Page 36 of Azrael

“What about law enforcement?”Ashes asked, voicing the question we’d all been avoiding.

Charming shook his head.“Not yet.If this connects back to Mazida’s past, official channels might create more problems than solutions.We handle this ourselves first, see what we’re dealing with.”

I pushed through the Church doors, my mind already focused on Zara.Behind me, I heard Charming giving final instructions to Shade about digital surveillance.Ahead lay hours, maybe days, of searching, questioning, and piecing together the puzzle of the Quadir woman’s disappearance.I didn’t envy him.

For now, I had the honor of telling Zara we still didn’t know who had her mom.

Chapter Ten

Azrael

I felt the tension before I even entered the clubhouse.It hung in the air, invisible but unmistakable.The usual pre-meeting bullshit had been replaced with hushed conversations and hardened expressions.Whatever Stripes had called us together for, it wasn’t going to be good news.I caught Charming’s eye as I walked in, and the slight shake of his head confirmed it.This was going to be one of those meetings that ended with bloodshed -- the only question was whose.

The main room of the clubhouse was uncharacteristically quiet.A Prospect was wiping down the bar with mechanical precision, his eyes darting toward the meeting room door every few seconds.Two of the younger members stood near the pool table, cues in hand but no game in progress.Even the fucking music had been cut, and I didn’t see club pussy anywhere.

“Azrael.”Charming nodded at me, his voice kept low.“They’re waiting.”

I followed him into Church.I took my seat, noting how Phantom kept checking his phone, how Doc’s fingers drummed an irregular beat on his thigh, how Ripper stared at a water stain on the ceiling as if it held the secrets of the universe.

Stripes entered last, a manila folder clutched in his hands.At seventy-one, he moved with the deliberate grace of a man who’d survived too much to be rushed by anything.His white beard and hair gave him the look of a biker Santa, but the steel in his eyes would make any naughty-lister shit themselves.

“Brothers,” he began, his Russian accent thick despite decades in the States.“We have a situation.”He didn’t sit, instead remaining standing by the table.That alone told me this was worse than I’d thought.Stripes preferred to sit, to lean back in his chair with his boots crossed at the ankles, spinning tales of the old days to anyone who’d listen, or doing his best to make us laugh.

The folder slapped onto the wooden surface, and he spread out several documents -- surveillance photos, what looked like transaction records, and a map marked with red lines crossing continents.

“Mazida’s family has taken her back to the Middle East,” he announced, his voice filling the room with a heaviness that seemed to press the air from my lungs.

I felt my jaw tighten.This was really fucking bad.Getting her back while on US soil was one thing.But overseas?

“We traced Balal Quadir to Tel Aviv,” Stripes continued, pointing to a grainy surveillance photo of a well-dressed man in his late fifties exiting what appeared to be a private jet.“Mazida’s brother.He has ties to the top Israeli crime family there.”

“Kidnapping,” Phantom muttered.“So, your woman was right, Azrael.Her mother was definitely taken, and by her own damn family.”

Stripes nodded.“Da.It’s looking that way.Balal never approved of Mazida marrying an American.Even less of her having a half-American daughter.When Mazida’s husband died, Balal saw an opportunity.From what my contacts could find, he’s been working on a deal the last few years, and Mazida is the prize on offer.”

“How solid is this intel?”I asked, leaning forward to examine the documents.The photos were date-stamped just yesterday.

“Solid as a Russian winter,” Stripes replied, tapping a finger on a document covered in Cyrillic script.“My contact in FSB owes me a big favor.This is the flight manifest, security footage, hotel reservations.Balal arrived in Tel Aviv with a female companion matching Mazida’s description.Woman appeared… not willing.”

Charming picked up one of the photos, squinting at it before passing it to me.The image showed a woman being guided -- or forced -- into a luxury sedan, a man’s hand gripping her upper arm tightly.She wore a hijab, but even from the side angle, the resemblance to Zara was unmistakable.I passed the photo on, trying to ignore the sick feeling in my gut.

“Why now?”Doc asked, adjusting his glasses as he studied the map.“Mazida’s been on her own for what, three years?And married for probably twenty or thirty?I have no idea how old she is.”

“Zara,” I said before I could stop myself.All eyes turned to me.“Zara turned twenty-two.What if she’s the one they’re really after?They couldn’t use her mother to broker any deals when she was younger, so now maybe they want Zara.”

“Azrael’s right,” Stripes confirmed with a nod in my direction.“In a traditional family like the Quadirs, an unmarried daughter becomes the best way to leverage deals.Balal wants control of both women.”

“So when you said they would use her for leverage, what type did you mean?”Ripper asked, finally looking away from the ceiling.

Stripes’ expression darkened.“Many possibilities, none are good.Could be an arranged marriage for Zara to cement business ties.Could be punishment for Mazida’s disrespect all these years.Could be about money.Colton left a sizable estate to both his wife and daughter, despite the small home Mazida has now.”

“Does Zara know her mother’s been taken?”Charming directed this question at me.“Or is she still just assuming that’s what happened?”

“She knows her mother is missing.I did tell her I believe she was kidnapped, but that we just had more questions than answers right now.So she doesn’t have all the details.”I gestured to the pile of evidence on the table.“I wanted all of you to review what I dug up first and see if we could narrow down what happened.”

“She must be told what happened, and told who is responsible,” Stripes said solemnly.“But first, we must decide what the club will do.”

The tension in the room ratcheted up another notch.What Stripes was really asking was whether this was club business or my personal problem.If it was just my issue, I’d have the club’s support but would be expected to handle it mostly on my own.If it was club business, the full resources of the Devil’s Boneyard would be deployed -- and that meant blood would definitely flow.

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