Chapter 10 KIT
KIT
Cipher’s hands are steady as he does his thing, slowing the security footage and making it less grainy as Wes and I watch over his shoulder.
I’m fucking livid. Red hot rage bubbles just under the surface, but I keep it locked down. Letting it go will only cloud my judgement. And when it comes to my Libi, I need to be crystal fucking clear.
“There.” Cipher pauses the feed and zooms in on the screen. “See that fucker’s sleeve? The one injecting Liberty? Look at his wrist.”
I lean in close, as Wes whistles under his breath. “That’s a dirty fucking move. Even for street trash.”
Nodding, Julian, aka Cipher, glances over his shoulder at me. “Serpent.”
“Yeah, I fucking see it,” I snap, my fists balling, ready to fucking punch something. Anything. “I suspected as much.”
The tattoo showing on the guy’s wrist is still a little blurry, but it’s clear enough to see the Serpents’ signature tattoo of a snake head and a dragon head entwined together.
“The fuck do the Serpents want with a kid, mate?” Wes barks, following me out of the security room as I storm back through the garage and into my house.
“The Serpents don’t have an interest in Libs,” I sneer. “Carlos does. He’s been licking their boots, trying to climb the fucking ranks.”
“Wait… Carlos, as in Rhonda’s drug bag cousin?” Wes asks, and I nod as we step into the kitchen, my eyes automatically finding Bell, who is sitting at the kitchen bench, watching Colt lay out six laptops on the dining table.
“Yep. Rhonda got carted out of here by the cops last night,” I explain, moving to the table to open my laptop. “My guess is her one call was to her gangster cousin.”
As I boot up the device, a quiet lull washes over the room, and I glance up to see my team staring at Bell.
“What?” she snaps, and I’d smirk if I wasn’t so fucking worried about my little girl.
“Who are you and why are you here?” Kade snaps, always the fucking prick.
I’m about to open my mouth to tell him to fucking check himself, but Bell beats me to it.
“I’m none of your fucking business. That’s who I am.”
This time, I can’t fucking hide my smirk.
“Guys, this is Bell. Tillie’s best friend,” I explain, and Colt walks by her, giving her a nod. The kind of nod that could mean hi, or I’ll kill you later.
That’s about as social as Colt gets, so I’m impressed he gave her that much.
“Shit. Weren’t you like a goth girl or something?” Wes smirks with his signature shit-eating-grin that has most people wanting to smack it right off his face, as he leans against the counter and he looks Bell up and down. “All black eyeliner and misery?”
Thank fuck the corners of Bell’s lips kick up, taking no offense.
“I see my reputation precedes me.” Her dark eyes flick to me. “You been telling your buddies about me, Kitty?”
I stiffen at the nickname as the guys fucking chuckle.
“Yeah-nah. He’s kept you all to himself.” Wes winks. “But I remember you from his wedding. When our fearless leader made the biggest mistake of his life and married the chick he knocked up.”
“Hey!” I snarl, shooting Wes a fucking glare. “It was worth it for Libi.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He waves me off with a lazy flick of his wrist, his attention fixed on Bell. “Still… you were what? Sixteen? Seventeen?”
I can’t help but sneak a glance at Bell to see if our age difference is going to be a fucking issue. There’s nearly a decade between us. Nothing too fucking far-fetched, but still noticeable.
“Were you checking me out back then?” Bell crosses her arms over her chest and raises a dark brow at Wes. “Because I was sixteen at that wedding. Past the age of consent, but still, dude… that’s creepy.”
Wes’s mouth drops open, and he can’t string a fucking sentence together.
“What? I… shit.”
Kade, aka Bruiser, bursts out laughing. “Oh, mate. She’s got you good.”
“Remind me to put ‘verbal injuries’ on your file.” Garrick, otherwise known as Doc, snorts.
“Tragic.” Julian smirks from behind his laptop. “The great Wildcard taken down by a teenage memory.”
My eyes flick to Colt, wondering if the Ghost of our team has something to add, but all he offers is a slight twitch of his lips.
“Bell, we have some work to do,” I mutter, shooting the guys a pointed look before they stop staring and move over to the table. “You’re welcome to use my suite if you want to watch some TV.”
Bell scoffs. “Unlikely. I want to find Libi too, you know.”
“I know, but this stuff is… well…” I glance around my team, huffing out a breath. “Not exactly legal.”
Her eyes widen with fucking excitement as a smirk pulls at one corner of her lips.
“Colour me intrigued.” She gestures her head towards my open laptop. “Besides, you may need my expertise.”
Chairs scrape as the guys sit, but I can’t take my eyes off Bell’s dark orbs, and the way they glisten with anticipation.
“What expertise is that exactly?” I ask, leaving the table to close the distance between us.
“I was voted Most Likely to Become a Serial Killer, remember? You might need me.”
This time, my laugh is real but short, the dread in my gut overthrowing everything else, and Bell frowns, like she’s perplexed.
“Why aren’t you freaking out right now? Someone took Libi. Came right in and took her while we were—” She manages to stop before she says the word fucking, her eyes darting over my shoulder to my team. “While we were sleeping.”
“Freaking out won’t get my daughter back.” My voice is flat, and I can tell by her softening eyes that she notices. “I know who took her. I just have to figure out how to get her back.”
“But what if they hurt her?” Bell’s voice cracks just enough to make the question worse, because shit, I can’t think about that.
“They probably used a sedative.” Garrick’s steady voice cuts in from behind me as he approaches, holding his hand out. “Garrick Shaw. At your service, ma’am. But you can call me Doc.”
For a long beat, Bell stares at Doc’s outstretched hand like she’s weighing up if she should shake it or chop it off before she finally accepts it.
“Bell Bishop. And if you call me ma’am again, I’ll cut your dick off.”
The room erupts in laughter as Garrick nods in defeat, not the least bit scared of Bell.
“Noted, Miss Bishop.” He bows his head, his old-style tone not matching his rough appearance.
I almost laugh at how easily she gets under everyone’s skin.
Almost.
“Right, if you’re going to stay…” I trail off, gesturing to Garrick. “Garrick is our medic. He can stitch a man up with his eyes closed and make him swear it felt like a massage.”
Doc shoots Bell a wink, and I point to the others, introducing them.
“You’ve kind of met Wes Wildcard Harlan.” I gesture to my best mate as he pushes off the counter, his sandy hair mussed and bearded grin wide.
“Best fucking sharpshooter around, darlin’.” He tips an invisible fucking hat towards her. “Nice to meet you.”
Bell simply nods, glancing the way I gesture next.
“The grumpy prick is Bruiser. Youngest of us with skills of a fucking pro.”
“I’m Kade Mercer,” he grumbles, clearly not happy about Bell being here. “Call me whatever. I don’t give a shit.”
“Okay, shit-lips. And what do you do in this little gang?” Bell waves her hand around, and Bruiser fucking growls.
“Not a fucking gang. And I break shit and blow shit up.”
Bell’s brows hitch as she nods, impressed. “Nice.”
“That’s Colt Maddox. We call him Ghost on account of his stealth-like skills.”
Colt doesn’t bother with theatrics. He slips his hands into his pockets and gives Bell a single nod.
“Man of many words,” Bell assesses, and fuck, she’s spot on. “And you?” She glances at Cipher. “Let me guess. IT expert?”
“Julian Cross.” He pronounces his name with every bit of upper-class Sydney that he was raised in, and I can tell by the way Bell’s eyes roam over his clean-cut appearance that she’s picking up the snob in him. “Tech is my specialty. I fight my wars online.”
“You a hacker?” she asks, and he nods.
“One of the best.”
“Huh. You might come in handy,” she says vaguely, before glancing back at me. “So these are your old special forces buddies?”
“We met in the special forces,” I nod, “but we still work together.”
“Oh, yeah. In your security business.” She air quotes the word security, rolling her eyes.
“Fine, since things have changed,” I gesture between us, and she stiffens at the implication. “The Red Belly Team are mercenaries for hire.”
“Well, stop fucking around and let’s find Libi.” She throws up her hands. “We have a black Christmas tree to buy.”
I can’t help but smirk at Bell, and as I close the two-foot gap between us and fist her dark hair, those dark chocolate eyes go wide in surprise.
“I meant what I said earlier, Bellicent,” I mutter quietly so only she can hear. “When we get Libi back, we will be continuing this morning’s conversation.”
She doesn’t say anything, simply staring at me as I release her hair and turn around to find Wes right behind me.
“Kit has been a bad boy.”
“Fuck off, Wes,” I mutter, shoving my best mate out of the way, and moving to the table.
We spend the next twenty minutes discussing strategy. Since we have no location of Carlos, we know we’ll have to muscle information out of some of the lower gang members.
The only problem with that is how long it will take.
There’s no evidence that they will hurt Libi. In fact, probably, once Rhonda gets out of lockup later today, I assume she’ll use Libi as leverage to extort more fucking money out of me. After all, it’s not the first time she’s taken Libi. It’s only the first time she got someone else to do it.
Doc assures me that if it was a sedative that was used, that Libi will probably still be sleeping, and not know what’s happened.
He’s only trying to make me feel better, but I know the guy well enough to know he doesn’t even fucking believe his own words.
My little girl is only five years old, and some fuckers entered my house, with a fucking key, turned off the alarm like they had the pin memorised, and took her while I was busy living out my fucking sexual fantasies with Bell.
Doesn’t matter the way you spin it. The real fucking crime here is how I’ve just failed fucking big time as a dad.
My phone pings with an incoming message, and I tug it out and open the message from an unknown number.
She’s a pretty little girl. All those dark curls, and those big fucking doe eyes. I took her as a favour to Carlos, but that fucker pissed me off, so now, she’s all mine.
My fucking heart falls to the pit of my stomach as a photo comes through, and there, tied to a chair, wide awake with tears in her eyes is my beautiful baby girl, and on the floor by her feet, is Rhonda’s cousin, Carlos, with his brain matter sprayed in chunks across the tiles.