Renegade (Elite Ops 5) (43 page)

They were escorted through the house into an office that could have belonged to

any of the major CEOs in the world.

"Damn, and here we're told crime doesn't pay, Nik," Ian commented mockingly as the doors closed behind them, leaving them alone in the office with an illegitimate son of one of America's most dangerous crime bosses.

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"Mr. Richards." Kefler rose to his feet, his penetrating hazel eyes staring back from an imperious face. "I must say, you do your father justice in your bearing as well as your insolence."

"Well, you know what they say, blood tells," Ian quipped sarcastically, though Nik was well aware of the fact that Ian's father, a former Colombian drug lord, was a sore spot with the other man.

"Do tell." Kefler's brows arched as he tugged at the expensive leather belt cinching the charcoal gray slacks at his waist.

Pushing the long sleeves of the silk white shirt up his arms, Kefler grinned before waving them to the chairs in front of his desk. "Have a seat, my friends. I must say, I feel rather privileged to be sitting in such august company. The son of perhaps one of the most lethal drug lords in Colombia, and a mercenary of such bloodthirsty tendencies that he could give even me a few uncomfortable moments."

Nik grunted at the mockery.

"I must say," Kefler continued, "I was pleased to learn you weren't bringing Ms.

Martin. Her reputation is one any woman could envy. A trip here would perhaps sully it."

Self-deprecation curved his lips before he glanced at them again. "What can I do for you?"

"As I'm sure you already know, I'm looking into the death of Eddie Foreman,"

Nik told him.

"I heard." Kefler nodded, his expression turning serious. "Just as I've heard Ms.

Martin has been threatened several times. Eloise was distressed to hear that. So much so that I've been attempting to gain some information on the problem myself."

Nik arched a brow. "And did you learn anything?"

Kefler's lips quirked into a grin. "Not much, I'm afraid."

Nik stared back at him. "It seems I've learned a few things, though. Things such as the fact that Eddie owed you a lot of money and he wasn't paying."

Kefler blinked back at Nik. "A small amount," he admitted. "I must say, a few of my men were looking for him when we received word that he had been killed."

"Were you behind the murder?" Nik asked straightforwardly. With a man such as Kefler, subtlety wasn't always the answer.

Kefler shook his head with a grin. "If I'd caught him, I would have knocked him around a little, ya know? Made him hurt. He was useless to me dead."

"Perhaps it was an investment in teaching others to pay on time," Nik suggested.

"Naw, your girlfriend, now she would be an investment. A dead Eddie was just

money outta my pocket. Killing him would be like slicing my own wrists. Besides, didn't Ms. Martin witness that murder? Seems to me she's of the opinion someone else killed him."

Nik ignored the reference. "What about Reed Holbrook? I understand you two are working together in certain business ventures."

Kefler's gaze narrowed on him. "What business is this of yours, Mr. Steele?"

"We're discussing Eddie and your connection to him, Kefler, not me," Nik reminded him.

Kefler gave a short laugh. "Good thing my honey likes yours; otherwise I'd have to kill you."

Nik ignored that as well. "Was Eddie trying to sell Holbrook information or

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sabotage the Nelson job on your orders?"

Kelfer's gaze reflected surprise. "I have no idea. But hey, everyone is trying to make a decent buck these days, right? The fucking economy sucks."

"Seems strange to me, Martin, the three of you make a very interesting little triangle."

"Yeah, ain't that some shit?" Martin laughed with sly humor.

He was getting nowhere here, Nik admitted. When it came right to it, the fact was

all roads were leading back to Maddix, not away.

"Thanks for your time, Martin, and for wasting mine." He stood to his feet, watching from the corner of his eye as Ian followed suit. "We'll be leaving now."

"Steele." The other man rose slowly. "Look, all shit aside, my honey asked for my help here. She likes Ms. Martin more than she should, and I try to please her whenever I can. I can tell you this: you're chasing shadows. Word on the street is confusing with this one. The strangest tale I've heard so far is that whoever killed Eddie Foreman wasn't Maddix Nelson, but it was still Maddix Nelson. And that comes from a crackhead with more drugs in his veins than blood. Take it however you will."

He'd take it as it was. A lame-assed story from a crackhead who loved his drugs

more than he loved living.

Nodding sharply, Nik turned and, followed by Ian, made his way from the house.

There were no more answers to be found this way, because those Nik had

unearthed so far kept leading him back in one direction.

"What now?" Ian asked as they were driving from the mansion and heading back to Mikayla.

"Now, I find Maddix."

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Chapter 23

Mikayla spent the time at the house in the sewing room with Kira sitting quietly

on the sofa across from the worktable. She worked, trying to keep her mind off the fact that Nik wasn't there with her. That she wasn't with him.

What was he learning? she wondered. Had Martin Kefler even known anything

that could have helped?

"Do you miss being at the shop every day?" Kira finally asked as she brushed thick black hair from her face and regarded Mikayla with serene gray eyes.

"I miss it," she admitted. And she did. "Once this is finished, I can go back."

"Will it ever be finished, Mikayla?" Kira asked then. "Do you think your life will ever return to what it was?"

"No."

Life couldn't be the same, it could never be as good, once this was over, because

Nik would be gone.

"Letting go is hard," Kira said softly.

And it was. Mikayla had made the first step to letting him go this evening, and she had known inside exactly what she was doing. She was giving him the rest of the distance he needed to completely step away from her.

"You love him," Kira said then.

Glancing up at her, Mikayla saw the understanding in the other woman's gaze, as

well as the compassion.

"Does it matter?" Mikayla finally sighed heavily as she tucked the edge of the material and pinned it into place. "If love isn't acknowledged, does it still exist?"

"Of course it does," Kira said gently. "As long as one person loves, Mikayla, then it always exists. The lack of acknowledgment doesn't cancel it out."

She shook her head. "It won't matter when he's gone," she said painfully. "Do you think he'll ever remember, Kira? That he'll look back and know what he left behind?"

She watched as the other woman sat forward slowly, her arms folding over the

tops of her knees. "I don't know, Mikayala. What I do know is that Nik leads a very dangerous, very lonely life. I would think those memories would be something he would be unable to forget, especially during the darker times he faces."

"Is he a mercenary?" Mikayla wasn't entirely certain what he was, but she had a feeling he was much more than anyone wanted to admit.

"Of a sort," Kira agreed. "A very specialized one, though. Nik makes things happen. His expertise is in weapons, and in logistics. He would have made an excellent commander if that was the route he had wanted to take."

"Before his wife and child's deaths?" Mikayla needed to know as much about him as possible. As much as she could get from the few who knew him.

"Even then," Kira stated. "I've always thought Nik was a man searching for something he had never had. Funny, though, when I saw him here the first time, he no longer gave that impression."

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Mikayla's heart clenched. "He doesn't love me, though. If he loved me, Kira, he couldn't walk away."

Kira smiled at the statement. "Funny, I don't see him walking away, Mikayla."

Her lips parted to comment, to assure the other woman she could feel him already

walking away, when the lights went out.

Mikayla immediately dropped to the floor. She'd been shot at enough that she

wasn't about to remain standing.

"I have a light," she hissed to Kira as she scrambled to her appliance drawer and pulled free two small Maglites that she kept on hand for emergencies.

Kira was there beside her, her fingers slipping over one of the lights.

"Do you have a weapon?" The other woman's voice was quiet, carrying no farther than Mikayla's ears.

"Dad gave me a .22." She pulled the tiny six-shot gun from the drawer.

"Well, hell," Kira sighed. "At least it shoots bullets. Now come on. Stay close to me. We're going to slip out the back and make our way to my car."

"Call Nik."

"The phones are jammed; I hit the panic button to Ian's phone the second the

lights went out and the call wouldn't go through. We're going to have to get out of here, then call once we get out of range of the jammer. Turn off the flashlight and stay close.

The light will only give us away."

Mikayla's eyes were slowly adjusting to the dark, but with that came the shadows

that seemed to shift and twine throughout the room.

Kira was calm, confident, as though it were no more than a game. Mikayla knew

it was much more.

She could hear her heart beating in her eyes as her chest tightened, restricting her breathing. Panic was only a breath away as Kira, staying low, began to make her way to the opened doorway.

Swallowing past the tightness in her throat, Mikayla stayed close to Kira as they

crawled quickly through the room and past the doorway.

"Ian will know something's up soon," she promised Mikayla. "We have a system.

When my hourly ping doesn't hit his phone, then he'll know there's trouble."

"Ping?" Mikayla felt stupid asking the question.

"It's programmed into our cell phones, like a computer. Every hour when we're apart the phones ping each other automatically. If the signal doesn't go through on one end, then the phone alerts the other. It's a safeguard."

Mikayla nodded, though it made about as much sense as anything else did

anymore.

Making their way through the short hall to the kitchen, Mikayla tried to make out

whatever might or might not be in the shadows. Whoever had managed to cut the

electricity could be waiting anywhere. No doubt with a weapon.

Now this was just getting ridiculous. It wasn't as though anyone believed she had

seen Maddix kill Eddie Foreman. Why the hell was he determined to kill her now as

well?

Moving up on the glass sliding doors, she slid in behind Kira at the edge of the

door frame.

"Damn, you have no cover out there," Kira cursed as they stared out at the 211

moonlit backyard and open deck. "Nik should have fixed this for you."

"He's been rather busy," Mikayla stated breathlessly.

She heard a small snort. "No doubt." And a second later the door began sliding open.

"We go out low," Kira ordered. "Slide out along the side and slip over the deck to the yard. If we can get to the side of the house, then we'll have more cover to the car."

"Okay." Yeah, that sounded like a plan. All they had to do was get over the deck.

"I thought you said the front would be covered?"

"Any assailant worth his salt would have help, and they'd have all exits covered.

Any prey worth their salt assumes all exits are covered and takes the line of best defense."

Mikayla would decide if that made sense later.

Breathing in deeply, she moved as Kira slipped out the door, following close

behind and staying as low as possible.

The moon seemed as bright as daylight as Mikayla stared into the darkness

desperately, trying to pinpoint the shadows. She could feel the panic, the fear, rising inside her. They weren't making it across the deck fast enough. She could feel it.

She was so focused on it that when the first crack of wood just to her left

splintered, she didn't even know what it was.

"Run!" Kira didn't bother trying to be quiet.

Mikayla felt the other woman's hand grip her arm, jerking her across the deck as

that
plop, plop
sound began pelting against the side of the house.

A window shattered above their heads as they reached the end of the deck. Kira

pushed her over the side and as the other woman followed a hollow sound of pain came from her lips and she collapsed on the grass.

"Fuck me. Ian is going to be pissed," Kira groaned.

Mikayla knew what had happened. Gripping the other woman, Mikayla jerked her

to her feet despite the curse that fell from Kira's lips.

She'd been shot. Mikayla could smell the blood, felt it as Kira fell against her, her wounded shoulder pressed against Mikayla's arm.

Mikayla fought to get Kira to the side of the house when the quiet sound of bullets striking around them began to enrage her. She fired into the darkness.

The pop of the little .22 wasn't loud enough to suit her, but a bullet was a bullet, right?

She doubted it, but she could hope it was.

She didn't realize she was crying as she struggled to drag Kira around the side of the house. Mikayla wouldn't have realized she was cursing if she hadn't heard the word

"fuck" fall from her own lips.

Reaching the corner of the house, she threw Kira around the side of it. Wood

splintered above Mikayla's head once again, raining small splinters of wood around her as she ducked and fought to drag Kira to her feet.

"Bastard got me in the leg," Kira cursed, her breathing heavy as Mikayla fought to catch her breath. "At least we have some cover here."

It was little enough. A small toolshed that they were tucked against. There was

cover on two sides, leaving them too exposed.