Elite Metal-ARE-epub (57 page)

“To make it perfectly clear,” he said. “The first opportunity I have, I will find her again. You can bring on the full Marine court press, but I’m not backing off.”

Neither man responded.

“If anything happens to her because of this bullshit. I’ll kill you both.”

Still no response.

Calm under fire and pressure—or they didn’t really count him as a threat. He almost preferred the latter. Few people looked over their shoulder for someone they could bully. Though their guns were hidden, Gabriel didn’t doubt they weren’t pointed right at him. They traveled in silence through the lobby and out the main doors. Vegas was always crowded, even in summer.

America’s sin-filled playground. Bypassing the valet, Merc led them toward the parking garage. His phone rang fifteen steps into the structure and both men looked at him.

“I’m going for the phone.” When neither stopped him, he pulled it out and checked the number. He didn’t recognize it. Since he was on a burner, he answered it anyway.

“Gabriel Michael Danvers, age thirty-five. Recruited out of college to work for the CIA. Gifted with languages, infiltration and diplomacy, you spent six years working in the field and another eight as an analyst. You left the agency after faulty intel resulted in the miss of a terrorist leader in Uzbekistan, but the strike still killed five Marines and three civilian families.” Chrome recited classified materials as though he were reading them. “Four years ago, you issued a warning on Red Wolf, began chasing leads, but every time you got close, the lead went up in smoke.”

Saying nothing, Gabriel continued to follow the two men to the van. Whoever the fuck Chrome was, he was connected.

“Your section chief wanted you to let it go, yet you kept a file going—including one on a mysterious woman seen at two separate events you believed related to Red Wolf.”

His heart slammed against his ribs. Really. Fucking. Connected.

“You were ordered to let it go, but you continued off books and, when you were
pushed
out of the agency, you were investigating an op in Russia that resulted in nearly a dozen men dying.”

“Guess you can read yourself in.”

“You’re not there on any assignment from the company, Mr. Danvers. So why are you there?”

Because people died due to faulty intel, and he still didn’t know who set the whole fucking thing up. At a dark blue van, the men stopped and the first one opened the sliding door. “Men died because I got something wrong, because intel crossed my desk and showed vetted and proved. Because sources we trusted screwed us. I can tell you the fuck up came from a hundred different directions, but those don’t matter. I’m here because I fix what I break.”

“Good to—” His next words were lost in a boom of noise which split the air around them. The sound reverberated through the garage and he pivoted, facing the casino he’d just left as the men next to him started forward. The wave hit after the sound, and he went from being on his feet to flying backward.

Glass shattered on the surrounding cars and alarms screamed to life. Smoke bellowed from the building, then another boom shook the structure.

Copper!

Chapter Nine

Cobalt waited for her at the entrance to the private bar they’d set up for the conference. Dressed in his three thousand dollar suit, dark hair falling rakishly over one eye, she had to admit he looked damn good. His expression was open, friendly and he wore an easy smile. He extended a hand to her as she sauntered up. When her palm glided over his, he drew her close and dipped his head as though planning a kiss. “All good?”

“They have him.” She hated the need for the action, hated more leaving him behind to be shut out. “Plat will get him locked down. Merc’s still got our backs.” That was the plan, anyway. After the evidence Merc turned up in the rooms, they wanted to follow all the leads. The balls on the people using the conference for their own blow-the-world-to-shit bazaar made her physically ill.

“Good.” He squeezed her hand. “We need to go meet with Mr. In Love with Your Tits over there. I think he’s planning a threesome, or maybe he just wants you to suck his cock.”

“Probably. Too bad for him, I bite.” She clicked her teeth together. Cobalt winced, then winked.

“I’m going to make him work for it,” he assured her. “You up for being sold?”

“Why not? I’ve got no other plans for tonight.” No Gabriel to slink off and see. No Gabriel to feel pounding into her while he demanded she give him every ounce of her desire. Her nipples tightened at the thought of him. A chill settled at the base of her spine, cold fingers walking across her nerves.

The number of terrorists, dealers, pushers, and pedophiles in the room was astounding. Members of Russian Bratvas, Columbian cartels, domestic mafia, and more—the whole thing defied all conventions. So, why here? Why was Coyle dead?

“Cobalt?” She dropped the act, the pieces of the puzzle jangling around in her brain.

“Yeah?” The flip tone drained from his voice. He glanced around them, and she knew he scanned the room.

“We’re missing something.” She shifted her position, leaning into him so she could study the targets. Nearly every single one they’d identified were present in the bar.

All of them.

Every. One.

“Ideas?” Maybe she and Cobalt hadn’t been assigned to the same team, but they had experience working in dangerous situations.
Always trust the man at your back. If you can’t trust him, he shouldn’t be there.
Glancing from slimy criminal to bastard terrorist to puss-sucking ooze of a human being, she frowned. What were they missing?

Conference on International Commerce.

Foreigners.

Domestics.

“Where’s Red Wolf?” The moment she asked the question, she stiffened. A knife in the dark was as effective as a bullet, especially if it wasn’t clear who held the blade. “The only link to them we had—the only two—were Coyle and Danvers.”

“You think Danvers is clean.” Not a question.

She shrugged, then scanned the room again. What was out of place? Something about the whole set up was off. If Coyle was Red Wolf’s tool and they dispensed with him before a meeting like this, the question remained why? “My gut says he’s not dirty. He may not be innocent, but he isn’t dirty.” Her gut or her vagina? One was not as good a judge of character as the other, but she wanted to believe in Gabriel.

It had been a long time since she’d wanted to believe in anything.

“Huh.” Cobalt grunted and shifted to stand immediately behind her. Wrapping his arms around her midsection, he pressed his lips to her ear. “These people do have one thing in common where Red Wolf is concerned.”

“They’re all scum?” This close, she barely had to move her mouth to whisper.

“They’re competitors in all the same—” The rest of his sentence was lost in a dazzling brightness flooding her vision. Blinded, she turned her face away. One moment she faced the room, and the next a wave of heat slammed into her and she flew backwards.

Her head slammed into Cobalt’s chest. Roaring filled her ears, and she tasted blood. Then a harsh sucking sound evacuated the silence and screams ripped through the air. Dust ballooned and sparks exploded from damaged light fixtures. A woman stumbled from the direction of the conference room, blood trailing from where her right arm used to be.

Copper tried to sit up. Adrenaline surged through her veins. She had to sit up, they needed to move—to get the civilians out of the way. Twisting slowly, she tapped Cobalt and then stopped. He lay behind her. He’d cushioned her landing, and his chest had been what she hit her head against.

Blood trickled from his nose and his head turned at the wrong angle. Coughing, she tasted a fresh wave of blood and forced herself over. She touched her fingers to his neck. “Breathe,” she tried to say the word. “Be breathing.”

Brilliance fried her retinas again, and the force of a second explosion slammed into her back. She threw herself down atop him, covering his head when the ceiling gave and then the floor crumbled and hell swallowed them both.

Gabriel’s heart was in his throat. The force of the blast had sent them crashing into the van. Glass flying at high velocity had sliced his shirt and face. Blood filled his mouth and his head screamed. He touched two fingers to his forehead and they came away bloody. Car alarms klaxoned all around him, and he fought his way to his feet. A hand gripped his arm and yanked him upward.

Exchanging a look with Merc, he felt a sudden kinship for the wickedly scarred man. “She’s in there,” he said. “I’m going back.”

“Yes.” No denial. No rejection. The other man made it to his feet.

“Go,” he yelled. “Calling backup.”

No one had to tell him twice. Gabriel ran, and Merc was right next to him. The street looked like a warzone. Wounded struggled to their feet, and the dead lay in pools of their own blood. The lucky ones. More body parts were strewn around and the front face of the hotel was a gaping, debris-strewn hole. Papers, cash, coins and detritus floated down amidst the ash and crumbling stonework. Metal girders were twisted, melted in some places.

Copper had been on the second floor, at the epicenter of the destruction. Agony ripped through his chest and squeezed off his oxygen. Refusing the evidence in front of his eyes, he kept running. The closer they drew, the more hell rained down. A fire burst up like Satan’s breath, igniting a gas line and shooting skyward. Merc dodged the twisted metal, and they circled to where the lobby had been. Sirens howled in the distance and survivors were stumbling out, leaning on each other when possible.

Both men looked up to where the ceiling had been and up… “Three, maybe four floors.” Terror pitted his gut.

“She’s not dead.” Merc said, then stared at the pile of debris. Large chunks of ceiling and stone were stacked atop each other. Overhead, a vicious crack resounded and fresh screams echoed as a huge slab of cement slid down to crash into the secondary hole.

Bellows of dust exploded upward.

Tugging a utility knife from his pocket, Gabriel sliced off the sleeve of his shirt. Ignoring the blood, he wrapped it around the lower half of his face. It helped cut down the dust inhalation. Next to him, Merc did the same thing. They shared a look and as one they headed into hell.

First responders were pouring in and ordered them out, but neither he nor Merc listened. They attacked the stacked debris and started pulling away what they could. Ten minutes in, the blond joined them.

“I have a signal,” he said. He motioned them from the stack and pointed toward the rear. Following him, they climbed over the debris and headed deeper into the burning casino. Fires still cropped up and the media was everywhere. Cops, firemen, and first aid workers, along with dazed looking hotel staff, continued the evacuation. Bomb Squad and SWAT passed them, but they didn’t stop. Where the blond told them to dig, they dug.

“You sure, Plat?” Merc asked, even as he worked to loosen the debris.

“Signal’s right below us. Their GPS chips are still active.” Those were the last words they spoke. Gabriel concentrated on lifting cement blocks. Some had shattered into pieces, others were slabs.

A ton of building had come down on them. The sharp edges sliced into his fingers. He wrapped cloth around his palms and kept going. A crew of construction workers appeared, and they brought equipment. Plat and Merc wasted no time co-opting the men into helping them.

Minutes bled into hours and day segued into night. Huge power lamps were brought in and rescue efforts increased as aid poured in. Men appeared that Merc recognized, and they began to tunnel beside the debris, going at an angle from where he worked.

One of them was called Chrome. Beyond a nod, they didn’t say much else. Everyone focused on getting to the survivors.

There had to be survivors. A shout went up from another crew and a woman was pulled from beneath the mass. They all froze and everyone watched—the woman was blonde and wore a hotel uniform.

Not Copper.

The digging resumed.

Exhaustion wore at him, but he ignored it. Ignored everything. A hard hand on his shoulder jerked him up and water was pressed into his bloody grasp. He stared at the man offering it, then nodded and drank. Another hour trickled away and more bodies were located in the debris. Dogs were brought in. No one bothered them, him and his silent band of men working tirelessly to dislodge the rubble.

“Here!” Plat shouted. The silent, ruthless energy surged as they abandoned their stacks to converge on his position. Using a wedge and braces to keep the ceiling above them in place, they opened the debris to reveal a pocket below. Shifting the lights, they went silent as they searched the pocket. A phone chirped below amidst the rubble.

The dust moved and they zeroed in on a hand moving in the debris. Merc dropped into the hole, and Gabriel pushed off right behind him. They landed away from the hand and then began to clear the smaller rubble.

Black hair.

Blood.

“Copper,” Merc said, his low, gravelly voice brutal. “You better fucking answer me.”

Gabriel was on his hands and knees, wiping away more pebbles, and he tugged the black hair and the wig came away. Tossing it, he located her head and ran his fingers lightly over her skull.

“Don’t move her,” Plat said as he lowered into the hole along with a pair of bright orange backboards. More followed. “Don’t move either of them.”

More words than he’d heard the man speak.
Come on, where is her breathing?
He got the hair away from her face then he and Merc leaned in closer. Extending his palm before her lips, he waited.

Breath.

“She’s breathing,” he yelled. “Move it.”

"Open your fucking eyes," Merc snarled. Gabriel wanted to slug him—then she did. The gray dust shifted slightly as her eyelids fluttered.

“We’re moving.” Plat was beside him, and then he was there. Gabriel shifted over, making room for him and continuing to shed the debris off of her. She was wedged just below a huge concrete slab. A metal piling had caught the top of it. Another inch in either direction and it would have landed on her directly. He dug out her legs.