Ice and Storm immediately reacted, increasing the rain, dropping the temperature so every drop was icy and uncomfortable. That would ensure Avery would go straight through the front door and not go around back where Harold’s body could be discovered. Avery was dressed in a long black trench coat. He slammed the driver’s side door closed, took two running steps toward the front door, still under the canopy so he wasn’t getting wet, but he turned back.
Avery isn’t alone. He has a companion with him. Repeat. Avery isn’t alone. Second man is tall, maybe six foot two or three. Looks to be in excellent shape. Sending picture to Code to get ID right now.
Czar rubbed his chin on the back of his hand as he studied the situation. If they aborted now, Avery would know he was under a death sentence and would scurry into the woodwork. The others waited for his decision.
We’ll stick to the plan. Reaper, the second man, you and Storm deal with. Ice, Savage, you’re still on Avery. Czar hated giving those orders.
He had promised himself that when they found a home, he would find a way to ease his Torpedo Ink family out of what they’d been doing for most of their lives—what he’d gotten them into doing. They had been shaped into killers by him in order to survive. They’d been taught how to seduce and kill by their instructors, so they were “useful” to their government—and Sorbacov—as assassins. They had been fucked up sexually by their childhood training. They had joined an MC club to take down the Swords international president. Now they hunted pedophiles. It was never-ending.
On it, Reaper said.
With Reaper, Storm acknowledged.
Ice and Savage were up, and they needed to get a single name from Avery. It would be nice if they could get more than one. Czar wanted to know the name of the Russian. He was certain he was one of the few pedophile instructors they’d left alive. He was someone who traveled back and forth from Russia, and he was highly intelligent. Czar had every confidence that they’d track him down. Their first priority had to be the collector. He was murdering families and taking innocent children to fulfill orders from his sick clients. He had to be stopped.
Czar rubbed his aching head and watched the rest of the drama unfold. The moment Savage and Ice had Avery in their custody, and Reaper and Storm indicated the stranger was taken care of, the others would go through the house looking for anything they could find that would help them find others in the large ring.
Avery flung open his front door and stepped back to wave the newcomer through.
Code says the man with Avery is named Jay Gordon. He’s affiliated with the human trafficking ring both Yeger and Kushnir were involved with. Looks to me like he wants to climb the ladder. They were slightly turned away from me, so I was only partially able to catch what they were saying. Gordon believes with a little backing from Avery he can take the lead. Absinthe delivered the information to all of them.
Czar quickly analyzed the information and added to the pool of general knowledge. Avery works for the San Francisco PD. He runs their tech department. That gives him access to where all the cops are and what kinds of operations the cops are running. He must be helping the human trafficking ring as well.
Avery walked with complete confidence through the foyer into the great room without turning on a light. The house had gone quiet. There was only the sound of the wind outside and the occasional creak of an old house settling. Jay followed close behind him, taking a moment to look around and then hurrying to catch up.
“You must love the privacy out here, man,” Jay said admiringly. “Must be nice. We could use a place like this. Set the girls up and have the men come to them.”
“Too much traffic on a road like this, sooner or later you’d be noticed. Harold can only do so much.” Avery turned into the hall. No lights were on other than one shining under the door of the room straight ahead—the master bedroom. “That’s weird. I thought they were going to meet me in the den, but it looks like they’re in the master bedroom.”
He didn’t miss a step but continued on down the hall toward his bedroom. “I only use this house on weekends. Or if I have sick days coming, or a vacation. Then it’s perfect. I can have a nice leisurely time, and no one can hear the screaming but me, just the way I like it.”
“I prefer to hear them moaning around my cock.”
Avery shook his head. “You know those teenagers you like aren’t into it, right? They’re strung out on drugs and do whatever you say because if they don’t, someone’s going to hurt them. Seriously hurt them. That’s the way it works, right?” He stopped at his bedroom door and looked at his guest over his shoulder. “Better to be honest than a hypocrite. Just own what your preference is and to hell with everyone else.”
Jay grinned at him. “You do it your way and I’ll do it mine.”
Avery laughed and opened the door, pushing through. He was halfway into the room when he smelled blood. The room was very warm with the fireplace going and the door closed. Light spilled from a fixture overhead, pouring down on the white carpet, which was inexplicably red. He took two more steps around the bed and saw David Swey lying facedown in a thick pool of his own blood.
“What the hell?”
Even as Avery turned, pulling his weapon, he knew he was too late. The barrel of a gun was pressed tight against the back of his neck. He couldn’t see Jay, or anyone else for that matter. A hand reached around him and took the gun from his hand.
From out of his sight, Jay yelled once, the sound low and agonized.
“Take him to another room and have your fun there,” Savage said. “We’ve got work to do in here.”
Avery tried to turn, and the barrel pressed tighter against his skin. His heart began to pound. “Just tell me what you want.”
“Take off your clothes. All of them.”
Avery’s hands shook, but his mind was racing. He had another gun. He just had to get to it. It was under his coat and tucked into his waistband at the small of his back. It would be unseen by his attacker even when he took his coat off. He could reach . . . He began to put his plan in motion, shrugging out of his trench coat and allowing it to fall to the floor.
He wished the attacker would say something, but he didn’t. The barrel of the gun was very steady. His own hands were shaking. Had the gun not have been pressed so tightly against his neck, he wouldn’t have known his assailant was there. He couldn’t even hear him breathe.
Unbuttoning his shirt, he went over his movements, acting them out in his mind before he began to shrug off his suit jacket. As his arms went down, lightning fast, he put his hand on the gun—but it wasn’t there. It was gone. He came up empty. His jacket fell to the floor.
“Tell me what you want.”
“I don’t like repeating myself. Get it done or I’ll do it for you, and you won’t like the results.” The voice was implacable.