Blood & Thunder (23 page)

“All right everyone, settle down.” Maddock stood behind the podium at the front of the room and tapped his tablet. A video player appeared on the large flat screen TV positioned high on the wall behind him. “This video was uploaded on a Humans 4 Dominance forum that popped up a couple of days ago. Intel has been monitoring it since it launched, but until now, it was mostly a bunch of idiots talking trash. A few minutes ago, Themis sounded the alert.” He tapped his tablet and the video played.

They all watched in uncomfortable silence as what started as a sunny, serene day on a quiet street turned into a war zone. Every minute of the horrific Therian Youth Center bombing was there in gory HD. At the end, Maddock switched over to the forum.

“Have you read the comments?” Ash asked from across the table, shaking his head in disgust as he scrolled through the forum on his tablet.

“Don’t,” Dex said, his jaw muscles clenching. “It’s better if you don’t. Let Themis read that shit. It’ll only make you want to hit something, preferably one of those assholes’ faces.”

“What kind of sick bastards get off on watching shit like this?”

Dex turned his attention back to Maddock. “More importantly, whoever uploaded this was there. Do we know who it was?”

Maddock brought up a large black screen with undecipherable white text scrolling at unreadable speeds. “Themis is trying to pinpoint a location, but it looks like it was uploaded via cell phone. We should have the owner any second now. There we go.”

The screen flashed and a second narrow screen slid in from the side with a John Doe avatar instead of a photograph, along with a name. Themis continued to scan for more information, but came up with nothing.

“Looks like we’ve got a name. Dr. H Freedman. No visual, driver’s license, or social security.” Maddock frowned down at his screen.

Damn. Sloane sure as hell hoped they got something. A GPS setting, IP address, something. Whoever had uploaded the video knew what they were doing.

“We’ve got an address,” Maddock declared.

Maybe not. One mistake, that was all they needed, and they could nail this bastard.

“All right. Everyone, suit up, and head out. Destructive Delta, you’re going in. Agent Taylor, Agent Stone, you and your teams are going in as backup since Destructive Delta is down three agents since Agent Simmons won’t be in until tomorrow. “Keep me informed. I want this Dr. Freedman brought in.”

Sloane hurried out of the room along with everyone else, aware of Dex close behind. They’d yet to say a word to each other. Rosa came running up to him and he welcomed the distraction. “Give me something, Rosa.”

“This isn’t looking good. According to the Therian Youth Center’s head organizer—Dr. Michaels, the network was completely fried by the explosion, and the backup files would be accessible through their corporate office, but when I called the corporate office, I was told they no longer had access due to security restrictions and were waiting for clearance from the founder. I decided to cut the middle man and get a hold of the founder, except, whoever they are, they don’t exist.”

Sloane stopped in his tracks. “What do you mean they don’t exist?”

“Well, they exist on paper. Everything is meticulous and thorough. All the paperwork is legit, except there doesn’t seem to be a body to go along with the information provided. Every phone number I call leads me to another number, which leaves me to another message. One big loop de nada.”

“So suddenly there’s a lockdown on the files and the founder goes missing, if he or she ever existed. Fantastic.” He hurried out of the department to catch up with the rest of their agents, annoyed when his eyes continually strayed to Dex, as if his body couldn’t stand not making some kind of contact with him, even if it was just visual. “Rosa, I want you to tell Intel to keep trying. I want some goddamn answers.” The elevator was full, but Sloane pushed in, finding himself squeezed in against Dex, the top of his head under Sloane’s chin. Sloane closed his eyes, silently urging the elevator to get moving. It didn’t help that he could smell Dex’s shampoo, or feel the softness of his hair when Dex shifted. It especially didn’t help when someone decided to squeeze in at the last minute, forcing Dex back against Sloane, their bodies pressed together.

Sloane hated how he was starting to doubt himself. Had he made the right decision? Was he willing to give in to see Dex smile again?
Get your shit together, Brodie.
He wasn’t going to stop being Team Leader, or running his team the way he always had because he’d gotten into a fight with his lover. If he gave in now, what kind of message would he be giving Dex? That he could get away with what he wanted because they were sleeping together? The elevator pinged, and Sloane all but fled. He had more pressing matters to deal with. The rest would have to wait. At least that’s what he kept telling himself.

D
R
. F
REEDMAN
’
S
house was located on the Upper East Side of Manhattan in a residential neighborhood lined with fenced-in trees, expensive brownstones sporting flowerbeds in bloom, and luxury cars parked alongside pristine sidewalks. Agents from Beta Ambush approached the house while the rest searched the perimeter, and each end of the street was blocked by their backup teams’ BearCats. Sloane waited with his team in formation behind the safety of their own truck, rifles in their hands. The moment Beta Ambush breached the front door, Sloane gave the order, and they rushed up the steps and into the house. They spread out, checking all the rooms, under beds, in closets, anywhere anyone could hide. One by one, his team confirmed their status until the house was declared clear.

Sloane scanned what was once an elegant-looking living room. The large room was decorated in cream and brown hues with dark accents. The windows were light and airy, expensive rugs covered the hardwood floors. Bookshelves were tucked into the walls to each side of the fireplace, though it was empty of books. In fact, every surface in the room had been cleared of its contents, the evidence scattered on the floor all around them. Lamps had been knocked over, coffee tables upturned, throw pillows slashed along with couch cushions. The place was a disaster.

Ash gave a low whistle. “Looks like the doc left in a hurry.”

“I’m not so sure about that. It looks more like it’s been ransacked. All right, I want this place searched inside out. I want to know who this guy is, if he’s part of the Order, where he might be heading, does he have family, friends, everything, and I want it yesterday, so move your asses.” Sloane stalked off into the next room, rounding the corner when he heard Letty’s concerned voice.

“Damn, what’s up with him?”

“He and Daley got into a lover’s quarrel,” Ash grumbled.

Dex’s reply was a low, “Fuck you, Ash.”

There was movement around the room before Rosa piped up. “You guys fighting?”

“It’s nothing,” Dex muttered, followed by more shuffling, before Dex let out a heavy sigh. Rosa was undoubtedly giving him “that look.” “Okay, yes, we got into a fight.”

Sloane told himself he shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but then again if his team was going to carry on this conversation as if he couldn’t hear it, then it wasn’t his fault. Rosa spoke up in her usual no-nonsense tone.

“You need to make up.”

Dex scoffed. “Says who?”

“Listen up, Rookie. You do
not
want to have him giving orders while he’s pissed. He’s an absolute miserable fuck. I love him, but it’s the truth.”

Thanks, Rosa.

“I didn’t do anything wrong. He’s the one who tore me a new one for doing my job. Yes, I went against orders, but I was right to. I’m not budging on this.”

“
Carajo
, you two are so stubborn.”

Sloane had heard enough. If Dex truly thought he hadn’t done anything wrong then nothing Sloane said was going to change his mind. If anyone was being stubborn, it was Dex. He walked into the bedroom, which was in the same ransacked state as the living room. The queen-sized mattress had been pulled off the bed, its stuffing strewn everywhere. Drawers were open or upended, clothes, shoes, ties, scattered everywhere. However, what stood out the most was that there was nothing personal in the room. No photographs, artwork, nothing that could help him get a profile together of who lived here. He rummaged through the disorderly dresser, but found nothing except men’s clothing. All he knew about this doctor was that he was a size “Medium.”

On the opposite wall, a closet stretched from one end to the other, its wood louvered doors pulled wide open. He found a light switch, not surprised to find the closet had been searched as well. Inspecting the contents of the closet, he met with another dead end. Nothing but clothes, shoes, belts, and hats, most of it on the floor or dangling precariously off hangers. He checked pockets, but came up empty. Who the hell was this guy? And why was he so careful? Sloane was about to turn off the light, when he noticed something black and furry on the floor in the corner. It looked like it had fallen from somewhere. Picking it up, he found it was a toy. Wait….

“Oh my God.” A lump formed in his throat as he stared at the stuffed toy of a black jaguar. It couldn’t be. And yet…. He held the toy in his gloved hands, thinking about how much bigger it used to be. Then again, the last time he’d held it, he’d been smaller. It still had its white bandages around each paw, and Sloane swallowed hard. With a shaking hand, he turned it over, inhaling sharply at the white tag under its tail with the initials S.B. written in black marker. The letters were slightly faded and worn, but they were there, and they were his.

“Hey, you okay?”

Sloane held the toy behind him before Ash came into view. He nodded at his friend. “Yeah, um, see if you can find a photograph, or something we can use to physically identify this guy.”

Ash cocked his head to one side, his expression one of concern. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, fine.”

As soon as Ash left, Sloane removed his backpack and stuffed the toy inside. He quickly zipped it up and clipped it back into place. He didn’t know how the hell this had gotten here, or if it really was what he thought it was, but he needed to find out.

Letty’s voice came in over his earpiece. “Sloane, we found something.”

Sloane hurried through the house and into a large office where his team was gathered. It was in a worse state than the other rooms.

“Well, the guy definitely had something to do with the center, but….” Rosa held up a handful of invoices. “Tax write-offs. The guy donates to the center every month. Has been for years.”

Dex shook his head, puzzled. “Why would he blow up a center he donates money to?”

“Not just money,” Rosa said, shuffling through the paperwork in her hands. “Clothes, video games, gift cards. Hell, one year he donated six computers. His last donation was three weeks ago. Kids’ furniture. Four bunk beds, two desks, beanbag chairs…. This guy was a saint. This makes no sense.”

“It’s starting to,” Sloane said. “I’m thinking kidnapping. Someone was looking for something, something they thought this guy had.”

Ash frowned. “I don’t get it. Isaac plants the bomb then sets out to frame him? But he had to know we’d come looking for the guy. If he needs this doctor, wouldn’t he want us
not
trying to track the guy down?”

Sloane was getting really tired of going in circles. “Whatever Isaac’s reason, it undoubtedly figures into his plan. We need to find out why Isaac would want Dr. Freedman. Goddamn it, we need to know what Isaac found at the youth center. Either Morelli was the means to finding Dr. Freedman, or Freedman has information on Morelli that Isaac wants. Either way, the two are connected. Keep digging.” He tapped his earpiece and had the switchboard patch him through to Maddock. “Sarge, we aren’t going to get anywhere if we can’t get access to the youth center files. Everything leads back to Morelli, and I have a suspicion this doctor knows something. The guy’s gone. I’m willing to bet Isaac got his hands on him, and if that’s the case, he led us here for a reason. Why are we being kept in the goddamn dark?”

“I’m working on it, but I keep getting the runaround from Lieutenant Sparks. I don’t know what the hell is going on.”

“Well someone better tell me something, because I’ve had about enough of this bullshit.”

Maddock’s voice was low, the warning subtle. “Take it easy, Sloane.”

Damn, now he was getting pissy with his sergeant. “My apologies, Sarge. You know how I feel about red tape.”

“The feeling’s mutual. All I can do is keep working on it. See what else you can find.”

“You mean other than the fact the guy seemed like a godsend for these kids?” Sloane let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose to ease the headache that was forming. “We’ll keep looking.”

“Copy that.”

“Found something!” Letty waved a sheet of paper at him.

“What is it?”

“An elementary school newsletter.” She showed it to Sloane and he gave it a quick read, stopping when he got to the captioned photograph.

“Shit. We need to go.” He tapped his earpiece. “Agent Stone, Agent Taylor, keep searching the house. We’re heading back to HQ to follow up on a lead. Let us know if you find anything.” He received a confirmation from both Team Leaders, and Sloane didn’t waste another second. He moved out with his team trailing quickly behind him.

“What’s going om?” Ash asked, as he jogged toward the driver’s side of the BearCat.

“I’m not sure, but I need to talk to Lieutenant Sparks.” If his suspicions were right, things were a whole lot worse than they could have imagined.

S
LOANE
TOOK
a deep, fortifying breath and knocked on Lieutenant Sparks’s door. Her soft but firm voice asked him to enter. He pressed his hand to the panel on his left, entered his security pin and the door swished closed. There was no privacy mode setting for Lieutenant Sparks’s office because the whole office was created to be secure. It was spacious, but sparse with her desk in the center of the room across from the door, two chairs in front, a few filing cabinets, a digital board, and a personal bathroom off to the side. Sloane stood at attention with his hands clasped behind his back, waiting for permission to sit.