toward her with elbows on the table and fire in her eyes.
Colette knew in that moment that if she didn’t help this woman and her team, they’d do it their own way and there’d be bodies on the ground and blood on her hands. Wheels turned in her head as she thought of her own agenda and what a take-down like this would mean for her career. “Okay. You’ve got me there. We’ll go to Paris. But I’m the lead. You’re civilian contractors, nothing more. You won’t be in command. Do I make myself clear, Staff Sergeant?”
“Crystal, and don’t call me Staff Sergeant. It’s just Mic or Michaels if you want to be formal. We need to leave immediately.” Exchanging high-fives all around, Mic and the team left the war room to pack. Mic shouted orders as she went. She pulled Roza and Red aside, telling them that they’d be staying put and babysitting the clients.
Colette realized that the small woman was a force of nature, impossible to resist, and deadly in her fury. “What the ever loving fuck did I just get myself into?” Collette muttered aloud to herself.
****
Beatrice climbed the narrow steps of the plane, Jackson close behind her. Leaving didn’t sit well with her. Her girl was in trouble and she was worried sick.
“She’s going to be fine. Mic can handle herself. I’ve seen her take on worse than the Russians without a second thought.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that. Which is exactly why I’m so concerned.” She found their seats and left her bag for Jackson to stow. She’d quickly learned that he liked doing such things for her.
“Beatrice, if I could be there with her, I would be.” He sat beside her, taking the aisle seat automatically.
“I know that. I’m not blaming you in the least. Sometimes she’s so frustrating, I could just smack her.”
“We’ve all felt that way at some point.” Taking her hand into his larger one, he continued. “She just needs time. Some peace. She’ll come around. We’ll just keep visiting and wear her down until she has no choice but to stop fighting so hard.”
“That’s as good a plan as I can hope for. We’ll go back in a few weeks. Unannounced. She won’t dare turn us away when we’re standing on her doorstep. She and Chris will be getting married soon and I wouldn’t miss that for the world.”
Raising her hand to his mouth, Jackson kissed her knuckles. “In the meantime, we’ll continue our adventure. Speaking of weddings…” His eyes twinkled and her heart skipped a beat.
Was he?
****
The sun had only been up for a few hours by the time we arrived in Paris. What was supposed to have been an uneventful trip had been anything but. With one phone call, Collette had dispatched a private plane to pick us up at Perth airport. Unfortunately, the jet was delayed and we were forced to wait for hours. If I’d known that, we could have stayed at the castle longer.
When the aircraft finally arrived and we had boarded, it brought back a lot of memories of us flying on our jet all over the world. This one was a standard business class Leer jet, nothing fancy or custom like we’d had before. It had still been better than flying commercial with screaming kids, grannies, and irritable businessmen.
“Man, this was the way to do things. No metal detectors, no pat-downs, nada. I even got to keep my shoes on!” Flynn was babbling like an excited child.
“Dude, this was nothing new for us. We used to fly this way all the time. I’m just surprised you weren’t up there trying to be the pilot.” Pierce tossed Flynn’s bag at him, smacking him hard in the chest, before slinging his own over his shoulder.
“I was too tired for that; sleeping in that damn airport didn’t do me any favors.”
“Boys. Shut it. We don’t have time for this crap. Let’s go get this shit done.” Two blacked-out government-issue SUVs were idling on the tarmac, waiting to take us to the assigned safe house.
We piled into the Suburbans and within minutes we were merging into traffic and heading into the heart of Paris. I was sitting in between Chris and Rook, Nickoli was in the front, since it was easier for him to get in and out from there, and the others were in the second car.
“You know, Bea, they say that the City of Lights is the most romantic city on earth.” Chris gave me a wink as he put his arm around my shoulder.
“Yeah, look out your window. Homeless people and a rather dirty city. Very romantic. And besides that, my idea of a romantic getaway doesn’t involve murder and mayhem.”
“You’re not thinking of this right, babe. Just imagine, you and me at the top of the Eiffel Tower, eating dinner, and looking out at the lights.”
With an exasperated sigh, Rook leaned over and did his best to shove Chris hard against the car door. “Jordon, do you need some tampax? Because it really fucking sounds like you’re on your period. Jesus Christ. We’re here for a mission—a very important one at that—and you’re talking about the City of Lights and romance? Dude, find your fucking man card; I think your membership expired. She put that ring on your finger and you turned into a pussy. Shut the fuck up; save it for when you two are alone.”
“Sorry, Chris; I’m with Rook on this. Now is not the fucking time. We have much more important things to worry about. In any case, I used up all my romance for the year in the proposal.”
The agents driving the vehicles expertly navigated the congested roads. The traffic was unlike anything I’d ever seen. I wouldn’t have minded driving here as long as I had a tank or something to run the Vespas and Smart Cars over. The SUVs pulled to a stop in front of a large townhouse that looked exactly like all of the other homes on the block. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, I observed the neighborhood. It looked just like you’d expect an upscale Parisian street to look. Luxury cars, well-kept homes, and the occasional small front garden lined the street. It was quiet and calm. A perfect hiding place for us.
A rush of wings drew our eyes upward. A large flock of pigeons flew from one rooftop to another, cooing loudly as they went. “Wow, that’s a lot of fucking birds. Anyone have a shotgun?” Flynn, grinning, lo
oked around at each of us. A moment later, a white stain appeared on his shoulder. “The fuck? Did a fucking stupid ass rat with wings just shit on me?” He pulled the fabric of his coat to the side in an effort to see the stain better.
“Welcome to Paris.” Collette smiled and led us up the wide stone steps and into the townhouse.
“I guess they didn’t like you talking about shooting them.” Pierce laughed at Flynn’s angry expression.
“This was my favorite coat! And the only one I brought with me, dammit!”
“I’m sure there is somewhere here that sells coats, Flynn; relax.” I followed a chuckling Collette into the house. If I didn’t already live in a castle, I would have been impressed by the gleaming antiques and marble floors that we passed as she led us deeper into the house and up a winding staircase.
“You will stay here; you will be sharing bedrooms, but you should be comfortable enough,” the agent said, pointing at closed doors along the hallway.
“Just how big is this place?” Jones asked, running his fingers along the wainscoting.
“From the outside, it looks like your average townhouse; but it’s actually two joined into one. This half is the living quarters; kitchen is downstairs. The other half is set up for more practical purposes.” Stopping at a set of pocket doors, she slid them aside and we followed her clicking heels into a command center that rivaled our own. “Jones, you will find this to your liking, yes?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He tipped his hat to her and took up residence in a computer chair. Adjusting it for his height, he slid the keyboard closer to him and settled in.
“Here are your sign on and security codes. We are trusting you with access to our systems; do not betray that.” She scribbled on a small slip of paper and handed it over to Jones, who took it and promptly ignored us all. “Nickoli, we have compiled a file from the mugshots you recognized. The list was sent over from Trident. Very nice work. With that alone, you are going to help us take out as many of these bastards as we can. Your insight is invaluable.”
