Page 71 of Azrael

Shade nodded.“And this is where it gets complicated.The shell company -- Desert Sun Security Consulting -- it’s owned by this man.”He pulled up a driver’s license photo of a hard-faced man in his fifties.“James Mercer.Former military, former FBI, now supposedly running a private security firm.”

My stomach tightened.“Law enforcement connections.”

“Not just any connections,” Shade said, his voice dropping even lower.“Mercer still consults for the Bureau occasionally.Has friends in Homeland Security.If he’s working with Balal…”

“Then Balal has eyes and ears in places we can’t touch,” I finished.

The implications hit me hard.This wasn’t just about protecting Mazida from her brother’s direct attacks.We were potentially going up against people with badges, with the authority to make our lives hell -- or worse.

“There’s more,” Shade said, bringing up another document.“These are flight records.Balal Quadir entered the U.S.through JFK about three hours after you got back to the U.S.”

“He’s here?”I straightened in my chair.“In New York?”

“Was in New York,” Shade corrected.“There’s a private jet registered to one of his shell companies that flew from New York to Northwest Florida yesterday morning.No passenger manifest filed, but…”

“But it’s him,” I said with certainty.“He’s not trusting this to his men anymore.He’s coming for her himself.”

Shade nodded, finally looking away from the screen.“And he’s bringing friends.Customs records show four men entered with him.Listed as business associates.All Israeli citizens with military backgrounds.”

I stood up, pacing the small room as I processed this information.Balal was less than an hour’s drive away, with trained muscle and potential law enforcement connections.The situation had just gotten significantly more dangerous.

“We need to move Mazida,” I said.“Gator’s place isn’t secure enough.”

“It’s going to have to work,” Shade said.“There’s nowhere to move her, and we can’t be sure he hasn’t already connected her to our club.He may have eyes on this place.”

“What about the Mercer connection?”I asked.“If he’s got FBI ties, he might be able to track club movements.”

Shade’s mouth tightened into a thin line.“That’s the other thing.Found some chatter on encrypted channels.Not enough to get specifics, but enough to know they’re looking at known associates of Zara.I have a feeling Balal suspects his niece sent someone after her mother.”

“Son of a bitch,” I muttered.I leaned against the wall, thinking through our options.“Keep digging into Mercer.Find out everything -- his habits, his weaknesses, anyone he’s close to that might be leverage.Do we know why they didn’t try to take Zara when they grabbed Mazida?”

“No.Only thing I can figure is they weren’t sure where she was at the time, or she was in a place that was too crowded or secure for them to grab her.”He paused.“And Balal?”

“Track his movements.I want to know where he’s staying, who he’s meeting with.If he’s in town, there’ll be a trail.”

“On it.”Shade paused, glancing up at me over his glasses.“This is bigger than we thought, Azrael.I mean, we knew they had connections, but this is… It’s insane everything they have access to.”

I met his gaze steadily.“We have connections too.”

I turned to leave, needing to report these findings to Charming.Balal Quadir had made a critical error in coming here personally.He thought he was the hunter, but he’d just put himself within our reach.

And unlike his sister, he wouldn’t be escaping.

Chapter Twenty

Azrael

The first rays of sunlight hadn’t even broken over the horizon when the rumble of performance engines shattered the pre-dawn silence.I rolled out of bed, grabbing my gun from the nightstand in one fluid motion.Balal Quadir had finally made his move, and from the sound of it, he’d brought an army.Mazida was still sleeping at Gator’s house.I hoped like hell she stayed out of sight.

I shoved my feet into my boots, not bothering with socks, and pulled a shirt over my head as I moved to the window.Six black SUVs and three sports cars tore down the street outside the compound, moving fast toward the front gate.My phone vibrated and I quickly answered.

“Rally at the front.Get the Prospects to the clubhouse roof with rifles.”I hung up without waiting for a response.Ripper knew what to do.

The compound’s new alarm began to wail as I strapped on my shoulder holster and grabbed my AR-15 from the gun safe.By the time I reached the clubhouse, brothers were pouring out of their homes, many half-dressed but all armed.

“Balal Quadir’s here for his sister,” I announced, moving toward the front entrance.“Anyone gets past us, she’s as good as dead.No one gets through.”

The first shots rang out before any of us had a chance to take cover.Glass shattered as bullets tore through windows.I dropped to a crouch and signaled for the others to take cover.My brothers dispersed, finding positions behind vehicles, around the sides of buildings, or anywhere that might stop a bullet.

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