Dangerous Pursuit (OSI Dark Ops #3)

CHAPTER SIX

Lucas lay on top of the covers, naked, one hand beneath his head on the pillow, the other resting on his chest. He stared up at the ceiling fan and listened to it hum as it slowly turned, fighting a losing battle against the oppressive heat of the night.

He stretched his arm out, grabbed the neck of the bottle of whiskey on the table next to his bed, and sat up. He twisted the cork out with a loud squeak and tipped the bottle to his mouth, only to discover it was empty.

“Shit.” Lucas couldn’t remember finishing it.

He set the bottle back on the table and dragged his legs over the side of the bed. Perched on the edge of the mattress, he scrubbed his hands over his face. His whiskers had reached the stage where he should probably trim them up a bit, but he didn’t care enough to do anything about it. His tongue felt coated with fuzz, and there was a foul taste in his mouth like something had crawled into it and died. He didn’t much care about that either .

Lucas pushed up to his feet and took a few seconds to steady himself before moving into the bathroom. He took a leak, flushed the toilet, and turned on the faucet. His battered fingers opened and closed beneath the flow of water, and he washed his hands in the rust-stained sink. The sting of the soap in his wounds was enough to wake him up fully. He’d gotten carried away earlier punching the heavy bag and only stopped when he noticed blood on the leather.

He yanked the small towel from the bar, dried his hands, and tossed it onto the counter.

As he walked past the bed, he swiped his plaid Bermuda shorts off the end and stepped into them before heading to the other room in search of another bottle of whiskey.

Taking out his rage on pieces of shit like the Alcarez brothers or punching the heavy bag helped, but the feeling of gratification was always fleeting. Booze was the only thing that softened the jagged edges of hate and frustration and helped him through nights like tonight.

A half bottle of his old friend Jack awaited him on the rickety table in front of the couch.

“There you are.” He shuffled across the room, leaned down, and picked it up.

As he brought it to his mouth, his gaze landed on Norah’s beautiful face, smiling at him from inside a picture frame. Memories, good and bad, blasted through the haze of alcohol and bombarded his senses .

He could swear he heard the song that had been playing during their first kiss—“Three Times a Lady” by the Commodores. Norah was old-school, and she loved Lionel Richie’s voice.

Lucas remembered the feel of the fabric from the couch where they’d made love the first time. They’d been so hot for each other by that point in their relationship that they couldn’t even make it the few feet to the bedroom.

The rush from the sheer joy, pride, and fear he’d felt the day they found out they were going to be parents washed over him. They’d both cried happy tears, then made slow, gentle love.

And once again, he felt the iron grip of utter devastation and loss that had dropped him to his knees the very last time he saw her—lying on a stainless-steel table at the morgue in the cold basement of the small hospital, her belly still large with the unborn child stolen from both of them by an act of horrific violence. That time, no tears had been shed. It was as if his emotions just … shut down.

Since then, his primary goal in life was punishing, then ridding the planet of everyone who worked directly for Rafael Triano. Then he would take care of the big man himself. After that, he didn’t much care what happened to him.

“Okay, honey, you win.” He recapped the bottle, carried it into the small kitchen, and set it on top of the refrigerator .

Norah had always been an optimist, always seeing the positive side to things, the good in people. She would be disappointed in his current dismal state and would point out all of the good things in his life.

Right now, in the lonely dark of night, he couldn’t think of one.

His phone pinged from his bedroom, and he walked in to retrieve it. He saw the name, swiped his thumb across the screen, and opened the text message from his cousin Beck.

B: where the hell are you? I’ve been calling you for a week!

He checked the time—four thirty—which meant it was two thirty in the morning, Beck’s time. There was definite desperation in his cousin’s message, and Lucas was hit by a wave of guilt and concern.

Beck was the oldest of the O’Halleran cousins and had always fancied himself the family watchdog, their protector. Recently, he’d decided Lucas needed his full attention and had been calling daily to check up on him.

Like an asshole, Lucas had been letting his cousin’s calls go to voicemail. Partly because he didn’t want anyone fussing over him, but mostly because he was ashamed and embarrassed of the direction his once-happy life had taken.

He was very aware that the longer he cut his family out of his life, the harder it would be to let them back in, but he couldn’t seem to take that first step to repair the rift.

L: sorry man, been busy with some stuf f

Three dots flashed across the screen, then his text appeared.

B: answer your fuckin phone

A second later, his phone rang in his hand.

Before answering the call, he tapped into his carefully cultivated persona of a fun-loving, irresponsible guy without a care in the world. A nonthreatening drunk who liked to party and have a good time.

In reality, he was a seething cauldron of hatred and vengeance disguised behind a fa?ade of ugly shirts, ratty shorts, and questionable personal hygiene.

“Hey, cuz. Everything okay?” Lucas kept his voice light, as if he wasn’t hollow inside.

“You tell me. What the fuck are you up to down there?” Okay, getting straight to it.

Relief swamped Lucas that no one had been hurt or died while he had his head up his ass.

“I’m just chillin’, grabbin’ some rays, doin’ some fishin’.” Taking out a few two-legged monsters. “What the hell are you doing up this early?”

“I figured I’d have a better chance of catching you if I called in the middle of the night.” Papers shuffled in the background. “And I’ve received some intel about the Triano organization that you need to know about. Seems some of his people are disappearing into thin air. Not that I give a shit.” Like Lucas, Beck understood there was a special place in hell for people who trafficked in human beings. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“And if I do?” Lying to his cousin was a waste of time. Beck had always been able to see right through Lucas’s bullshit.

Beck’s dad and Lucas’s dad were brothers, and their families had always been really close. As kids, they’d spent most summers together, either at Lucas’s family’s beach house on the east coast of Florida or at his Uncle Michaleen and Aunt Molly’s big place up in Washington State, near the San Juan Islands.

Sometimes, when he let his guard down, thoughts of those happier days crept into his head, but he always forcibly shoved them aside. Never in his life had he thought he would purposely alienate his family, but a lot of things hadn’t panned out the way he’d expected. And after losing Norah, it didn’t seem right for him to be happy about anything.

“Listen, I could care less if a bunch of asshole sex traffickers go missing.” His cousin hesitated. “What I do care about is you going missing.”

“Nah, it’s all good.” Now that was a lie.

“I’m sending the Dark Ops team down there.” Beck’s tone was deadly serious.

“Beck, that’s—”

“Save your protests,” he said. “It’s already in the works.”

Dark Ops was a fairly new division of Beck’s organization, but they’d already had a positive impact on helping victims of all types of human trafficking. Putting an end to the Mu?oz cartel’s sex crimes and trafficking operation had been one of them. Unfortunately, the Trianos had been right there, ready to pick up the slack.

“I don’t need any help.” He’d never forgive himself if he lost one more person he cared about. Besides, he wanted to be the one to end Triano.

“All evidence to the contrary?” Beck released a deep, troubled sigh. “Look, Lucas, it nearly destroyed me when I thought I’d lost Gwen.” A psychopathic Russian mob boss had tortured Beck’s wife, nearly killing her. “I cannot begin to imagine what you’re going through after losing Norah.” Beck proceeded to hit him with some hard truths. “But it’s been almost three years.” Two years, ten months, and seventeen days. “We wanted to give you time to figure things out, to find some kind of peace. But your folks are worried about you—we’re all worried about you. You’re taking too many risks. So, we’re done leaving you alone. You are family, and the O’Hallerans never turn their back on family.”

Lucas hated the thought of hurting his parents, his family, but he couldn’t let himself think about that. Not yet. Not until he finished what he’d set out to do.

“Beck, I know you’re used to being in charge—”

“Not since I married Gwen. She’s the boss of me now.”

Despite himself, Lucas chuckled. “Let me ask you this, when you found out Gwen was in trouble, would you have let someone else go in after her?”

“Hell, no.” Beck’s response was immediate.

“Then you must understand why I need to do this.” Lucas had made a promise to Norah in that morgue.

He would never stop until every last person responsible was destroyed.

“I do understand, but you seem to forget—I didn’t do it alone,” Beck said. “I had Caleb and Mason there to back me up.”

Caleb was Beck’s younger brother, and Mason Croft was engaged to their baby sister, Emily.

“Besides, part of our reason for coming down involves your mission.” More papers shuffled, and Beck filled him in on the shipment of girls and young women coming in.

“Son of a bitches are transporting them in a shipping container,” Lucas said.

Twenty-nine humans crammed into a dark, hot shipping container with very little air, barely any food or water, only a bucket for when they had to go to the bathroom. It would be no surprise if some died during the trip.

“Correct. The container will be unloaded from the ship. The girls will be transferred to a truck and transported to the Rio Palomino river, where they will likely be placed on a boat of some sort,” Beck said. “It’s pretty damn risky, so your efforts must be having a negative impact on Triano’s business.”

“He’s desperate.” Lucas’s mind began to click through various scenarios. “That’s the only reason he would bring that many girls in at once. Especially during high tourist season when we have a shitload of people around here.”

He’d heard rumors about this but hadn’t been able to confirm anything.

Triano had put the word out on the streets that anyone caught interfering with his operation would be hung by their toes from a tree in the jungle and left to the mercy of the animals and elements. As far as threats went, it had been pretty effective in scaring off all of Lucas’s usual sources of information.

Beck continued his briefing. “They will take them downriver to someplace in the jungle where they will be held until various buyers are brought in.”

“That river cuts through thousands of acres of dense, dangerous jungle.” Which would be the perfect place to hide a bunch of scared women and girls from prying eyes. “I don’t suppose you can narrow it down for me, can you?”

“Sammy is working on that. Once she has coordinates, she’ll forward them to you and the team.” Beck hired only the best of the best, and Sammy Joslin was one of the most gifted tech wizards out there. “Cole’s team is specially trained for missions involving sex-trafficking victims. They know how to deal with the traffickers and what special actions to take with regard to the victims. Calliope is especially good at dealing with the victims. But you know the area, the players, and I’d really like you to be a part of this op.”

“Cole Lambert, right?” Lucas had met the formidable head of the division when he brought a group down to find his wife.

Not only was Dulce the daughter of a very powerful US senator, but she was also the founder of a nonprofit called Every Last Child. They provided financial and material support to organizations around the world that worked to save people trapped in the human trafficking trade. Her father’s position and her work had made her the target of AJ Mu?oz, the oldest son of Alejandro Mu?oz, the now deceased head of the once powerful Mu?oz cartel.

“Yes, and I believe you’ve met most of the people on his team.” Beck proceeded to rattle off their names and expertise. “Lucas, we need your help to save those girls before they’re sent off to a horrible existence in parts unknown.”

“Are you sure she’s right for this mission?” Lucas asked about one member of the team in particular.

“Who? Calliope?” Beck asked.

“Yeah.” She stood out in Lucas’s mind and not just because she was the only woman.

Calliope was a tiny, beautiful, pigtail-wearing firecracker with a snarky attitude and deadly accurate aim. Not only with a sniper rifle, but with a verbal jab. They’d only exchanged a few words, but the impact she’d had on him had left him confused and feeling disloyal to Norah’s memory.

“Why?” His cousin’s voice became suspicious. “Do you have a problem working with a woman?”

“Don’t be an ass. Of course, I don’t have a problem with that.” Lucas had a great deal of appreciation for strong women. Hell, he’d married one. “It’s just that navigating that terrain can be tricky.”

Mostly, he was worried something might happen to her. And the thought of that ate at him in a way he couldn’t understand. He’d never voice those concerns to his cousin, however, because it would prompt all kinds of questions he couldn’t answer.

“Calliope was raised in the middle of a swamp, so she’ll be right at home in the jungle. She can get into places no one else can, and she’s deadly as hell. That’s how she earned her nickname—The Wraith.” His cousin chuckled, like Lucas was a fool for even thinking she couldn’t handle it. “Trust me, she’ll be just fine.” He quickly added, “And if you’re smart, I suggest you don’t share your concerns with her.”

“She wouldn’t like that, huh?” Lucas asked.

“Let’s just say she can hold her own against most men, and leave it at that.”

“I sorta got that impression before.” Lucas was surprised to realize he was smiling .

Strange .

“Fine, I’ll work with your team.” Part of him welcomed the thought of having some skilled backup. Another part wanted to be able to keep an eye on a certain sniper.

“Excellent. Mason’s flying them down, will be dropping them off around thirteen hundred hours, then he’s heading to another assignment,” Beck said. “That brings me to my next topic—whether you’ve given any further consideration to my offer. Lucas, Darks Ops could use a pilot with your level of skills.”

Shortly after Norah died, his cousin’s natural instinct to circle the family wagons kicked in and he’d tried to convince Lucas to come work for him at OSI.

“I’m still thinking about it.” The thought of leaving this little town where he and Norah had started building a life tore at his gut.

Lucas was terrified that if he left Palomino, it would be like leaving her and everything they’d shared behind.

“Good.” Beck never pressed the issue. “Make sure you answer your phone from now on, will ya?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Talk to you soon,” Beck said.

“Hey, Beck,” Lucas said, “thanks … for everything.”

For being there for me. For caring about family so much .

“You’re family, Lucas,” was his cousin’s simple response.