Scout decided to delay my meeting with Garrison. The German Shepherd plopped itself on the sidewalk, refusing to walk. I stared at the pup but he ignored me.
“Come on, little guy, you were whining in your crate. Thought you needed to go.” I gave his leash a tug and walked forward, but he wouldn’t budge. I waved at the officers sitting in the police cruiser across the street. Fuckers probably thought my predicament with Scout was hilarious.
I glanced ahead. Two blocks up, headlights flashed.
I scowled at the errant puppy again. “Fine. Just this one time.” I bent forward and picked him up. “You little cock-blocker.” I was anxious to get back to Kelly. Images of my wife currently soaking in a tub flashed through my head. I made it only a few steps when the pup squirmed and I had no choice but to set him down. He waddled to a grassy area and rolled on his back.
Seriously?
“Last chance, bud,” I told him in a stern voice. The pup gave a sigh, rolled to stand, and started trotting beside me.
On our way to John’s car, Scout made a stop to do his business. Fortunately, not one I’d have to pick up. Finally, we reached Garrison’s Escalade and got in.
“Did you have to park this far?” I shut the door behind me. Scout bounded up to Garrison.
“I didn’t want your patrol to get suspicious and investigate.”
I would have done the same if the situations were reversed, but I had to share my grumblings.
“Little thing giving you problems?” he chuckled.
“Tell me about it.”
“I might get one when our kid turns two.” John scratched the dog’s ears while Scout gave a satisfied groan.
“Surprised you’re here.” With Nadia so close to her delivery date and knowing how Garrison was so paranoid about schedules, I doubted he’d leave her side. “How’s the missus?”
“She’s about to pop,” he said. “At this point she’s tired of being pregnant.”
“Kelly was the same way. The last month is hard for them.”
“She’s taken to sleeping on the recliner,” he grumbled. “Anyway.” He switched to his business tone. “I got hold of Dmitry. He’s in the U.S.”
I stilled. “Did he say anything about Tom Roth?”
“He admitted the plan was for Roth to infiltrate Murder Sanctum. There appears to be bad blood between Stepanov and Dmitry, but I have a feeling it’s more about Ford.”
“Our Walter Ford?”
Garrison nodded. “Stepanov is only a middle man. But it’s Ford’s business with the oligarchs that Dmitry has a beef with.”
“How about Stepanov’s deal with the Russian mafia and its connection to the op that killed Callum?”
“Dmitry has information, but he won’t give it to me.”
“Fuck that,” Levi snarled. “He owes us. He’s a CIA asset, right? Why—”
“Dmitry will only turn the intel over for a face-to-face with Kelly.”
I wasn’t sure I heard him right. “What?”
“Kelly. It seems he has something to say to Kelly.”
“Why can’t he hand it over to you? Or to me.”
“No fucking idea,” Garrison muttered. “Look. I tried. All Dmitry asks is to speak to Kelly.”
“I’m not down with that shit. Is Roth making him do this? Because if he plans to steal my wife …”
“James—”
“No fucking way.”
“James!” Garrison snapped. “Table that jealousy shit for a second, would ya?”
I scowled at him. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him he was just as bad when it came to his own wife.
“Nadia is working with Bristow to figure this shit out, although I’m telling you now without Dmitry’s input, they’re not getting very far.”
“Have you looked into Stepanov’s organization?”
“The Sanctum has flown under the CIA’s radar because they usually deal with mob business, but this one involves a SEAL op, and if anyone in our military and our government is complicit, that’s treason. If it’s proven, this is going to be a big scandal not only on the Hill, but U.S. Central Command as well. We need to tread carefully, not go off half-cocked, and make sure we have evidence.”
“Damn it.”
“Glad I’m not in the middle of that shit,” Garrison muttered. “This is sensitive intel, and any leak might trigger a cover up.”
Garrison’s phone mounted on the dashboard flashed and read “Red” which stood for Bristow calling in.
“What’s up?” John frowned and glanced at me. “Yeah, he’s with me, but why call me and not him? … What? Fuck.”
A bad feeling crawled up my spine. “What?”
“You’re on speaker,” John said.
“The perimeter alarms on Cillian’s property have been breached,” Bristow said. “I’m sending the screen to you right now.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“Safer to call G, just in case you were in covert mode and didn’t turn down your ringer. Outside infrared shows two vans parked behind the house.”
“Fuck.” I made to get out of the vehicle, but John stopped me.
“Do you have a weapon on you?”
“No.”
“Leave the dog in the car, I’m coming with.”
I didn’t argue and met him at the back of the vehicle. He handed me a silenced Glock, several magazines, a knife, and a compact submachine gun. Shutting the cargo area, he said, “Let’s go.”
“John …” I thought about Nadia.
He glared at me. “If you think I’m letting you walk into an ambush by yourself, then I’m disappointed you still don’t know the man I am. Either we argue here or go secure your family.”
I shut my mouth, rabid to get back to the house. I stuck the comms device in my ear.
Bristow guided us. “Shadows moving in front of the house. They might have someone posted who saw you leave. Approach from the back, more concealment with the trees.”
“Copy that.” Garrison and I acknowledged. We sprinted down to the cross street and approached from the road running through the back of the property. We spotted the vans.
“Shit. Wish I had a drone to deploy for heat signatures,” Bristow said. “Going by the infrared. I see two hostiles in the backyard. And I just spotted one detaching from the trees beside the police cruiser.”
“We need to assume they got the cops,” Garrison said.
“I’ve alerted Kelso,” Bristow said. “A nine-one-one call originated from the house.”
“I can take those two hostiles,” I said. “John, take the one in front. We can’t have him rushing in when we breach the house.”
“Wow, you’re giving orders to G,” Bristow chuckled.
“It’s about damn time,” I muttered.
John gave me a brief nod and made tracks to the side of the house that would lead him to the entrance.
Having confidence in him went a long way in keeping me calm. My panic was buried deep inside, and my training kicked in. I scaled the eight-foot concrete fence and sidled over to the tree beside it just inside the yard, making a mental note that it was a security weakness. I dropped to the ground in a crouch.
“Two tangos,” I whispered to Bristow. “Anyone else?”
“No, you’re clear.”
“Engaging.” Fishing out my fixed blade, I approached one of the hostiles who had his back to me. I put my hand over his mouth and slit his throat and tried as quietly as possible to lower him to the ground, but his partner saw me. We were about to open fire on each other when a blast came from the house.
I drew my gun first, fired, and dropped him with a head shot. Noise erupted in comms.
“What the hell was that?” John growled. “Other hostile is moving in.”
“That sounded like a shotgun.”
“Cillian or Branna,” I muttered. Scooting to the back door, I peeked through its glass panel and spotted the silhouette of Kelly and … Whitney. My girls!
I crashed through the door. “Are you all right?”
“I’m gonna kill him,” someone shouted. I raised my gun over their heads.
“Cillian,” Branna appeared at the bottom of the stairs and stepped over a body. The splattered blood and the hole on the wall above it painted the entire story.
Branna was fumbling with the shotgun, blocking a clear shot to a hostile who seemed shaken, but with enough wits to point a gun at her.
Cillian launched himself at the man, knocking him over.
Police sirens blared outside.
I shoved Branna aside and saw another dazed hostile lift a gun toward Cillian. I shot him in the head.
Garrison crashed into the house from the front door just as I pulled Cillian off the man he tackled. I kicked his gun out of his reach. With John watching my back, I let loose the rage I fought to contain when I realized my family was in danger.
“You piece-of-shit son of a bitch,” I roared, cracking his jaw with the force of my gun. I flipped him over so his chest was on the floor. “Don’t you fucking move, asshole. Or better yet, give me a reason to shoot you.”
I fixed my gun to the back of his head, hand tightening around its grip, my finger brushing the trigger.
“Dad,” Whitney’s voice broke through my blind fury.
I eased my finger on the trigger, lowered my gun, and turned to my girls. I stood just as Whitney dove into me. “Daddy!”
My arm went around her and with the other, I hauled Kelly into my embrace. Tremors wracked my insides. “Ashley?”
“She’s upstairs,” Kelly cried.
“Ruger,” Whitney wailed, tearing away from me and dropping to her knees.
I saw the German Shepherd on his side. He was barely moving, but alive.
“Shit.”
Kelso and a couple of uniforms appeared inside the house.
“He saved me and Gramps,” Whitney sobbed. “Is he going to be all right? There’s so much blood.”
“Hey, buddy.” I kneeled beside Ruger.
He gave a soft whine and nuzzled my hand.
“Fuck.” A voice uttered behind me.
I’d never been more relieved to hear Bristow curse in front of my daughter. “About time you got here.”
The house erupted with activity. Kelly broke away from me to check on Ashley.
“Oh, man.” Bristow’s attention fell on Ruger. “I’ll get him stabilized and take him to the emergency vet.”
“Is he going to be okay?” Cillian asked hoarsely.
I glanced at Kelly’s grandfather. “Your head’s bleeding.”
“Just got pistol whipped. Ruger first.”
“Ambulance is on the way,” Kelso told us.
Rising to my feet, I glared at him. “All bets are off. You know this, right?”
The detective’s jaw hardened.
Stepanov had gone after Kelly before, and now, he’d gone after my entire family.
This was fucking war.
