Shadow Ops: Danger's Passion (Kindle Worlds Novella) (A Shadow Ops Novella Book 3) (8 page)

The European motorcar garage was closed Easter Sunday. Morning light crept between the corrugated metal windows and door protectors. There were no pin-up girl tools calendars or second-rate equipment set-ups. The place was a custom car owners dream. Red, yellow, and black vehicles rested on lifts and above grease traps. Each probably worth close to or over six figures. Rose was kept busy warning everyone not to lean on them.

“Hollywood, you roll in these high-dollar clown cars—what’s the catch?” Rose kidded.

Hollywood feigned laughter, but he wasn’t in the mood to fuck with her. He was still waiting on Doctor Hailey to arrive. Always on guard with any member of a shadow ops unit, Hollywood wouldn’t have considered Rose as someone to set up a member of her own team—even Voodoo. He shrugged in answer to her question.

“You drive a foreign car? That figures. I’d see you in a Porsche Cayenne,” Justice derided. Hollywood shot him a middle finger with a smile.

“I was about to say you fuckers ain’t so bad for feds that is,” one of the Boudreaux brothers confessed. “Until hero SEAL said he drives a Jap car.”

“Dumbass, it’s Italian. Not Japanese. Besides, where’s your cut manufactured?”

“Huh?” the biker asked. Hollywood’s outstretched hand motioned for him to toss him the leather vest.

“Screw you. No one touches my colors,” he snarled while twisting his shoulders out of the leather cut.

Old, weather-whipped patches obscured the vest. Their frayed edges showed years and miles of wear. Each patch symbolized something significant about the biker and his position as a member of the Savage Souls. The name patch read “Vengeance” and he was the club’s sergeant at arms. The red framing and letters read 1%’er against the white background.

Hollywood watched as pride glowed over Vengeance’s face while his grease and blood stained fingertips traced the United States Army patch and the American flag. Vengeance, Justice and Lawless Boudreaux’s brother, was also a military veteran with extensive combat experience overseas.

“What’s the label read? Bet that shit was made in Taiwan,” Hollywood challenged.

It really didn’t matter to him where it was made, but he wanted to make a point. He watched the Army vet’s face redden as he thumbed and fingered a tiny piece of material on the inside of the vest. Stepping toward him, Hollywood repeated himself. “Well?”

“Fuck off.”

“Ha, so yeah, bitches, I do drive a Porsche Cayenne. And it’s Italian.”

“Settle down children,” Rose snapped.

It was time to move out—she grabbed the scrabbled sheet of paper to review her notes. Everyone was too exhausted to continue hazing each other, although they’d tried keeping the rowdiness down while Voodoo slept on the other side of a paper-thin wall. Tension and reality weighed more heavily as each minute clocked by.

“I’m not leaving Voodoo by herself,” Hollywood blurted. “Just letting you know before you read off your ops plan. No offense, but I’ve got no clue who your doctor friend is.”

“I told you I vetted her myself,” Rose replied. A smile scraped across her white teeth.

“That’s not protocol,” Hollywood retorted.

“She’s trustworthy,” she declared. Agitation over fatigue, more than being challenged, made her flush.

Restlessly, she crossed her legs, let her foot bounce rapidly a few times, and then stood. Her fingers danced, brushing off dust, straightening seams, smoothing her hair.

“Billy doesn’t trust her either.”

Rose’s glare rotated like a turret toward her always-loyal second in command. Hollywood took in her reactions—he wasn’t reassured.

“Billy, is this true?” Rose stepped close to him, ignoring the Savage laid out across the floor with his hands tucked beneath his head.

“You gave her name,” Billy said.

“What?”

“You broke rule number one—identified the doctor”

“The fuck I did,” Rose yelled.

“Doctor Hailey. You saying you never said that? Did I make that shit up?” Hollywood’s gut knotted at throwing Billy under the bus and now verbally assaulting his friend in front of everyone, but his only priority was protecting Voodoo.

“It was a slip, I’m sorry. We’ve all been under the gun—it happens.”

“Not to you, Rose.” Billy said.

“Well, you’ve got a decision to make—she’ll be here any second. We need you on this mission. Let one of the Savages stay behind.”

“Ain’t happening,” Justice growled.

“I agree with the big man. Ain’t happening,” Hollywood said.

Rose stood her ground—Hollywood admired the hell out of her gumption, but he wasn’t sure he could trust Voodoo’s care to some stranger. He felt a twinge of guilt for abandoning his team, but his life had changed and so had his priorities. Rose’s look pleaded for him to reconsider. Swiping both hands across his brow, he used the break in eye contact to leave the room. He stopped when a coded rap came against the back door. The doctor.

Lawless sprung across the room from his seat in deep shadow. Absent Rose’s usual smile, Lawless hesitated. “We got a break. Can I speak in front of her?” He nodded at the older-looking Hispanic female doctor. Rose slightly bobbed her head up and down. Hollywood caught Lawless’ attention and silently mouthed, no.

The garage flooded with tension. Eyes cut back and forth between STR and Savage Souls as allies, no longer adversaries. Rose stood her position next to Doctor Hailey. Everyone else had shuffled back against the walls or workbenches.

Time was wasting.

Lawless stood with palms open, looking to share his secret. He turned to Justice for some clue.

“Rose, I think it’s best to close the circle,” Justice suggested. “Time is becoming precious.”

“We’ll be with Voodoo,” she snapped, jerking the doctor by the elbow. Doctor Hailey frowned.

“Mercy, go with them,” Justice ordered.

His command resonated like Zeus from atop Mount Olympus, the tool bench his throne. No one debated Justice’s decision. Hollywood had noticed the power shifting over the past several hours. Now it seemed complete. He barely cared. As long as Voodoo was protected, his loyalties were negotiable—just not his principles.

“No,” Rose said forcefully.

“Then no one goes in there,” Justice countered.

“Rose, we’re no longer under federal authority, which basically means it’s every man for himself. We’ve agreed to save the president whether she deserves saving or not. Jeopardizing Voodoo’s safety isn’t part of the bargain. Rules have changed. Mercy goes in, or I do. If I go in, you’re alone on this mission. You make the call right now, or your unsecured doctor friend hits the road.” Hollywood’s words were a far cry from the former playboy Navy SEAL who used to work harder at getting laid than hunting terrorists. His love for Voodoo had changed the very core of who he’d become.

He motioned to the biker named Mercy to accompany Rose and the doctor into the break room.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Chase said as he bumped into Doctor Hailey. He grabbed her by the shoulders to keep her from tumbling. She sneered at his touch.

“Go, Lawless,” Justice ordered.

“My Task Force got a bead on none other than NOPD Detective Alphonse Hebert, aka, Fats. Seems he’s in New York for the memorial ceremony. Kinda pisses me off to think that dirty bastard is here to honor law enforcement.” Lawless’ eyes never left his cell phone screen.

“Fuck yeah, Lawless. Great job grabbing his cell. Where is he?” Hollywood leaned in to give Lawless a high-five, but the police captain offered a simple handshake. It was probably extra hard to show happiness in front of his six brothers.

“Let’s set a plan in motion,” Billy said.

“Lawless, you still got the balls to master that hog?” Justice’s voice drowned over Billy’s.

Lawless nodded.

“You take Mercy’s Fat Boy and track down Fats. Vengeance will go with you. Understand?”

“Okay, Justice. Sure Mercy won’t mind?”

“This is business. Do as I say and go, now,” Justice tossed a set of Harley keys to him. Vengeance quickly followed.

“Thanks Lawless,” Hollywood said.

“The rest of us need to get our asses back to New Jersey and flank the ceremony’s entrances. I doubt Fats will accompany Bonny—he doesn’t have the juice to get that close. So many armed cops make this shit a nightmare. No matter, we know what this bitch looks like, so peel your eyes and be ready to yank her ass fast. Mercy won’t let Voodoo out of his sight. He knows to kill the doctor if anything goes sour. Hollywood, tell Rose it’s time to roll and say your see-you-later to Voodoo.” Ice water in his veins, Justice directed resources like he’d probably done his entire time working with the CIA’s Special Operations Group.

“If she dressed as a cop, Bonny could enter with a weapon—no questions asked.” Hollywood suggested.

Justice directed a finger his way. “Good point—you’ve just complicated the shit out of things. But good point.”

It was still an hour and a half past sunrise services, and about the same spread until traditional church services began. Unfortunately for STR and the Savages, Easter morning brought out those who’d not seen a pew since the last time they’d forced the children into dress clothes. Hollywood smirked. At least the church offering plates would benefit today.

The April morning was cool and crisp. He looked in the side view mirror and wondered how the hell the bikers weren’t freezing their asses off. He’d battled the cold during BUD/S, but the one thing he’d come way with was verification that cold was freaking cold, and being cold sucked.

Rose doled out protein bars she’d found stashed back at the garage. She muttered something about “fuck them,” when asked if she’d fed the Savages. Hollywood looked at the team and thought how much everything had changed since Chase Westin first arrived in Pennsylvania a few month earlier. Aimed at dismantling the Preacher’s terror network, STR’s mission was a strict undercover mission to bust his disciples who tried to purchase high-grade weapons.

It’d been a nonstop rollercoaster ever since, which led to his meeting Voodoo. It had also led to the death of a damn fine Navy SEAL, Falcon, and now an anonymous police officer whose body possibly still lay in the weeds off of I-78. Hollywood drew in deep breathes while he recalled the thousand yard shot he’d made back in the south Louisiana marsh to save Voodoo’s life.

Fuck, I lucked out on that one.

He wished they’d get there. These trips down memory lane were killing him.

Hollywood crunched forward as his gut began to spasm. His empty stomach wasn’t receiving the chalky chocolate bar well. He’d not fed it high grams of pure protein in months. He distracted himself with thoughts of Bonny. He grimaced from his twisted gut and the memory of trying to coax Voodoo and Bonny into a ménage a trios.

Talk about sleeping with the enemy.

Everything lay like lead in his stomach. Beads of moisture formed across his brow.

Hollywood considered the top-secret security clearance he’d obtained while running with Operation Neptune. Although privy to information that led him directly to pulling the trigger that killed Osama bin laden, he’d never once, even in his most-trusted status, ever heard of a “blue star.” Who knew such a secret society existed? And one so fucking powerful as to control the federal government. Bonny had to be a loose cannon—no way they’d remained a secret for hundreds of years acting the way she did.

“Which way?” Chase demanded, as if he’d asked before without response.

Chase’s question shook Hollywood out of his thought trance. He scrambled through his cell for the address.

“Empty Sky Memorial at 1 Audrey Zapp Drive. Jersey, of course. Just stick to I-78 like we came last night and hit the Zapp Drive exit.” Hollywood shoved his feet hard against the Suburban’s floorboard as they zipped past the area where the traffic officer had activated blue lights. He scanned the fields beyond the shoulder but saw nothing.

A hand patted his left shoulder. “If so, they’ll pay for it,” Billy said softly.

Hollywood’s eyes dampened. This wasn’t the killing grounds of the Middle East but he continued to struggle between periods when adrenaline dumps left him introspective and emotional. Fury resurfaced at the thought STR had been disbanded by the very own government they’d sacrificed everything for.

He felt Billy’s grip tighten against his shoulder, and looked to see an abandoned police cruiser still parked along the side of the empty roadway with its blue lights on. Glancing into the mirror, thighs ached beneath pounding fists, to see the Savages pumping arms and high-fiving from bike to bike. Eyes slammed shut—wondering why he’d become a defender of the innocent in the first place. Had he sold his soul?

Rose waved her hand and motioned for Hollywood to put her call on hands-free.

“Lawless, you’re on speaker, go ahead.”

“We found Fats. He’s holed up with a contingency from New Orleans. I even saw Kymani at breakfast with him.” The thick thud of the idling hog made Lawless’ report hard to hear. “I gotta be careful not to be spotted.”

“Kymani, the SWAT commander? You think he’s involved?” Hollywood asked in disbelief.

“Doubt it, damn man’s good as gold. Looks like Fats is trying to fly below the radar by hanging with a legitimate flock of blue geese.”

Rose pressed against the center console. “Any sign of Bonny?”

“Not yet. Looks like they’re going to convoy to the memorial with a shit pot of other cops from all over the place. These hotels are full of cops. I think Vengeance is shitting his pants,” his voice sounded light, almost relaxed.

“Fuck off, Bro.” They heard Vengeance’s yell from the background.

“Okay, good work. We’re heading to the memorial sight to scan for Bonny. Stay in touch,” Rose instructed. Again, Chase cut a glance over her head to meet Hollywood’s sneer.

“Guys?” Lawless said.

“Yeah, Lawless?”

“Ya’ll saw it?” he said in a low voice.

“Yeah, we saw the cruiser,” Hollywood replied.

“I asked Vengeance, but he said I’m better off not knowing.” It sounded like he was trying to talk without being detected by his brother.

“They’ll pay for what they did,” Rose said just before Lawless disconnected.

“You don’t think they’ll just let us roll on through, do you? Security’s going to be tighter than a gnat’s ass.” Chase spoke so everyone could hear.

“We can roll our gold,” KC offered from the rear seat of the extended ride.

Rose had been unusually quiet. Hollywood suspected the presence of the Savages had become overwhelming. Sure, she was one of the best operatives he’d known, but the nonstop outlaw ethos could wear anyone down.

“Or, I could just flash my tits,” KC said. “You know what horn dogs cops are.”

Hollywood chuckled. Now that was the KC he knew. She seemed much more comfortable now that the bikers were elsewhere.

“These badges might get us through, but the Savages stick out like a boner in a Speedo.” Chase laughed at his own joke. It was one of his favorite sayings, and Hollywood laughed more at Chase’s response than it actually being funny any longer.

“Son of a bitch. Look at that traffic line. Pull off onto the next shoulder. Lets tell them we’ll get through with our badges, but they’ll have to find another way to access the event. Honestly, if they killed that cop, I don’t want them anywhere near me,” Hollywood stated.

“Oh no, this shit is bad. Real bad,” Chase barked.

Hollywood took the wheel as Chase fumbled with his cell phone. He watched a map with flashes of light, but Hollywood wasn’t able to determine what it all meant.

“What is it?” Rose fell back against the console.

“I didn’t trust your doctor friend Rose,” Chase said. The SUV fell silent as he slowed. Tires crunched against gravel covering cement and mud.

“And why not?”

“You broke protocol, that’s why the fuck not. I bumped into her at the garage,” he said.

“Yeah, I saw that. It looked to be on purpose and she didn’t appreciate it.” Her eyes rolled with an exaggerated exhale.

“It was on purpose so I could plant a tracking beacon on her.”

At Justice’s hard knock on the driver’s window Chase lunged away and grabbed for his weapon. Hollywood held up a finger to signal for Justice to wait. The big man looked pissed to be put off while eighteen-wheelers rocked his ass along the highway with powerful wind gusts.

“Why in the hell would you do that Chase Westin?” Rose’s voice went up in tone. Nervous, Hollywood thought, crossing his arms. He felt it—Voodoo was in danger again.

Chase powered his window down. Even with fresh air, the vehemence in the cabin was stifling. Justice poked his head through the opening, not amused at being ignored.

“Voodoo and the Doc are no longer at the garage, Rose.”