Prologue
Four Months Earlier
“Any word from the brass?” I ask LT Maddox. We have been chomping at the bit since returning from overseas, a month ago, digging to see who put the light on our dark mission, killing one of our guys.
I was the second in command of a sanctioned black ops mission in Novosibirsk, tracking a trafficking ring that spanned from the U.S. to Russia. We had been dark for seven days, tracking the enemy, putting faces to names, and making sure the threads led to the middle. On the day before the takedown, we received the green light from the U.S. government and confirmation from the CIA and Homeland Security that we were still off the radar.
The morning of the takedown, I woke up and something felt off. Everything was going according to plan, but my gut told me something was not right. My lieutenant and I went over every detail. Made sure all of my men knew their role and no stone was left unturned. Didn’t stop the hairs on the back of my neck from telling me something was off. I should have listened to my instincts, but I didn’t.
We made our way to the southwestern part of Siberia on the banks of the Ob River. There was a compound tucked into the corner. Our intel said this was where the women and children were being housed and sold like cattle. We each took positions and upon the signal entered the compound, only there were no women and children. It turned out to be an ambush.
We fought and stormed our way out, each of us knowing this was a setup and someone betrayed us. In the end, we made it out, killing everyone in our way, but we lost Talon. Debriefing proved we were given faulty intel, and someone was tracking us.
Now, here we are thirty days later, searching for answers and I am getting more pissed with each passing day. “Yea. I just received our first name drop.” About fucking time.
“Who?” I demand, not wasting time.
“Seems one name is Simon Michaels. Former CIA. Used to be stationed in St. Petersburg. According to the pipeline, he is still ‘friends’ with the Prime Minister. Fucking scum.” LT spits on the floor. The Prime Minister is said to be the financier of this trafficking ring. He is hidden behind walls of people, and that is what our mission was for. Bring down the house of cards one person at a time.
“Who is going to bring this traitor in?”
“Talon was your friend. I figured you would like to do the fieldwork on this one.” Fuck yes.
“Damn straight.” Finally. Time to make these fuckers pay. In the back of my mind, I keep the thought that it's more than one betrayer. This was too organized, and the efficiency of the trafficking ring is too smooth. There is more than one player on each side. I will find them all.
Chapter One
Loeb
Present Day
“How close have you gotten?” My attention doesn’t wane from the coffee shop across the street where my unintended target is getting her daily Strawberry Acai refresher. My face scrunches, thinking about her drinking some made up shit, supposedly to replenish some bullshit the CEOs made up. If you ask me, the only refreshment she needs is tucked into my boxers. “Earth to Loeb. Where the fuck is your head, Maverick?” Pissed at being interrupted from my daily dose of beauty.
“What?!” I snap, turning to look at Croix, pissed he threw himself into my morning, citing some shit about being my backup. I called bullshit immediately. I have never needed fucking backup. No. This is a gossip mission. Ever since the guys on the team found out I located Simon Michaels, they have been anxiously waiting for me to strike. When it didn’t happen within a timeframe they thought was acceptable, the LT stuck his fucking nose in it and found out the reason. Meddling ass old man. He called my cousin Julius, who is currently running down other traitors in some remote part of the world, and he called Croix, my best friend. Now, they want answers on my delay and I am trying like hell to hide the answer from them.
After getting the word from the LT, I began my search. The first few months proved futile. There was nothing there. Per the C.I.A, someone had redacted his file. Totally blacked out and unless I wanted to be arrested for treason, breaking into the C.I.A. mainframe was a no go. So, I had to do things the long way. I found agents who worked with him. Some of them gave up the information willingly, others, well…not so willingly, but that would not stop me. Every night for two months, I came home and washed the blood from my hands and body, watching it run down the drain as my mind remembered Talon’s last breath. His last words to me. “Find them.”