Retribution (Moonstruck Genesis #4)

Chapter 1

IAN “MAC” McINTIRE swung the ax and buried the head in the tree trunk as his cell phone vibrated in the pocket of his BDUs. Old habits died hard. He didn’t answer. Retrieving the canteen sitting atop the dull green tee shirt he’d pulled off, he drank deeply from it. Only after capping and tossing it back on top of his shirt did he pull out the phone.

UNKNOWN CALLER

And no voice mail. The phone vibrated in his hand. UNKNOWN CALLER. The phone was a burner and only a handful of people had the number. Sean Donaldson, IT nerd extraordinaire, had done a jailbreak on the thing so the GPS wouldn’t register on anyone’s radar. But. He took a chance and thumbed the answer button. He didn’t speak.

“Sergeant Major?”

The raspy, whiskey-soaked voice sent shivers down his spine.

“If this is you, someone needs your help, Sergeant Major.”

He waited, still silent while he worked to slow down his heart rate.

“She asked me to call. You know how to reach me.” The voice whispered through the speaker before dead air swallowed it.

He dug out the phone he normally used and stabbed the button for a preprogrammed phone number.

“Yo, bossman.”

“I need you to trace a number.”

Sean Donaldson’s chair creaked as his large body shifted and swiveled. Mac could hear the sounds of computer keys. “Go.”

Mac read off the number and waited.

“Fuck.” Sean uttered the curse softly. “That’s a New Mexico area code. Yup. Gallup. Stand by. I think it might be a pay phone.” More keys clacked in the background. “Tracks to a phone at a gas-n-go place so not a pay phone. What’s up?”

“I don’t know. Are you sure the GPS is disabled on the outside phone?” They each carried two phones—one for use within the group only, the other for making calls to anyone beyond the immediate group.

“Yeah. Positive. You think it’s a trick?”

“I think the Feds want us bad enough they might call every burner number in their database at least once.” But even if they did, how would they know to use that particular voice and plea?

“Well, one way to find out. Make the call then toss the phone on an eastbound freight train. I’ll have a clone ready when you get back.”

“Roger that.” He broke the connection with Sean and stared off into the woods. Sean did three things really well—blow shit up, patch people together, and manipulate all things electronic. If it was only the Wolves on the chopping block, he wouldn’t give a damn. A finely honed military unit, they could deal with whatever came their way. But their mates and their children were in danger too. He couldn’t risk them. But that voice—and the message—stirred his deeply held sense of duty. Of honor. Brotherhood. And a promise.

LIAM DRUMMED his heels against the wooden base of the built-in couch in the large RV. Hannah Jackson McIntire turned and caught him scowling. “What?”

“It doesn’t really matter to me, but it does to the little kids.”

Hannah crossed her arms over her chest and waited for her son to continue.

“I mean, I don’t really believe anymore but it’s important for them to believe.”

“Believe. Believe what, Liam?”

“Santa. That he’s real.”

She closed her eyes and resisted the urge to laugh. “Santa?”

“Yeah. Christmas is barely a week away.”

He sounded so forlorn, Hannah opened her eyes to study him.

“Are we gonna have a tree, Mom? And presents? And turkey dinner? All the stuff that’s important like family and stockings and Christmas stories?”

A week? It was December already? Hannah swallowed her panic. She’d completely lost track of the date. Thanksgiving had been turkey sandwiches eaten on the fly as they dealt with the fallout from the raid on Black Root. Very little had been salvaged from Jacey’s ranch in Oklahoma. She and Mac had always traveled light and holidays were something more miss than hit due to their assignments. But Liam was right, and not just about the little kids.

They’d all been uprooted and trying to keep things together while on the run had taken all her energy. Hannah sank down on the couch next to her son. “Life pretty much sucks right now, doesn’t it, buddy?”

Liam shrugged, his expression stoic and so reminiscent of his father that she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“It’s okay, Mom. I mean…those guys are fu…freaking scary.” At her narrowed eyes and tense lips, he changed his word choice. “I’d hate if they caught any of the little kids. But still…” He manly held back the whine.

“I know.”

Liam hadn’t said much about the time he spent as a prisoner of Black Root, at least not to Hannah. And if he’d said something to Mac, her husband had chosen not to share the conversation with her. Things were better between her and Mac but were still a long way from normal.

“Look, buddy, I can’t guarantee anything but I’ll talk to the others and to your dad. If we put our heads together, we can figure something out. You’re right. You and the other kids need a real Christmas. The good thing is, our family is right here. We’re all together and that’s what matters.”

She leaned over and bumped his shoulder with hers as she waited for his reply.

“Yeah, I guess so. But…a tree would really be nice. And stockings and turkey.” Liam cut his eyes toward her but didn’t turn his head. “You used to make awesome turkey and dressing, Mom. And Jacey could make her cinnamon rolls, and pumpkin pies and…”

“And you are a little con man, Liam.” Hannah laughed and was surprised at how good it felt. On impulse, she threw her arms around her son and hugged him close. As expected, Liam squirmed and pushed to get away, but not nearly as hard as he could. “We’ll do our best, ’kay?”

“Promise?”

The agreement should have been easy to make but the words stuck in her throat. She didn’t make promises to Liam she couldn’t keep. With a guilty start, she realized she’d broken several promises to Mac. She resolved to work on that as soon as he got home tonight.

“I don’t make promises lightly, Liam. You know that. I will promise to do everything I can. That will have to do.”

A brilliant smile wreathed his face in happiness. “Thanks, Mom.” He spontaneously hugged her back.

Hannah clung to her son a bit longer than was necessary. These moments were becoming fewer and farther between as he got older and pushed away to establish his own identity. She figured his teen years were going to be a nightmare. For now, though, she would cherish that he wanted Santa Claus and hugs. And her poor attempts at turkey and dressing. She was not a cook by any stretch of the imagination. Maybe she could con Annie or Jacey or someone into handling the main portion of a traditional meal.

The door to the RV popped open. Hannah had Liam on the floor and was covering him with her body as a pistol appeared in her hand.

“Hannah? It’s me. Sean.”

Air hissed from her lungs, but she rolled off Liam. She holstered the pistol and only then did the big man peek around the corner.

“Sorry. Should have knocked first. Mac’s on his way in. There’s a…” The big Wolf shifted from one foot to the other as he decided what to tell her.

“What, Sean? There’s a what?”

“A situation. He’ll brief all of us when he gets here.”