Twisted Mercy (Red Team Book 4) (15 page)

“I had no idea this place was here.” She looked up at him. “And I’ve lived in Fort Collins for two years.”

He smiled at her. “Like it?”

“It’s amazing. But why are we here? Are you hungry?”
 

“No. There’s something I want you to see.” He led her back to the bank of elevators. “You’ll need the card,” he said when the doors opened. She swiped it through the reader. The digital panel queried “P1, P2, or P3?” She looked at him for an answer.
 

He smiled. “P1.”

The doors opened onto a wide landing. The flooring was a cinnamon terrazzo. The fixtures were Craftsman influenced. He took the key card and opened a pair of frosted glass doors, then stood back to let her enter.

“What is this place?” she asked, looking around at the modern loft. The kitchen, dining room, and living room were all open to one another. The space was huge.
 

“I bought an apartment.”

What a relief that he would be near. “Are you moving down here?”

“No. But I wanted a place near the school. For you.”

“What?”

“I’d like you to move in here. I had the decorator finish it according to my tastes, since I don’t know enough about yours yet. If you prefer something else, you can work with her directly to make changes.”

She was having a hard time processing what he’d done for her. He took her hand and led her over to the wide bank of windows. He hit a button on a wall panel. The windows slid open. Outside, on a gracious patio, a dining table was flanked on one end by a big gas fireplace and on the other by an outdoor kitchen. Farther out, under a steel portico, was a U-shaped rattan sofa with cinnamon cushions.
 

“I like watching moonrises. We can do that here.”

“It’s beautiful.”

He led her across the loft to the other side. The same wall of windows retracted to show another outdoor area looking west. They were high enough up that they had an unobstructed view of the mountains. A breeze blew right through their apartment, smelling alpine fresh.
 

Their apartment.

Kelan wrapped his arms around her. “I hope your silence is a good sign.”

“I’m stunned. Speechless. I didn’t know this existed. I never even thought I’d live in a place like this. It’s gorgeous.”

“It is. And it’s safe. You can cook for yourself, or pop downstairs and pick up something. That way I know you’re eating. The garage is manned 24-7. No one but you and housekeeping has access to this floor, and housekeeping can only access it during scheduled time slots. Greer has cleared that service, by the way.”

Fiona went back inside and noticed the stairs. “Our bedrooms are up there,” Kelan said.

“Bedrooms? We’re sleeping separately?”

“We are. Until the claiming ceremony.” He took her hand and led her up the stairs. Three bedrooms and a cozy sitting area filled the whole upper floor. Two of the bedrooms shared a west-facing balcony. The third shared the east-facing balcony with the sitting area. Each bedroom had its own spa-like en suite. The rooms were furnished in the same nouveau Craftsman style as downstairs.
 

“What’s upstairs?”

He smiled. “The best part of all. Come see.”

He hurried her up the stairs, where double glass doors led from a landing to an open rooftop garden. A steel portico gave a large living room area some relief from the sun. Another long table was up there—that one bolted to the ground because of the winds. The steel wire railings were high, but open enough not to block the views.

“The elevator comes up here too.”

“You have the top three floors,” she said, overwhelmed at the luxury of his apartment.

“
We
have, yes. Will you be comfortable here?”

“Yes. I won’t want to leave.” She looked at him and smiled. “I might switch to online classes so that I don’t have to.”

His brows lowered. “If you switch to online classes, you’ll stay with me in Wyoming.”

She bit her lip and laughed. “I want to look at the rooms again. Which one is yours?”

“The eastern facing.”

She went into his room. There was only a California King bed, two nightstands, and a sitting area by the windows. She went into his closet, which was twice as big as her dorm room. His things were already hanging up. “You’ve already moved in.”

“Some things. We can move you in the weekend before school starts.”

She tilted her head. “Why did you want me to move to UW when you already had this place?”

“UW is closer to me. I can sell this place at any time.”

“No, you can’t. It’s too amazing. Will I be able to bring my friends here?”

“It’s your home, Fiona. Of course you may. After Greer clears them.” He smiled.

“Oh, no. I am not going to have my friends cleared.”

“No?” He lifted a black brow.

“No.”

“We’ll work on that.” He drew her into his arms. “Fiona, I know that a lot has happened to you this summer. None of it is anything you can talk about with your friends. All of it is need-to-know, and they don’t.”

Fiona wrapped her arms around his waist and bent her forehead to his chest. He was so wonderfully solid. “What will I tell them when they ask about my summer?”

“Tell them you spent it in Wyoming being a nanny. That’s the truth.”

“And what will I say when I bring them here? There’s no way I could afford this on my own.”

“Tell them this belongs to your boyfriend.”

“Are you ready for that? For being exclusive?”

He laughed. “I’ve been exclusive to you since I found you crouching in your closet at Alan’s house.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Max’s phone rang.
“Mad Dog,”
Pete said on the other end,
“we’ve got some visitors coming in. Make sure we have men posted in the usual spots.”

“Who is it?”

“Abdul Baseer al Jahni’s new rep, Jafaar Majid and his security detail.”

“Where’s the meeting taking place?

“Down below, in the meeting room. They’ll be here around noon.”

“Okay. I’ll take care of it.”

“When you’re done, meet me at the warehouse. I need you watching my back.”

“Will do.”

Max hung up, then dialed the crew he’d used for guard duty while the shipment was being loaded. When he got them in place, he checked in with the team.

“Greer, read me?”

“Gotcha loud and clear. Rocco’s headed your way with Jafaar. The team’s already in place, should you need them.”

“Copy. What’s the word on King?”

“His carrier has a flag on his account that blocks tower tracking. I’ve turned that off. We’ll have to wait for his next call or text.”

Max crossed the compound to wait at the warehouse. As the WKB guards came in, he sent them to their positions. The two who stood with him at the entrance to the warehouse were well equipped with Kevlar and AK-47s. They also bore the crescent moon and star tattoo below their left ears that Rocco had encouraged al Jahni’s supporters in the WKB to wear while he was undercover in Afghanistan.
 

A black Range Rover pulled onto the compound and drove around to the warehouse about a half-hour later. The driver came around to open the door for Jafaar. Rocco got out from the other side of the car.
 

Jafaar wore a conservative outfit of a white shirt with a banded collar buttoned at the neck, a dark gray suit jacket, lighter gray trousers, and Ferragamo loafers. A slim Kashmiri cap of caramel wool with elaborate burgundy embroidering covered his head.
 

Max moved his gaze from Jafaar to Rocco to the driver, giving each the same cool once-over. One of Pete’s guys patted them down for weapons. He confiscated a Kimber 1911 from the driver and a Berreta and a knife from Rocco. Another of Pete’s guys wanded all three to be certain they weren’t carrying any transmitting devices.
 

When they were cleared, Max led the way into the warehouse while Jafaar’s driver stayed behind with their vehicle. Max called up the elevator behind the bookshelf, then stood back while Jafaar and Rocco entered. Inside, he pressed the button for the first-floor meeting room below ground.

When the doors opened, Max led them into the meeting room where Pete and a Syadne employee waited. Introductions were made, then they sat down to business.
 

“Didn’t take al Jahni long to replace Amir,” Pete said, with his typical lack of finesse.

Jafaar made a polite nod. “It was already in the works—as was another point of discussion…does al Jahni wish to continue his contract with your organization? Or would it be better for him to either diversify or entirely relocate his business to your peers in the eastern region? They are eager to work with us and are offering terms that are hard to decline.”

“Jafaar, you’ll do what’s in your best interests, I’m sure. Nothing more or less would be expected of you.”

“One point of contention for us is how slow you are to move al Jahni’s product.”

“I’m not slow. I’m cautious.”

Jafaar cast aside that argument with a wave of his manicured hand. “A matter of semantics.”

“No. A matter of logistics. If we push more product out there, our exposure—and yours—is amplified. We’re moving it as quickly as it can be moved. I don’t believe that our eastern peers can distribute it any faster—or more securely.”

“King has said you have an impressive vault system here. If it is convenient, I would like to be given a tour.”

“Sure. Let’s do that. Once you see our setup here, you’ll forget anything our eastern friends have offered you.”

“Alas, if it were that simple, my decision would likewise be easy. King tells me there may be a mole in your organization, which—if that is true—impacts our choice.”

“What the hell?” Pete snapped, straightening in his seat. “What did he say to you?”

“Forgive me. Apparently he has not yet spoken to you. It would be inappropriate for me to discuss this further.”
 

Max kept the cold chill that curled in the pit of his belly from sending fear signals throughout his body. He looked at Pete, checking his reaction. He looked pissed, but nothing more. Not even surprised. Had King already said something to him?

Max followed the group as Pete took the two men through the administrative offices on the next floor down, then to the ninth floor, where the heroin was kept. He’d been wondering how much product Pete still had to distribute. The vaults were fifty percent full. He still had a fuckload of dope to move.
 

After the tour, they returned to the meeting room. The Syadne employee handed Jafaar two code-protected steel cases. The codes were written on a sheet of paper passed to him in a manila folder. He entered the code for the first case and popped it open. Inside, neatly arranged in packs of $5000, was half a million dollars. He repeated the same steps with the second case.
 

“The remaining amount owed this quarter is spread evenly among the three cybercurrencies you requested,” the Syadne employee said. “You’ll see that transaction information on your report.”

“Please provide me a copy of that report,” Rocco said, speaking calmly with the same accented English that Jafaar used. Max never understood how he could absorb someone’s accent so easily.
 

The employee picked up a phone and made the request. A moment later, another employee entered with a folder for Rocco. They collected the cases, then Max and Pete escorted them back to their vehicle.
 

“We gotta talk,” Max said as they watched the Range Rover leave the compound grounds.

“Release the guys first. We’re done here.”

Max did as he requested. “What was that about a mole? Why didn’t you tell me about this? Someone like that’s a threat I need to take care of.”

Pete held up a hand. “King called me just before the meeting. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. It’s not your concern.”

“The fuck it isn’t. A mole not only puts King’s operation in jeopardy, he puts this compound at risk, too.”

“Leave it to me, Mad Dog. I’ll take care of it.”
 

* * *

Pete preferred for his sergeant-at-arms to live on the compound. Made it easier for him to handle surprise deliveries or pickups. He’d made an exception for Mad Dog, but only because the guy lived just down the street.

Even though he was no longer the sergeant-at-arms, Hatchet still hung his vest in his room in the compound’s bunkhouse, a place reserved for visiting officers and special guests. Pete should have booted him the day he stripped his rank from him. He didn’t, in part because he didn’t want Hatchet gunning for him—and because the guy might still prove useful as leverage against King.

Hatchet was playing cards in the common room with a few other guys. Pete looked the group over, wondering which of them were loyal to him and which were loyal to Hatchet.

“Hatchet, we need to talk.”

The biker didn’t look up from his cards. “It’ll have to wait. I’m winning.”

“Game’s over,” Pete said to the guys. He wished he’d brought Mad Dog. The guy had a way of getting everyone in line, fast and sharp. “Take a hike,” he told Hatchet’s friends.

They divvied the pot, then cleared out of the room.

Hatchet leaned back in his seat and glared at Pete as he blew his cigarette smoke into the air. “You better have a damn good reason for breaking up a game I was winning.”

Pete sat across the table from him. He studied the guy for a minute, looking at him through the haze. “Rumor is King’s put out a kill order for you. Why would he do that, do you suppose?”
 

Hatchet looked at him, straightening in his chair. “You tell me.”

“Can’t be a coincidence that just today al Jahni’s rep told me he was thinking of transferring his business to the eastern region…because of a mole in our organization.”

“That’s it? That’s the source of the rumor?” He stubbed his cigarette out in an over-full ashtray. “You’d have a brother killed for that bullshit?”

“I’ve killed for less.”

“I’m not the mole. It’s the wrench. Look at how everything’s gone to hell since she got here.”