Chapter 12
Army
Digits tried calling me incessantly after I left—so did Ash, Bane, and Pix.
I knew my family was worried about me. I wasn’t normally so volatile; I had never actually hit one of my friends before.
I was usually calm, cool, and aloof. Living on the edges, keeping everything and most of everyone at bay, because sometimes fully living was too much.
And something I didn’t deserve after losing Leeva, not after the part I played in her pain.
In the past, a shock like this could’ve triggered one of my PTSD episodes, and the fact I’m ignoring my closest friends and family makes me the world’s biggest dick.
So, I finally answer Digits’ call, if only to let them know I’m not in a catatonic, near-comatose state.
And also, because I want every scrap of intel he has dug up about Leeva since discovering her arrival by private plane.
Something in that might give me a clue about where to start searching for her, since aimlessly driving around the city isn’t getting me anywhere.
If Riveria won’t cooperate and willingly give me the information I want, then I’ll have Digits get the intel for me.
He can get into Hedon’s system since he created it.
I’ll only go down that route if I absolutely have to, though.
Because then Digits and my family will discover that I fucked Leeva tonight, and I’m not ready to face the consequences of that yet.
So Digits is my last resort if I can’t convince Riveria to play ball.
“Give me every spec of intel you have, Digits,” I say after I finally answer his call.
“Army—”
“Fucking do it,” I say through clenched teeth. “You searched for Leeva against my wishes for all these years, so now that you found her, give me everything you’ve dug up so far after finally having a thread to pull on.”
The line is quiet, and I can imagine him exchanging looks with Ash, Bane, and Pix, who I know are there.
I’m parked on an empty street that’s a mix of commercial and residential, but no one is around since it’s four in the morning. The cab of my truck is only illuminated by the dashboard lights and one flickering streetlight.
In the past, I’ve sat in Humvees in the dark, waiting for the next orders for an op. But tonight, I’m not waiting for orders; I’m the one making the plan of attack. Only I’m going rogue on this one; I just need the intel before I execute.
“Digits.” My warning is clear.
He sighs, then relays everything he’s dug up, including what he mentioned earlier. Name is Kathryn Wentzell, and she arrived by private plane from Berlin, Germany.
She has lived in Berlin for a decade. Prior to that, the information on her is a bit sparse and harder to find.
Married to Luthor Wentzell.
My hands nearly rip my steering wheel off as I grip it. Leeva is married? But then I relax marginally when Digits continues to report that the man has died.
Luthor is, or was, a billionaire and the CEO of Wentzell Global, which explains the private plane that she arrived on.
He has two adult children—Keifer and Ursula—which, I guess, makes Leeva a stepmom. And adult children, because Luthor was much older than her.
But there’s nothing about why she returned to San Francisco, or where she is now.
Or why she was at Hedon.
“Is that it?” I ask gruffly.
“Yeah, Army—”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I wouldn’t lie to you, especially about Leeva, you know th—”
I disconnect the call, acting like the world’s biggest asshole, but not giving a shit. I’m a soldier on a mission, and it’s my sole focus. I call Riveria next.
She answers on the first ring. “Army, I’m not—”
“Belinda needs that design contract, yeah?”
Riveria is silent, but I can feel her seething. “Are we crossing over into threat territory? Because you know I’m—”
“I’m not threatening; I’m sweetening the pot. You scratch my back, I scratch yours.”
“We’ve always kept our personal lives out of this, and with how you and I operate.”
“Not true. When your mom needed that surgery that she kept getting bumped for, who do you think made it happen?”
“What?” she asks, shocked. “Why… Why would you do that, Army?”
“Because you’re a damn good, loyal manager, Riveria. The Havoc Guardians take care of their own. I take care of my own. And I know Belinda needs that design contract and has been getting squeezed out by a competitor. I’ll call in a favor owed to me by the client.”
Truth is, I was going to do this anyway, without Riveria ever being the wiser, but now that I’m thinking more calmly and clearheaded, I see the strategic play.
“Why?” Her voice is quiet. “Why do you want this woman’s name so badly? She couldn’t have been that amazing of a fuck for you to break all the rules that you made for Hedon.”
My jaw hardens and my fist clenches at Leeva just being reduced to a ‘fuck’.
The fact that my pure and innocent little dove was even in a sex club—that I dirtied her with my brand of filth, and that she was all-in for it—is this century’s greatest mindfuck.
And I don’t just want the information; I need it.
Because now that I’ve had a taste of my best friend, knowing that she was there to explore this world of kinky, dirty sex, there’s no fucking way she’s doing it with anyone but me.
And I need to know why she returned home.
“I just need the address she included on the application,” I say instead of answering Riveria’s question. I know her name—and it isn’t Kathryn Wentzell—and I can find out the rest of the sexual interest information she shared on the application through my own exploration with her.
“Stalker much?” she mutters, but I hear her typing on her keyboard. “I went through the security footage and found who I think is the woman you were with because I knew you'd be a rabid dog with a bone.” She pauses, then asks, “Army, are you sure? You're breaking all our policies.”
“Riveria,” I growl.
She sighs deeply. “Based on her application form, she’s staying at the Empress Hotel.”
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“You’re a fucking dick.” She’s pissed at me, but that’s the least of my concerns right now. “Don’t make me regret this.”
“Go home and get some sleep.”
I disconnect the call, then start my truck. I’m not far from the Empress Hotel, and my mind whirls a thousand miles a minute while I drive there.
Was that woman really Leeva?
How could it be? There was no tattoo on her neck; no mark of Guerilla. I had even wiped at it, and there was no make-up covering her neck. It was bare.
Maybe the woman is Leeva’s doppelg?nger.
My mind and body instantly reject that thought. That woman tonight was Leeva. That’s why I had the insane and potent attraction to her. Why the need for her clawed at my insides. And why being inside her was unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
But how could that dirty siren have been my little dove?
My mind keeps going in circles as I reach the hotel and park across the street. I stare at the building, feeling like a stalker, plotting how I’m going to get closer to my obsession.
The hotel has an ivory-stone facade, with wrought-iron balconies and arched windows. The main entrance has oversized, mahogany doors that doormen in polished shoes and fancy suits open and close for the patrons. This is the most expensive hotel in the city.
And they take their security seriously, because the type of clientele that stays here—movie stars, rock stars, heads of state—demands it.
Getting into Leeva’s room will be a challenge, but there isn’t anything that will stop me from succeeding.
The ringing of my cell phone shatters the dark quiet in my truck. I flip it over, expecting it to be one of my friends again. And it is a friend, just not one of the Council, but Len.
She’s the ex-CIA agent I bonded with over the horrific and traumatizing events of me watching my Marine unit be slaughtered, and Len watching the love of her life meet a gruesome end.
Neither of us works for our respective government agency anymore, but we’ve kept in touch, helping each other out periodically by exchanging favors.
As a CIA agent, Len quickly learned that the strongest currency is someone owing you something. Leverage is everything, and over the years, she cultivated assets. The criminal underworld works in a similar way.
But our relationship isn’t just transactional or a means to an end; there’s mutual respect and a genuine friendship between us.
However, we don’t call each other to shoot the shit, so there’s a reason why she’s calling. Len works with a team—like a covert, vigilante team—that had recently helped save Slade, so this could be her calling in that favor.
“Lenna,” I smirk, knowing she hates it when I call her that.
She grunts in annoyance. “Hayes Cartwright, why do you have to be such a pain in my ass all the time?”
“You called me, so I guess that means you’re a glutton for punishment.”
“And here I called you to be nice.”
“You don’t do nice.”
“I can.” She sounds insulted, then laughs. “You’re right, I’m a bitch.”
I stare at the Empress Hotel, watching a couple wearing long overcoats approach, and the doorman opens the large mahogany doors for them. “What’s going on?”
“I called with an early Christmas present.”
“I thought we weren’t doing gifts anymore after last year.”
“Well, at least I’m not calling to say I’m sending you a temperature-regulated container with a test tube of sperm like you sent me.”
Damn, that was a good idea.
“But seriously… You know I love you, right, Army?”
Her soft question wipes the smile off my face, and I sit taller. “No, Len, I don’t. You don’t really express love.”
Len is a hard nut to crack; she’s cool and aloof, much like me, but she’s loyal as hell to those who call her friend.
“Well, this is me telling you that I love you.”
Alarm bells are ringing. “Are you going on some kamikaze mission?”
I wouldn’t put it past her. Ever since Nile’s death, she’s lived as if she has a death wish.
I recognize this in my friend, because it’s why I joined the Marines instead of the Army, and it’s much like how Pix lives her life.
With Len, I suspect the only thing keeping her going is her vigilante brand of justice and taking down bastards who slipped through the cracks of the legal system.
“I might be soon,” she answers, then clears her throat. “But this isn’t a see-you-in-hell kind of phone call; I’m calling because I have intel that you need to hear.”
Ah, I understand now.
“You’re calling to tell me that Leeva arrived in San Francisco by private plane.”
Len knows all about my history with Leeva and has been searching for her, just like Digits has.
“How the hell… Fucking Digits,” she grits. “Does he have a continuous hack into the airport’s Security Operations Center?”
He actually has one for the entire Transportation Security Administration so he can monitor multiple airports at once, but I don’t tell her that.
“So you already know Leeva has arrived, but have you found her yet? My tech guy lost her before she left the airport.”
I stare at the Empress Hotel. “You can say that.”
“You doing okay?”
“No.”
“Shit,” she murmurs. “Army—”
“I slept with her,” I blurt.
There’s silence on the line, then Len asks slowly, “Come again?”
“With Leeva. Or at least, I think it was her. At Hedon.”
“Okay, you need to back the fuck up and explain.”
She listens quietly as I tell her everything.
“My gut and body tell me it was Leeva, but the lack of Guerilla’s tattoo on her neck is throwing me for a loop and telling me I’m wrong.”
“She could’ve covered it up,” Len reasons.
“I rubbed it; no make-up came off.”
“But what about skin prosthetics? When the team I work with uses disguises, they use facial prosthetics that are so good you can’t even tell.”
“Straight out of Hollywood, are they?” I mutter.
She chuckles, but then quickly sobers. “I got my tech guy, who is the best I know, to run the still image we captured of Leeva with his facial recognition software. It’s most definitely her, Army.
Which means, based on the woman at Hedon having the same tattoo between her breasts as Leeva did getting off that plane, you did, in fact, sleep with her. ”
I don’t know if I’m elated or going to puke.
“Please tell me you didn’t tell Ash,” she says tightly. “Or anyone else.”
“No. I’ve only told you…you’re special.” I try to make light of this fucked situation. “Well, Hedon’s manager knows I slept with Kathryn Wentzell, but she doesn’t know that woman is actually Leeva Malone.”
“You need to heed that advice, Army. ‘Leeva Malone,’” she runs Leeva’s names together, so it sounds like a butchered version of ‘leave me alone’.
“I need to know why she’s come back after all these years.”
And I need to fuck her again.
Even though the rational part of my brain is clanging the alarm bells, warning that it’s a very bad idea.
A woman and a man walk by my truck, staring at me while I stare at the hotel. I need to move soon because the last thing I want to do is draw attention to myself.
Not when I plan to follow Leeva if she leaves the hotel, and to break in tonight while she’s asleep.
I’ve officially been upgraded from best friend to stalker.
“I appreciate you calling to tell me about Leeva, Len. I need to go, though.”
She sighs heavily. “You’re going to do something stupid.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“Probably.”
I’m most definitely going to do something stupid.
“If you need me to fake your death and get you out of there, you know I’ll do it, Army.”
Others might think Len is joking or being dramatic, but I know she’s truly offering her help because she knows what’s at stake here if it’s discovered that I slept with my brother’s old lady.
“Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that. Thanks for calling and for ensuring I knew Leeva had returned.”
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
“You either.”
The line is quiet for a beat, then she mutters, “Shit. The future could look pretty fucking bleak for both of us.”
“Whatever you’re contemplating, Len, don’t.” I don’t know what’s up with her, but she’s never talked like this before.
“I could say the same for you. Are you going to take the advice?” My jaw shifts, and she grunts at my silence. “I thought so. Call me if you need me.”
Then she disconnects the call, and I start my truck to move to a more secluded spot to watch the hotel.
I need to make the plans for tonight’s reconnaissance mission. Because I’m not about to do something stupid; I’m about to do something that’s the most stupid thing I’ve ever done in my life.