War Bringer (6 page)

The hair lifted on Rocco’s neck. He flashed a look at Max and saw that it had the same effect on him.

“I am honored that you asked me. I will be pleased to attend with you. And it will provide me with an opportunity to review the security infrastructure he has in place. I’m sure I’m not the only one attending the event who is interested in ensuring King has taken adequate precautions to ensure the privacy of you and all his guests.”

“I will call and set up that walk-through.”
 

“Where and when is the ceremony to be held?”

“Meet me at Yusef’s hotel at noon tomorrow. We will travel to King’s private quarters together. There are two events: the initiation tomorrow night and the wedding Sunday morning.”

“Very well. But know that if King refuses to allow us to inspect his security procedures, I must counsel al Jahni to decline his participation.”

“Indeed, as he should.”

“I will need the exact meeting coordinates in advance.”

“I do not have them. We are to park at a rendezvous point, where we will follow one of King’s vehicles for the remainder of our journey.”

“So be it. I will see you tomorrow, my friend.”

“Allah keep you safe,” Jafaar said. The line went dead.

Greer strolled into the conference room.
 

“What the fuck was that about?” Max growled.

“You up to this, Rocco?” Greer asked.

“Yeah. I am.”

Max nodded. “I’m calling Kit.”

“Bolanger here.”

“Rocco got a call from Jafaar. Have a listen.” Max replayed the call for Kit.

“Well, damn. What the fuck was all that cryptic shit? What initiation was he referring to?”
Kit asked.
“And who’s King’s daughter?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Rocco answered.

“Son of a bitch,” Greer snapped. “You don’t think it’s Fee, do you?”

Kit sighed.
“Don’t think we can rule that out.”
Silence.
“Rocco, you good to do this?”

“I am.”

There was another pause at Kit’s end.
“Look, I don’t know if these two things are connected, but Lobo just said that several international power players who’ve been on their watch list are heading to Denver. It raised flags because there are no known meetings or summits happening here this weekend.”

“Maybe they’re coming out for some R&R,” Greer suggested.

“Not this group. They’re heads of shadow banks, oil magnates, and top governmental leaders and advisors to leaders in several different countries. This group isn’t on friendly terms most of the time.”

“Jafaar said he was representing al Jahni at this event. Made it sound like there would be other geo-reps there,” Rocco pointed out.

“All right. Rocco, I want you to take Selena as your date. Greer—get Rocco and Selena outfitted so that they can patch us in when they can. Blade will tail you in Rocco’s truck. When Jafaar gets into Colorado, Angel can join the parade. Maybe this is the break we needed. I’ll update Kelan on this. I’m out.”
 

Chapter
 
Five

When Kelan and Val got back to the motel, Kit and Angel were already there. Twenty-three hours had passed since Fiona was taken. They’d come so close to getting her back that afternoon. Barely an hour had passed between when she first summoned them via her bracelet alert and when they got there, but in that time she’d been moved again, and the girls she’d been with were almost killed.

It tore him up that the FBI had enough data on sex traffickers in the area to know that there was buzz about a big transaction, but they refused to share that info with the team.

“What’s the word on that renter?” Kit asked.

“He was arrested. Sounds like he was just leasing out his name. He got roped into putting it on a lease in exchange for having some gambling debt forgiven. I sent Greer the guy’s bookie’s name.”

Kit nodded. “Good.”

“Not really,” Val said. “The guy died a year ago. Max and Greer are checking to see what’s known of his network, if he associated with any sex traffickers.”

“Owen got us some intel on the likely players in whatever big event is going down this weekend.”
 

Val frowned. “How’d he get it?”

Kit shook his head. “One thing you learn about Owen is to never ask those questions. Let’s just roll with it. Whatever’s happening is going down this weekend.” Kit looked at Kelan. “Khalid got an invite from Jafaar to go to a wedding celebration for King’s daughter.”

Kelan frowned. “Is Fiona his daughter?”

“We don’t know yet. Jafaar either didn’t know where the wedding was happening or was withholding that info. Rocco and Selena are going to meet him tomorrow afternoon. Greer is going to follow them. In the meantime, we have to check out whatever the big transaction is that’s going down this evening.”

 
Their phones buzzed. Max had sent a list of five targets. “Angel and I will take the first three. Kelan, you and Val take the last two. I don’t know if this big transaction is related to Fee or not, but I sure don’t like coincidences. My gut says the two big events this weekend are connected.”

Kelan was glad they had something to work on. Also, it was a relief to know that whoever had taken Fiona was keeping her in town—if she was part of either event. He wondered again why her captors had driven out east on the highway. Maybe that was where their hidey-hole was.
 

“Which one first?” Val asked. “Biker bar or strip club?”

“Biker bar.”

* * *
 

Both establishments were on the east side of town. Four different rows of bikes out front, guarded by hang-arounds, said the bar was open to multiple clubs. Val parked their SUV in the side lot. A few of the guys out front gave them hairy-eyeball looks as they approached the entrance.
 

Kelan yanked open one of the double doors. The bar was dark inside. Took his eyes a second to adjust to the shift in light. A big, bald guy in a sleeveless tee and leather cuts stepped in front of them.
 

“Private bar,” he barked.

“We have an invite from King,” Kelan said.

“Whoever that is,” the guy scoffed, as if he really didn’t know.

One of his friends came over and stood in front of Val. “You know, I’m thinking two of these guys are not like the others,” he said to his pal.

Val’s brows lowered as he looked himself over. He and Kelan were wearing their standard operational attire: cargos, tees, boots. He looked at Kelan. “Are they dissing our clothes?”

“Naw,” Kelan said with a shake of his head, his eyes locked on the guy in front of him. “He’s just announcing his education stopped at the Muppet level. Use small words with him.”

The guy Kelan insulted roared and lunged for Val’s neck, which started his friend on the offensive. Kelan punched his forehead once, twice, moving him back a few feet. When he came forward again, Kelan swirled and delivered a kick in his chest that knocked the wind out of him and dropped him on the spot.

Val threw a punch that spun his attacker around. Kelan blocked a right hook from another guy who came at him, and countered with an uppercut to his jaw. A couple more punches and Kelan’s opponent fell back against a table on top of a card game just as Val dropped his to the floor.
 

“I’ve told you clothes don’t make the man, Val.”

Four more guys got up to replace the three they’d dropped.
 

“Enough!” the bartender shouted. “Either sit your asses down and have a beer, or get the fuck out of my bar.”

Val nodded at Kelan. “That’s more like the welcome I expected.”

The bartender put bottles down in front of both of them. “You guys cops?”

Kelan took a sip. “Nope.”

“Feds?”

“Nope.”

“What’s your interest in King?”

“Heard he bought a girl,” Kelan said. He hadn’t exactly heard that, but putting two and two together, he made the assumption.

“So?”

“I want to buy her back.”

The bartender laughed. “That ain’t gonna happen.”

“My money’s as good as his.”

“Nothing’s as good as his. Going up against him is a fast way to end up dead.”

“How about you let me worry about me.”

“Yeah, how ’bout it?” A new guy joined their convo, leaning an elbow on the bar. Kelan noticed the bartender took a step back. Maybe he was talking to a shot caller, at last. “There’s still time to squeeze one more competitor in tonight.” His gaze shifted from the bartender to Kelan. “There’s one way you can get in on the action.”
 

“What’s that?” Kelan asked.

“Get on her delivery team. Or compete to be on her delivery team, anyway.”

“This girl have a name? Or did King just grab someone off the streets?”

“Oh, she’s got a name. Princess Fiona. She’s his kid.”

Kelan felt the room go still, or maybe it was just that his senses blanked out for a second. So Fiona was King’s daughter.
Fiona’s not your worry anymore. She’s heading to her true home
, her kidnapper had said.

“So how do I get on her delivery team?” Kelan asked.

“There’s a competition for the honor. The winner presents her to King and becomes her bodyguard.”

Kelan took a long pull from his beer. “I’m in.”

“
We’re
in,” Val corrected.

The guy smiled and shook his head. “Only one of you goes.”

“Then I go,” Val said.

Kelan’s eyes narrowed. “She belongs to me. It’s my privilege and duty to fight for her.”

“It’s a rigged game, K. Let me take the fall—that way, you survive to have a life with her. When she’s free.”

“I’m going.”

“Fuck. Me,”
Max growled over their comm units.
“Neither of you is doing jack shit. Kit and Angel are on their way. String it out until they get there.”

“Where is this competition happening?” Kelan asked.

The guy leaning on the bar smiled. “An undisclosed location.” He looked at his watch. “It’s a time-sensitive offer that’s quickly expiring. The competition begins in an hour, and we still have to transport the princess.”

Kelan stood. “Let’s do it.”

“Where can I pick him up afterward?” Val asked.

“No need. If the winner beats three guys, Princess Fiona owns him—you’ll never see him again. If he loses, he’ll be dead, and you’ll never see him again. So say your goodbyes now. Leave your wallet, phone, and weapons here.” The guy looked at Kelan. “And if you’re wearing any other communication or transmitting devices, get rid of them.” He nodded to the bartender, who took his phone out of his pocket and texted someone.

Kelan started disarming. He removed his earpiece and set it on the bar. He met Val’s solemn eyes; they both knew it was going to be up to him to reach out to the team when he could, because it was highly likely they weren’t going to be able to follow him to where Fiona was.

He shook hands with Val. Something pressed into his palm. Val’s earpiece. He glanced at the bar where his own comm unit still lay.

“Let’s go,” the guy said.

Kelan didn’t move. He watched Val take his things and walk out of the bar. He wasn’t leaving Val at the mercy of the gang bangers. “We’ll go as soon as I see him pull away.”
 

When Val’s SUV left the parking lot, Kelan followed the guy out the back way into an alley. A black Mercedes with matching black tinted windows was waiting for them. The driver got out and came around the backside of the car. He removed something from the trunk—a wand to check for transmitting devices. Kelan had already checked that the earpiece was off. The wand didn’t detect it.
 

They got in the car and went a few miles to an industrial complex long past its prime. The driver stopped outside the steps leading to a side door. “There’s an entrance fee you have to pay.”

“Aaannd that’s something you should have said before having me leave my wallet behind.”

The guy laughed. “Money ain’t gonna buy you a spot in the competition. Go inside. You’ll know what you have to do.”

* * *

Kelan moved up the stairs to the entrance, surprised he was not challenged. He left the comm unit off in case someone inside wanded him again. The guy who brought him here took off. Kelan paused to listen at the rusting steel door, but could hear nothing from inside. He tried the door. It was unlocked. He pushed it open.
 

She was here.
He knew it in a way that had nothing to do with logic. He could
feel
her.

The cavernous space was filled with empty air and industrial pillars. The lack of windows would have made the space relentlessly black, except for the one drop light that illuminated a table deep inside the room. Something was on the table. No, not something—someone.
 

Fiona
.
 

They’d changed her somehow. Given her long golden curls—was it a wig? The gold-and cream-colored fabric she wore shimmered slightly; perhaps it caught the whisper of air let in by the open door.

She was halfway inside the room, bait for him or someone. He couldn’t charge toward her without expecting an attack. She was completely still, her hands folded over her midsection. He couldn’t see restraints, and she was too damned far away to check her breathing.

He looked around the perimeter of the space. There were doors at either end. He moved deeper into the room, prepared for the shitstorm his presence would trigger.
 

He lowered his gaze to the floor, letting his senses roll outward from him as he scanned the space.

When he stepped forward, he held the same vibration as the steel floor, pillars, and walls, moving soundlessly toward where the other half of his soul was lying so utterly still. The long sleeves and long skirt of her dress spilled over the edges of the table. Her skin was as pale as the fabric she wore. Her brows and lashes had been darkened. Her cheeks were artificially colored. Her lips were battlefield red.

She was his Fiona, and yet she wasn’t. She was different. She was made up as if for a viewing. Like a corpse. Or an actress on a stage.