No Remorse_A Manhunters Novel Read online

  No Remorse

  A Manhunters Novel

  Skye Jordan

  Copyright © 2018 by Skye Jordan

  This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locations are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in encouraging piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Skye Jordan

  1

  Austin Hix tossed the last Kevlar vest to man number five on his team and shut the rear door of the rented SUV.

  His body buzzed with carefully controlled adrenaline, swirling in his chest, tingling down his limbs. He’d been fighting for this day for over six months. This wasn’t how he’d envisioned the situation going down, with a clandestine meeting behind a closed Exxon station at three in the morning. But here they were, hatching out an unauthorized op in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods of Washington DC metro.

  His years in army special forces had taught him to roll with the punches, but he’d truly been beaten into this corner. So he was about to make fucking sublime lemonade out of his rotten, moldy lemons.

  He rounded the Sequoia and smoothed out the map across the hood. Snowflakes from the flurries that had started at midnight dotted the map, but Austin didn’t feel the seventeen-degree weather. His body was humming at a pitch that would keep him warm for hours. With his teammates gathered around for the briefing, Austin felt gifted and humbled in the most profound way. He would miss the hell out of these guys when this was all over.

  He angled his headlamp to illuminate the map. “We’re here.” He tapped the paper. “Our target is here, half a klick northeast. We’ll take these stairs to enter and exit the neighborhood.”

  “This is epic.” Lorenzo’s voice brought Austin’s gaze up, and he found his friend grinning as he scanned the area. “We’re smack between Dracula’s crib and the Exorcist’s stairway.”

  Dracula’s crib referenced the spires of Georgetown University’s Healy Hall, black against the inky night sky to their left. On their right, the steep incline of seventy-five steps that led to the posh Georgetown neighborhood had been named for their role in The Exorcist, where the character Father Karras had plunged to his death.

  A round of quiet laughter circled the group. Austin would have laughed too—at another time, in another place. During a different lifetime. In the here and now, there was way too much riding on the success of this mission to laugh. He’d get one shot at this. If he failed…

  He caught his negative thoughts and wrenched them back into line.

  Failure was truly not an option here.

  Austin peeled away the map to expose a floorplan of the eight-thousand-square-foot home. Three of the guys whistled through their teeth.

  Austin pointed out the key rooms, then directed attention to a balcony. “We’re going in and out here. We’ll toss an anchor over the railing, scale it, and breach the bedroom door.”

  Lorenzo met Austin’s gaze. “Is there a reason we don’t just walk in the front door?”

  “That brings me to the security system,” Austin said. “There are three layers. On the outside, we have dogs—two attack-trained Shepherds. CCTV—sixteen units. A third of those are equipped with thermal imaging. Another third equipped with night vision. And one guard—a former DC homicide detective.”

  A murmur of both disbelief and excitement shimmered through the group. There was nothing this team loved more than a good challenge.

  “Layer two is a state-of-the art security system with infrared motion detection,” Austin continued. “Every door, window, and vent is wired. Layer three is a biometric-based system where a fingerprint or retina scan is required to enter each section of the home. Users can only be logged into one section at any given time, and the house is separated into five zones.”

  Lorenzo let out another whistle. “Dude, it’s like they saw us comin’.”

  They had. Senator Paige Seaver had upped her security measures when Austin started playing hardball.

  “The bioscan security system has an auxiliary power source,” Austin continued, “which is housed in the basement. So even after we cut the power and jam the Wi-Fi, we still can’t access the southwest corner of the second story from the front door.”

  “Fuckin’ Fort Knox,” Lorenzo said. “Sure they don’t have kilos of heroin stashed in half of that mansion?”

  No, they had something far more valuable.

  Austin hoisted the box at his feet to the hood and doled out supplies along with responsibilities.

  He tossed a bag of raw meat and ketamine to Cooper. “Coop, you take care of the dogs.”

  A syringe filled with the appropriate dose of midazolam went to Jovan. “Jo, give the guard a nap.”

  A small bag of tools to Lorenzo. “Ren, disable the second level of security, jam the Wi-Fi, and kill the landlines.”

  The anchor and climbing rope went to Grayson. “Gray, secure the lifeline.”

  He tossed night-vision binoculars to Tevez. “You’re our lookout. Watch the streets and neighbors.”

  Austin paused and met the gaze of every man. Men he’d killed for. Men who’d killed for him. “This means a lot to me. I hope you all know I’ll be there for you if you ever need anything. Turning in my papers doesn’t change what we are to each other. I’m always just a phone call away.”

  The men grew somber. Understanding rippled through the group.

  “All right,” Lorenzo said, shifting on his feet, hands tucked into the neck of the vest, dark eyes sparking with adrenaline. “Let’s play chicken with the devil.”

  “Hooah!” The quiet cheer barely rumbled the night, but it solidified their team for this delicate, one-time operation.

  With their assault rifles in hand, semiautomatics strapped to their thighs, Austin led them up the stairs. They moved in complete sync, their choreography honed over years of training. The rightness of the moment quelled Austin’s nerves. Their familiar swift and silent progress through the quiet streets melted into Austin’s bones. This would go well. He could feel it. But there was always the minute possibility of the unexpected. Participating in this unsanctioned mission meant these men were risking their professional reputations and very likely their careers. Nothing could go wrong.

  As they approached the south side of the house, Austin murmured, “Masks,” and pulled down his own ski mask. The house sat on a corner of the exclusive neighborhood. Every home on the block had a security system. Some of the homes in the area belonged to high-ranking politicians with their own live patrols.

  Austin brought the men into the shadow of the brick half wall ringing the property and paused. He glanced at his watch. Three fifteen a.m. The guard wouldn’t be back to this side of the house for another thirty minutes. Austin had spent far too
many nights here watching to pin down the guy’s patterns.

  “Coop, Jo,” Austin whispered. “Go.”

  The two men soundlessly rolled over the brick wall and disappeared into the estate. As the team waited for Cooper and Jovan to take out the first layer of security, Austin kept his focus honed. His mind went over every detail of the mission going forward. He’d designed and redesigned every possible plan B and C, D, and E.

  Four minutes passed in silence.

  The longest fucking four minutes of Austin’s life.

  “Fluff and Puff are down.” Coop’s voice sounded directly in Austin’s ear over the com. “I repeat, Fluff and Puff are down.”

  “Copy,” Austin replied, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth. The dogs’ names were Judge and Jury, but he appreciated Cooper’s levity.

  Two minutes later, Jovan’s voice came over the line. “Guard neutralized.”

  “Copy.” Go time.

  “We’ve got lights on the northwest corner,” Tevez said.

  Austin glanced that direction. Warm light spilled from a kitchen across the street, illuminating a man in his seventies, wearing a wife beater and boxers and rummaging in the fridge. Not exactly an imminent threat, but a man in his seventies, wearing a wife beater and boxers and rummaging in the fridge could pick up the phone and dial 9-1-1 as quickly and easily as Austin could take a life. Every threat was a credible threat tonight.

  “We’re going in,” Austin said.

  He was over the wall in seconds. Lorenzo and Gray shadowed him. At the corner of the house, Lorenzo slipped right. Gray followed Austin to the rear southwest corner. To the most isolated room in the house—farthest from the front door, from the senator’s bedroom, from the living area. And closest to the guest room. The room where Senator Seaver’s father stayed when he visited.

  His gut hitched. His temper spiked. The futile arguments he’d had with Paige Seaver flared to life in his mind.

  Don’t think about it. Not here. Not now.

  He and Gray crouched just around the corner from the cement balcony on the upper floor and waited.

  “Stunning but austere,” Gray murmured.

  Very true. In addition to the wall, the entire home was brick. A beautiful medium-colored, whitewashed brick. Big windows trimmed in white. The mansion was a showstopper, no doubt. The front and back yards were paved with stone. The only landscaping came in the form of potted plants or trees bending over the property from the neighbors’ yards.

  “She leaves at six in the morning and gets home at eleven at night. If she’s not at the Capitol on her days off, she’s traveling,” Austin told Gray. “No time for the softer things in life.”

  A beat of silence hung before Gray met Austin’s gaze deliberately. “You’re doing the right thing. It takes guts, but you’re doing what I’d do if I were in your position.”

  “This from the man who crashes a Taliban party and stays to shoot the shit for an entire hour before taking them down. I’m humbled.”

  “Good times, man,” Gray whispered. “Good times.”

  “Security cams are toast,” Lorenzo’s voice touched Austin’s ear. “Interior system fragged.”

  “Sweet.” He glanced at Gray. “Go time.”

  They moved to the wall beneath the balcony, and Gray swung the anchor in a circle to gain momentum, then expertly used the rope to arc the metal grip over the railing with little more than a tink-tink echoing in the silence.

  When everything inside the house remained still—lights off, window coverings closed—Austin took hold of the rope with gloved hands. “Dude, you are a master with that thing.”

  “I know.”

  Austin caught the end of the rope between his feet and climbed toward the balcony. In seconds, he windmilled his legs over the edge. By the time Gray joined him, Austin had worked the doorknob, then the dead bolt with his lockpick. When he heard the telltale snick, he said a prayer, turned the knob, and the door opened.

  “Got your six.” Gray crouched behind the balustrades, weapon drawn, watching the property, the street, and the surrounding homes.

  Austin stepped into the dark room and took a second to slow his breathing and let his eyes adjust to the darkness. He found her small form beneath the covers on the bed, and his heart kicked hard. Once he took this final step, there was no going back. Yet, without this step, there would be no moving forward.

  He found the baby monitor and switched it off, then moved to the bed. He pulled the mask up, sat on the edge of the mattress and covered her mouth with his hand.

  She woke instantly. Her eyes flew wide with terror. She scrambled to get away, mewling with fear.

  “Mirabella,” Austin whispered, the sounds yanking at his guts. “Bella, look. It’s me.”

  She blinked, focused. Austin put a finger to his lips.

  When she nodded, he tentatively pulled his hand back. Anticipation hung heavy in his gut. He hadn’t seen her in two months. Two fucking months. It felt like an eternity.

  She was breathing hard, and tears glistened in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry I scared you, honey.” He ran a hand over her hair.

  A sob escaped her throat, and Bella launched her little body into his arms, clinging to his neck. “Daddy, I miss you.”

  He wrapped his arms around the tiny wisp of a person, just four years old—going on twenty. “I missed you too, baby.” To his team, Austin said, “Package safe and sound. Prepare for extraction.”

  She pulled back, and tears glistened in her eyes. “Grandma say you no want me.”

  That motherfucking sonofabitch.

  Austin gritted his teeth, pushing past the fury. “Shh-shh-shh. We have to be really, really quiet so Grandma doesn’t hear.”

  “Her mad, Daddy.” Bella’s lower lip quivered. “Her always mad. Her mean. I want you.”

  His heart snapped clean in half. He choked back his own sob—of relief, joy, triumph, love. So much love. More love than he’d ever known existed before he’d discovered he had a kid. He’d gone from zero to sixty in milliseconds. Now, this four-year-old waif could drop him to his knees with a few tears and a crack in her voice.

  “You got me, princess,” he murmured into her hair, rocking her. “You got me.”

  “Prepared for extraction, Alpha One.” Lorenzo’s voice filled Austin’s ear, telling him the team was in position to circle the wagons once he brought her out.

  Bella pulled back and put her hand to the com device. “What in your ear?”

  “A toy.” He covered her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll let you have it when we get to the car, okay?”

  “’Kay.” When he stood, Bella fisted his shirt, her eyes wide with fear, her feet marching on the bed, the way they did when she needed to be urgently picked up. “No go, Daddy.”

  He lifted her into his arms, grabbed the stuffed bunny he’d given her at Easter along with her favorite blanket. She pulled them both into her arms, laid her head against his shoulder, and popped her thumb into her mouth. He’d almost had her broken of that habit before Seaver slammed him with a restraining order and a suit for sole custody. Now it was Bella’s go-to soothing technique again.

  Triage. There were far more important things to deal with first. Like bundling her for the weather and getting her the hell away from Paige Seaver.

  “Don’t worry, baby.” Austin grabbed another blanket from the bed, then turned for the door to the balcony. “Daddy no go anywhere without you again.”

  2

  Ten months later

  Everly Shaw wandered along the stone pool deck, her attention torn between the view of the ocean below and the deep blue water at her feet. She turned her back to the house and the security guard watching her every move.

  “This place is incredible.” The invisible communication device deep in her ear transmitted to her boss and teammates, Roman, Ian, and Sam. Roman and Ian were both at airports, waiting for their flights to Costa Rica. Sam was at the home office in Colorado. “The pictures
in the file don’t begin to do it justice.”

  The Costa Rican sun sizzled over her skin. The humidity softened the air and had Everly thinking more about the vacation she hadn't taken in years than the operation at hand. She’d been pulled from a mission winding down in the worst war-torn area of Syria, where she’d exposed an ISIS leader, then dropped into the serenity of Costa Rica. The culture shock hadn’t quite worn off yet, and she was feeling a little like Cinderella. But that could also be because she’d pored over every detail of this new op on the flight here and was going on thirty-six hours without sleep.

  “I still can’t believe you’ve cast me as nanny material,” she told Roman.

  They all knew she didn’t care for kids. The guys thought it was because she hadn’t had much exposure to children over the years, but Everly believed it was because she’d never had the luxury of being a kid herself, so she didn’t understand them.

  “This is going to be a quick in-and-out,” Roman assured her. “And we all know you can become anything or anyone you set your mind to.”

  Everly looked out over the infinity pool, the landscaped yard, the jungle beyond, and finally, the ocean in the distance, and sighed. “Then I want to be the CEO of a fancy startup tech company, because they evidently know how to live.”

  “It’s more of a high-tech training outfit,” Sam said, “combining performance clothing and equipment with tried-and-true military training techniques. He’s got major contracts with special forces divisions in both Great Britain’s and Canada’s military. He’s also got a waiting list for the technology. Over half a dozen American mercenary outfits want it for their overseas soldiers. And it sounds like the US military would jump on board in a heartbeat if he wasn’t currently declared a criminal.”