Shadow Ops: Danger's Heat (Kindle Worlds Novella) (A Shadow Ops Novella Book 2) (10 page)
Read Shadow Ops: Danger's Heat (Kindle Worlds Novella) (A Shadow Ops Novella Book 2) Online
Authors: LS Silverii
“Just a graze, huh?” Voodoo asked.
“Yeah,” Rose replied. “Guy’s got nine lives.”
“Hope this is the first one he’s cashed in,” Voodoo joked.
Voodoo nudged the cell between her jaw and shoulder as she sat on the ledge inside the full wall of windows. It wasn’t the same casino resort suite they were in the last time they visited Biloxi, but it was just as luxurious.
“He’s already home and should be resting. Instead he’s busting the Intel Section’s balls about finishing that diary decoding. Looks like shooting Billy Price in the neck is a great way to motivate him.”
“Same here. Hollywood’s seen an orthopedic and is weighing surgery options. Rest and rehab until Bonny’s in the bag he said. Damn stubborn men—thankful for them.” Voodoo laughed.
“Tell him Lucky is also okay. Stupid ass ATF wanted to make a splash despite the undercover operations embargo. Lucky wouldn’t allow another special agent to chance it, so he volunteered. Said some hulk yanked him through a back door when all the fist and pool cues started flying. Saved his hide,” Rose said.
“Justice.”
“Yeah, Justice. Seems you were right about him. Different patches, but a solid code of honor,” admitted Rose. “You’ve done a great job and I’m sorry for doubting you at times.”
“Thanks, Rose. You’re an incredible woman and an amazing role model, but if it’s all the same to you, I’m returning to my South Louisiana Violent Crimes Task Force assignment.”
“No more hunting Bonny?” Rose sounded surprised.
“She’s out of my league. STR or some other super secret squirrel team will find her. I belong back on the bayou.”
“You’re more valuable than you think, my sister. Just in case, I’ll keep you in the loop as decoding progresses. Bonny’s not done yet and I’ve got a suspicion you’ll want to be a part of stopping her.”
“Thanks Rose. Send Billy my best.”
Voodoo allowed the events of the last few weeks to slide from her shoulders. Dropping the cell back into the pocket of her plush robe, she strolled through the Biloxi luxury suite. Hollywood was already relaxing in the hot tub.
“Time to finish what we started, baby.”
She untied the robe to reveal her unclothed form. She knew just how to turn him on. His eyes softened and a wide smile beamed up at her.
Voodoo went to set the vibrating smartphone off to the side. A text message flashed.
[Thought I could trust you roomie. Next time, you bitch]
CONTINUED in – DANGER’S PASSION
A Shadow Ops Novella
Book 3
LS Silverii is a highly decorated law enforcement officer from Cajun country with over 25 years of heart-racing experience.
Danger’s Heat is the second in a trilogy written for CJ Lyons’ Shadow Ops Kindle Worlds. The romantic suspense series takes you behind the badge and across country to experience the raw rush and romance of true alpha heroes.
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The Cajun Murder Mystery Series
Bayou Roux: The Complete First Season
Bayou Backslide: A Cajun Murder Mystery Series Special Edition
Cop Culture: Why Good Cops Go Bad
LINKS TO CJ LYONS’ SHADOW OPS SERIES
DANGER’S PASSION
A Shadow Ops Novella
Rose Prospero’s fingers twitched as she watched over the assembly of operatives. They were quiet but still murmured amongst themselves while getting settled. She’d recruited them, and was fond of each—well, most. There were the traitors who set off the entire debacle with the Preacher’s terrorist network hell-bent on world domination.
Her team was the federal government’s vision for addressing the most dangerous threats against America. The Special Threat Response team was comprised of the absolute best warriors, regardless where they came from. STR operated on the fringe of government service, and moved beyond the darkest shadows of black bag operations.
The early days saw unlimited budgets, hands-off oversight and verbal assurances. More recent times drew Senators with selfish ambitions and presidential appointees either wanting their own version of STR to use as a tool against political opponents, or control over STR. To date, Rose’s unit was the one and only organization authorized by the president of the United States—or so she thought.
The air sucked outward as the door’s vacuum seal was broken with another swish of cool air. Hollywood slipped into a chair near the rear wall. They didn’t make eye contact. Voodoo followed him—her face ashen, she offered Rose a sheepish grin. Rose nodded.
The overhead projector whirled until it threw splashes of bright lights upon the front wall. Rose’s left side was illuminated by the first barrage of images. The room’s collective gasp was expected.
“Last night, the ATF in all of their wisdom decided to yet again initiate an undercover operation targeting outlaw motorcycle clubs. Citing national security concerns, they’ve ignored the Department of Justice’s cessation of undercover operations until the DOJ has eliminated every batch file sold by the Preacher, or trained a new recruit class of unknown agents.” Rose shielded her eyes from the mutilated body’s image as she crossed to the other side of the briefing room.
“Please tell me that’s a biker in that pic?” Chase said angrily. KC wrapped her finger even tighter around his bicep before tucking her head into his shoulder like a teenager at her first date night horror flick.
Rose fumbled with the remote clicker and held it to the screen’s light to find the advance slide button. Most of the team cried out as the next image transitioned onto the wall.
“You know him as Falcon. Those that didn’t have the honor to meet him—he’s one of the Navy SEALs who assisted us last month in tracking down Bonny’s plan and people,” Rose said.
She’d delivered high-level disaster briefings to the president before, but now had difficulty going forward. Her mind raced with Billy Price’s concerns that she took things to personal, but this was one of them—how could she not take it personal?
“Was that him?” Voodoo’s lip quivered—tears streamed across them. Most leapt from her mouth, but others curled between the trembling opening. Hollywood rubbed her shoulder and nodded for Rose to move on.
“Yes. He and his partner, Cobra volunteered for the undercover mission right after we wrapped up in Chicago. Since they’d never worked U/C for the feds, ATF figured they were safe. Sent ’em into a biker den in New York to broker weapons,” Rose added.
She crossed and uncrossed her arms, and tapped a fingernail against her teeth. Rose noticed Billy’s expression and forced a smile to assure him she was okay. His head wag showed he didn’t buy it.
“ATF failed to consider they might have been identified as having worked with us since New Orleans. There are monster leaks in this federal system.”
Her finger still in place on the remote’s advance slide button, mashed to show a building encased between other multistory structures. The sign on the wall read Devil’s Own Motorcycle Club—1%’ers—Stay the Fuck Out.
“Oh great, more bikers,” KC said in disgust.
“Yes, and these are straight up no good. Public enemy number one. They’re looking to buy very specific weapon types. Ultra range sniper rifles and scopes,” Rose said.
“Assassination,” Hollywood added. Rose nodded.
“We believe there’ll be an attempt on Easter Sunday. There’s a memorial service held on the 9-11 site. First responders from across the country will be there along with the POTUS.”
“No wonder they need the extra yardage rifles—probably fifty cals,” Billy added.
“Kinda late in the game to buy weapons, but we figure the botched up deal with Savage Souls last month gave everyone the willies about buying big guns. Too bad someone tipped off Justice, but it might have saved Lucky Cavanaugh’s life,” Rose stared at Hollywood longer than what felt comfortable. She tried to force a confessional admission from him, but he wouldn’t break that easy.
“You said partner,” Voodoo interrupted. Her body stiff, craned forward onto her knees.
The next slide was a picture of the other Navy SEAL known as Cobra. He too had joined STR last month while tracking the bio-chem weapon’s shipment from the mouth of the Mississippi River to Chicago. The official commission photograph showed a short –haired man whose full-length shaggy beard made him appear older than his twenty-seven years. Deep set grey eyes showed a warrior who’d seen the worst hell had to offer. Unfortunately, he was now living that hell at the hands of the Devil’s Own OMC.
“Yes, his partner, Cobra. The Devil’s Own still have him. They’re holding him ransom in exchange for the guns. He’s about in the same shape as Falcon was before he lucked out and died. He’s hanging on by a thread while the FBI and ATF play tug of war over who’ll rescue him.”
“Did you reach out to Justice?” Hollywood asked.
Rose’s slight head jerk and twisted mouth showed her confusion, “Department of Justice?”
“Department of Savage Souls. Maybe ask Justice what he knows about this other OMC,” Hollywood clarified.
“Actually I did. He warned not to fuck with them,” Rose said.
“Where do we come in,” Chase jumped in.
“We go get our brother.” Her lip snarled to show her badass ability usually concealed under bureaucratic blouses and silks.
“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Hollywood growled.
