Chapter Twenty-Two
Boredom had Leo itching for something to happen—he was ready to scream.
While he sat out on the windy beach, Goon Two had taken over watching the front of the house from the SUV, leaving Leo stuck with the cold, damp sand again.
Goon One was probably still stretched out in the passenger seat, catching some sleep.
Shivering, Leo shifted his stance and stared at the house again.
He couldn’t understand why anyone would choose to live by the beach in a place that was so quiet.
It dragged on him. He wanted noise, movement—something alive.
Chicago fit him better, where the streets never really went still.
Earlier, a few people had walked along the shoreline, but now it looked abandoned.
Nothing moved out there, and the silence was wearing on him.
That would change soon enough.
He let out a low breath, a grin tugging at his mouth as he thought about what was coming.
The guy Moriah had been with on the porch earlier would be the first problem to deal with.
After that, he’d make sure she gave up what he wanted.
He wasn’t in a hurry. Not after everything this mess had cost him.
He yawned and stretched out his arms and legs. The steady rhythm of the waves had started to make him drowsy. Rolling his neck, he pulled out his phone and checked the time. More had passed than he’d realized.
It was a little after nine and dark enough. The cloud cover would also work in their favor, keeping them out of sight as they moved in.
Trudging back toward the path, he already had everything planned out in his head. He’d wake Goon One, and they’d go on the attack. Goon Two would stay with the vehicle, engine running, ready to move the second they came back.
He glanced once more toward the house.
Time to have some fun.
KC checked the time on the old mantle clock above the fireplace. It was a little after nine.
Trouble had slipped out to the beach as soon as the man watching the house left to meet up with his buddies in the truck. He would stay out there in case anyone made a run in that direction.
Another minute ticked by before Brian’s voice came through the communication headsets, clear and steady. “Looks like they’re getting ready. Remember, guys, this is a non-sanctioned op on U.S. soil. Try not to kill anyone.”
None of them needed the reminder. They were well aware of the trouble they’d be in if that happened. Maybe not with the sheriff’s department, but definitely with their respective supervisors.
“They’re on the move,” Brian continued. “Stopping in front of the house. No headlights.” A pause.
“Driver’s staying with the vehicle. The smaller guy from the beach and a bigger one dressed in black are heading toward the patio.
Looks like we guessed right—they’ll come in through the back door. We’ll take the driver on your go.”
Inside, the team moved without a word, each man taking his position. KC slipped into Moriah’s bedroom, while T3 took the one across the hall. Doors closed quietly behind them.
Peanut folded himself into the far corner of the living room behind the recliner, a Taser in each hand.
With the tablet in hand, KC watched the live feed from the camera covering the back door.
They’d thought about leaving it unlocked to make entry easier, but that felt too obvious—too much like a trap.
Minutes stretched.
Then came the sound—faint but unmistakable.
On the screen, one of the small window panes shattered, glass falling inward with a soft clink. The two men froze outside, flashlights cutting across the frame as they listened, checking for any sign they’d been heard.
Nothing.
A hand reached through the broken pane, found the lock, and opened the door.
The men stepped into the small house, each holding a 9mm semi-automatic in one hand and a flashlight in the other. They quickly scanned the interior, the beams sweeping across the room, then moved toward the hallway as quietly as possible.
KC shifted his focus to the second camera, tracking them as they approached the bedrooms.
Neither man saw the five-foot-six-inch Navy SEAL emerge silently from his hiding spot behind them.
They reached the doors, one taking the left, the other the right. Hands lifted, ready to grab the knobs.
They never made it.
Both men screamed in shock and pain as the Tasers hit. Their bodies seized and dropped hard to the floor, muscles locking as the fifty-thousand-volt charge coursed through them.
KC stormed out of the bedroom as T3 did the same from across the hall. Together, they cleared the space, kicking the weapons away and securing both men’s hands behind their backs with zip-ties.
Once that was done, KC tapped his mic. “Both tangos down. You’re clear to take the driver.”
His gaze flicked to the living room, where Peanut stood a few feet away, wires trailing from the Tasers in his hands to the men on the floor. “Man, I freaking love these things.”
His teammates snorted and shook their heads.
Moments later, Sean’s voice came through the comms. “Suspect secure. Sheriff’s patrol is pulling up.”
In a matter of seconds, the threat was over. But was it really? Would the drug lord send someone else after he found out these men had failed?
KC hit the speed dial on his cell for his uncle, and the man immediately picked up. "How did it go?"
He let out a relieved breath. "Three under arrest—no bloodshed."
"Good to hear. Here's Moriah—she's been pacing the floor for the past hour, driving Jinx crazy."
There was a pause, and then, "KC?"
The last tension left his body when he heard her sweet but worried voice. "Hi, honey. Everything’s okay."
"Oh, thank God. I was so afraid—" She stopped on a sob.
"It's all right. Everyone is fine. Stay there for now, and I’ll come get you when it’s clear, okay?”
"Okay. I love you."
He ignored his teammates' knowing smiles as he responded, "I love you too."
From his position up the street, Dennis Kellerman watched Simmons and the other two idiots get loaded into the backs of patrol cars. He’d known they would screw up, so he’d grabbed one of his own men, flown down from Chicago, and rented a car to stay off their radar.
He was certain the SBI agent had spotted them tailing him. This had been a trap from the start.
Kellerman’s jaw set as he watched the last of the cruisers pull away. Knowing he’d been right didn’t do a thing to cool his temper.
Now he had to wait for things to settle, then plan his next move and clean up the mess Simmons had made.