OGs: Deep Down (33 page)

Wata spoke first. “Bandana is on the move. Drake too. Something’s up.”

“How do you know it?”

“Drake was here yesterday, wasn’t he?” Josh asked.

“Who told you?” Had Kyra called them? Didn’t she trust Mike to protect her?

Wata clenched his jaw. “Alexa had hired a private eye to follow him. He was supposed to contact her if Drake approached Kyra. He called yesterday.”

By the looks of the guy, he’d had no clue what his wife had been up to, and he didn’t seem too happy he’d been left out of the loop.

“And managed to lose him at the same time,” Wata finished with a grumble.

“Drake left Alden after our encounter in the driveway. Sheriff confirmed it. I warned him about what happened and gave him Drake’s plates. He’ll be back, though. Whatever it is he’s missing he wants badly.”

“Did you find what he’s after?”

Mike shook his head. “I’m on it. Going through this stuff again.”

Good news was, they didn’t find drugs. After all, these were Kyra’s possessions. It would be complicated to explain to the authorities that she had nothing to do with them, although if push came to shove, he would make sure Kyra was never implicated. “We’ll take care of that stack of boxes on the right,” Josh said, taking off his jacket.

Mike wasn’t too thrilled to have the guy around, but with Max filming in California, Cole away on a consultation, and James still on his honeymoon, he needed all the help he could get, and he knew Josh and Wata had Kyra’s best interest at heart, so he nodded and started searching the furniture again.

After going through all the pieces, at the far end of a drawer in a nightstand, he saw an old book he’d overlooked before. When he opened it, Mike found a memory stick embedded in the pages, and suddenly the hair at his nape stood up. They’d been concentrating on drugs, money, or physical documents. Hardware. Could it be some electronic files Drake was after?

“Do you have a laptop in that tank of yours?” Mike asked, pointing at the Hummer.

* * * *

The introductory tour in the school didn’t take much time, so Kyra headed home with Sam.

She’d just closed the front door when she realized the whole place was trashed. Five big guys were in the living room, coming at her. She grabbed Sam and turned around, trying to open the door to get her daughter out, but someone fisted her hair and yanked her back.

“Not so fast, bitch.”

God. No, no.

She looked back. Drake was behind her, a sneer on his face, a sharp knife in his hand.

“What? You thought that stupid boyfriend of yours would deter me? You should know better.”

He dragged her to the living room, and before she regained her balance, he slapped her so hard that she flew to the floor. For a second everything went black.

“Mommy!” Sam cried, running to her.

Kyra scrambled to her feet and pushed Sam behind her. “Let her go. She doesn’t have to see this.”

“Let her go? That will all depend on you, dear wife. And your cooperation. Where the fuck is the file?”

* * * *

Wata brought his laptop from the Hummer. After plugging in the device, they clicked on the only file, which turned out to be a video, and watched Drake and someone Mike recognized as Bandana from the pictures Detective Zaba had shown him, surrounded by what looked like bodyguards, discussing a big shipment of dope and its distribution. The video had clearly been shot secretly. By Drake?

“What are we looking at?” Josh asked. “Why would Drake want a recording that proves he’s a criminal? To destroy it? Why didn’t he already when he had it?”

“Life insurance,” Mike said suddenly. “This could send Bandana to jail. Drake is covering his own ass. Making sure he doesn’t end up at the bottom of the ocean.”

Wata nodded. “Makes sense, especially as he’s double-crossing Bandana, who must have figured it out.”

This video was what Drake had been after. And what Zaba needed too.

He reached for his cell. The detective’s line was busy, so he left a message. As he hung up, his phone started ringing. His grandmother.

“Gram, I don’t have the ti—”

“Mike, we’re at Greta’s playing cards and just saw several men inside Kyra’s place.”

Mike froze. “Are Kyra and Sam there?”

“Yes.”

Fuck. They were supposed to be at the school.

“Grandma. Listen to me. Call the sheriff. Stay put. We’re on our way. Do not enter—”

He couldn’t finish the sentence, because his grandmother hung up.

* * * *

“Let’s go,” Rebecca said to her friends, walking to the back door, carrying a tray of cookies.

Greta frowned. “What do you plan to do with that?”

“Pay a neighborly visit. No one says no to my chocolate cookies.”

“What are we going to do with the man posted in the backyard?”

“We improvise.” They were three against one, after all. And they’d had half a year of self-defense classes. Something must have stuck.

“Okay. Let’s go,” Wilma said, resolute.

As they crossed the yard, walking slowly and unthreateningly, the man on the patio approached them. “Private property. What are you doing here?”

Rebecca offered him the biggest grandmotherly smile she could muster. “We brought cookies. Are you friends of Kyra?”

“Yes,” he answered curtly, blocking the entrance. “She’s busy now. I’ll bring them to her.”

Rebecca handed the tray to him, and when he had his hands occupied, she punched him in the nuts. As he bent forward, Greta punched him in the throat. At the same time Wilma reached into her bag and tased him. He went down without a sound, jerking as fifty thousand volts raced through his body.

Rebecca and Greta gaped at Wilma. “What? Just in case you didn’t get him,” Wilma whispered, tidying her hair and straightening her turban.

“You still have the Taser?” Rebecca asked, surprised. Rachel had given it to her grandmother for protection. After all, an old woman in a car was an easy target. “I thought the police confiscated it when you accidentally electrocuted that parking security guard who was just trying to return the purse you dropped.”

“They did. But they gave it to Rachel for safekeeping. She thinks it’s still in the attic.”

“Good. Let’s pick up the cookies and try the same trick with the next guy.”

“I don’t think so, ladies.”

The three looked up. There was a man pointing a gun at them. “Leave the Taser on the ground and come in.”

“Damn,” Rebecca mumbled.

* * * *

“They don’t have anything to do with this,” Kyra pleaded as she saw the three grandmas being shoved at gunpoint in the living room by one of Drake’s thugs. “They’re fragile old women.”

The guy with the gun snorted. “Fragile old women? The Dynamic Trio here kneed and tased Snake. He’s out for the count.”

Drake lifted his eyebrows.

“Didn’t like my cookies,” Rebecca mumbled.

“Search them,” Drake ordered. “At the slightest movement, clock them.”

God, no. Kyra couldn’t be responsible for getting Rebecca and her friends hurt.

“Don’t touch them. I’ll get your files.” Her head was throbbing, she couldn’t see with her shut eye, and she was shaking, but she was going to find that damn file even if it killed her.

“Got them right here,” Mike said, coming in from the front door. Drake lunged for Kyra with the knife, grabbing her by the neck and pressing the tip of the blade to her throat. The two other men pointed their guns at Mike.

Kyra pushed Sam behind her, far away from Drake.

“Let them go,” Mike said, lifting his arms, a memory stick in his hand.

Then she heard a gunshot, and all hell broke loose.

MIKE THREW HIMSELF at Drake, blocking his attack and positioning himself between Drake and Kyra. The bastard’s knife nicked his side, but Mike barely felt it. He brought him to the floor, kicking the blade away from him, and started punching his face. From the corner of his eye, he saw Wata and Josh, who had entered through the unguarded patio door and had created the diversion, taking the others by surprise.

When the gunmen were subdued and Drake was curled on the floor, Mike turned around. “Kyra? Grandma? Are you all alright?”

“We’re okay,” Rebecca said and Kyra nodded.

Kyra’s eye was swollen shut. Sam was terrified, and her cheeks were streaked with tears. His grandmother and her friends were shaken.

“Babe,” he said, closing his eyes and doing his best to control the rage in his voice. “Can you walk?” She nodded. “Take Sam outside. Grandma, Wilma, and Greta too.”

He didn’t want Sam hearing what he had to say to Drake.

They obeyed. Taking a deep breath, he leaned over Drake and, grabbing him by the lapels, yanked him onto his feet.

“Got your fucking file. Saw it too.”

“Then give it to me, and our business is finished here,” Drake had the balls to say.

He heard a snort, from Wata or Josh he didn’t know.

“The scenario of you taking it and walking into the sunset is not an option.”

“So what do you propose?” Drake grumbled, spitting blood.

“You have two choices: I take the tape to Bandana, in which case I foresee a very shitty, short life for you, or we go to the cops, you give them Bandana and his operation and hope they cut you a deal for the drug trafficking and the murders you pinned on Kyra.”

“No way I’m taking responsibility for those fucking murders. Stupid bitches can’t have a good time without overdosing. That’s not on me.”

“They were underage. It was your dope. According to Montana law, it’s on you.”

Drake sneered but said nothing.

“Not to mention you set your wife up,” Mike continued.

Drake snorted. “Big deal. Her dear friend Alexa got her out of the mess. I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t have done the same for me. Of course I hid the dope in her belongings. What was I supposed to do, take the fall?”

Mike felt himself losing it. Either he got far away from this asshole, or he was going to kill him. “Do I take this file to Bandana or to the cops? Decide.”

“Either way I’m fucked. Bandana has long claws. Police can’t protect me.”

“Not my problem. You’ll have to take your chances.”

Bandana was a real piece of work, and Drake was scared of him. “Fucking pigs, then.”

“This is no way to start our relationship,” someone said from the door.

In marched Frank Zaba and his partner, followed by the town’s sheriff and several men dressed in SWAT vests.

“We’re easygoing, but calling us pigs won’t help our disposition,” Zaba continued, walking to Drake. He nodded at Mike.

“How did you get here so fast?” Mike asked.

“We were on our way when you called.”

Mike handed him the memory stick. “You heard him confessing about the dope being his and setting Kyra up?”

“Yep. We got it all.”

Good.

“There was never any real choice,” Drake accused Mike, who shook his head.

“You ran out of choices a long time ago. Now there are just consequences. This time you don’t have anyone to use as a shield.”

Drake ignored Mike and turned to Zaba. “I demand immunity in exchange for my testimony. I know everything about Bandana’s associates and distribution network.”

“Demand all you want,” the detective said, handcuffing him. “But you have a bunch of charges to face first, murder included.”

“You don’t have any proof that was my dope. And I was never charged.”

“You’re going to plead guilty to those felonies and the ones you committed here today, give us Bandana’s operation, and then we’ll talk about making deals. If you don’t, we’ll use these tapes to charge you with everything under the sun. Now let’s go,” Zaba said, pushing him.

Before Drake was dragged away, Mike leaned on him, looked him in the eye, and spoke calm and slow. “You came into my woman’s house. Terrorized her. Hit her. Threatened her daughter. Attacked my grandmother and her friends. You get to walk out of here with your life, as worthless as it is, because you are Sam’s biological father. That’s the only fucking reason. Kyra and Sam are mine now. You don’t come close to them, you don’t touch them, you don’t talk to them. Hell, you don’t even look at them. To you, they don’t exist anymore. My family sees or hears from you ever again, Bandana and his associates will be the fucking least of your problems. I swear to you the police will never find your body.”

Drake turned to Zaba. “He’s threatening me.”

The detective lifted his shoulders. “Really? Because I didn’t hear anything.”

Drake and Zaba left the house first, Mike right after them. Kyra and Sam ran to him.

“It’s over. Everything is fine. You’re safe,” he said after kissing Kyra and lifting Sam in his arms.

The police officers who had handcuffed Drake’s goons were marching out of the house, followed by Josh and Wata. Thank God they’d had his back.

Without loosening his grip on Kyra and Sam, he nodded toward the men in thanks, who nodded back. Then he moved to his grandmother and her friends, sitting by the ambulance. “You okay?”

They nodded.

“Didn’t I ask you to wait outside?”

The three old ladies snorted.

“We only disabled one,” Rebecca said with a frown. “Your self-defense classes don’t work.”

“You’re not supposed to face off with multiple assailants. I only taught you how to disorient one long enough to get away or get help.”

“You’ll have to return our money.”

Mike looked to the sky. God, how he loved this old crazy woman. “Grandma, the classes were free.”

“True. You okay, my boy?” she asked, her gaze soft.

He glanced at Kyra and Sam, kissing them both. “Now, yeah.”

“Mike,” Kyra said, alarmed, patting his side. “There’s blood on your T-shirt.”

“It’s nothing, my love.”

But all the women started fretting and pulling the shirt up. They forced him to sit down. He was grateful, though, because his legs were a bit wobbly. Not from the wound, but from the realization of how close he’d come to losing his woman.

Chapter Seventeen

Kyra leaned back on the grass, lifted her hands over her head, and, taking a deep breath, looked up at the fast-darkening sky.