Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

B eckham

"Nothing all night," Jeff reported as I stood by the massive Keurig machine. I was still exhausted but that could be because I'd watched Kenya sleeping for a couple of hours. I'd insisted she sleep with me and while she'd almost shut down completely after I'd taken her like some wild animal, she'd fallen into a deep slumber quickly. "It's funny how peaceful it is here."

Peaceful. While New Hampshire certainly wasn't New York City, it seemed I hadn't experienced a peaceful day or night in years.

"It's very peaceful," I said. "I had no idea how beautiful it was." It was odd to feel that way about the small locale. I owned a house right on the beach in the Caribbean, for fuck's sake, but I couldn't remember the last time I'd enjoyed the pristine view that others would kill for. Ridiculous.

"More for some than others." Jeff pulled his cup from the Keurig machine, immediately grabbing sugar from the cabinet. It was as if the man had been here before. He shot me a look and I lifted my middle finger. I shouldn't feel so damn jovial when we'd yet to return home, which was vital at this point. There was a lot to be said for a home court advantage, including the number of soldiers at my disposal. We were little more than sitting ducks here.

I studied him with amusement, a small part of me wondering how in the hell we'd gotten here. Maybe karma had insisted I take a break to smell the… wet grass. I almost laughed at my own joke, and I sucked at them. Seeing her outside drew my attention. I hadn't insisted she remain by my side while I'd taken a shower. By all rights, maybe I should have secured her to the bed or required her to shower with me but for some fascinating reason that was beyond me, it had seemed awkward.

It also hadn't seemed necessary. Not that I hadn't taken additional precautions and rechecked the house for weapons. There'd been none. There was also very little of her personal effects, which meant she lived in another location. It was something I'd keep in the back of my mind.

At least that had meant she no longer felt I was going to slit her throat in the middle of the night.

"And we have reception. Not sure it's because of the sun or something I did but we have enough bars at this point." James was hanging in the doorway, as if we were having a meeting of the minds.

"Excellent work." I pulled my phone from the sweatpants I'd found in the box she'd mentioned. I hit the start button and eyed Jeff, who was grinning at me. I still had her cell phone and keys, at least a small deterrent. Funny how I didn't think she was considering running any longer.

"Nice clothes," he teased.

"A hell of a lot more comfortable than wearing the bloody ones. Let me make some calls. Then we'll figure out how the get the hell out of here." I patted one of the deep pockets for the fifth time, ensuring my weapon was still in position. In the explosion, we'd lost a fuck load of weapons and ammunition, which meant if we were attacked by a dozen soldiers, we were fucking toast.

It was the equivalent of being caught with our pants down. Not something I was used to at all.

"How about the use of our hostess' car?" James asked.

"No. I'm not going to inconvenience her any longer than necessary. She did her part. We just need to get the fuck out of here."

"There's always Uber," Jeff suggested, although I could tell he was jesting more than anything.

"Yeah, there is." I rubbed my jaw, thinking about what was best to do. "James. Do me a favor and search the county records here in Camden checking the property owned by Kenya Markham."

"Do not tell me we're extending our stay," Jeff chided. "Although I must admit I wouldn't mind hanging out here for a couple days. I could catch up on my reading."

"Since when do you read?"

"Hey, you don't know everything about me. I'm into the latest Clive Cussler book. Such a shame that great novelist died a couple years ago."

James was laughing so hard I was surprised I'd heard the end of Jeff's statement. And here I thought I knew everything about the man. "Interesting, but hell no, we're not staying. The best thing we can do is to get the hell out of here. However, I have a suspicion about our illustrious hostess that I feel necessary to check out."

"I'll grab a cup of coffee and a muffin and get on it." James crowded our space, yanking open a pastry box, grabbing not one but two muffins. The man could eat like a horse and was rail fucking thin.

"I've got my eye on that chocolate cupcake over there," Jeff said, half laughing. "Smells delicious. How come you don't provide us with pastries and muffins for our meetings?"

"Because I'm not Betty Fucking Crocker." Hissing my response, I dialed my father's number as I walked to the window, noticing Kenya was outside sitting in an Adirondack chair by the water. I hadn't really been able to see just how beautiful everything was. With the early morning sun reflecting off the Atlantic, I could clearly see why people gravitated to Maine.

"You're alive," he said gruffly and with the gravel in his voice he'd had for as long as I could remember. My father was well known for his love of my mother, his violent outbursts against enemies, and his love of cigars and booze. Somewhere deep inside, he was a real pussy cat but right now, he sounded like the gruff bastard he wanted everyone to think he was.

"Yeah, just barely. We have a bigger issue than I originally thought. I'm sending you a photograph of a fucking branding these assholes have. Never seen it before. But they were suicide assassins and I have a feeling they'll hit again."

"A cartel?"

"Not sure. If so, they're highly organized. I asked Declan to check our sources to see if a new clique rose up from Mexico."

"You're still in Maine?" he asked, his tone full of concern, which did surprise me.

"Yes."

"Somewhere safe?"

I scanned the area near the water before answering. "Right now, yes, but I don't want to stay here any longer than necessary. I have a feeling someone knows about that goddamn brand. I could swear it's like these guys didn't have an official affiliation with anyone. Just a gut feeling but it will make finding out who's responsible a pain in my ass."

He laughed. "Well, we'll find the fuckers. The police had been nagging me all morning even though I shut them down. Plus, the damn reporters are still hanging around. Let me know when you're in the air. I'll have some men scour the streets and see if anyone down here has heard anything. I'll check with a couple buddies of mine as well. Who knows. There might be an epidemic. I just don't like being blindsided."

"Yeah, anything is possible and neither do I." I'd used to make fun of the fact Pops had maintained some connections with the bosses of several crime syndicates. I'd never seen the need or the importance but as Pops had told me more than once, it was better to have some allies than all adversaries. That had helped with life expectancy, which wasn't necessarily long in our business no matter how legitimate we claimed to be.

Even the Feds didn't seem to understand that gone were the days of bootlegging and drug smuggling on the open seas. At least if the organization was smart anyway. "I'll text the picture now. See what you can find."

"I will. Take care, son, and get home safe. I smell blood in the water."

"Oh, thanks." It was a strange sendoff coming from my father. He'd never acted as if we were fallible in any way. He'd been acting weirder than normal the last few months but maybe it was all attributed to his retirement. He'd sworn he never would.

I sent him the picture, then stared at it for a few seconds before returning to make my coffee, shoving my phone into the pocket of the sweatpants. I knew the clothes had a story that brought her anger. That had been easy to tell by the look on her face. Who knew. Maybe it was cathartic for me to be wearing the dude's old clothes.

It was odd waking up in a strange house. I'd been in dozens of hotels across the world, but this was entirely different. Quaint and homey. I could envision spending summers here. Great. One night in a beautiful, cozy location and I'd become domesticated. I wanted to laugh.

I found cream in the refrigerator and marveled at all the food. I could only imagine the woman had her hands full. After preparing my coffee, I headed out onto the deck, surprised how chilly it had become in just a few short hours. However, it smelled like spring with the deep richness of wet grass and flowers, trees that were almost halfway in bloom, and the scent of the ocean. It was truly peaceful here.

As I sipped my coffee, I studied her. She was wrapped in a blanket, holding a mug in both hands. Even from the distance, I thought she was perhaps the most beautiful woman in the world. I took another sip, noticing I could see my breath. That was something else I'd rarely paid attention to, even living in the North. It was interesting how fresh air and a change in venue could alter your thinking process.

I took my time heading off the stairs and in her direction. The glare of the sun skimming across the water was powerful, light steam rising from the ocean's surface as well. The waves were gently rolling into the shallow shore, the sandy beach a good thirty feet below. Serene wasn't the word for the location and the view.

As I approached, I could tell she sensed my arrival, her body tensing. But she remained where she was, barely moving.

I sat down in the chair beside her. I hadn't noticed she was wearing sunglasses, the dark shades blocking my ability to see her eyes. But I had a feeling she was doing her best not to look in my direction.

We both remained quiet, her expression pensive as she held the mug right in front of her nose. I was surprised she'd felt comfortable enough to come outside in what she'd worn before I'd ripped it off her. The seconds ticked by and I was pulled into a vacuum of trying to determine if anyone from my past, my father's past, or one of my brothers' was the person responsible.

No one came to mind.

Our typical enemies were the Italians from a slimier part of New York, who'd slithered out of their holes, believing they could acquire territories from the surrounding states. They were small and had no possibility of controlling more of New York than they already did. That's also why I hadn't considered the Bratva. They were not this well organized.

The Giordano family, also considered one of the strongest Cosa Nostra organizations in the United States, had a firm hold on almost every aspect of New York, including the rail systems, the metro, and the shipping ports.

Not them.

They didn't have these kinds of balls.

I wondered if the Giordanos had been experiencing any issues. I might have to break down and find a level of communication with the current Don.

The other enemy was an Irish clan that held Rhode Island. Also small, they were usually not stupid enough to try to challenge us overtly even though they were doing their best to shift into more legitimate activities that rivaled ours. I was honestly stymied and that wasn't a good position to be in.

No, my gut told me something much bigger was going on.

I hadn't realized Kenya had turned her head toward me for a few seconds until I sensed a new crackle of electricity. Laughing, I threw her a look. "This really is beautiful. I can see why you gave up a six-figure income for this."

"I didn't second guess it. When I was told the place was for sale, I jumped on it. Even if the girl who'd located it had ulterior motives for getting me out of town."

"Ouch. Let me guess. A best friend canoodling with your boyfriend?"

She glared at me. "You really just used a word like canoodling?"

"Hey, you said I was old," I murmured, half laughing. "One of my mother's expressions. As if her three boys had no clue what she was talking about. So, am I right?"

Her sigh was full of anger. "Unfortunately, you are."

"I'm sorry."

"Why? Maybe they both saved me additional heartache. I was hiding from the real me being in New York anyway. I love this place."

"Had you ever been here before?"

Kenya turned her head back toward the water, taking another sip of coffee. "My mother brought me here when I was very little. I don't remember a lot except her smile every time she did. It was the only time she seemed happy, laughing and playing with me for hours. It was so rare and so wonderful. They were some of the best memories I had of my entire childhood. Isn't that sad?"

"What happened to your mom?"

"She died from a long illness. Maybe I also thought purchasing this place would draw me closer to her. I don't know why I'm telling you that or anything else personal. You can buy any bed and breakfast you want in the world."

"Yes, I can, but I certainly wouldn't have the same level of appreciation that you do. Like simple pleasures."

"They truly are the best and if you can't appreciate them, you are missing out."

It was tough not to feel entirely different about life when spending time with her. "I'll take your word for it."

"Don't get me wrong. I enjoyed having money but in truth, I would prefer to sit here and read more than anything. So few people just stop and smell the roses."

"Something else my mother says to this day."

"Smart lady."

"Very much like you."

She threw me another look and we sat quietly for a couple of minutes.

"Anyway, there are muffins in the kitchen baked by a friend of mine. You're welcome to them. I'm going to get dressed." She got up, yanking the blanket tightly around her.

After she started to walk away, I stood, turning toward her. "I don't think I need to stress enough that you are to tell no one we were here. That includes your friend with the muffins. It could potentially place your life in danger."

She stopped short. "Then if you don't mind, get out as soon as you can. I've been through a lot of shit over the past few years and in my mind, this is the one time in my life I get to be someone I want to be for a change."

Her words had a profound effect on me. As firstborn son, I'd been groomed to be a carbon copy of the man who'd ruled with an iron fist. It was all I'd ever known, honestly all I'd ever wanted to be. However, it wasn't the same for everyone. Having choices was what made growing up special, at least in a normal family.

"We'll be gone soon."

She nodded and said nothing else, taking careful strides toward the deck. I turned to face the water once again, wishing I'd been allowed choices as well. It was the first time in years I'd gone down that worthless path. A strange sense of anger flowed through me. Maybe the effect the woman had on me was more profound than I'd originally believed. I took a gulp of my coffee, inhaling the robust aroma.

Maybe what this boy needed was a vacation. I spent a few more minutes basking in the beauty. Why the hell not? I doubted I'd have the opportunity once I returned home. There was far too much to do.

I sighed as I headed toward the house. Leaving was the best thing to do and not just to keep her alive. If I wasn't careful, I'd fall into the trap of thinking I could be someone else. Someone she could fall in love with. A good man.

Not possible.

The moment I walked inside, Camden came rushing into the front portion of the house. "We got problems, boss."

"What is it?"

"The binoculars were in the bag I grabbed. I took a little walk this morning. We've got company."

"Fuck. How far?"

"A couple miles out. We're out of time."

"Get Jeff and James and I need to know what ammunition we have left."

He raked his hand through his hair. Nothing rattled the man, which was one thing I liked about him. At this moment, Camden was angry and concerned. "Not enough. How are we getting out of here?"

There was only one thing to do. "Kenya has a Camaro in the garage. We're taking it." I shifted my eyes to the top of the refrigerator where I'd made the mistake of storing her keys. "Shit. I need to get the keys." She was a clever girl. I'd give her that. He nodded and I raced from the kitchen. Before I had a chance to plant one foot on the stairs, I head a high-pitched scream.

Almost at the same time the sound of one of the front windows being shattered brought Camden into the hallway.

"We're under attack. Do everything you can to keep the fuckers from getting in here."

"You got it, boss."

I was already halfway up the stairs by the time he'd answered, my weapon in both hands. The sound of a brutal thud was followed by a series of grunts. I could tell someone was being driven into a wall.

Her bedroom door was closed and as soon as I reached it, I kicked it in, prepared for one of the assailants to come flying at me.

When I heard her second scream, what little protective side I had in me took over. Within two seconds, I found the source; a man dressed in dark clothes had his arm wrapped around Kenya's throat. However, it was obvious from the cut on the fucker's lip she'd fought him.

I was shocked when she booted the two of them away from the wall and she flipped him over onto his back. How the fuck had she managed to do that? From what I knew about the men hired by an unknown source, they were well trained and certainly capable of eliminating a woman. The fucker made the mistake of lifting his weapon in her direction.

"Get down," I yelled, grabbing her by the arm and pitching her over him a split second before I took a single shot, catching him dead center of his face.

I slowly lowered my weapon only after ensuring the asshole was dead. As I bent over, grabbing the assailant's weapon, I heard her ragged breathing.

"Anyone else?" I barked.

She remained on her knees, her head lowered. "I didn't have time to check."

I shifted in front of Kenya, pulling her to a standing position. She immediately pushed her fists against me. "Just leave me alone. I could have handled him."

"Yeah, it appears so but you don't know what you're dealing with." What I wanted to ask and would was where the hell she'd gotten the training. "You need to listen to me. We're under attack. Is there somewhere you can hide?"

"I'm not fucking hiding. What I need is a weapon."

Pop! Pop! Pop!

The shots came from directly downstairs.

"Sorry, sugar. Fresh out of a spare. Stay right here."

"That's not going to happen and I call bullshit. You took the killer's weapon. Give it to me." She held out her hand, a smug look crossing her face.

I didn't have time to argue with her. Goddamn hardheaded women. I yanked it from my pocket, handing it to her. "You sure you know how to use one of these things?"

"Yeah," she retorted with acid in her tone. "I'm sure."

It would seem the little lady had assorted hidden talents. "Stay right behind me." At least she'd managed to throw on a pair of jeans and a tank top. Not a surprising outfit except for her combat boots. Yes, the girl held many secrets.

There was no time to engage. I moved stealthily toward the door of the room. The moment I stuck my head out, another assassin rushed toward me.

Pop! Pop!

The fucker went down, tumbling over the railing. I quickly glanced in her direction and could tell she was calculating the money needed for repairs.

She tried to push in front of me, but I gave her a harsh look, planting my finger in front of my lips. In turn, she rolled her eyes as if I'd just insulted her. There was no doubt in my mind she knew her weapons given she checked the ammunition quickly like a pro, snapping the magazine back into position then holding the Glock in both hands.

To say I was impressed was an understatement.

While there were women in my organization, including a few soldiers, it wasn't the norm even in this day and age.

Several thuds were heard downstairs and we shifted against the stairwell wall. As I climbed down, I noticed a dead body by the front door, one of my men managing to blow half the assailant's head off. How many of the fuckers were there?

She stopped long enough to grab the weapon from the jerk who'd tumbled over the railing, planting it in her waistband against the small of her back. Given my patience had run out long before this, I nodded for her to follow me and rushed forward, once again forced to physically push her back before dropping and rolling, firing off four rounds into yet another son of a bitch.

Where the fuck were these bastards coming from?

Apparently, out of the fucking woodwork as evidenced by the fact another flew in from the outside, grabbing Kenya. She was having none of it, jerking free, spinning around to face him and issuing a hard kick to his midsection. A martial arts kick to be exact and one I knew well. Without hesitation, she pointed the barrel at his head and pulled the trigger.

It took a lot mentally for a woman to shoot a man in the head. Those unused to the various capabilities of an angry assassin would usually go for the abdomen, not realizing how often those injuries were survivable, if only long enough to finish the job of executing their enemy.

I jumped to my feet, just in time to eliminate two more. When I heard a click, I hissed just as a gun was pointed in my face.

In yet another surprise, Kenya was right there, using her long, very agile leg to kick the weapon from the assailant's hand. It flew straight into mine, which allowed me to quickly take two close range shots just as the fucker lunged for me.

I was able to see the life fading from his eyes before he slowly slid to the floor.

The totality of the silence was just as deafening as I'd heard people describe it. I took a deep breath, pushing the guy's body with my foot. When I turned my head, she still wore the smug look but now her eyes had a look of a haunted woman. It was as if she'd reacted to earlier training, now regretting her actions.

"Thank you," I said.

"For saving your ass or not shooting you?"

God, I adored her retort. "Both."

I took her gently by the arm as Jeff appeared, shaking his head and studying the carnage left in this room.

"What the fuck?" he snapped.

"How many were here?"

"I didn't count yet, but at least eight."

"They're not done." My words were barely recognizable given my sizeable anger. I noticed she'd crouched on the floor, the girl reaching out and touching the branding on the soldier's neck. I watched her expression. Her reaction was curious. "Have you seen the branding before?"

She shook her head. "Should I have?"

"I don't know."

She fisted her hand, her eyes still locked on the carving. "How could anyone allow that to occur on their bodies? Let me guess. An initiation."

"Worse."

She closed and rubbed her eyes. "A dangerous world."

Now she realized it. No, she knew that before.

I glanced at Jeff who was just as surprised she had a weapon in her hand as I was. "Round up all their weapons and extra magazines. Five minutes and we're leaving."

"That's just it. They only had a few bullets left in every weapon and no extras." Jeff was keeping his voice low.

I yanked the weapon from her hand, tugging out the magazine. "Shit. This was nothing but another game being played."

"This one too," she offered.

The moment I moved closer to her, she backed away. When I attempted to cup her face, she jerked her head away much like she'd done the night before. "There's been a change in plans, sweetheart."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning we're taking your car."

"No, you're not."

I half laughed because she wasn't going to like what I was about to tell her next any better, but at this point, I had no choice. She was more than just a bed and breakfast owner or a stockbroker. Not only was her life in clear danger given the fuckers had found us, but I had a feeling the woman knew a hell of a lot more about the scenario than she was willing to tell me. "Yes, my sweet, we are. In addition, you're coming with me."

Soon, it would be time for an interrogation.

One I doubted she would like.