Wicked Shadows (Steele Security Book 5) Read online

  Jack pulled alongside the curb in front of an old, dilapidated building that probably should’ve been condemned decades before. The sparsely remaining paint was peeling, the overhangs were rotten, and the gutters had long ago fallen away.

  “Charming place. You didn’t have anything a little less pretentious? I’m not sure I can afford a room here,” Shadow deadpanned.

  “Sorry. Everywhere else was full,” Jack retorted. “Come on in, and I’ll show you around.”

  He unlocked the door and stepped inside. With his arm extended, he smiled at Shadow. “Here’s your apartment. Try not to get lost.”

  Shadow stepped through the doorway and did a full 360-degree turn. “The janitor’s closet at my old high school was bigger than this apartment. It’s a good thing I’m not claustrophobic.”

  The only privacy in the small room was behind the bathroom door that would undoubtedly fall off the hinges at any time. It was barely hanging on as it was, but the slightest breeze or softest tremor would surely separate it from the hinges completely.

  “No chance of getting lost in here. Bright side,” Jack laughed and closed the door. “We’ve already stocked your fridge and cupboard. Here are your keys—one to the door, one to the garage, and one to the bike. That’s the best thing about this place. The small garage next door is yours too. Your bike is parked over there.”

  “Let’s go check out the garage, then.” Shadow left the apartment with a quickness in his step that made Jack chuckle under his breath when he fell into step behind him. Shadow rounded the corner of the building and stopped in his tracks. “I’m sleeping in the garage, Jack.”

  The garage was formerly a service station, abandoned at least a decade before. The gas pump had been removed, weeds grew in the huge cracks in the concrete, and some of the upper windows had been busted out. The single roll-up door was all metal, shielding the inside from prying eyes.

  Shadow unlocked the door to the small office area and turned to Jack. “It smells better in here than over there. Does this bathroom work?”

  “Yeah. We actually just had it redone last year. You could open this place up and take in small jobs. Get your name and face known in the area to help draw them in to you.”

  “Good idea. I think I may just do that, with a back-office business of my own to make extra money. Make myself indispensable to the club before they even know what hit them.”

  “You are dangerous. Maybe you should quit the CIA and come to the DEA.”

  “No one ever quits the CIA, Jack. Haven’t you heard?”

  “I’ve heard stories. Never knew if they were true or not. So you can only quit when you die?”

  “Only if you give a two-week notice first.”

  “Got it. Well, we’ll do our best to avoid the notice and the death stipulation while you’re here. Don’t want you tarnishing my good record.”

  Jack and Shadow busied themselves with moving the small bed from the apartment over to the office behind the front counter, then the refrigerator and all the food. After they’d straightened up the tools left behind by the last tenant, Shadow inspected his new abode.

  “I can’t believe you were going to put me over in that little shithole instead of this nice, roomy garage.”

  “Honestly, I’m surprised no one before you thought of doing this. I’m going to take this as a good sign for things to come. Maybe you’re just what we need to wrap this case up. Two years undercover is changing Nick. This group is merciless and ice-cold.”

  “Jack, I’ll do what I can to help close the case against them and shut down their operations for good. But my primary objective is to find Elle and Beth before it’s too late.”

  The low, mean rumble of a motorcycle engine grew louder until it stopped just outside the garage. Jack and Shadow exchanged glances and moved to the office area where they could see outside. A tall, muscular man swung his leg over the Harley and slid his skullcap off his head.

  “Well, if it isn’t Renegade himself.” Shadow walked toward him, no expression on his face to give away his thoughts. He felt eyes on him, searing his skin and heightening his senses.

  “Shadow,” Nick replied, keeping his voice level and glancing up and down the street. “You all moved in?”

  “Yeah. What little I have anyway.”

  “Well,” Nick paused. “There goes the fucking neighborhood.”

  With raucous laughter and manly hugs, the two men greeted each other like long-lost friends. Appearances weren’t a far cry from reality. They’d worked a couple of cases together—one before Nick joined the DEA and one afterward. They hadn’t seen each other in quite a while, but they’d initially established a close working relationship while protecting Dominic Powers that carried forward to that very day.

  “What’s up with this hairstyle and manscaped beard? You turn into a pussy in prison or what?”

  “You’re still so fucking funny. I’ve been in admin-seg for the last year. One of my punishments was to cut my hair and beard.”

  “Administrative segregation. Why’d they put you in time-out for so long?”

  “For killing another convict after he called me a pussy.”

  Nick threw his head back and roared with laughter. “Fair enough, brother. I brought you a housewarming gift. Maybe that’ll keep you from killing me.”

  “Depends on what you brought.”

  Nick opened his saddlebag and withdrew two six-packs of beer. “Guessing it’s been a while since you’ve had one of these if you’ve been on lockdown for the past year.”

  “You’re forgiven. Come on in and pop a top with us. Jack is here too.”

  With the door closed, the three men sat in the office and talked. To anyone outside, they were laughing and becoming reacquainted after a prolonged absence. Cans of beer were tossed, fingers were pointed as smiles turned to laughter, and hands moved wildly through the air in animated displays.

  Every move and gesture were carefully orchestrated to maintain the façade they’d created. While they shared pertinent, detailed information in private, their secret spectator would be none the wiser. Looks could be very deceiving, and assumptions were downright deadly. Their ruse was perfected over time and with intense training. It was as ingrained in them as riding a bike.

  “Who’s watching us?” Shadow asked.

  “Not sure. It’s not Bonebreaker. I just left him with his ole lady. Not saying he didn’t send someone to watch Jack or me, though.” Nick took a swig of his beer.

  “Are you any closer to cracking the case and finding out who’s funding the change in their MO?” Jack asked.

  “Not who’s funding it, but I did find an interesting puzzle piece today. Large sums of money are being transferred from the club’s accounts, routed through several dummy corporations, and finally deposited into an offshore account. Someone is already checking the dummy corporations’ names and officers for me.”

  “What if no one is funding their newest venture? It could be the exact opposite,” Shadow contemplated. “Maybe we’ve been too focused on it being one way to see other possibilities.”

  “Let’s go over what we know, then. Lay it all out on the table.” Jack stood and walked into the service bay area. “Come in here so we can quit playing those damn charades.”

  Nick and Shadow rose, laughing over Jack’s description of their actions, and followed him into the garage.

  “Jack tell you this place is kept clean by a perpetual de-bugger device?” Nick asked.

  “No, but it’s good to hear y’all are using that technology now. I’m having some of my own installed as we speak. I’ll let them know to work around it.”

  “So, what do we know? Start from the beginning.”

  “Devil’s Dominion has been involved in the usual illegal trades—drugs, prostitution, and weapons. Their main drug supplier is the Mexican cartel. They make regular runs to the border and meet their contacts. Then they come back, disperse their product to the satellite clubs for distribution, and collect
the money from them weekly.”

  “The same guys travel to the border and back? No one left behind at the meeting?” Shadow clarified.

  “No one left behind. Same set of guys because the cartel members know them. They rotate schedules randomly to avoid overeager DEA agents. But nothing other than drugs and money is exchanged.”

  “Same with weapons?”

  “Yeah. Certain guys are tagged to gain weapons. They use their own ole lady, or some of the better-looking sheep they keep around the clubhouse, to lure guys from the local military bases. Once they get the supply chain established, all transactions are kept way under the radar. There’s way too much press coverage on this to be tied to the weapons deals.”

  “That leaves the prostitution ring,” Jack surmised.

  Shadow crushed the beer can between his palms until it was as flat as a pancake.

  “Calm down. Let’s talk it through before you go all rogue on us,” Jack said.

  “Jack’s right. The prostitution ring is fairly straightforward. They use the same sheep they keep around the club—or new girls they pick up hitchhiking. But as far as I know, they always bring them back to the clubhouse for the members to pass around.”

  “As far as you know. So there could be a deviation from the norm going on.” Shadow stood and began pacing. “I’m reading you both in on a highly classified piece of intel we have.”

  “Highly classified piece of intel means it was obtained illegally.” Nick raised his eyebrows at Shadow. “Blurring lines?”

  “I have no lines where Elle is concerned. If I had to storm the gates of hell itself to bring her back, that’s exactly what I’d do. If I have to kill every single member of the Devil’s Dominion with my bare hands to get her out of their clutches, it won’t bother me one bit.

  “So, one of our analysts was combing through all the data and chatter from the time surrounding the disappearances and found something interesting. Katrina Fox was the first actress I’d heard about going off the grid, but she actually wasn’t the first. A girl by the name of Carrie Snow was the first one.

  “A similar story was given—she quit the film industry and settled down somewhere in suburbia. There were rumors of drug and alcohol addiction that plagued her. While our analyst was checking for anything related to Elle, Carrie’s name came up. He marked it to research it later and called me on the flight today. Seems Carrie’s name is hot on the chatter wheel these days.”

  “So your analyst hacked into the NSA’s program and has been monitoring cell phone conversations for you across Southern California?” Nick was barely holding on to his sense of right and wrong after being a full-fledged officer in an outlaw motorcycle club for two years. He needed his friends outside the club to be his moral compass when his own was askew.

  “You’re completely missing the point. That’s three missing actresses and a makeup artist who happened to be with Elle when she disappeared. The first one was weeks before Katrina—but her name is still active in the chatter. The goods haven’t been delivered yet. Not with the intel he gave me.

  “Where would they hide the girls they’re not using yet? We’ve checked the known properties, and nothing jumps out as an obvious hideaway.”

  “Nowhere. The club has nowhere to hide girls like that. You’re talking high-profile, instantly recognizable, the-whole-world-looking-for-them actresses. Our sheep are taken out in broad daylight and paraded in front of men on the street. They’re openly offered to potential Johns on the sidewalks downtown.

  “Most of these boys don’t have a pot to piss in on their own. Your apartment over there would be a palace to more than half of our local chapter members. Did your analyst come across any other names that would be helpful in our search?”

  “No, but he’s still doing his analysis. He picked up on her name and searched every hit on that match first. It’ll take him a little while longer to sort through the rest.”

  “And that doesn’t bother you? Eavesdropping illegally?”

  “Not a bit. It’s not for my monetary gain. It’s to save the lives of four young women and to prevent more from being taken. We know it was Devil’s Dominion members who took Elle and Beth. That was confirmed by the patches on their vests. He followed them with local cameras as far as he could. The truck disappeared in an alley and never came back out.”

  “And you’ve already had the buildings scanned by satellites.” Nick wasn’t even asking at that point.

  “Of course. One of the buildings is a parking garage. Too many large vehicles went in and out to identify one to home in on. Plus, they could’ve separated Elle and Beth and taken them on different routes. An incursion at one location could mean death to the others. I can’t take that risk—I need absolutes in this case.”

  “Then I guess your friend needs to perform more illegal searches and find a connection to the money.” Nick didn’t try to hide his sarcasm or his disapproval.

  “It’s not illegal when they’re suspected of domestic terrorism and treason.” Shadow shot his words back at Nick, not hiding his disgust with the turn in the conversation.

  “Domestic terrorism? By kidnapping a starlet and depriving America of their ninety-minute worship time?”

  “You don’t honestly believe their end game is to kidnap three beautiful, well-known stars and use them for a local prostitution ring, do you? They’re going to trade them—desirable human slaves in exchange for weapons from a Middle Eastern country known for using biological weapons on their own people, Chinese syndicates who sell them into slavery in exchange for large amounts of laundered money, or anything else in between.

  “Think like a DEA agent, Nick. Not like a low-level thug who only does what ‘big boss Headbanger’ tells him to do. Your biker gang is attempting to break in to the big leagues for a reason. Whether they want to use the weapons themselves or sell them to others for a shitload of money doesn’t matter.”

  16

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Elle’s parents, Danny and Tanya, and her brothers, Jeff and Mark, arrived at her apartment and frantically searched for any sign of her return. A small clue that confirmed she was fine, just avoiding the world. But none of her close personal belongings were there—purse, cell phone, or wallet. Beth’s parents were scheduled to arrive later that evening, and Jeff had shared Devon’s strict instructions with them.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Moore?” The deep, authoritative voice boomed from the doorway. “I’m Noah ‘Reaper’ Steele. I believe you’re expecting my team and me.”

  “Yes, though I’ve only heard Devon call you Reaper. He told us all about you. Please come in.” Tanya urged him into the apartment, her eyes growing wider with each man who followed him.

  “This is the rest of my team. Colton ‘Bull’ Lanier and Braxton ‘Rebel’ Reed. We’ll be watching your backs at all times. I wanted to make sure you met us first. You won’t see us unless we want you to know we’re there, but when that happens, it’ll be for a specific reason.”

  “Do you think we’re in danger?” Danny glanced around the room at his family, his concern for their safety etched in his features. They were all anxious to start hounding anyone and everyone over his daughter’s whereabouts, but he had to consider the safety of the rest of his family as well.

  “There’s nothing to indicate that,” Rebel replied. “But there’s also no reason to take chances.”

  “Right. Our information shows you own a lucrative winery. If this is a ransom case, the more leverage they have, the harder it’ll be for us to gain traction. We’d rather be more cautious than necessary.” Bull explained the situation in his usual straightforward manner.

  “So let’s get started. We’ll take shifts and follow you when you leave. No one goes anywhere alone for any reason—even if that’s their only demand. This is not up for discussion.” Noah had the family sit and memorize the coverage schedule and how to contact them in case of an emergency. “First stop will be the studio office. You need to demand to speak with the execu
tive in charge of production on Elle’s movie. He’ll refuse. Leave, and go back with a reporter and camera. Then don’t take no for an answer.”

  “I can do that,” Tanya replied. “If I need to pitch a tent and sleep in their office, I can do that too.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” The admiration on Bull’s face contradicted his words.

  Early the next morning, the Moore family arrived at the executive offices, their sights set on forcing the hand of the one responsible for releasing lies about Elle’s disappearance. The secretary looked up, confused and concerned, when she heard the commotion behind the double doors that separated the executive suite. Tanya burst through the opening, threats and promises of relieving the security guard of everything that made him a man if he touched her again.

  “Barry Jacobson,” she yelled down the long hallway of executive offices. “We demand to speak with you this instant.”

  With Danny, Jeff, and Mark running interference with the guards, Tanya walked briskly down the corridor, calling his name loudly. “If I’m forced to leave without speaking to you, it will be much worse when I return.”

  A door swung open, and a graying man in his midfifties stepped out. “What can I do for you, Ms.—?” His voice trailed off as he searched her face for recognition. She knew the moment he realized who she was. “You must be Elle Sinclair’s mother because she is the spitting image of you.”

  “That’s right. Elle Moore is my daughter, and I want to know where she is right now.”

  He tried to hide his shock, but the way the color drained from his face couldn’t be denied. “You haven’t heard from her yet?”

  “Would I be here if I had?”

  “I’m sure she and Jax are still enjoying their honeymoon on some remote island. No need to worry.”

  “She’s not with Jax on some remote island or anywhere else. We both know that is a lie, and I’ll make sure the entire world knows it, too. You’ll answer for why no police report has been filed, no questions asked, no searches performed. What are you hiding?”