Page 76

Chapter Twenty-One

Laughn

We all gather in Brennan’s office and go over the plan. It’s nothing overly complicated since Marlow has been tracking this guy’s movements all week. We have no idea how he manages to go off grid when he leaves his house, but one small fuck up on his behalf and we now have his address. This guy lives in a cute house in the burbs with his family and a white picket fence. We plan to move in and extract him. We’re not total monsters—his children are at school, and I’m armed with a little memory wiper in case his wife gets in the way.

Of course, I volunteered to go in and bring him out. You can’t judge a book by its cover, and if this man works for Ziyon as the head of his security team, then he will be able to defend himself.

Case, Chester, and I will head out to the location. The drive from here is about an hour since he lives in the outer suburbs. Canary Bay really is a quaint little town—a nice place to settle down with a family, if that’s what you’re into.

Marlow gives us our earpieces, and we head towards the parking lot. Usually we would all go, but a job like this just doesn’t require all ten of us. Brennan has the rest of the guys busy doing other jobs, and they left not long after I arrived.

We all pile into Chester’s car, and with the way he drives, we should be there in less than an hour. Case puts on the stereo and bops away to some 90s grunge band and I seriously have no idea who they are. We drive in silence bar the music; we all know what we need to do, and there is no need for idle chitchat.

As soon as we get close, Chester parks a few houses down, so we don’t alert the target to our presence. The only downside is the nosey old ladies stuck at home with nothing better to do than snoop on their neighbours. Luckily, Marlow scoped the entire street, and the only person home during the day is located a few houses down on the other side of the road. If we can be quiet and enter through the back of the property, we should be fine.

I slip my earpiece in and test it out. Marlow is on the other end and gives us our instructions. He says that the wife is currently upstairs folding laundry, and our target is in the living room watching television.

We slip down the side of the house, crouching below the shrubs as we work our way towards the backyard. Bonus for us: it looks like one of the kids left the back gate open. Chester heads further along to where there is an open window. The thing about small towns is they don’t have security screens—just your run-of-the-mill flyscreens, and they are easily cut with a knife.

Case locates the backdoor and tries the handle, finding that it’s not even locked. So much for being head of security; he hasn’t even taken his own safety into consideration. We silently move into the house, Case deadlocking the backdoor to make sure no one escapes.

The living room and the back of our target’s head come into view. Case moves to the left, keeping out of sight and moving himself closer to the front door to make sure it is secured. I walk up directly behind the man, and he catches my reflection on the television screen just as I had hoped he would. He jumps from his chair, whipping a gun from his side and pointing it at me. His eyes go comically wide when he gets a good look at me.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I say to him.

“You’re trespassing on my property. You have two seconds before I blow your head off.”

His wife’s scream echoes through the room, and his head whips to the stairs.

“See, I suggest you put that gun down and kick it this way so we can have a little chat.” I watch as he tosses up his options. “Or you could shoot me and pray that my friend doesn’t hear and blow your wife’s head off.”

“What the fuck do you want?” he spits, looking around the room. He spots Case, turning to point the gun at him, but Case just keeps walking to the front door and turns the bolt.

“Look what I found upstairs,” Chester says, coming down the stairs with a woman double our age. The snot and mascara running down her face has her looking worse for wear. “You know, you really shouldn’t leave your prized possessions unprotected. Just like those two teenagers.”

Just as he says teenagers, my phone buzzes in my pocket.

“Show him the video I just sent you,” Marlow says in my ear.

I retrieve my phone and hold it out for him to see. He steps closer to get a good look, and I’m presuming his children are on the screen.

“Don’t you dare fucking hurt them!” he yells, spittle flying from his mouth. Motherfucker got spit on my phone.

“We won’t as long as you do as we ask,” Chester says, pushing the woman towards her husband.

“Just do as they say,” she cries. “We don’t want them to hurt Billy, or rape me and Becca.”

“Rape?” I question. “Shit, this just escalated quickly. I prefer torture and lots of blood.”

Chester laughs. “Bitch, I wouldn’t willingly have sex with your old ass.”

“Then what do you want? We have money,” she says.

“Now that, I highly doubt,” Case quips, gesturing around the room. “Your husband needs to get rid of the gun and comes with us. If he is a good boy, he will be returned unharmed. We just want to have a little chat.”

“And if I don’t?” he asks, like he even has a choice in the matter.

“Then I’m afraid I will kill your wife in front of your eyes and then call my friend to pick your kids up from school and sell them into the sex trade. You will never see them again,” Chester says.

They have zero idea he is bluffing about the kids—the wife, I can’t say for sure with Chester. It could go either way. Most of the time, he wouldn’t hurt a woman, but when Jolie’s and our babies’ safety are on the line, he is a loose cannon.

“Just do what they want, Paul. They can’t hurt the kids.”

“Yes, Paul. I would do as we say, think quick,” I drawl. “I will hit the call button in three, two...”

He places the gun down and kicks it away from himself. We keep a close eye on Paul while Case moves in and grabs it, removing any bullets from the chamber. I move forward and grab his wife, moving her away from everyone else in the room. She screams like a damn banshee, and I uncap the needle Chester throws my way and stab it into her arm. She drops almost instantly into my arms, and I move her towards the couch, laying her down gently. This will keep her down for about an hour and remove most of her memory from today.

“Get a pen and paper and write your wife a note for when she wakes up. Tell her you have been called back into work, and you will see her and the kids later.”

Paul moves into the kitchen and opens a drawer, rummaging through it before finally pulling out a pen and paper. Scribbling down what we just said, he sticks it to the fridge like a good little boy.

He looks up, and I laugh. “Don’t bother whispering help to your cameras. We have taken them over and will loop the footage. Let’s get this show on the road, then.”

Chester grabs him before he can protest, and Case zip ties his hands together. We have a nice dark sack for his head once we get to the car—it might look a tad suspicious if he walks out of the house with it on his head.

“Don’t make a scene. Just walk with us to our car. We will take you to our holding cells and ask you a few questions. If you tell us what we need to know, you will be home in time for dinner tomorrow. If not, we will shoot you with your own gun and make it look like a suicide, and little Billy and Becca will grow up without a daddy.”

“Fuck you,” he seethes, more spittle flying from his mouth. He may like to open his mouth a lot, but he still follows the orders and trails Chester out of the house.

We make it down the road and to the car with no issues. Nothing to see here, people, just friends hanging out. Chester shoves him into the backseat, and I slip in next to him. He looks at me, and I poke my tongue at him and give it a wiggle. His face drops, and he shakes his head.

“I know who you are,” he says.

“Not the wisest thing to admit if you wanted your freedom,” Case replies, leaning back from the front seat. “And you only know what you have been led to believe.”

“Don’t worry, we probably won’t kill you—our girl won’t be happy if we do. But we can wipe a day of your memory or the entire thing. How much do you value the people in your life and the memories you have created?” I add for good measure.

He doesn’t say anything when I pull out the sack and throw it over his head. No one will see shit from the outside with the level of tint on Chester’s windows, totally illegal, but someone would be stupid to say anything.

The drive back doesn’t feel like it takes as long, and instead of going to Olympia, we lock him in the cells next to the morgue. Davis arrives fairly quickly and walks in to talk to Paul. I stand guard to make sure he doesn’t try to escape. I’m the last person he would want to go up against if he is going to leave with his life. We have a small interrogation room down here, and I lean against the wall while Paul sits on one side of the table with Davis on the other.

“Let’s not beat around the bush. What do you want to know?”

Pretty ballsy for him to open his mouth to move this along, but I’ll let it slide. For now.

“Two things,” Davis says. “Where is Ziyon, and what is he up to?”

“I can’t tell you that,” he states, picking at his nails.

“More like you won’t—I can tell by the tone in your voice. You’re afraid Ziyon will kill you, but I would be more concerned about your family right now.”

“I want protection,” he demands, and Davis laughs.

“You’re not really in a position to ask for anything,” Davis states, shaking his head.

The door to the room opens, and Brennan walks in. He would have been watching from behind the two-way glass.

“I can offer a safe house for your family until Ziyon is taken care of, but you will need to continue to work, or he will know something is up.”

Paul looks down at his hands, clearly weighing up his options. “Fine, but my family gets taken to a safe house now. Once you have that sorted, I will talk.”

Brennan nods and pulls out his phone.

“Boston, please retrieve them. Make them pack and take them to the safe house. Call me when you’re there... Yes, tell Kai you can pretend to be the police if that’s what it takes. Just get it done.”

Three hours. Three fucking hours. I don’t even know why it took so long, but now that his family is safe, we are back in business. He talks to his wife and tells her everything will be fine; she seems happy with what he tells her.

He hands the phone back to Brennan and sighs. He knows he has no choice if he wants to live through today.

“I can give you the coordinates for his location. It’s close to New Hope. He moves constantly, and we get sent his location via a burner phone. As for what he has planned, he doesn’t tell me anything. All I know is he got paranoid one day that someone was after him, which was fine, but then his wife went crazy. They had a huge fight, and the next thing I knew, we were moving them somewhere safe . It’s all I know, I swear.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Davis confirms.

“Good, now I will give you a burner phone and you will contact me directly every time he moves locations. You can also contact your wife, but do not tell her what is happening. Also, don’t do anything stupid like ask Ziyon to help you. If I find out you have double-crossed us, I will blow the house up with your family inside. We can’t guarantee Ziyon doesn’t already know we have you,” Brennan tells him.

“He is out of the country, something about taking his wife on a much-needed holiday. I will have to pick them up from the airport when he messages me a pickup date and time.”

“Good, now go home and do whatever married men do when their wives and children are out of town,” Davis adds. “Make it believable.”

“That’s it? You’re just letting me go?” Paul sputters in disbelief.

“Why wouldn’t we?” I state. “We’re not the bad guys in this scenario. Do right by us, and we’ll do right by you. But make no mistake, we can be your worst nightmare.”

“Noted.”

The door flies open and bangs against the wall as Colt waltzes in. The guy is way too comfortable around us now.

“Are we good to go? I have two very pregnant women to escape from,” he says with a laugh.

“Sure are,” I say, pulling out a knife from my boot and flicking the blade up. I slice through the cable tie cuffing Paul’s hands. He heaves a breath and stands, stretching himself out.

“Good luck with that,” I tell Paul, and clap him on the shoulder.

Now all we have left to do is wait, find out what Ziyon is up to, and then decide what to do with him. My vote is we just end him. I don’t trust him around Jolie or the babies. If he was the good guy, he would have come to us with his tail between his legs and willingly helped Jolie build Olympia into what his family had always wanted it to be. Yet, where is he?