Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
Tank satin the dimly lit cabin, surrounded by the low murmur of his team members going through last-minute preparations. The hum of the plane”s engines created a constant background noise as the team flew toward Chicago. His eyes flickered between the small window offering a view of the clouds below and the map on the screen displaying their flight path.
Kaylie, seated across the aisle, maintained a tense silence. Tank”s gaze lingered on her, a fleeting concern etched in his features. He wished he could offer her the comfort she sought, but the weight of responsibility kept him tethered to the mission.
Upon landing, the team disembarked, greeted by the biting cold of the Chicago night. Tank could feel the chill seeping through his jacket, but he shrugged it off.
Within twenty minutes, the team arrived at their safe house. The secure location Miranda had chosen for their impromptu headquarters was an abandoned office building on the outskirts of south Chicago. Hidden among the industrial complexes and vacant warehouses, it would provide privacy, and no one would ask any questions around here. Fluorescent overhead lights—at least half of them burned out—cast a strangely grayish light in the room. It was sparsely furnished; just a desk and a handful of armchairs like it was a bank waiting area. But they’d brought a significant number of supplies with them from Miranda. Hard black cases on wheels held weapons, tech, cots, and even MREs, if past experience told him anything.
Connor fiddled with a computer case, until Joey”s voice crackled over the secure communication line, her words filtered through the ambient hum of electronic equipment.
”I”ve been digging into Citadel”s activities in Chicago for hours, but it”s like they”ve never been there. No digital footprint, no known associates. It”s as if they”ve erased themselves from the city”s data grid.”
Tank clenched his jaw, frustration mounting as the realization settled in. Citadel”s ability to stay hidden showcased their formidable expertise. He glanced at the map on the table, the city”s grid sprawled before him like a puzzle missing crucial pieces.
“Keep at it, Joey. We need something to point us in the right direction,” Tank responded. He’d been hoping Joey would pull out something so he could avoid facing the plans he’d put in place before boarding the plane.
The team huddled around the metal desk, a makeshift command center. Tank”s gaze shifted to Kaylie, who sat on the edge of a worn-out chair. She picked at her nails and looked absently around the space. The vacant look in her eyes darn near gutted him. He’d give anything to bring the brightness and laughter back into them.
What would happen if they couldn’t get Lia back?
He squeezed his eyes shut against the thought. It wasn’t an option, which meant that if Joey didn’t have the information they needed in the next thirty minutes, his time was up.
Kaylie must have felt him watching her because she looked up. Tank swallowed thickly as she rose to her feet. She wrapped the sweater tighter around her frail frame, tucking it against her waist with one arm as she walked over to him.
“Anthony…” The forlorn plea faded into a choked sob.
In two steps, Tank had circled the desk and wrapped Kaylie in his arms. Whatever thoughts he had about keeping her at a distance were gone the moment she crumbled in front of him.
He led her to an empty corner of the room and just held her in silence.
“Please don’t hate me,” she said.
“Never, fiamella,” he reassured her, holding her tightly in his arms.
A few more minutes passed. “I feel like we need to talk about some things,” she admitted through sniffles, her face buried in his shoulder.
“Probably,” he agreed, not knowing whether he was planning to push her away or claim her further when they finally got around to that conversation. “But we’ll get Lia back first, okay?”
She nodded softly, and he pulled away, creating some distance between them. Immediately, he missed the way she fit perfectly in the crook of his arms.
Then he glanced at his watch, dreading the realization that his time was up. “I have to go,” he announced. “I’ll be back in about three hours.”
Ryder started to ask a question, but Tank shut him down with a glare. He didn’t want to have to play this card, but they were out of options. He’d set the appointment before they left Virginia, hoping he could cancel it when they arrived. But Joey still had nothing, which meant he had to.
Kaylie”s eyes met Tank”s, confusion and concern swirling in their depths. She opened her mouth, likely about to protest or question his sudden departure, but he flashed her a look that stifled any words.
Jackson shot him a quizzical glance, and Marshall raised an eyebrow, silently demanding an explanation. Tank”s jaw tightened, the weight of his decision settling heavily on his shoulders. If he told his team what he was planning, no doubt they would try to talk him out of it.
As Ryder stood, the scraping of the chair on the worn floor seemed louder than it should be. Kaylie”s gaze followed him, her brow furrowed with uncertainty.
Tank walked toward the exit, his steps purposeful but heavy. The mission was paramount, and sacrifices had to be made, even if it meant leaving the team in the dark.
With a final glance back at the makeshift command center, he stepped into the cold Chicago night, the door closing behind him with a muted thud. The air outside held a crisp chill, but Tank couldn”t shake the warmth of guilt settling in his chest. The next hours would help determine the fate of Lia, and Tank couldn”t afford any distractions, not even the ones that tugged at his conscience.
He drove the Chicago streets, the city lights reflecting off the darkened buildings as he quickly completed the first undesirable task of the evening. Then he drove along a side street until the meeting point loomed ahead—a nondescript alley where shadows clung to the brick walls.
Tank pulled into the alley before stopping the car and stepping out. The cold wind whispered through the narrow passage, carrying the scent of urban decay. A figure emerged from the shadows—Luca Peretti, once his father’s right-hand man, had taken over the business after Mario was sentenced to life without parole.
Peretti had always been an imposing figure, with a barrel chest and broad shoulders, though Tank still dwarfed him in size. He had a heavy-set jaw and a gaze as sharp as the gleaming blade tucked into his belt. Peretti was a man accustomed to power and control, but Tank knew that power had only come at his father’s expense.
“Anthony Olson,” Peretti greeted, his voice carrying the weight of respect. “It”s been a while.”
Tank offered a curt nod, acknowledging the connection that transcended mere business. Peretti wasn’t as bad as his father had been. That was the only reason that Tank had let him maintain the hold on the family after he’d torn the evil infrastructure to the ground before leaving. “I need information.”
“Did you bring what I requested?”
Tank opened the trunk of the rental sedan and pulled out the payment . He wrapped his hand around the tiny upper arm of the wiry drug dealer Peretti had demanded in exchange for the meeting and placed him on his feet. Then he shoved the guy forward.
Peretti”s eyes flickered with interest as he assessed the captive. The dealer trembled, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, his eyes flicking back and forth, searching for an escape he wouldn’t find.
Peretti crossed his arms, a wicked grin stretching across his face.
“So glad to have you back, Anthony. Let me just…” Peretti stepped toward the man.
Tank glanced toward the wall with a wince. A sharp cry and the sound of a body hitting the ground filled the stale alley air. Tank”s jaw clenched, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach. He looked back and found Peretti wiping his knife with a handkerchief, a sick satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.
Tank felt a twinge of regret at handing over the man to the leader of the crime organization, but he’d do whatever it took to get Lia back. And really, what was one less drug dealer on the street? Peretti would have found a way to get to him either way, but his father’s former right hand would get great pleasure at having Tank doing his bidding.
“Now, what is it you need from me, son?”
Tank nearly chipped a tooth, his jaw clenched so hard in protest to the familial term. He ignored it. Pushing Peretti’s buttons wouldn’t go well. “A black ops group called Citadel Security is in your city, but they’re operating in the shadows. I need to know where.”
Peretti hesitated, his eyes studying Tank”s face for any sign of weakness. “You know, Tank, the family”s been talkin”. There”s a place for you here. We could use someone with your skills. You should never turn your back on family.”
Tank”s stomach flipped, the memories of a past life threatening to resurface. Family here was a sick and twisted mutation of the real thing. Cruelty, blackmail, secrets, and bondage without a hint of true love.
His thoughts shifted to Lia and Kaylie, laughing on his couch with pizza and cartoons. Then to Black Tower, who were with him through thick and thin. “I have a family,” he said coolly. “All I need from you is the location of Citadel’s operation. And then I’ll be gone.”
Peretti”s expression hardened, disappointment lingering beneath the surface. “You Olson boys, always choosin” the hard way.”
Tank let the fury show on his face. He was done playing Peretti’s games. “I wiped out your competition all those years ago. I’m the reason you’re the leader of the family today. You owe me, remember?”
There it was, Tank’s dirty secret. He hadn’t just left when he turned eighteen, had he? No. He had torn apart his father’s organization layer by layer and provided the feds with enough information that Mario was serving a life sentence. People thought Peretti had pulled it off, but the truth was that Tank handed the family over to him on a silver platter.
Peretti chuckled, low and lazy. “I’m a man of my word, son.” He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a deep inhale before answering. “I’ve heard rumors of a military group. They keep to themselves, but they sure leave a lot of bodies in their wake. Bodies with injuries that just… aren’t natural. Word is they’re operating on the lake shore, in one of the old steel mills. Be careful.”
A thrill of victory fluttered in his chest. That was the kind of information they could use. Joey would have no problem isolating which of the abandoned steel mills was housing Citadel’s operation.
With a nod of gratitude, Tank turned away, the cold wind biting at his skin as he climbed back into the car.
Peretti’s voice called after him. “You don’t get to choose your family, Anthony. You can pretend to be the white knight all you want, but you’ll always be his son!”
Tank slammed the door of the car, once again locking his past away. He just hoped it would stay buried again.