Chief (Kings of Guardian Book 7) (The Kings of Guardian) Read online

  "Prince Tawfeek. A privilege to meet you." Chief kept his eye contact direct as not doing so would offend the prince.

  "Mr. Xavier, I presume?"

  "You would be correct." Chief motioned for the prince to sit and waited as the staff provided the prince a glass of the royal's favorite vintage.

  "What brings you to Switzerland, Mr. Xavier?"

  Chief let out a carefree laugh. "That's the question of the evening it would seem."

  "You are rarely if ever, seen in public. I'm intrigued by your sudden appearance." The prince's hand opened in a broad gesture that indicated the surrounding room. "As are the rest of the members of your social club."

  "Ah, well, let me disabuse you of any intrigue. I am here for business and only business. More's the pity. I rarely stay in any of my homes for an extended period." Chief sighed and shrugged. "Unfortunately, the contacts I seek may not be available."

  The crown prince leaned forward. "What do you require? I would be personally offended if I could not provide… introductions."

  Ahh… the shark circled him excited by the chum he'd thrown into the water. Unlike Schneider, who would have swallowed what he was selling hook, line, and sinker, Chief knew he needed to set the hook for the prince. He waved his hand at his protective detail who stepped back to an even greater distance, affording him complete privacy. "I wouldn't dream of offending you, Prince Tawfeek. I'm in search of a certain Russian брат. This brother can obtain specific… toys."

  Recognition immediately formed on the prince's face as easy to read as an open, large-print book. Careful to keep his expression impenetrable, Chief lifted a finger toward his butler who stood across the room. The man refilled both his and Prince Twafeek's glasses. The prince considered the bubbles in his champagne for a few moments. "The brother you are looking for does not meet anyone. Representatives, however, can be approached."

  Chief laughed, drawing the eyes of all those in the room. The prince glanced around with a fake smile plastered on his face. "You do amuse me, Prince Tawfeek. Please, by all means, approach a representative for me." Chief lowered his voice and let the burning hatred he felt show in his eyes. "Be warned Your Highness, those who have leaked knowledge of my dealings don't live long enough to regret their actions."

  The prince lifted an eyebrow at the threat, and a genuine smile appeared. "It is good to surround oneself with like-minded people. I will reach out to you when a representative is available."

  "Inform the brother that I have discerning tastes in femininity. If he wants an extremely lucrative association, it will behoove him to keep that in mind and not to delay. There are alternative vendors; although I am told, the product is not of the same quality."

  Khalid smiled. "I have made several purchases from this vendor. The product is exquisite, and if the merchandise becomes defective, the brother will assist in repair or replacement."

  Chief cocked his head. That was information he hadn't known. Replacement? The Russian was killing the slaves his clients no longer wanted? Or perhaps recycling them into the herds of drug addled prostitutes he sold across the globe. As if the information were welcomed, Chief covered his disgust and smiled. It was time to spend some of David's money and schmooze the prince along with the rest of the ultra-rich that had gathered. This was his coming-out party after all—one he needed to ensure was perfect.

  He tipped back his cognac for a small sip before he turned on the charm he'd cultivated over the last year. "Excellent. May I interest you in dinner? I'm told the chef is amazing and has been working with the staff all day for a special welcome celebration."

  Jason King handed his brother, Joseph, a tumbler of forty-year-old scotch. His glass held ginger ale, his comfort drink of late.

  Joseph swirled the amber liquid gently before he took a sip. He sat the glass down before he looked at Jason and broached the subject of the Russian mission. "Jacob and Jared briefed me on the locations, operations, and timing of the assault against the Bravata."

  "And?" Jason knew his brother didn't talk to hear himself speak.

  "The way they have the operations set up makes sense, to a point. But, if you'd use Jacob's seek and destroy methodology and temper it with Jared's procedural point of view, I believe the results would be better."

  Jason turned in the chair. "You mean put an investigator on each team?"

  "Exactly. With this mission, we have to guarantee we have the criminal aspect managed. We can't lose a case because our teams don't follow proper evidence collection or chain of custody procedures. I'd say assign one or two depending on the operation. We have to be able to remove the legs of the beast if Chief doesn't succeed. At a minimum, we can snowball the efforts and maybe get a lucky break somewhere. Sooner or later, wewill find someone who can identify the people above them. This veil of secrecy the Bravata is weaving has to have a thread loose somewhere."

  "That is a good point and one that Gabriel and I have already discussed. In addition to Guardian's law enforcement specialists, I was considering putting local police on the teams. I'll have them corralled until our people have secured the scene, but having the cooperation of locals can't hurt. They get credit for helping us. Additionally, we are coordinating with our counterparts in all the major agencies, both foreign and domestic. All evidence will be compiled so all interested parties can pursue legal remedies in their countries."

  Joseph took a drink of his scotch and cracked his neck, first one side and then the other. Jason waited.

  "What happens if we identify the target and the legal remedy isn't… satisfactory?"

  Jason eyed his brother. He'd addressed that exact possibility with Gabriel. What happened if the heads of Bravata were beyond the reach of the law? A coded and sanctioned hit on the bastards at the top of Bravata was on the table, but every current operation would have to go to hell in a handbasket before such unilateral measures would be considered. All the planning in the world wouldn't matter if they couldn't ID the fuckers pulling the strings. There were over fifty missions planned, half of which were in foreign countries, in addition to the undercover mission that Chief was currently working—too many variables to make that call at this point. What did he know for sure? He'd never ask his brother to come out of retirement to make the hits, no matter how personal the mission got.

  "Considered. Our options have been weighed." Jason finished his drink and leveled his gaze at his oldest brother. Jason knew Joseph would kill to protect his family. "You will not be activated." The statement held a finality he dared his brother to address.

  Joseph's low, evil laugh filled the office. "Who the fuck told you you'd have a choice in the matter?"

  Chapter Two

  Tatyana Petrov finished trimming the fingernails of her latest shipment. She examined the toys closely. They were lightly drugged but still restrained and tied to the bulkhead of the van they were sitting in. Her cell rang, startling her and the toys. One started to cry silently.

  "What the fuck do you want?" She wasn't known for her patience. Her no-nonsense attitude was one of the many things that had endeared her to her superiors in the Bravata.

  "Always such a bitch, Anya. One of these days you will respect me." Evgeniy Kuznetsov's disgusting voice penetrated the confines of the van. Even through the drugged haze, the toys started to whimper. Evgeniy was sadistic in ways she'd never imagined a person could be. He didn't violate the toys, but there were worse fates for those who misbehaved. As long as there were no permanent marks or the merchandise wasn't sexually defiled the bosses didn't seem to care what sadistic games Evgeniy played. She'd overheard the bosses felt his abuses made the toys compliant.

  She took the phone off speaker and spoke in a calm tone, trying to settle the mildly drugged cargo. "You scare my deliveries, and they will arrive with tearstained faces. Not a good impression. The boss will be upset, and I won't take the fall for it, asshole
." She purred the response in Russian and smiled at the deliveries who were still agitated at the sound of Evgeniy's voice. She'd probably fear the bastard too… if she didn't hate him so much.

  "Ha, like you haven't benefited from the training I put the toys through. Makes your job easier. Besides, what does it matter to you?" Evgeniy arrogantly taunted her.

  "What the fuck do you want?"

  The disgusting bastard laughed, "You have an appointment. Be at the Old Lady for afternoon tea service tomorrow. And for the record, I told them they were making a mistake." The line went dead.

  The Old Lady referred to the majestic five-star hotel in the city center. Tatyana's heart raced. Could she finally be getting an introduction to the bosses? A squeal of tires at the entrance to the parking garage drew her attention away from the future and back to her duties.

  Tatyana took a deep breath and reclined against the wall of the van as she glanced at her watch. Fifteen more minutes before the client was left high and dry and the toys were returned to the store. Not one second more. That policy was written in stone, and customers obeyed the rules because the purchase price was non-refundable.

  A flash of headlights through the tinted back windows confirmed the arrival of the client. She refused to allow the toys to travel alone in the rear of the van. Tatyana felt the van rock as Thing One and Thing Two clambered out of the front. She'd never cared to learn the names of the Bravata muscle who always accompanied her.

  She looked at the three unfortunate souls across from her. They dressed in the exact costumes specified in the order. Tears fell down the male's face, his body carried a sheen of perspiration, and his face was pale. The leather harness, bondage cuffs and G-string he wore were his only clothes. The girls? One was dressed as a baby doll; a see-through silk wrap draped the other. This particular client, an Italian billionaire, had an extensive collection of toys. Carefully she inserted a ball gag and strapped it around the male's head. His eyes teared up.

  "Do not cry. All of you. Be strong." The only words she'd spoken in English were also her last to the trio. The door opened, and she exited, leaving the toys secured in the back of the van.

  Without her approval, the transaction wouldn't occur. She walked to the limousine and waited. The window rolled down, and a document was shoved in her direction. Tatyana did not reach for the paper that would have the offshore routing number for the payment. She crossed her arms and waited. The rules and instructions were explicit. They would not transfer the toys until the buyer's vehicle was emptied, the occupants were swept for tracking or listening devices, and the car was cleared. No words were ever exchanged. If the rules were violated, Things One and Two and Tatyana would object—with prejudice. They'd killed a buyer's guards before. The ones who felt they could bend the rules. Taty had no patience for the scum. She couldn't kill the Bravata's clients, but the paid security? They were fair game. The product the Bravata sold was perfect. The cost was astronomical, and the clientele knew the consequences of failing to abide by the rules.

  The doors opened. Four, large, armed men exited before the buyer. A slender man, five foot ten or so. His hair was combed back and kept there with a shiny product. The bastard had the audacity to smile at her as if they were old friends.

  Tatyana watched the doors open, and the trunk was popped along with the engine compartment. The Things did their job, quietly and effectively inspecting the vehicle and the occupants. They nodded to Tatyana who returned to the van. She removed the restraints tying the male to the van and led him out. His feet faltered. Taty gave him a moment to find his balance. Between the drugs and the bonds that held him in the van, he needed a few seconds to gain his stability. One of the men moved toward them. Taty held up her hand, and Thing One stepped in front of them. Taty leaned into the young one and whispered, "You must survive this."

  She wiped the boy's face and guided him to the car where she turned over his lead to the buyer. He accepted it, performed a complete, invasive inspection before he nodded and allowed the boy into the vehicle. The process continued until the girls were inside the car. The paper originally offered was proffered again. Tatyana snatched it and whirled on her heel. The Bravata hired muscle stepped aside as she went to a second vehicle prepositioned for her before the meeting. The hounds of hell couldn't have stopped her from leaving after she called in the routing information. Upon receiving confirmation of payment, she honked once. The Things allowed the Italian to leave, and she hit the gas.

  Taty drove uncaring of the speed limit. Her car sliced through traffic. Inside the confines of the car, she drew a deep breath and screamed. Her throat burned as she filled her lungs again and shattered the cabin with another ear-piercing shriek of bitter frustration.

  "What do you mean?" Keelee Cassidy lay down her daughter, careful not to wake the sleeping toddler. She'd been fussy all day, and they both needed a good night's rest. She glanced over her shoulder at Adam, her husband.

  He waited until she tiptoed out of the room and closed the door behind her. The baby monitor would let them know if Elizabeth so much as squeaked. "I can't get into the details, but it looks like the Wonder Twins and I could be called in to do some work for Jacob and Jason.

  Keelee's stomach dropped. She grabbed her husband's solid bicep and stopped him in the middle of the hall. "Do you mean consulting or what you used to do?"

  Adam's eyes closed. He only wore the eyepatch when he worked now. The white film that covered his injured eye didn't bother her at all, and the patch was damned uncomfortable, or so Adam said. He folded her into his chest and kissed her forehead. "Babe, I don't have any idea what is going to be needed. Jacob and Jason wouldn't put us in danger unnecessarily, and if they are calling us in, it is personal."

  "Does this have anything to do with why Mike left?" Keelee missed the hell out of Chief. His quiet friendship was a strength that was immediately missed when he left… well, shit, it was a year ago now.

  "Babe, again, I don't know and even if I did, you know I probably couldn't tell you." His arms squeezed her closer to him.

  "Adam, I can't lose you. You promised no more missions." She pushed away from him so she could see his face. "You have a daughter, now. How can they ask you to go back?"

  "Babe, they didn't ask. I volunteered." Their gaze locked as Keelee tried to understand the rationale behind his completely asinine decision.

  "You—volunteered." Keelee shook her head and turned on her heel. She headed toward the kitchen and her coat. She needed to think, needed space… needed to go to the barn. Adam would take care of Elizabeth. She couldn't stay in the house, or she'd say something she might regret. Like, oh say, what the fuck are you thinking you stupid, stupid man!

  She kicked rocks and muttered to herself on the walk to the barn.What was wrong with him? Uggg! She needed the familiar smells of horses, hay, and well-oiled leather. The ranch dogs raised their heads when she walked in. Several danced around her seeking attention. She dropped onto the straw covered floor and hugged on each one of them. Once the animals were satisfied, she closed her eyes and listened to the rustle of the animals in their stalls. The familiar sounds and smells soothed the storm of thoughts that twisted through her mind.

  The dogs lifted their heads and growled quietly. Keelee heard the latch to the side door lift. She hushed the animals and waited. Her father appeared, dropped to the hay with her and was immediately covered in collie. Her dad's dog waited patiently for her ears to be rubbed.

  "Can't ask him not to do this." Frank Marshall was never one to beat around the bush.

  "I don't know what this is." Maybe that was what was bothering her. She didn't know what was going to happen. Memories from the darkest part of her life were far too sharp tonight.

  "My point."

  "What the hell does that mean, Daddy?"

  "Don't cuss. You sound like a ranch hand. You don't know, and
I don't know. He doesn't know… but he knows his family, those boys, need him. If you ask him to choose between you and them, you'll drive a wedge. It may not happen in the short term, but sooner or later, that wedge will cause a crack."

  "So I'm supposed to be the good little wifey and smile as he goes off and leaves Lizzy and me?" A tear slipped over her eyelid, and she swiped it away in irritation.

  "Nope. Didn't say that."

  "Well, what exactly did you say?"

  "When did you become selfish, girl?"

  "Excuse me?" Keelee felt like she'd been hit by a right hook! How in the hell was she selfish?

  "I won't excuse you. You think you are the only one this will affect? That man had a hard life before you. These people are the folks to whom he owes his very existence. He loves you as much as any man can love a woman, but he needs to be there for them. He's not stupid. He'll be careful. Trust him to do what he needs to do and for God's sake stop sulking in the barn. What would happen if he got called away right now? You've been there and done that. Stop this shit now, and go back and talk it out with your man."

  "That's what I'm afraid of Dad. I'm afraid something will happen again." The tears she'd held at bay broke, and she crumbled against her father. He hugged her and waited. Her father was her rock growing up. He was solid, strong and her hero. She wiped her tears away and drew a stuttering breath.

  "Girl, you can't stop living in the hopes of not being hurt again." Her dad's collie flopped over both of their laps. She stroked the animal's fur.

  "I'm scared."

  "Tell him, not me."

  "When did you get so smart?"

  "Had two strong-willed fillies that I raised alone. Made my share of mistakes."