Delta: Rescue: A MacKenzie Family Novella (The MacKenzie Family) Page 3

  “I don’t want to hear it.”

  “No one would want her.” She dropped her head, making her shoulders ache, and balled her fists. She ignored her sore fingers, wishing she had something her father wouldn’t refute.

  “Someone will always want what we have. You know this.”

  The truth hurt. “Yes, sir.”

  The market was filled with high-end buyers as well as the ones who wanted scraps. Scrappers reminded her of the fighters in Miami’s underground, the bottom feeders who knew no other life. But amid the scum and dregs of society, she also saw the champions, the athletes, the specimens of raw talent. She loved the brawls and bankrolled several off-the-books brawls, sponsoring the fighters who loved the pain and the egos who didn’t know they should walk away. Watching the dynamics of that world was her entertainment. Some people watched TV and movies. She enjoyed the dark side of life where people made their own choices and no one was put on sale by another.

  “Okay, my girl. Check the new merchandise and make the numbers work in our favor.”

  “Yes, sir.” Her head back in the conversation, ‘Yes, sir’ was all she could say to Papa.

  The line went as dead as her soul felt after those calls with Papa. The girls—his new females—were her age more often than not, late teens, early twenties, though she lived as though she was three times her real age. Living this life made her insides dark and empty.

  Her brother had been a sick deviant. The horrors they had seen at their estate, the echoes of awfulness that they’d heard while growing up, all of that had made Lucien aroused—just like her father. Lucien should’ve been the next leader of the family business, but he’d had an accident. To this day, she wondered how he really died.

  But if he had been alive, then she wouldn’t have her opportunity to make things right as best she could. That was her reason for living, even if she was doing things that made her want to die along with her brother.

  Maddy pulled up a screen on her computer and cried on the inside. One day, she would be in a place to destroy Mercier, but until then, she was a businesswoman and a part of one of the most powerful brokerages of human beings. And that broke her heart.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Luke’s eyes cracked open, letting the break of day ease him awake. He’d been on the job in Miami for two weeks and slept only two nights’ worth. So when he finally got home to Ft. Worth, he went to bed and stayed there. At least a day or two of straight sleep had passed, and hunger and daybreak were calling.

  He rubbed his knuckles into his eyes then jumped out of bed and hit the floor. He ran through his regimen. A hundred sit-ups. A hundred push-ups. Two large glasses of water. Then he could start his day.

  A protein bar made up his breakfast, and it was almost gone when his phone rang. MacKenzie Security and Delta Team were the only ones that had that number. If it was ringing, that meant work. Good, because he’d had just about enough downtime.

  “Yeah?”

  “There’s new intel. We’re digging into those trafficking fuckers again.” Cade’s growl made him take notice. “Brock says you’re good to go.”

  “I’m ready,” Luke said. Saving women, sweeping drugs, and dismantling traffickers were what he lived for.

  “Good. We’re pulling together the plan now. What we know is the son of a rival cartel is in Miami, apparently unhappy with a business transaction with Mercier. We’ve had eyes on him for a while. Chatter from our sources says that they plan to hit close to home. The how and when we’re working on.”

  “All right.” He bunched his fists and cracked his knuckles.

  “Look, Luke.” Cade cleared his throat. “If we’re right, he’s the one you’ve been looking for.”

  Wait… “The one?”

  Cade grunted. “Looks like.”

  “If you’re shitting me…”

  “Suit up. Head back to Miami. Rendezvous location to be provided.”

  Luke let out a shaky breath, nerves and anticipation warring within. How would this play out? Could he find the asshole who had taken his girlfriend so many years ago? No peace would ever come from it. Too many years had passed, and surely she was long gone. His only prayer was she went quickly, not having to suffer. However, the man who bought her and the men who facilitated her auction? They would suffer at Luke’s hands, even if he had to take them out one by one. That was the only thing he wanted in life. Redemption.

  He dropped the protein bar wrapper on the counter of the rent-by-a-week apartment and grabbed his go bag, ready to head to Miami and knock off a to-do item on his retaliation list.

  Love, Inc. was nothing if not proficient. Maddy powered through to her office with a perfect smile, a sexy wrap dress, and flawless hair. She looked the part—everything looked the part—and when she was there, she felt it too.

  Models were eerily similar to the women Mercier sold. The business was run almost exclusively on referral for both clients and talent.

  Her phone rang as she sank into the buttery leather of her executive office chair. Answering the call, she looked out her window onto Miami’s orange-and-red sunset. “Yes, hello?”

  “I’m so sorry.” The voice whimpered. “I messed up.”

  A chill ran down her spine. “Lori? Is that you?”

  Lori was one of her models, always looking for a way to hit the big leagues before she was ready. “I took a shoot off the books. Really, I’m so sorry. I was wrong. It wasn’t—” A raspy breath echoed through the phone. “I need a doctor. He—” A sob sent another chill down Maddy’s spine. “Hurt me. I’m so sorry.” Lori’s voice, hoarse and tear soaked, rang in Maddy’s ears.

  “Lori, sweetheart. Where are you?”

  “Where the Calvin Vine shoot was yesterday.” She sobbed. “I thought he was part of them. I thought—”

  “Doesn’t matter, sweetie. Help is coming for you. Are you safe now?”

  “Yes,” she whispered hoarsely.

  “You’ll either see me, Hale, or the cops very soon.” However, any interaction with Miami’s finest always made her nervous.

  “Thank you.”

  Maddy ended the call, then dialed the head of Love’s security detail. “Hale, Lori took a job off the books. It went all wrong. I think she was attacked. Get there to help with the cops and give me a name. I want him before they get him.”

  “Damn it,” he growled. “On it. Where is she?”

  She pulled up the schedule to find the Calvin Vine location from the day before, anger forcing her to focus on the next move. Incidents like that rarely happened. She screened her clients, staff, and model roster well. The industry was never one hundred percent safe, though she offered the girls the best possible chance of safety in a business that was filled with sleazy photogs, eating disorders, and drugs, which her father was apparently selling. Still, when something bad happened, especially what she thought might’ve happened to Lori, Maddy wanted swift, brutal payback.

  “Hotel Miranda,” she said.

  “All right. I’m two minutes out.”

  “Good…and Hale?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Lori is strong.” Maddy’s French accent tinged her English when she was angry, and she was fuming. “But if she was brutalized, care for her as best you can. She will fight it but need it.”

  “Understood.”

  Hale was American ex–special forces. Ex because they’d kicked him out. He had a problem turning his hostility down when he needed to. He had been hired by her father as her bodyguard when she first came to Miami. Hale was not stupid and quickly saw through the Mercier façade, but he needed the paycheck. As time went along, he was the only person who knew her on the inside and outside, knew what she was and where she wanted to go. When Love came into existence, he transitioned from her personal detail to run the security shop.

  They’d never been romantically involved, primarily because she was unable to tap into that part of her psyche, which seemed completely broken. But he cared for her, much like she
imagined a brother would if he weren’t a sicko like her Lucien.

  Whenever Hale went on a job like that, he was ruthless, but only after he’d handled Maddy’s model with expert care. There was no question that he would track down who did this before the cops, and revenge would be swift.

  Taking a deep breath, Maddy opened a desk drawer. She might send Hale to lead the hunt, but she would be involved too. No one hurt her girls without having to face her. If there was one benefit from being Papa’s daughter and seeing the Mercier empire at work her entire life, it was that she knew how to exact payback. Waiting patiently for use was her favorite .22.

  Lori had been hurt every way a woman could be hurt. Anger thumped in Maddy’s neck as she left the girl’s side. Even the doctor, who was no stranger to various questionable industries, was affected by what happened to Lori. Maddy’s rage was near blinding, but she controlled it and left as the cops began probing the whos and whys of what happened.

  Hale followed behind her as she retreated, leaving Lori in the care of a close friend on the way to the hospital.

  When they were both streetside and she couldn’t contain the need to scream, Maddy turned to him. “Hale—”

  “I know who it is.”

  “That fast?”

  “He’s connected.”

  God. “To Mercier?”

  Hale nodded. “Yes.”

  “Damn it! Those disgusting—”

  “I’ve pinpointed him. He knows who you are, and I’d guess this is a message to your father.”

  Of all the people walking the earth, Hale understood why she wanted to kill Papa. The local cops, the feds, and Interpol were no match for her father. He had ins everywhere: Miami, Abu Dhabi, Madrid, Hong Kong. Everywhere. No agency existed that could do what she needed to. But her process was slow.

  “Maddy? He’ll hear from someone else if you don’t tell him first.”

  “Whoever hurt Lori is mine. Not Papa’s. Before you teach him a lesson, before we hand him over to the police, he is mine.”

  He gave her a lecturing, hardened glare but acquiesced. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Address.”

  “Not too far.” He gave it to her as they swiftly moved from the swanky Hotel Miranda. “I’m riding with you.”

  “Not tonight, you aren’t.” She smiled at the valet, who went to retrieve her sports car. “Hale, get in your own ride and give me a ten-minute head start.”

  “Maddy—”

  She flashed him a look as the sleek black Lotus pulled up. According to Papa, being discreet didn’t mean avoiding cars priced as much as housing. He preached looking the part. He was a CEO, and she was an executive. He ran a trillion-dollar company, and she was on its board and was also the head of one of the fastest-growing modeling agencies in the world. So a Lotus it was. Other than material extravagance, they were tight-lipped and well hidden.

  “Ms. Mercier,” the attendant said as he held the door for her. The staff were more than familiar with her and her models, who often traipsed in for couture events. Sometimes she thought the staff guessed that the high-end modeling agency was a front for Mercier’s dealings, but that didn’t matter, at least not tonight.

  “Thank you.” She turned to Hale before sliding into the leather seat. “Ten-minute head start.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t let you do that.”

  “Hale—”

  “Maddy. If your father finds out—”

  “Let him.” Her brow furrowed because she knew he was right and she wasn’t thinking clearly. A .22 in her purse wasn’t much of a defense against the man who had sadistically hurt Lori—not unless Maddy walked in and just shot him, and if her father did find out that she’d purposefully kept a message from him, even for a limited amount of time, the man she was about to hunt wouldn’t be her problem.

  “Think about what you’re doing.” Hale stepped closer.

  Retaining some of her composure, she tilted her head and motioned him into the passenger seat. “Let’s go.”

  Already walking to the opposite side of the car, he pressed his cell phone to his ear, no doubt doing what she paid him well to do—protect her and ready their team to avenge her girl.

  He programmed a location into the GPS. The directions took her to a seedy, though not poor, section of the city. The area wasn’t safe, but that wasn’t a concern. That was the part of town she frequented that had nothing to do with her models.

  “Why’s this guy staying in a shithole like this?” she asked.

  Hale shook his head. “No idea.”

  Most who frequented that area knew her, or if they didn’t personally, they knew of her. God had been kind to her in the looks and brains departments, and she’d worked hard to create Love. But that wasn’t what made her a local underground legend—it was her temper, the protective wrath she had when it came to her models, her business, or even the underground side businesses she tinkered with. Everyone knew they were to be untouched.

  All her hired muscle were as loyal as they were clued in. They knew that underneath the thousand-dollar shoes and designer dresses, Maddy was a beast raised by a monster, every day reminding the world that looks were deceiving.

  She blew out an anticipatory breath and double-parked on the street. “This is it?”

  Hale was already pushing out of his seat, and that was all the confirmation she needed. She caught sight of two of their men’s vehicles parked under the sun-setting shade of a low-leaning palm. Their team was already there. Leaving her purse but taking the .22, she left the Lotus unlocked, and God help anyone who tried to take her ride. Then she strode toward the building.

  Hale was paces ahead of her, but he slowed and turned at the front of the walk. “Easy in there, Maddy.”

  She raised a brow. “What part of what we just saw says I should be easy?”

  His eyes darkened. “I’m just asking for you to let me do the dirty.”

  “We’ll see.”

  After climbing the well-worn stairs, they reached the unit with weathered blue paint, and she turned the door handle. Ahead of her sat the piece of shit, gagged, tied to a chair, hands and legs bound, and two of her men were posted against the bright-yellow wall. Cockiness colored the bound man’s eyes where she wanted to see fear. When he focused on her, that didn’t change. It should have. It would soon enough.

  “Ungag him.” She paced. “And back the chair to the wall.”

  Hale obeyed.

  She spun on a heel, deliberately toying with the weapon in her hand. “Tell me about you.”

  The man cackled. “Tell me about your father.”

  “Wrong answer.” Maddy nodded.

  Hale’s brass-knuckle-clad fist socked the guy, snapping his head against the wall.

  “He’s just warming you up for me. I’m worse. I’m your nightmare, and before I turn you back over to my boys, you deal with me.”

  Hale growled. “His name is Felipe Rivera.”

  Felipe’s eyes tightened at the name, but nothing came out of his mouth.

  “Well, Felipe.” She inched closer. “Any apology you wish to give?”

  “Your whore was hurt—”

  “Model,” Maddy corrected.

  “Whatever you wish to call her,” he continued. “Make sure your father knows the Riveras were close enough to hurt your business, hurt you.”

  The asshole was trying to hurt the unfeeling with the innocent. “You took my girl in the mouth when she said no? That was a mistake. Hit her, hurt her? You will feel that too.” She stepped toward him, standing knee to knee with the tied man. “You stole her body without her permission? Made her bleed?”

  With that, the man shifted, jutting his chin as though offering a fuck you to her father.

  “You’re going to beg”—she leaned forward to his ear—“and plead to be put down like the dog you are. But I won’t let you die.” She nudged her knee to his. “I’m a teacher. You will learn.”

  As she turned toward Hale, the door crashed open, an
d something heavy thumped on the floor. Her heart pumped as the flashbang exploded. Its pop was louder than the door had been, and the quick smoke-spitting bomb hissed. Trained instinct kicked in. Never show fear, always have an escape, but she didn’t see her options. Commandos burst into the room, one to the right, the next to the left. A third man stood by the door while another remained outside. Panic soared in Maddy’s racing blood, and her stinging eyes leaked tears.

  The commotion threw her team into play, but she stood there, unflappable amid the shouts and the smoke, never showing fear, always facing her enemy until she could survive.

  Hale yelled, “Stand down!”

  Other voices ordered them to do the same. The chaotic clash spun around her, but she didn’t waver. Bring on the law. Let them try to take her down. She had no fear when she was high on adrenaline.

  “Down!” Hale ordered. “Down, down. Get the fuck down, Maddy.”

  No.

  Boots were stomping into the room, men shouting. Her security was ready for war. No weapons had been fired, but no one knew what the next move was.

  “North wall.” One of the commandos reported their mark, her captive, tied to a chair. “Confirmation on Rivera.”

  In all the craziness, she put her hands on her hips. “Enough.” Nothing changed as a man surged toward Rivera. She moved in front of him and dropped her chin, shouting with all the anger that Lori deserved, “Enough!”

  That time, the room stilled. The man in front of her froze. Hale and a man attacking him, hands still on each other, stopped. Everyone noticed that she was a she, not throwing swings like in an action movie—everyone except for one.

  He marched over, got in her face, and growled, “On the bed, facedown.”

  Her hand flew to slap his face. He wore tactical gear: hat, goggles, and body armor. But his cheek was bare, and her slap left a mark on his sculpted chin. He didn’t flinch, and he stood stoic and statuesque, towering over her like a military mafia man.