Chapter Eight
Phoenix
Another texted video came in on my personal cell.
Eight minutes before midnight, it was the latest one of the texts had come in.
I clicked Play on the video.
The face close to the camera, the voice muted, the background dark, I didn’t only listen to the words.
I registered the tone and content. I watched the tells.
Fourteen seconds later, the video ended, and I immediately hit Replay.
“Hey, ah, I know it’s kinda late. At least, it is where I am. It’s just… today was three months. Since, well, you know. And I just… I was—never mind. Good night.”
I allowed the emotions.
Guilt. Rage. Loss.
Not replying, I shoved the cell back into my pocket and strode to the elevator.
Twenty minutes later, in one of the new Yukon Denali Ultimates that I’d had customized to be bulletproof, I was driving past the double property in Golden Beach.
The massive renovation that included ballistic and hurricane certified windows, fortified doors, two panic rooms, an underground tunnel connected to the guesthouse, and a five-car garage was close to completion.
From the street, the gated, concrete-walled property didn’t look like much more than a dense tropical landscape.
From the Atlantic, the two-hundred-and-fifty linear feet of oceanfront had palms planted five rows deep on the beach to conceal most of the estate.
The two-acre property was perfectly designed to hide in plain sight.
But I hadn’t stepped foot on the grounds yet.
I wouldn’t.
Maintaining my anonymity through layers of shell corporations, I’d given the contractor I’d vetted a front story about the property being customized for a reclusive tech company CEO.
NDAs with heavy legal repercussions had been signed, and all communication had been electronic to keep everything as secure as possible while being aboveboard.
Not that I wouldn’t take out any crew who leaked intel about the property.
I also wouldn’t take possession of the estate until the foreman and his crew had cleared out, the furniture had been delivered, the security systems were up and running, and all emails exchanged were wiped.
Until then, I was limiting my exposure near the property to drive-bys.
Noticing the construction trailer that was still on site that should’ve been gone last week, I made a mental note to send an email when I was back at the hotel.
Turning the SUV around, I headed south, back to Miami Beach.
Another twenty minutes, and I was parked across the street from a high-rise, my car window down to let in the evening air and nostalgia.
Not unexpectedly, I heard his chuckle before he approached the Denali on foot. “Right.” One of Alpha’s men, Vance “Victor” Conlon, sized me up, then leaned against my door and crossed his arms. Marine, sniper, helo pilot. Identical twin. Victor played by his own rules.
“Conlon,” I acknowledged.
“Siblings.” Glancing at the high-rise that was Alpha Elite’s headquarters, he shook his head.
“Can’t live with them. Can’t kill them.” Focusing his two-toned gaze on mine, he frowned.
“Well, not unless you’re….” Strategically stopping midsentence, he half smiled.
“Never mind. Not my story.” He pulled out his cell and casually swiped a few times.
“What brings you into enemy territory? Unless this is a walk down memory lane?” He chuckled.
“Reliving your childhood on the mean streets of Miami?”
“Taking the security cameras offline?” I doubted he wanted Alpha or my sister to know about our oh-one-hundred chat.
“The opposite.” Conlon winked. “Never know when you’ll need a photo of the great William ‘Bravo’ Nilsen, alive and well.” He shoved his cell back into his pocket. “But I am curious.” Crossing his arms again, he frowned for effect. “Who’s in your grave?”
“No one.” Yet.
Conlon threw his head back and laughed. When he recovered, he smiled in calculated amusement. “Right. Good one, mate.”
Victor was neither British nor my friend.
He was a loose cannon with a refined alter ego, custom suits, and a penchant for amateur hacking.
Alpha employed him, but it was unclear whether Alpha had any control over Conlon’s movements.
I’d been watching Conlon from a distance for years because he’d inadvertently come close to finding me a few times.
If he was here now, it was for a reason.
I glanced in the rearview mirror at his AES company-issued Range Rover parked behind me. I’d spotted it when I’d left the hotel almost an hour ago. “You up late for a reason?”
“Besides following you?” He smiled. “You should watch your six better. How’re the new digs coming along? Looks like the construction’s almost done.”
I didn’t comment.
“Right.” Half turning, he leaned his shoulder against my door and eyed me. “Next subject.” He waited.
I didn’t take the bait.
He couldn’t hold it in. “Any particular reason a U.S. Marshal and a former wonder-boy SEAL are gunning for you? Separately, of course,” he added casually.
Taken off guard, my pulse spiked, and my heart rate followed. Fight or flight. The instinct ingrained but controlled, I didn’t give Victor any tells, but I was already running down every possibility I may have missed. “Doesn’t every operator have enemies?”
“Yes, but you more than most, and SEALs don’t usually hunt other SEALs.” He winked. “Special circumstances aside.” Leaning back, Conlon glanced toward the top floor of the high-rise, and the interior lights that were still on. “But you know what I can’t figure?”
“Why you’re here instead of home?” I knew what he had waiting for him.
“That too.” He pushed off the SUV. “The SEAL, I get. I saw the satellite images. Lovely position you put the blonde in, by the way. Overall, though? Retreating wasn’t a good look for you. But I digress. Getting back to the Marshal? That, I can’t figure.” Conlon looked at me but didn’t smile. “Yet.”
Making a tactical move, I gave him an opening. “Let me know when you do.”
“Right.” Scrutinizing me like I was him, he held eye contact for a beat.
Then he smiled wide. “Word of advice?” He nodded toward AES’s HQ.
“Let Alpha know you’re coming before you randomly show up tomorrow.
Highly recommend not getting shot on sight.
Blood splatter in the elevator is no one’s friend.
Leaks into the shaft. Hell of a mess to clean.
” He grinned. “Enough said.” Turning to walk back to his Range Rover, he swiped across his cell, and the SUV’s engine turned over.
He got behind the wheel and pulled out.
I watched until his taillights disappeared around a corner.
Then I made a call.