Tempest (Guardian Security Shadow World Book 5) Read online

  Tempest

  Kris Michaels

  Copyright © 2020 by Kris Michaels

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Also by Kris Michaels

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Three years ago:

  "Mother, please, this isn't necessary." The limo slowed, but the draped interior prevented Pilar Grantham from knowing exactly where they were other than somewhere in New York City.

  Regina Grantham didn't bother to look up from her laptop. "Your inappropriate inquiries into my business dealings must be addressed, and do not call me that." The car stopped, and Regina finally looked up and pulled the curtain back a fraction of an inch.

  Fine. She drew a deep breath and tried again. "Regina, you sent me to law school for a reason. My questions could eliminate potential problems for you. Working with insider information will eventually land you in prison." Her mother's business was laced with questionable actions in the limited areas she’d been allowed to see.

  Regina examined her with cold disinterest. "I tell you what to do and when to do it. You work on the projects I send you. No others. You will not deviate from my instructions, and we will not have this conversation again. To emphasize my point, you will experience, first-hand, how I gain information." She flicked her finger toward the door. "Accompany the man waiting for you. Do not make a scene, Pilar. You bear my last name and you will act accordingly."

  She held her mother's stare for as long as she could before she dropped it. Regina sighed and turned back to her laptop. "Go."

  She slipped out of the car and gazed up at a dilapidated building. The man waiting ushered her into a huge bustling, warehouse, moving at a clipped pace so she had to mind her step in the heels she wore. The brute's hand gripped her arm, tugging her toward the elevator. She ripped away from his grasp. "Stop! I am Regina Grantham's daughter and I will be treated as such." She yanked her thin cotton top over her camisole and lifted her chin daring the man to say anything she could use against him. The titan sneered but retracted his hand. She sneered back at him. They understood each other. That was the power of her mother's name. People knew who she was, and no one wanted to make the woman mad. No one, herself included, however she'd pushed too far this time. God, she knew it when she opened her mouth. She knew Regina would be upset, but this little demonstration... it was over the top, even for an absolute control freak like Regina.

  They went down an elevator in silence and wound through a maze of junk before she was led down a tunnel. She tripped in the darkness, the man clutched her arm in a painful grip. Once upright she jerked her arm from his grip. She glared at him. He motioned with his hand and they continued. Her mother's barbarian opened another steel door with a series of taps on a keypad.

  Seriously, what was underground that was so important? Regina's secret vault of nefarious informants? Perhaps it was a tree that grew insider information. Or a magic wand...

  The putrid stench slapped her first. She covered her nose and mouth with her hand. Tears stung the back of her eyes. A citrusy chemical astringent covered the undeniable smell of rancid body odor and... oh hell, she had no idea. "What in God's name died down here?"

  The man chuckled and tipped his head to the left. She shook her head. "Thanks, but no thanks."

  The goon pointed down the hall and slammed the door behind her locking them both in the stench-filled confines. She glanced from the door to him. A skin-prickling sense of dread crept across her arms and neck. This, whatever this was, wasn't good. She threw back her shoulders and spoke through her hands which still covered her mouth and nose, "Fine, let's get this over with." She gagged and coughed as they headed down the hall. The floors, walls and ceiling were steel now, unlike the tunnel they'd traveled down. She was forced to take five or six to every one of the behemoth's steps. Being five-foot-nothing sucked sometimes.

  She scurried to keep up with Mr. Mountain, but stutter stepped when she noticed the doors in this hall. All steel with bars up top and a single slat in the door. Prison. The word shot around her brain and ricocheted into ridiculous and terrifying thoughts. Surely her mother wasn't putting her in prison. The guard, yes, he was a guard, stopped in front of one of the doors and withdrew a set of keys.

  "What are you doing?" She started to back up. Whatever was inside that room could stay in there.

  "She wants you to see this." His accent was one she couldn't place, Slavic perhaps. He reached out and snagged her arm.

  "Let me go!" The door opened and she was pushed into a dark hole. The door slammed in her face. She grabbed at it and then flipped around praying nothing was going to attack her from the darkness. Fluorescent lights flicked on and blinded her for a moment. She jerked right and left bouncing her attention from point to point.

  Sink. Toilet. Bed.

  "Oh, my God!" She took a step toward the cot in the corner of the room. "Oh, dear merciful heavens." A person was on the bed. She covered her mouth, but this time not because of the stench, but because she was going to puke. They put her into a cell with a dead person!

  The huddled form moaned and tried to turn, only to gasp in pain. No, not dead! She darted across the small room. Shaking like a leaf, she moved to touch his shoulder. "What can I do to help?"

  The form was nothing but skin and bones. Bruises covered his body. There was a wound on his leg that was caked with blood. God, he needed to be cleaned so infection… but dear Lord, infection was the least of this man’s worries. She leaned over him and shifted the ripped scrubs bottoms covering the man’s fragile frame. He flinched away from her. "I promise I won't hurt you."

  She whispered the words as her eyes flew around the little cell. She ran back to the door and pounded on it. "I need medical supplies. Get me medical supplies or I'll tell her you touched me and made me touch you!"

  The small door at the top of the metal bars opened. She backed up so she could see him. "Shut up."

  "Bring the supplies or I'll make sure she thinks you attacked me." Pilar pulled at the neck of her shirt, ripping it. She scratched at her face, desperate for the damn fool to believe her.

  The man's eyes widened. "Wait." He shut the little window and she heard him move away from the door.

  She scurried back to the cot. She tugged off her shirt, shredded the cotton fabric, and moved to the stainless-steel sink bolted to the wall. The water stayed on only as long as she depressed the plunger on the faucet. It took time to wet a larger patch of the material, clog the drain and fill the sink with water. It was a slow tedious process. The water, bloodied by cleaning his wounds, needed to be empti
ed many times.

  The door opened and a white case was thrust in her direction.

  She grabbed it and demanded, "Give me your shirt." Her camisole wasn't going to be warm enough to wrap around the injured man.

  "Go to hell."

  "Then I'll meet you there! Because she'll send you before she sends me," she hissed and held out her hand in expectation. The man growled but his shirt came off and was tossed in her face. She snatched it, spun and dropped to the floor by the cot. The door to the cell slammed shut. "Look. Here we go." She broke open the seal on the first aid kit and examined the contents. "Damn it. I'm sorry, but the only thing for pain is acetaminophen." She dug through the contents and found a small cup. Two pills went into the bottom of the cup and she poured water over the top to soften them. The drink was going to taste like shit, but maybe it would help him.

  The man's eyes opened. No white was visible in either sclera. Red filled around the gold- flecked green of his eyes. She shook her head. How could anyone do this to another person?

  "What happened? Who did this to you?" She carefully reached and pushed back his hair. It was filthy with sweat and blood. The dark brown strands were long. So damn long. At least a foot in length if not longer. It rested on his thin shoulders and fell down his back. Each vertebrae of his backbone punched through bruised skin.

  "Why are you here?" The words were low and came from bloody, broken lips.

  "Here. It won't help much, but I have some pain killers." She grabbed the cup, but he closed his eyes and turned away from her.

  "Why are you here?" His body shook against the bare mattress.

  "I'm being taught a lesson." Be anything other than her marionette and you’ll end up like this, Pilar. Lesson learned. She picked up the guard's shirt. "Here." She draped it over his shoulder and wished she had a blanket.

  "By who?"

  "My mother," she hissed and closed her eyes. The sickness in her gut rolled and pitched at the thought her mother orchestrated this evil.

  "Explain." He shivered against the mattress.

  "I will. May I lie down beside you? It might help to keep you warm." The man didn't answer, either he'd passed out or he didn't care. She put the cup on the side of the sink and carefully slid onto the pallet. She spooned behind him and carefully put an arm around his gaunt waist. The groan he released may have been from the pain of her gentle jostle of his position, or perhaps relief from whatever warmth her body provided.

  The lights clicked off leaving the cell in complete darkness. A small slice of light filtered in from under the cell door. "Motion activated." The man's faint whisper reached her.

  "Are they watching you? Cameras?" That she’d given aid to the person Regina was trying to extract information from wouldn't help her cause, not that she gave a damn about her mother right now.

  "No. No camera, no mic." He gripped the shirt and pulled it closer to his shoulder. "Thank you."

  She swallowed hard, trying to stop the tears which welled in her eyes. His gratitude for simple human kindness sliced her heart.

  "Why is she doing this to you?"

  He jolted a bit. "She?"

  "My mother."

  "She?"

  The question had to have been asked for reassurance. "Yes, my mother."

  There was silence for several long moments. The man's shaking subsided a bit. "Tell me about her."

  "Why?"

  "I want to know who is doing this to me." She heard a small hitch in his voice and somehow knew he was crying, although his shoulders barely moved. This man was broken. She kept close to him, willing her warmth into his too thin body. She spoke soft words of comfort, of promises she couldn't keep, telling him everything would be okay.

  He whispered hoarsely, "Name?"

  "My name is Pilar. What is your name?"

  There was no movement except the shallow in and out of his chest as he breathed. She thought he'd fallen asleep, but eventually he answered, "I no longer have one." The man drew a deep breath and relaxed slightly into her. Moments turned into minutes, that lengthened into hours, and she held him because it was all she could do. Finally, he stirred.

  She helped him off the bed and watched as he willed himself to remain standing and shuffle to the sink to brush his teeth with the tail of the new shirt. Only his jutting hip bones held up the cotton scrub bottoms he wore. His body hunched as if the effort to straighten his spine was too much.

  "You need food." She marched to the door and pounded on it. The man spun; his body braced against the sink.

  The guard threw open the window. "What now?"

  "I want food." She crossed her arms and stared at the goon on the other side.

  "It's coming. I'll open the door for you to exit when it arrives."

  "Exit?" What in the hell was he talking about?

  "No food for him." The goon tossed his chin toward the man.

  "Wrong answer. You will bring my food to me, in here. Do we need to go over what will happen if you don't?" She ran her fingers across her camisole straps. "I mean, you've already torn my shirt to shreds."

  "Fucking bitch."

  She smiled at the man. "Just like my mother. Remember it, and you'll survive."

  The man's eyes narrowed, and the flap slammed shut.

  "You shouldn't anger them." The man shuffled back across the floor to the bed and lay down slowly.

  "They're terrified of my mother."

  "Who is she?" The man groaned the question as he turned onto his side to talk to her.

  She lowered her eyes to her hands. Wasn't that the question of the decade. "I don't know. Not really. I'm not sure I ever knew her." She moved to the cot and sat on the floor, so they were eye to eye.

  "Why are you here?"

  "Punishment, I guess. I asked too many questions and wouldn't let it drop." Pilar shook her head and stared at the edge of the cot.

  "What kind of questions?"

  Pilar stared at him. The man's bruised face and bloody eyes scored her soul in ways she couldn't fathom. She was her mother's attorney. The law required that she keep her secrets, yet somehow, she knew this man wouldn't live long enough to repeat anything she'd said. "I wanted to know where she got the information she was using. At the time I had access to her stock market accounts. I was supposed to be learning about her wealth and how it was managed. I saw her sell massive amounts of stock only to have the same stock tank two days later. Of course, she funneled the ownership through countless shell companies so it wouldn't trigger FCC investigations."

  "She's powerful?"

  Pilar shrugged and then nodded. "Yeah."

  "She wants you to follow her path." The man's eyes closed. "Regretful."

  "Her path? No. She has my future planned and expects me to be the marionette on the end of her golden strings. I want nothing to do with her or her companies." Pilar jumped when the door clanked. A tray was shoved through the space in the bars. She scurried to the door and caught it before it fell.

  She took it to the cot. "When was the last time you've eaten?"

  The man opened his eyes. "Time is hard to gauge here. A while. They give me enough to survive."

  "Okay, then we might need to take this easy." She reached for the cup with the over-the-counter pain killers dissolved in the bottom. "Drink this first and then we can work on getting some of this food into you." She motioned to the tray which held a sandwich, a bag of chips, and a carton of milk.

  "No. It's yours."

  "I'm always trying to lose ten pounds. You need this more than I do." She handed him the cup and watched him sip the small amount of water until it was gone. "Okay. We start with bread. If it stays down, we can move on to the other stuff."

  She took the cup back and examined a triangle of bread before she tore off a small bit. "I have no idea if I'm doing this right, but I watched a movie once that said if you were starving, you needed to slowly reintroduce food."

  He took the small piece from her and placed it in his mouth. "Would you leave if you co
uld?"

  Pilar glanced from the bread she held to the man. "Here or her?"

  "Both."

  "Here? No. Not until I know you are okay. Her? Yes, absolutely yes." Pilar sighed and tore off another small piece, handing it to the man. "What did you do? Who put you in here?"

  "I don't know. My captors ask for information I don't have."

  "Can I help?"

  The man's eyes slid to hers. "How can I trust you?"

  Pilar blinked at him and then whispered, "You think I'm one of them?" He continued to stare at her, and she handed him another small piece of bread. "I would never allow this. Never."

  "Words."

  "What can I do? She twisted and glanced at the door. "How do I prove to you I don't want or agree with any of this?"

  He remained silent until he’d eaten both pieces of bread and the cheese slice. Finally he drew a stuttering breath and said, "There is a way to help. I know where I’m being taken."

  Chapter 2

  Present day:

  Jason King's glower stared back at Doctor Jeremiah Wheeler from the computer screen of his desk in Hollister, South Dakota. "It's time to make the call, Remi. Are you giving him a Go or not?"

  The CEO of Guardian Security could be intimidating, but Jason's resting bitch face wasn't going to change this conversation. "He's been through a significant trauma. Years of abuse, both mental and physical. Tempest is lucky to be alive."

  "That's a given. Physically he's been cleared. Hell, he's running circles around our training cadre at the Rose. My concern is for his mental health."