Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

B eckham

While I'd been prone to bouts of restlessness my entire life, the night before had been excruciating.

All because Kenya's scent continued to linger on my skin, her sweet taste on my tongue. Even after consuming one too many glasses of bourbon, I'd still felt antsy. As the sun was starting to rise, I remained sitting behind my desk, trying to find out more about her.

I'd meant the harsh words I'd said. I was never wrong about when someone was hiding something. However, in doing so, I'd broken some of the limited trust we'd started to develop.

The frank conversation had been necessary, but I certainly had no clue how to soft sell anything, which was partially what kept me from being any kind of romantic. It wasn't that I didn't know what a woman needed; it was that I often didn't care.

Except with her.

Damn it.

My housekeeper had arrived early, even being kind enough to bring me a steaming mug of hot coffee. It remained untouched.

Yes, I'd found out about certain aspects of Kenya's life, but it was a trail that had led to a dead end. It was as if her childhood hadn't existed. What in the fuck was she hiding and why did it seem important to what I was dealing with?

I tilted back my head, cupping both sides of my face. The stiff hairs of my beard scratched my palms. How long had it been since I'd shaved? In my mind too long but in reality, it had only been a few days.

When I heard footsteps, by instinct I grabbed my weapon perched on the edge of my desk, holding it loosely in one hand.

Jeff walked in, looking as haggard as I felt. It would seem sleep was difficult to come by for a lot of us. He stopped short as soon as he noticed the weapon, lifting his eyebrows curiously. "You gonna shoot me, boss?"

"It depends on what you've come here to tell me."

He sauntered forward as he did when he had some scrap of information he was certain I'd want to hear. He even slammed his hands on my desk, peering down at me with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Don't be overly dramatic, Jeff. I'm exhausted, in no mood, and it's been one hell of a long few days."

"Yeah, well, maybe this will brighten your surly mood. Through my excellent sleuthing capabilities and the time spent scouring the goddamn streets as well as calling in a couple favors, I think I found someone you're going to want to talk to."

"Are you looking for a medal?"

"No, but a thank you would be nice."

I snorted, pushing away my coffee mug and folding my arms on the desk. "Get on with it or I might fire you instead."

"You can't fire me. I'm your best friend."

"Need I remind you I don't have any friends?"

He shook his head. "You're grumpier than I thought you'd be since you have a guest inside your home. A beautiful one I might add."

"Jeff. For the love of fuck. Who is this guy?"

"He was spouting off about some shit organization. The Death Squad. Interesting, eh?"

"Was he drinking?"

"Yeah."

I eyed him carefully. "Are you certain you're not making more out of this than some old wives' tale?"

"You know the assassins are real. I grilled him like we were buddies and he mentioned men who wore what he called a tattoo. He described it pretty damn well."

"What else did he say?"

"That the people involved with the Death Squad are coming to get all of us. Nice, huh?" Jeff grinned.

"A little ridiculous if you ask me. What did you do with this guy?"

"Well, I offered him a ride home and he didn't seem to mind crawling into my trunk to take a nice, long rest. Well, I admit that was after I issued my infamous hard punch to his face."

I laughed. "Fuck. You brought him here?"

"Yeah. I didn't want him to have any chance of slipping away."

"As you so appropriately mentioned, I have a guest."

"Kenya knows you're a dangerous dude."

"Yes, but I'm not trying to make her stay here more miserable than necessary." I rubbed my face, the exhaustion something I'd need to deal with soon or I wouldn't be able to function. When I glanced back at him, he had a strange look on his face. "What else?"

Snorting, he rose to his full height. "He acted as if he worked with the group before. I figured you'd want to interrogate him."

I sat back, thinking about what he'd just told me. "Fine, but we're not doing it here. I will not bring the violence to my house."

Unless absolutely necessary.

"I'll change and be right back. You'll follow my lead."

"Yes, sir," Jeff said, doing his usual salute.

"By the way. I don't think I need to say this but lock down every bit of information about the attacks we suffered. I do not want it getting out there. You understand?"

"Yeah, very much so. That is one valuable thing I learned from my trunk roach. He slurred something about attacking a bigwig and that it should come any day. Then something about it being the first of many because the end was near."

"A little apocalyptic, don't you think?"

He grinned from ear to ear. "Yeah, but you know what they say about drunks. They're usually telling the truth."

My lieutenant had a good point. "Just lock down everything. No information leaves my house or the business without my sole approval."

"Understood. I'll make sure no one talks."

I ran upstairs, more concerned than ever about what I'd just heard.

After changing clothes, donning another usual dark suit, I checked the ammunition, adding another magazine before heading back downstairs, hesitating on the landing. It was amazing how much the woman tugged at my heartstrings. Sure, I was a brutal man. No one would ever deny that, but the thought of putting her in a crisis didn't bode well with the guy still there deep down inside.

At least I'd mentioned what Jeff had said to my computer guru, instructing him to turn up the heat. I had a feeling it was vital to discover what we were dealing with sooner versus later.

I yanked out my sunglasses before being blinded by the sun as I exited the house. So now I was growing a conscience? Yeah, I doubted it.

As I neared Jeff's car, I heard muffled sounds coming from the trunk. It would seem my other guest wasn't happy with his accommodations. Well, sue the innkeeper. Damn it if every thought didn't seem to drag me back to Kenya. Camden and another soldier were heading with us to what I'd affectionately termed the interrogation room. It was little more than a concrete shack located near one of the many warehouses my family still owned, most from the old days when we actively conducted business in drugs and illegal weapons. Since then, we'd discussed turning the combined properties into a resort of some kind.

Or another recording studio.

The thought brought me back to business. Our recording and production company had already drawn the attention of some big-name recording artists who craved having their work produced in a relaxing atmosphere instead of the bright lights of a big city. Being set back months wasn't just about our bottom line, although who wasn't addicted to money? It was more about the pride factor, the hit we'd already taken in our reputation.

I certainly couldn't afford another one.

For now, the secluded space was perfect for my intentions. Although I couldn't remember the last time I'd chained someone to the block wall to elongate their… experience.

James moved toward me, nodding to Camden before he climbed into the awaiting SUV. "Hey, boss. I'm actively searching for everything I can find on the Death Squad, but they are an elusive group and it appears they have very secure firewalls everywhere."

That could mean red flags were being raised but at this point, I didn't give a shit if I riled the group. Let them finally show their ugly faces. It was past time they did so. If there was anything I hated worse, other than betrayal and liars, it was those who hid behind money or power. Fuck that. If people had a beef against me or my family, we needed to handle it like adults.

Even if I blew their face off afterwards.

"Keep digging. I don't care how many red flags it raises. There must be something out there on this group."

"Yeah, I will. I just wanted you to know the firewalls are extensive, which makes me think there's a hell of a lot more to this story." James grinned. He was having fun with this. What the man enjoyed more than anything was solving a puzzle. While I couldn't blame him, he was the kind of man who was determined to learn every single nuance even if time was of the essence.

"One last thing. Make certain you check on my guest."

"She can't do so herself?"

"She's sequestered on the third floor. If by any chance she escapes the room, do not allow her to leave."

My order surprised him, since up to this point, I hadn't given him such illustrious duties. "I'll watch out for her with my life, boss."

"You do that."

He backed away and I climbed into the passenger seat of Jeff's Camaro. He appreciated muscle cars almost as much as I did, but never had he dumped a possible enemy into his pristine space. That surprised the hell out of me.

That meant whatever this guy had said or perhaps how he'd done it had gotten under his skin. Another rarity as the entire last few days seemed to be.

As soon as Jeff turned over the engine, he floored it, pressing down on the accelerator. As he drove like he was some fucking racecar driver, squealing tires as he made turns, I concentrated on trying to put the limited pieces together. There weren't enough to make a dent in what we were dealing with, but every scrap of information would bring us that much closer.

"So, how was your night with the innkeeper?" he asked.

I barely acknowledged his words in my mind for a few seconds. My delayed reaction was simply because I had my thoughts continually shifting to her. "Interesting."

"Is she currently redecorating your house?" He laughed, completely enjoying the moment.

"Currently, she is experiencing what it would be like should she truly become a prisoner."

"Wow. I don't think I want to know. Did your father find out anything concrete about her?"

My father's single text to contact him when I had the time didn't suggest a sense of urgency, or maybe I simply didn't want to learn anything about her that would turn the tide with how I felt. "Not yet. I'm sure he'll keep digging."

"Like a dog to a damn bone your father is." I nodded and when he was forced to stop at a traffic light, hearing the commotion coming from the trunk made me grimace. I had to admit I was very curious what I could learn from the man.

Even if I had to beat the information out of him.

Twenty minutes later, we'd reached our destination. I hadn't been here in long enough I was forced to face the fact that something needed to be done. I definitely didn't want the buildings to be condemned by the city. That would cause us unneeded problems when I had enough to deal with.

As he pulled the car in front of the smallest building, I scanned the area to ensure we didn't have any unwanted campers using the area as their safety grounds.

Camden pulled up beside us, climbing out before I did. I took a few seconds to button my jacket before pulling out my keys and heading to the door. Once inside, I was greeted with the same musty odor as always but with the slight humidity in the air, the stench of blood lingered in the aging concrete. I flicked on the single hanging fluorescent light fixture, taking a serious look at the bloodstains imbedded in the walls.

My father had used the place long before it had been passed down to me. I'd heard brutal stories, acts of torture so heinous I was surprised he'd been able to come home easily, washing the blood from his hands before sitting down with the family for dinner. My mother had always insisted on saying grace, which I found hysterical to this day.

We were all going to burn in hell.

There was something about going inside that reminded me all over again why we were considered brutal bastards. Although neither one of my two brothers had truly been indoctrinated into the criminal world where the bad guys got rich, the good guys got… Well, I wasn't really certain. What I did know was that those pretending to never have walked that fine line between good versus evil were often liars. And damn good ones.

That had certainly taken away what little guilt I had from being born into the Kennedy household.

But days like today when Camden, the man in charge of my special interrogation bag, reminded me that we weren't entirely that far removed from barbarians using spiked clubs to beat a man senseless for a leg of lamb. While I honestly wasn't in the mood to kill the guy, I would do what was necessary if required.

The way of our people.

We were a special breed. The Five Families of the mafia world had expanded into dozens, perhaps hundreds if you counted the violent cartels and smaller Bratva organizations across the world. Where there used to be respect amongst the various organizations, there was now nothing but contempt. Like bullies on a school ground.

My days of being a philosopher had gotten much longer.

"You okay, boss?" Jeff asked as he flanked my side, his upper lip curling from the disgusting stench.

"As okay as I can be. What is the man's name, or did you not bother to find that out?"

"Get this. Bob Barker." He laughed hysterically as if telling the funniest joke in the world.

I looked in his direction, narrowing my eyes. I appreciated most things about Jeff, but there were times he honestly got on my nerves.

"You know, the dude from television? The former game show host that lived to like two hundred?"

Sighing, I took a few steps further into the shadows as I heard muffled screams coming from behind me. I turned slightly, noticing Camden's grin first. For a decorated Marine, a man who'd once given his oath of honor, he loved this part of his job. He had the interrogation bag slung over his shoulder, easily dragging our special guest with no exertion.

"Chain him to the wall. Strip off his clothes first."

I didn't watch as Camden and my other soldier handled my order. I was lost in thought, curious as to what my dad had come up with. Pops was perfectly capable of going off on a tangent but I'd seen the odd look in his eyes. He knew more, or at least suspected more than he'd wanted to tell me. That was so like him. I used to call it his treasure chest. He was masterful at keeping secrets even from those closest to him.

At least I had an inkling about the assassins, but that didn't mean the knowledge of their expansive existence answered any questions.

When I'd once asked Pops about why, he told me an elaborate story about his father and the single betrayal that had changed everything in our past, our present, and our future. Although he'd yet to explain why or how. He'd said he'd allowed himself to be duped for years, slowly learning to trust someone, even providing carefully guarded secrets.

The trusted man had then disappeared, leaving behind an open door for some horrible enemy to swoop in. Thoughts of my grandfather slipped into the back of my mind. I'd been a little boy when this situation had occurred. He'd never been the same, ultimately losing his mind. Some said it had been to Alzheimer's, but I knew better. It was as if his soul had been sucked out from his system.

Pops had said be careful loving a woman because they could be the most treacherous creatures of all. Of course, he issued the warning when my brothers and I knew our mother really captained the ship. It was hysterical to see how she had him wrapped around her little finger.

I'd been disgusted as a teenager. Now I envied what they still had, their love growing even stronger. Great. Now my thoughts had returned to the beautiful, yet problematic woman locked inside my house like Goldilocks.

"He's ready, boss," Camden said, dragging me out of my thoughtful mood. Or maybe a ridiculous haze. I didn't bother looking at the guy, spreading my wealth of terrible anticipation as I headed to my special bag. I had various implements inside, most handed down from Pops and Grandpops. They'd truly been sadistic bastards when running the regime.

A set of old crates was being used as a table and I placed one item after another on the surface, ensuring the bastard got a good look at every one of them. Of course it helped that I was positioned directly under the glaring light. He was already whimpering, jerking at the chains. They were steel, the posts imbedded a solid six inches into the concrete wall. Even Hercules would have trouble getting free.

I'd almost had the building torn down like ten times. I daresay some DNA could be found if a pesky FBI agent or forensics examiner looked closely enough. Maybe it really was time. I had an architect on standby who'd prepared a couple of sets of drawings with ideas for use of the site. Maybe I'd give him a call when this shit was all said and done.

Icepick—check.

Small battery-operated saw—check.

Hammer—check.

I slowly turned around to face the guy, amused his eyes were open wide. He appeared as a typical accountant, rumpled around the edges from crunching numbers. For some insane reason, my gut screamed that's what he'd been to this secret organization. He obviously wasn't a hitman or a high-ranking officer or he wouldn't have been spouting off at the mouth.

"Mr. Barker. I'm saddened to need to meet under these circumstances. My associate mentioned you are very entertaining."

"Who the fuck are you?" Bob decided to demand, acting as if being tied up naked in a shithole of a location wasn't a big deal.

"My name is Beckham Kennedy. My family is pretty well known in the area."

At least my admittance garnered an immediate look of terror in his eyes. Good for him. It meant he hadn't been completely jaded. Yet.

"What do you want from me?" As he yanked at the chains again, his eyes fell to the instruments on the makeshift table.

"Simply the truth. That's it."

"About what?" He threw a quick look toward Jeff and for a few seconds, I noticed venom. Another atta-boy. At least the guy had spunk.

"The Death Squad." I carefully selected the saw on purpose, turning it on and nodding at Camden. "The battery works."

"Of course, sir. Nothing but the best for you for your… cutting skills." While I wasn't in the habit of cutting off limbs, those idiots falling under severe scrutiny didn't need to know that.

Bob's eyes opened wide. I walked closer, lowering the instrument of doom. "So, what do you know?"

"Never heard of them."

"Really? Well, it would seem you told my associate they were like the big, bad wolf. So, what's the truth?"

He sputtered for a couple of seconds. "Look, I don't know shit."

"Then why say something to the effect they were going to unleash the wrath of God?" Okay, so I was egging it on and spinning his words but what the heck? So a guy couldn't have a little fun in his work?

"I just… Okay, I've heard of them. You know, in circles."

"Mmm… Whose circles? Be specific and you live."

"Just people spouting shit. Come on. You know how it goes."

"No. Why don't you tell me?"

He was suddenly blubbering, which I absolutely loathed. "They are bad people. That's what I heard."

"Understood. Did you work for them? I'm going to take a guess you were one of their… let's say accountants?"

I could tell by the look in his eyes I was right. I turned on the little powerful saw once again, bringing it to within an inch of his face.

"Stop. Please just stop. Okay. I did work for a branch of their operation, but I assure you I knew shit. They're very private. They don't talk to anyone. I was simply told to keep certain books while saying nothing to anyone."

"Which is why you were spouting off at a bar."

He hung his head and I'll be damned if the man wasn't crying. Soon, he would be pleading for his life. Typical but a pain in my ass. "They fired me. I was angry."

At least maybe we were getting somewhere. "Okay. Understandable but my guess is you knew it was risky."

He snorted, snot flying from his nose. "Yeah, but I wasn't thinking. Why do you care?"

"Care? Because the fuckers have it in for my family." I was surprised I'd allowed my voice to increase in decibels. So much of my recent behavior wasn't like me that it was getting tough to navigate through the mucky waters.

"Don't feel special," Bob choked out. "You're only one of dozens of targets."

I glanced from Jeff to Camden, leaning in as I handed off the saw to Camden. "Who are the others?"

"Trust me. Their little black book is kept in a massive vault."

"Then how do you know?"

"I'm not the only one doing the talking. I heard things. I was observant."

"Well, good for you. Who's heading this organization?"

His struggles were getting old but at least he was providing some information. It was more than I could say for most shitheads in this predicament. "There isn't one single leader. They have tiers, spread out in several countries. No, I don't know names, but I can tell you who I think might be part of it."

"I'm all ears." When he hesitated, all I needed to do was to look back at the remaining instruments. He did as well.

"The vice president."

"Of the fucking United States?" Jeff huffed.

Bob nodded, his eyes still glassy.

Well, that tidbit of information was fucking interesting as hell. Believable? I wasn't sure about that but stranger things had certainly happened in life.

"Okay. Let's assume you're onto something here including the truth. What is their purpose in life?"

"World domination."

The two words were rather haunting even if Bob laughed almost hysterically. Although what he was suggesting wasn't new, megalomaniacs common in history, something about the way he made the statement made it seem… bigger.

"What were you hired to do?"

He was now grinning as if the man was having fun. Maybe he got off on being tied up. A lot of men did. "Hide their assets. Including the private islands they've purchased."

With over nine hundred thousand islands in the world, many thousands of them private, it was entirely feasible the leaders of this organization could remove themselves from the very countries they had every intention of destroying. If it was true, the concept was brilliant.

"They're building their facilities on these islands," Camden offered.

I glanced at him, nodding. "Could be."

"Then we should be able to find out more by tracking shipping containers and routes."

Camden's suggestion was a damn good one. "Perhaps you have a new assignment."

"Love it, boss."

"One last question, Bob." I patted him on the shoulder. "When is this world event likely to occur?"

"This year. That's all I know."

This year. With only a few months to go, that didn't give me much time to hunt them down.

I wanted to laugh. If what he was saying was true, it didn't give the billions of people in the world much time.

"Time to get to work," I said and motioned to the men to follow me. Meanwhile, Bob was yelling at me, demanding he be released.

"What do you want me to do with him?" Camden asked, still far too eager to perform a little surgery.

Sighing, I raked one hand through my hair, hearing Jeff's phone buzzing in his pocket. "Scare him a bit. Leave him for a day then take him back to his place. If he knows anything else, I assure you he'll talk by then. My guess if he worked for the organization, they know he talked. He's not long for this world."

I could tell by the look on Camden's face he was disappointed.

"Don't sweat it. If anything of Bob's declaration is true, you'll have your chance for bloodshed." What troubled me was that if the vice president was involved, it was entirely likely my uncle, someone who'd once been considered a forefront runner for the White House himself might be involved. If that was the case, dozens of two decades long questions could soon be answered.

Including why dear old Dad hated the man so much.

However, I certainly couldn't jump to conclusions without positive proof.

We were one of the most high-powered political families in the United States, at least in the modern era. My uncle had harbored aspirations to lead the country.

Why not the world?

I remembered my father laughing over drinks as he and my mother had a discussion when I was maybe eight or nine. The time of the family's split down the middle. Why did it seem my entire life had been like living in a mirror, reflecting the opposing side of my family in a shadowed light?

"Okay, boss. As you wish."

I grinned at Camden before walking out. I knew the man would add in his own brand of harsh inflictions, but I trusted him. A laugh bubbled to the surface as I headed to the car. As if I should trust anyone right about now.

Except perhaps my latest treasure. At least I could now enjoy spending some additional quality time with her. Perhaps for today only but that would be just fine. When my phone buzzed, I immediately yanked it into my hand. My father.

I definitely wasn't in the mood to deal with him at this point. Yes, a conversation would be needed later today but I needed some additional time before the rest of my fucking world changed on a dime.

And I had no doubt that's exactly what would happen. I had a feeling I wasn't going to be the only one with a rude awakening if Bob was correct. Fuck, the story was damn farfetched.

Jeff was suddenly by my side, shaking his head. "You're not going to believe this."

"At this point, I might believe anything. What exactly are you talking about?"

"You have some visitors at the house and they wouldn't take no for an answer."

"Who the fuck are they?" I almost reached for my weapon, which was ridiculous.

He rubbed just above his eyes. "Members of the Brotherhood."

Well, fuck me. Maybe this was my lucky day.