Renegade (h.s.)

Mission: Find Her (Prologue)

H

"All teams on standby. Is target secured?"

Raising one steady hand up to the team of armed men gathered behind me, I wait for the confirmation that our asset is indeed inside his hotel room, unguarded and vulnerable, just like we planned.

Target: Nikolai Ricci, the most notorious drug-lord on the eastern seaboard.

Mission: Infiltrate and arrest.

The Brotherhood —a secret government agency that operates under the CIA to track down and arrest organized crime leaders and offenders— has been pursuing Ricci ever since he landed back on American soil about six months ago. Our agents have built an extensive profile of his background, suspected crimes, affiliates, and routine in order to finally take him down and, hopefully, his entire organization down with him.

He's managed to evade us for years: covering his financial tracks with smurfing corporations, surrounding himself with loyal followers that would never snitch on him, and leaving the country for months at a time without a trace.

Finally, finally, we managed to find and obtain his ledgers thanks to our crack team of hackers and the fact that we don't have to follow the lengthy judicial process to obtain this kind of evidence. The books detailed his illegal drug trafficking operation and buyers in coded language we quickly deciphered.

It's thanks to these ledgers and all the intel our specialists gathered that brought us here —right outside the door to Ricci's room inside a dodgy speakeasy in the back of a ritzy hotel on the Upper East Side.

We had snipers trained on the roofs of buildings next door, agents blocking every exit, and had already managed to handcuff the only bodyguard he brought with him tonight.

Ricci is mine.

I've lead this operation for the last six months and have faced the derision and disappointment of my commander over and over again as Ricci continuously evaded our efforts. Now, I get to prove my worth, prove that this mission wasn't just a waste of time.

The agent who posed as a bellboy at the front entrance speaks into my earpiece. "Target is confirmed."

I wait, that nervous jittery feeling of hanging on a precipice making my knees weak as I crouch outside Ricci's room, antsy to get in there before he somehow manages to weasel his way out of this situation. Again.

My commander's rough voice buzzes in my ear. "Proceed."

That's all I need before I spring into action, curling my hand forward to signal my team to move and lifting my gun to my shoulder just in case. With a deep breath, I nod at my partner, Mickey Calloway and he kicks the door down with brute force and precision.

The wood splinters, the noise loud enough to alert anyone in the area of our presence and I'm instantly on defense, striding into the dark, ornately decorated room.

"Come out with your hands up!" I shout as my team files in behind me, but one sweep of the disheveled area has my stomach bottoming out.

No Kingpin in sight.

I curse under my breath and keep frantically looking around the large suite, not willing to accept that Ricci thwarted us once again. Not willing to accept another failure.

The other agents file through the bathroom and check in closets, but the room is eerily silent. Lowering my gun, I survey the surroundings: rumpled bed sheets, a bottle of scotch on the dresser, and two glasses —but only one still has the brown liquor still inside.