Game ON (An Ozzie Novak Thriller, Book 2) (Redemption Thriller Series 14) Read online

  “We could get him a weapon,” Alex said.

  That sounded like it was a question for Nick.

  “It’s possible. If there’s enough time, we could meet someplace close to the house—but not too close.”

  “What do you think, Ozzie?” Alex said. “Are you comfortable using a sidearm?”

  “I’d rather have one than not, but I also don’t want to create a conflict by having one.” I sighed and felt a twinge of pain in my chest, as if someone had pinched a corner of my heart. As I scratched around the area, a quick thought of my dad and his heart issues flashed in and out of my mind. “Like everything else, Alex, at this point, I’m confused which way to go, anxious that I’ll make the wrong call.”

  “Okay, we don’t have to decide this second. Nick is on his phone right now, trying to find a quick handoff location. You still have about forty-five minutes of driving.”

  Handoff. “Hey, did your boyfriend ever get the cup with the video card?”

  “Boyfriend is on the line.”

  “And so is Gretchen.”

  I couldn’t mistake her voice.

  “And even though I can’t do a whole lot, Brook is here too.” A familiar voice.

  “I have the video card, and I’m almost at Gretchen’s apartment,” Brad said.

  He must have been one of the four men I saw jump on the plane at the last second. “Brad, everyone, you guys operate better than the Longhorns basketball team.”

  “Did you go to UT?” Alex asked.

  “For a bit. Long story. Graduated undergrad from Cal-Berkeley.”

  “I went to UT,” she said.

  It made sense, since she’d grown up on the coast, but it still was a crazy coincidence. No one spoke for a moment, so I jumped in with, “Well, I’m not sure what kind of magic you can do with the video before I get to the house.”

  More silence. I hated silence, and not only because of my hearing issues. “Did I use the wrong code word or something?”

  A clearing of the throat. “Let’s just say we believe it’s prudent to work multiple angles in parallel,” Alex said.

  “I think you’re trying to say Gretchen needs to try to work the video angle in case Mackenzie isn’t at the house in Plymouth. Am I right?”

  “I didn’t want to say it, but yes.”

  “If I take a step back and think more like a lawyer and less like someone who—”

  “You’re a lawyer?” Alex’s voice was nearing Gretchen’s soprano level.

  “Yes. Kind of. Probably not much longer.”

  “That’s so weird. I used to be a lawyer,” she said. “I hated it, so I joined the FBI, hoping to make a real difference and not just sit in a stuffy office and play footsy with a bunch of suits.”

  As I processed the odd similarities in our lives, I veered onto Route 3 and immediately saw a line of red brake lights. I banged the steering wheel.

  “Looks like we won’t have time for the weapon handoff after all,” I said.

  37

  The house was barely visible from State Road as I passed by it. Not a single light was on. I saw no one on the property, which was just a little larger than an acre, from what Gretchen had shared. Trees outlined the small, one-story home, which was set back about two hundred feet from the road.

  I parked just around the corner on Treetop Way. When I exited the car, I quietly shut the door. It made no sense, really. It was ten minutes after eleven, so they should be expecting me. I traipsed through weeds and leaves, making it to the front yard before pausing for a moment. The home was only fifteen hundred square feet, again from Gretchen. The exterior was a forgettable gray stone. Brick steps led up to a tiny front porch. The wooden handrail leaned out about forty-five degrees.

  I touched the phone in my back pocket. The conference line was still open, although I had no idea how much they’d be able to hear. Regardless of what Nick had said, I still believed I could grab the phone and yell into it, signaling them to get to the house. “Thirty seconds” was what Alex had said.

  I picked up a strong scent of pine needles as I tiptoed through the front lawn and up the steps. I stopped right there, unsure if I should knock or just walk in. There was no doorbell. I reached for the doorknob and immediately realized the door was cracked open. My mouth went dry.

  It was darker inside than outside. After I did a quick look-see behind me, I gradually pushed the door open and took a step inside. My foot landed with a thud. I’d forgotten that Gretchen had said it was a pier-and-beam home. So, the echo of my step made sense. I brought my other foot in and paused. The place seemed empty. No sign of people anywhere. But there was plenty of silence. Until…

  “I’m glad you made it, Dad.”

  The girl’s voice sent a jolt up my spine. I swallowed, tried to keep my composure. “Mackenzie, is that you?”

  No immediate response. I wasn’t exactly sure of the origin of the sound. I scanned the empty space. My eyes had adjusted somewhat to the darkness. I could make out a bar counter in front of me. Was she in the kitchen?

  “Mackenzie?”

  Still nothing. I worried about my ability to pick up the slightest of sounds. But I couldn’t just stand there and wait. I walked on my toes toward the counter. I could feel the loose padding of carpet under my shoes.

  “Dad, I’ve been waiting to see you. I’ve always wanted to meet you.”

  I stopped. I was no more than five feet from the counter. I tried to swallow, but my throat was practically clamped shut. So many emotions. Hearing my daughter speak…of me. I felt an instant connection, an unyielding desire to find her, to protect her.

  “Mackenzie, I’m here. Where are you?”

  I couldn’t hear a sound. I took a single step and placed my hand on the counter, which was covered with dust. My eyes were drawn to a small window on the far side of the kitchen, where a small bit of light seeped in. The sink that should have been under the window wasn’t there. Someone must have stolen it.

  I circled around the counter, leaning forward to get a full view of the kitchen floor. The far side was pitch black. I blinked, thinking I saw a figure there, huddled in the corner. “Mackenzie, is that you?”

  A thud behind me rippled through the hollow floors into my feet. I flipped my head around. I saw the fist a split second before it connected with the bridge of my nose. Motes of light danced above my head as I stumbled backward. The only thing that stopped me was the counter. Then I crumbled to the floor.

  I pushed up to my hands and knees, wobbling, barely able to keep my balance. Some type of laughter near me. I looked toward the dark corner. Was Mackenzie over there, possibly tied up?

  A second later, two quick thuds—as if someone was getting a running start—and a heavy boot rammed into my rib cage. I fell to my side as unbridled pain shot through my core. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. I began to panic. My lung must have collapsed.

  Hands grabbed my shirt, pulled me up to standing. This new position somehow released the pinch in my lungs. I inhaled, exhaled. Instant relief. Another fist headed in my direction, and I ducked, but the punch still popped my collarbone, the same one I’d broken in Pee Wee football. This time, it felt more like a stab. That wasn’t just a fist, I surmised. Something was on the fist, maybe brass knuckles.

  Down on one knee, one more breath. I swung my head in both directions. A guy behind me, one more approaching me. No idea if Mackenzie was in the corner or where they might have her.

  Where the hell were Alex and Nick?

  My phone. I reached around to my pocket. My fingers brushed against broken glass and metal. Just my luck.

  A chuckle from above me. “You see, Mickey, this twit’s got nothing. He’s not only mortal, he’s sub-mortal.”

  A machine gun of laughter from my other side. “Joseph way overestimated this guy. He’s nothing special. No great superpowers. Let’s just do the world a favor and kill him like all the others. What do you say, Tanner?”

  They were reveling in their dominance
over me. I blinked a couple of times. My mind was crawling out of the cobwebs just enough.

  I whipped my leg around like a gymnast on the horse and cracked Mickey on the outside of his knee. He let out some type of primal groan and began to topple over. Using my momentum, I continued my three-sixty turn and put all of my weight behind a right hand to Tanner’s solar plexus.

  I could hear the air leaving his lungs as he folded, stumbled backward. I turned and saw Mickey moving toward the dark corner.

  “Leave her alone!” I yelled, hurling my body in that direction. I collided with Mickey, and we both slammed into a chair and then a wall. No Mackenzie. Where the hell was she?

  Mickey and I were face to face; he was heaving out breaths. I could feel his spit on my neck. He had something in his hand, struggling to move it upward. I was throwing punches but also trying to stop his arms from moving.

  My hand brushed across something metal. A gun.

  A surge of adrenaline shot through my extremities. I tried grabbing his arms, holding him against the wall. He was quick, though. He flailed violently, trying to free himself. We tussled, both fighting for control of the gun. I couldn’t get my hands around his fist. At one point, I even hopped backward because I thought he was about to shoot my leg. That extra space was all he needed. He jabbed a knee into my groin. Partial connection—but any connection was not good. I could feel the shock of pain deep in my stomach. It instantly sapped my energy, made me want to vomit. I got dizzy, dropped my arms to my knees. It was as if I had no control of my body.

  I caught a glint of light bouncing off his gun as he brought the weapon to his chest. Summoning strength from some unknown source, I swung my arms up just as the gun fired. Glass and dust rained on me. The bullet had hit the ceiling, maybe an overhead light fixture.

  The shot had stunned both of us, it seemed. But his midsection was now exposed. I threw a left hook into his ribs. He doubled over, but that just made my right uppercut connect with his chin with even more velocity. His teeth clattered. I saw one of his hands fall to his side.

  I reached for his gun hand, but he head-butted me. More motes of light. I could now smell blood in the air. A couple of blinks, and I lunged for his gun hand. He started flailing again but with less energy. I could feel the pistol, but his sweaty hand slipped out of my grip. The gun turned upward, aimed right at my gut.

  I knew at this moment it was all or nothing. He’d shoot me in the stomach, and then he and his buddy would laugh as I spilled blood until I died. Or they might kick me around just for the fun of it. They might even just get it over with and put a bullet in my head. Either way, I saw my life flash before my eyes. It had all started with Mackenzie. My daughter. The little girl whose voice I’d heard. I had no idea what they’d done to her. She had to be scared. Would they kill her? I had no clue what this was all about.

  More images zipped across my mind. I saw Denise on our prom date. She had on this strapless dress, a silver number that showed off her shoulders and chest but also made her blue eyes sparkle. I’d liked her before that night, but her eyes, her aura, drew me in like never before. We danced, partied with our friends, but our connection, at least for that one night, was unlike anything I’d experienced in my life. We wanted each other in the most primal way, and we showed it once we got to our hotel room. The night Mackenzie was conceived.

  I jumped to Denise in Hawaii. She was a histrionic mess; who wouldn’t be if their child had just been kidnapped? But I also saw her demons nibbling at the frayed edges of her sanity. I wanted to help her, to undo everything that had been done, but it wasn’t possible. I had done my best to help. Yet I couldn’t keep her from being killed. I’d left her at the apparel shop, believing it would keep her out of harm’s way. But it had all backfired. It was as though they—this organization or group that had somehow tracked us all the way from Hawaii—knew that I’d leave her behind.

  The video. They’d slapped her, put a gun to her head. Made her overdose on drugs. And they made me watch it.

  My life in Austin. Dad had died just a week earlier; Mom was going through some type of crisis. The law firm with my name on it was probably officially shut down by now.

  Nicole. She was to be my “forever.” She might lament my death, but maybe it would be best for her in the long run. To start anew and recapture that magic with someone else.

  Back to the moment. I prepared for a bullet to the gut.

  I closed my eyes, but I didn’t hear a pop or feel a stabbing pain. Instead, I heard a loud slam just as huge hands grabbed my shoulders. I opened my eyes. Mickey had turned to the front of the house. But the other guy had his paws on me. I jabbed my elbow into his throat, snatched the gun out of Mickey’s hand, turned, and was about to shoot when I saw two figures enter the kitchen, shouting.

  Alex and Nick?

  Tanner charged at them. Two shots were fired. He brought a hand to his chest, tripped, and fell until his head bounced off the floor.

  “You okay, Ozzie?” Alex asked.

  I whipped around. A flashlight from over my shoulder, from either Alex or Nick, cast a cone of light on Mickey. He was on the floor, a hand near his mouth.

  He said, “Whoever seeks to keep his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life will preserve it.”

  I was still processing these words when he slipped something into his mouth. Nick rushed by me, dropping to the floor.

  “No, dammit!” Nick said, swiping at the guy’s arm. He turned his head to look up at Alex and me. “I think he just swallowed some type of pill.”

  A moment later, as Nick called for paramedics, the thug started foaming at the mouth. He collapsed. Dead.

  As the sirens approached the house, I put both palms on the counter. A gentle hand fell on my shoulder. I turned to see Alex. “Where’s Mackenzie?” I asked, my voice quaking.

  “She’s not here, Ozzie.” She held up a device of some kind, maybe an iPad. “It was all a hoax.”

  38

  Joseph flicked the pen between his two fingers and searched his mind for just the right words to add to the speech he was writing. A million phrases came to mind, but he knew this speech had to be unlike any other. It had to deliver the type of message that would earmark his legacy and begin a tidal wave of change.

  He pulled back the burlap curtain and peeked out the small window of his hut. A few people scattered about the camp to ensure the proper security was in place, but most had turned in for the night.

  It had been difficult to concentrate over the last six hours, but the last fifteen minutes had been excruciating.

  As the leader of the Kingdom, as the sole purveyor of His word, he knew that he didn’t have the luxury of delaying the upcoming event. It wasn’t even possible. This event would be the culmination of a year of deep reflection and planning. But what made it so meaningful was that it would come after a lifetime of listless wandering, searching for that sole purpose of why he was put on this earth.

  One year ago, when he’d received the very first correspondence, he came to understand his purpose. It was all meant to be. Fate.

  He put his pen to paper, puckered his lips, and pushed out a gentle breath. His creative ideas flowed more easily when he was in the zone, seeking that nearly utopian place that channeled divine wisdom at a level he’d not yet experienced. Yes, he’d read about such a communicator, a supreme leader, but had never seen it with his own two eyes or felt it in his gut.

  That would soon change, which was why, deep inside, he was almost giddy with excitement. They were so very close to making this happen.

  Focus, Joseph.

  He’d penned only a few more words when his door opened. In walked Cecelia, her face etched with a refrained enthusiasm. Her cheeks had a pink glow, although he knew that could be from their earlier encounter, one in which she’d not only pleasured him in a way no other woman could but also had reaffirmed her faith in his wisdom, in his sheer greatness.

  She lifted onto her toes, as she curled a lock of hair a
round her ear.

  “Speak, Cecelia. Please,” he said, raising his arm.

  “I’ve just received the call from Paul, and he said it happened just like you said it would. He saw it with his own eyes while looking through the back window. Mickey and Tanner, as you predicted, were not able to fend off his strength. The other two, though, came in and helped him. Does that make him less desirable?”

  He shook his head and rolled the pen between his hands. “It was as I envisioned,” he said, recalling this very same prediction from his supreme leader.

  She was back on her toes again, and he moved his arm lower. “Let us bow our heads and think of the sacrifices made by our brothers, Mickey and Tanner.”

  “Oh, right.”

  They lowered their heads for a moment of silence, although his eyes went back to his speech. Words were flooding his mind. He needed to put them on paper. But that would have to wait.

  “I’d like to make one more visit to our special guest. But as I gather my things, please initiate the next phase. It is all lined up, correct?”

  “Just as we’ve discussed for weeks.”

  “Very well,” he said, nodding his head for her to proceed.

  She turned her back to him, put the phone to her ear. He took his time putting on his robe, then glanced at himself in the small mirror inside his bureau. He shut the doors. She was standing there, brimming with excitement.

  “All is in motion?”

  “Yes. I just need to make one more call. Our most important call.”

  He rested his hand on her arm. “Patience, Cecelia. Let us walk together over to the pen and relay the good news.”

  They walked outside, passed a single member of the tribe, who dipped his head in respect. They both reciprocated. They continued their trek, weaving around workstations and the garden, beyond the area used for defecation and fertilization. By the last lit torch, they stopped at a pit dug into the rocky hillside. It was reinforced and barricaded with rebar.