Chapter Sixteen
The battle sputtered out in the fog, rain spitting sideways across the sand, turning the air cold and slick. By the minute, it thickened, a steady sheet that blurred the shoreline into gray.
Both sides held their ground, neither willing to fire the first shot.
Dave moved from behind the retaining wall, boots finding the slick steps as Stone and Law took point ahead of him—shields between him and the chaos below.
Viper and Titus broke apart, all blood and fury and rain.
Beneath the floodlights, Titus spat red into the sand, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then flicked a signal toward Beckman.
“Stand down.” Titus’s voice rumbled, low and commanding.
Dave watched the shift ripple through the line—Titus’s men freezing, then slowly lowering their weapons.
The silence that followed cut jaggedly through the downpour.
Dave’s own team turned toward him. He raised a hand—no words needed. Stand down.
Titus held out his wrists. Words goading. “Cuff me if it’ll make you feel safer.”
Viper was already on Titus, fisting the man’s collar, until the cuffs clicked shut. Rain streaked over Viper’s face, mixing with blood.
“Move,” Viper growled, dragging Titus through the sand.
Beckman started forward, tension sharp in his stance, but Titus shook his head once. “Wait here. Hold the beach.”
The order landed hard, and Beckman obeyed, posting his men along the shoreline while Viper hauled Titus over to stand before Dave.
He met Titus’s eyes, then Viper’s. His voice was even. “Bring him inside.”
Dave turned back up the steps, Stone falling in at his side.
The sound of the crashing surf followed them.
The war room smelled of steel and smoke, the low hum of electronics cutting through the storm outside.
Dave shrugged out of his coat, hung it by the door, and crossed to stand behind the desk.
Stone took his place at his side, the rest of the team closing in around the room.
Viper shoved Titus into a chair, the man’s cuffed wrists grinding against the wood.
Law rifled through Titus’s jacket, pulling a worn leather wallet. A photo slipped free—creased, edges nearly torn through. Three boys stared out.
Law sent it across the space with a flick of his wrist. The photo fluttered once before Dave caught it and turned it over in his hands.
The three men were identical. Titus, Tatum, Tanis. Smiling, arms draped around shoulders. Frozen before blood and betrayal.
Stone leaned in close. “Christ. We knew they were triplets, but they all look just like Tanis.”
“Identical triplets?” Winter said, taking a peek at the photo.
Dave passed the photo to Viper, who stared at it like a man staring down a ghost.
“This is what I’ve been telling you,” Titus rasped, blood on his teeth but voice steady. “I’m not the one who stabbed you in San Pedro. That was my brother.”
Viper’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t answer.
Dave flicked a glance at Sage. “Run a full background and prints. Every brother, every alias. I want confirmation yesterday.”
Sage stepped forward, pulling a kit from his pack, his hands precise. He crouched in front of Titus, snapping on gloves.
“Prints first,” Sage said, quiet but firm.
Law stepped forward—broad, deliberate, a wall of muscle and warning. He didn’t need words; the move alone told Titus he’d end him if he tried anything.
Titus offered his hands with no resistance. Rainwater dripped from his hair, blood drying at the corner of his mouth.
“You think I walked into your den for fun? I came because Tatum’s elusive. But if all I get is your bullshit, maybe I should’ve burned this place down instead.”
“You got lucky you’re still alive,” Dave said, his voice low—deadly in its calm.
Titus met his eyes across the room and, after several moments, tipped his head. The slight dip told Dave he understood just how bad this could get.
The machine beeped, Sage working fast, the tension in the room like a live wire. Outside, the storm pounded harder, rattling the panes as if it wanted in.
The door banged open.
Walt stormed in, broad-shouldered and scarred, fury written across every line of his face, bringing the rain with him. Beckman’s men had tried to hold him back, but no one stopped Walt when he chose to move.
Boston and Rip charged inside along with Dave’s Secret Service, and bodyguards converged in behind the guy, but Dave held up a hand to stop them.
“I would’ve slit his throat,” Boston said, blunt and dangerous. “But you said stand down, so—”
Rip threw Boston a hard scowl—more warning than joke—and Dave let it hang there, eyes on a guy who appeared to be Titus’s second-in-command.
Winter stepped up and blocked the guy from approaching. The assassin’s hand was on his weapon.
Every other person in the room paused. Still alert. Weapons ready. Waiting.
Dave gave a nod, and Winter stepped back out of the man’s way.
“Walt, I told you to wait outside,” Titus snapped.
“So sue me,” Walt growled before turning on Dave. “You think you know what you’re looking at?”
“I believe I do,” Dave said calmly.
Walt’s voice cut hard. “You don’t know. You’ve never seen what these boys were raised in.”
Viper’s weapon half-raised.
“Stand down,” Titus snapped, eyes flashing. “He’s with me.”
“All the more reason to shoot him in the head,” Viper snarled.
“Knock it off, now,” Dave snapped and order retook the room.
Walt crossed to Titus without hesitation, planting himself like an old warhorse guarding his commander. He glared at Dave, then at Viper.
“You want truth?” Walt’s voice cracked like a whip. “Ask yourself why Tatum spits Titus’s name like poison. Ask why he wants the world to believe Titus is the devil.”
“Because he is,” Viper growled.
“Bullshit!” Walt’s fist slammed the back of Titus’s chair. “Tatum hates him because Titus was the only one with the balls to try and take Tanis down when the truth came out that he was a fuckin’ child molester.”
“Walt,” Titus said, the warning clear.
“No.” Walt snarled. “I’m tellin’ it like it is. Titus tried to eliminate Tanis and failed. And Tatum never forgave him for turning on blood.”
The words hung in the air like shrapnel. Even Stone flinched, feeling it rip straight through the room.
Titus’s jaw tightened. His voice came low, gravel threaded with guilt. “I should’ve finished it. I didn’t. And now Tatum’s made it his mission to finish me instead.”
Walt leaned in, eyes burning. “So, he wears Titus’s face. Every crime, every whisper, every knife in the dark—he brands it with Titus’s name. He wants to erase him. That’s the game you’re playing without even knowing it.”
Dave’s expression didn’t shift, but his knuckles whitened against the desk. The photo of the triplets lay between them—proof and accusation both.
The scanner beeped again, Sage’s laptop spilling lines of data across the screen. Thunder cracked over the estate, sharp as a gunshot.
“One thing,” Sage said, eyes flicking to the readout. “Tanis’s post-mortem photo doesn’t match the other two. He had brown eyes—contacts, according to the coroner—and wore his hair differently.”
“Tanis wanted to stand apart,” Titus rasped. “Tatum takes pleasure in looking exactly like me.”
Viper’s jaw flexed. “How the fuck would he know what you look like—unless you’re in contact with him?”
Titus drew a slow breath. “I think I’ve got a mole in my group.”
Before Viper could respond, Sage cut in. “Couldn’t find much on Tatum, but this man’s prints come back as Titus Brown. FBI database lists several aliases—Titus Quinn, Titus Smith. I can’t confirm if he’s the one from San Pedro.”
“It wasn’t me,” Titus said.
Dave’s gaze never left Titus. His voice came flat, hard. “We’ll see.”
The air stilled in the aftermath. Every man in the room was coiled tight, waiting for the spark that would send them all lunging.
Dave broke it. “Uncuff him.”
Viper snapped his head around. “The hell we will—”
“Now,” Dave cut in, voice quiet but iron.
Law stepped up, and the cuffs clicked open. Titus rubbed at his wrists, red marks stark against his skin.
“I thought about joining your forces,” he muttered, throwing a scathing look at Viper. “That’s why I’m here. But now I’m not so sure.”
“Screw you,” Viper snapped back.
“Quiet,” Dave said, and everyone froze at the clear annoyance in his voice.
If what Titus said was true and his brother was the perp they were after—Titus could get them to Franklin and ultimately Tatum.