Stolen Vengeance: Slye Temp book 6 (19 page)

Josh echoed her words, “Yeah, what the hell?”

Dingo lifted a hand. “I find it rich that you tell me I’m not objective when you’re standing next to the man you wanted to gut two years ago. That’s where your loyalty lies, fine.”

“You’re twisting this around,” she shouted at him.

“Me? I’m just giving you a look from my side of the room. You don’t trust Valene even though she’s never done anything but support us, yet you want me to listen to
his
shit? No!”

“Everyone just calm down,” Josh said, trying to mediate an agreement that was not going to happen.

Dingo told Josh, “You’ve got a place here. She trusts you, mate.”

“Dingo!”

He talked right over her. “But me? I’m not staying where I’m not trusted. I’m going to find answers, because I’m the best bet at getting close to Valene. Even though no one in this room believes me, if I discover she’s in league with Satan’s Garden Club, the hunters, Rikker or the Grim-fucking-Reaper, I’ll drag her back here in cuffs myself.”

Please, God, don’t make me do that.

Dingo speared Gage with his next words. “But if I deliver evidence otherwise, then you’ll have to make a choice, Sabrina, between me or him.”

“Stay away from Valene. I had her released from the questioning.”

“To make her your damn bait,” Dingo accused him, knowing he was right.

Gage’s only acknowledgement was to say, “If Rikker goes to ground, I’m holding you responsible.”

“Dammit, Gage,” Sabrina shouted.

Dingo pointed at Gage. “Fuck you.”  Then he strode out, not slowing down when Josh roared at him to stay and Sabrina alternated between shouting Dingo’s name and cursing somebody.

He hoped she was unloading on Gage. Fat chance, that.

Nick intercepted Dingo on the way out, asking, “What the–”

“Leave off, mate. I’m done with this shit.”  Dingo stormed out, got in his rental and drove off in a spin of tires.

He fought to draw a breath
. I did the right thing.

He’d walked into Satan’s den to protect Valene. Dingo could do no less for the two people he’d admit loving if he had any idea how to love someone.

Dingo had to find out just who was lying and who was not.

Sabrina had been right to accuse Dingo of lacking objectivity, because with Valene in the middle of all this he couldn’t do his duty.

The agency was leaving Valene dangling just to use her to pull in Rikker. Gage hadn’t denied it.

No one wanted Rikker more than Dingo, unless it was Josh and Sabrina. But none of them would put an innocent woman in harm’s way to get revenge. Gage, on the other hand, was another matter.  Before Sabrina’s team had gotten burned in the UK on a CIA mission directed by Gage, Dingo had followed her lead by giving Gage the benefit of the doubt when any issue arose.

Now?  Dingo believed Gage would turn his own mother over to the devil if it served his agency.

Sabrina’s head was not on straight. Laughton had her emotions twisted into a pretzel.

Dingo couldn’t fault her since he was fighting just as hard not to accept what the evidence presented. The best he could do was keep emotions out of the mix.

If he came up with proof that Gage was setting them up again, he’d get word to Josh, who would at least listen to him.

But if Dingo discovered Valene was truly working with Rikker, of all people, and that she was involved with Satan’s Garden Club...

Then he’d have to make a decision that was going to destroy what was left of his soul after walking out on the only family he’d ever had.

Chapter 22

Maxx Navarro gave the “leave me” look to the two men, his close
compadres
, who had just reported to him on the Jon Tinker fundraiser hit.

He asked his uncle, “Please stay, Tío.”

At forty-nine, Tío was still an intimidating man who carried two hundred pounds of muscle and a loyalty to his late brother that was second only to Maxx’s own. Maxx
would
avenge his father.

If not for Tío convincing a devastated sixteen-year-old boy that justice was better served by cold calculation, Maxx would never have waited so patiently to avenge his father’s death.

Death was too forgiving a word for what was done.

Santori Garcia had been murdered, and the only way that could have happened was through betrayal by those closest to him.

Just as someone thought to betray Maxx today.

Two contracts completed twenty minutes apart, but the first one had not gone as planned.

Maxx’s uncle took a cigar from the humidor on Maxx’s desk. The desk was Brazilian Rosewood, and he’d had it shipped into LA. Tío mused, “Your papa would be very proud of you, Maxx. I had promised him you would be ready to stand at his side by the time you reached thirty. But look at you. At twenty-three, you have done well. Even your papa did not control so many resources at your age.”

Maxx waved off the compliment, but deep inside he appreciated the encouragement. “Gracias, but I have much yet to do.”  He lowered himself into the office chair that was oversize to accommodate his six-foot-three frame.

His father and uncle were big men who had descended from Arawak ancestors who lived on the island of Curacao when Spanish invaders had thought to take the women as slaves. That was until the tribal men who showed up were six to seven feet tall, giants to shorter Europeans. Maxx had been blessed with the blood of his forefathers, the same thick, black hair, plus the devastating Navarro smile that had drawn women into their web back when selling whores was worth his time. Any attractive woman who wore revealing clothes and strutted her stuff was a whore in the making, if she wasn’t one already.

He’d brought them in and his uncle had handled placements through contacts Tío had made when he worked with Maxx’s father. That was before Maxx had developed a relationship with someone in the Orion Hunter network. That relationship opened the door to even better resources for what he had in mind.

No, he was not bigger or better than his father, but Maxx was just getting started. “I have my father’s hard work and reputation to thank for what little I have gained in the two years since we moved here.”

Tío lit his cigar, drew on it and released a puff with a sound of satisfaction. “I will not argue over my brother’s accomplishments.”  He held the cigar, staring at it in thought. “If Garcia had entertained even a
thought
that he was under threat, he would have moved the bulk of his money to the account he funded for us while you grew up.”

Eighty-seven million dollars gone.

“I will find every man who betrayed Papa and when I am through, no one will dare cross a Navarro again.”

Nodding at that, Tío said, “What of this new associate of yours?”

“He will be fine,” Maxx said, brushing off a potential argument.

“I don’t like this man.”

“We don’t have to be his amigos to take his money, Tío.”

“You know I support everything you do and I also wish to make those pay who killed your father, but this Smith is not being straight with you. I don’t want your hunger for revenge to lead you into a trap.”

“Smith is not capable of tricking me.” Maxx preferred not to cross his uncle, but they were in agreement on who led Satan’s Garden Club. And that hadn’t been decided simply due to a sense of entitlement on Maxx’s part, but Maxx had surprised even Tío with the ruthless determination he’d shown to reach this point, and brutal punishment of anyone who got in his way.

That was why Mr. Smith, a ridiculous alias, would be no problem.

Maxx owed his uncle respect so he did not pursue the discussion. He did not want to be forced to prove who was right.

Tío had raised Maxx from the age of four when his father’s long-time companion had died. For that reason, when Tío told Maxx he had to finish the job Garcia had tasked his only brother with–to raise Maxx to become Garcia’s second in command and deadly enforcer–Maxx had listened.

Then he took to his training like never before, attacking his studies, because an ignorant man could not lead. He built his body into hard planes of muscle and developed his marksmanship skills.

Now he was strategically rebuilding Satan’s Garden Club, which would once again be great and control far more than his father’s empire had.

His cell phone buzzed with an incoming call. Maxx lifted it from the desk, noted the unidentified caller, and answered, “I’ve been waiting for you to call and explain why my man was killed tonight, Mr. Smith.”

Tío’s eyes narrowed. Maxx lifted his free hand in a request to wait. He hadn’t told Tío about their shooter being killed. Not until Maxx heard Smith’s side and decided whether he would allow Smith to continue breathing.

Smith said, “Someone saw him. That would have left a loose end for both of us.”

“I find it hard to accept that one of the Orion Hunter elite would be that careless.“

“Calling me a liar is not in your best interest, Navarro. Not if you want to continue as one of my contractors.” 

“Neither is losing my people in my best interest. If there is a loose end, I handle it.”

“Fine, next time I’ll tell you, let you hunt someone who will go to ground the minute they’re made and let you clean it up, but you’ll wait on your money while you do. As it is, the money is already in your account.”

Maxx knew the money had been transferred. He’d checked. “Only for the first kill. Not the second one.”

“I’m waiting on confirmation of the ONC hit.”

“The evidence has been delivered, so the delay is not on my end. Additionally, you are to supply names as part of our agreement.”

“I gave you Bergman. He was the number one snitch who fed information on your dad.” 

“The agreement was one name per hit in addition to the money,” Maxx reminded him. “Plus I now have to make amends for losing an employee of someone with whom I have a business relationship. I’m reconsidering the last contract I have to complete for you.”

“That would be unwise at this point.”

“Only in your opinion, Mr. Smith.”  Maxx allowed the silence that followed to speak the loudest for him.

After a moment, Smith conceded. “You’re right, but only to a point. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ve got more than the name of someone who was tight in your father’s circle. This man was the one who saved your dad’s life ... then ended it.”

Maxx sat forward, gripping the phone. “That one. I want that one.”  Because he’d known it had to be someone very close to his papa, and the only other two who could have possibly given up his father had been killed with Garcia.

“Are we still on for the third contract?”

Tío caught Maxx’s eye and gave him a tiny headshake, warning Maxx not to continue with Smith, but if Smith delivered on what he’d just offered, Maxx would kill the next one for free. “Yes, we still have an agreement.”

Tío grumbled something that Maxx ignored, intent on hearing what Smith had to say next.

“Your dad knew this man by an alias, but his real name is Dingo Paddock. And as a bonus, I’m texting you his photo. He’s even in Los Angeles right now.”

Maxx’s phone buzzed. He pulled the phone away to open the text. There was the picture, and it resembled one his father had sent to Tío with all the other photos of everyone in Satan’s Garden Club. Until now, every dollar Maxx had paid to find this man had been spent in vain.

“Hey, Navarro,” called to him from the cell phone in his hand. “Happy now?”

No, but Maxx lifted the phone back to his cheek. “I will take care of the third one as scheduled.” He ended the call and drew in a deep breath to explain to his uncle, but a hard knock on his door interrupted.

His uncle shouted, “Qué?”

The door opened and Dominic said to Maxx, “He’s back.”

Maxx lifted his chin, ordering Dominic to send in his man.

Vincent had arrived in Brazil years ago, and had been with Maxx ever since. He taught Maxx English that could be spoken in business dealings so that Maxx would not sound like he’d just crawled across the border from Mexico. His father had trusted Vincent, but it had taken Maxx a while to warm up to the guy whose soul had been created from a block of ice.

Now, he held Vincent in the high regard someone with such expertise deserved. Maxx pointed at the chair next to his uncle. “Please have a seat.”

Once the office door closed, Maxx asked, “Any problems?”

“No.” Vincent had a deep, authoritative voice even when asking for the salt at dinner. “Should I have expected any?”

Tío spoke up. “Our associate on the first job did not survive the mission, but Maxx will have to give you the details.”

Maxx buried his irritation. Tío would be Tío, regardless of who was in charge. “The client claimed our project was compromised, that someone saw the shooter leaving.”

Vincent took his time thinking on that. “Odd.”

A man of few words. Maxx agreed, “Yes, and for that reason we will take extra care on the next job by sending in eyes.”

That gave Tío reason to smile.

Vincent pulled out a phone and placed it on the desk. “I took a few moments to chat with this one before fulfilling my obligation.”

“Oh?” Maxx had learned far more than English from Vincent. This man had also taught him the fine skill of psychological warfare, especially when it came to withdrawing information. But in this particular case, the target had been some weak-kneed antiques dealer. “What did you bring us?”

Vincent took his time lifting the phone again, and while he did, he said, “Evidently a very valuable item is up for grabs and some high rollers are after it.”

Maxx took that in stride. There was always something of value that could be had. He couldn’t waste time or resources on anything that did not bring a sizeable payday. “If I wanted rare antiques, I would send my man to Sotheby’s.”

“Oh, this is rare, but not what you’re imagining,” Vincent murmured. He paused and lifted his wrinkled gaze to Maxx. “This man I spoke to knew about the big fundraiser, the location of your first contract from Smith. This man said he’d help me obtain the prize if I’d allow him to live.”

That was interesting. “What prize?”

“A scroll so rare he claims that the Orion Hunters would give all they owned to gain it.”

“
Ridículo
,” Tío growled, sitting upright.

“What?” Maxx said, leaning forward and agreed it sounded ridiculous. “Why would the Orion Hunters want this scroll?”

“You know about the Orion Prophecy, correct?”

“Yes, yes.” Maxx waved his hand to the side, dismissing the crazy beliefs of the hunters. “The leaders are after artifacts, five in fact, so what makes this scroll so valuable?”

“This particular artifact is key to the prophecy and the most important piece of their puzzle.”

Maxx cursed in Spanish, the only time he broke from his discipline of speaking English. He had learned the language of his enemy so that he would have no weakness when he hunted his prey. “Tell me why I should care, Vincent. Our business is not of antiques.”

“Perhaps your client’s business is, though.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because my target mentioned a Mr. Smith during our chat. He said he did not have Smith’s number, but he would be happy to introduce me to him as soon as Smith called back because Smith had offered him money to stay away from this scroll. That was the end of the information. There was much begging and crying at that point.”

Tío cursed. “
A man should have cojones!”

Vincent lifted his shoulders in a polite shrug. “I had a knife staking one of his to his kitchen chair at that point.”

Maxx and Tío both flinched, but Vincent continued. “I find it a bit coincidental that we are dealing with a mysterious Mr. Smith in LA at the same time someone else is communicating with a Mr. Smith who told this antiques dealer to not attend the fundraiser where we also had a contract.”

“Good point.” Maxx had the patience of a gnat, where Vincent could take days to make a point if allowed. “What do you have for me?”

“I have the last four calls on this man’s cell phone. Evidently he was obsessive about clearing his phone, but when I first found him he was ranting about a woman. Valene this and Valene that. Lot of anger.”  Vincent pressed the keypad as he spoke. “He thought I originally came to warn him away from her project, just as Smith had. Before I dispelled that notion, he told me Valene had no more claim to the scroll than he did. He called her to make an offer to split the proceeds with her and she did not even return his call.”

Maxx nodded for Vincent to continue. “He called this Valene a few disrespectful names, then when he finally realized I was not there for the scroll, he told me the scroll is worth more money than what is sitting in any of the Federal Reserves. It’s priceless.”