Dangerous Chaos (The Keeper's Series Book 9)
DANGEROUS CHAOS
STEPHANIE ST. KLAIRE
CONTENTS
Books By Stephanie St. Klaire
Also Read
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
About Stephanie St. Klaire
What to Read Next by SSK
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COPYRIGHT © 2023
Stephanie St. Klaire
Dangerous Chaos
A Keepers Novel
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, or other status is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever known, not known or hereafter invented, or stored in any storage or retrieval system, is forbidden and punishable by the fullest extent of the law without written permission of the author.
EDITOR: Jenny Sims
COVER ARTIST: The SSK Group
FORMATTING: The SSK Group
BOOKS BY STEPHANIE ST. KLAIRE
McKenzie Ridge Series
Rescued
Hidden
Forgotten
Fearless
Redemption
Brother’s Keeper Security Series
The Fall of Declan
The Rise of Declan
Reclaiming Liam
Redeeming Luke
Pursuing Dace
Hunting Wylie
Love, Cass (a series companion novel)
The Keeper’s Series
Final Deception
Familiar Threat
Deadly Pursuit
Fatal Diversion
Royal Reckoning
Forced Enemy
Trivial Deceit
Lethal Jeopardy
Dangerous Chaos
Corrupt Justice
Stand Alone
Chameleon Effect
ALSO READ
Don’t forget to check out Stephanie St. Klaire’s alter ego, USA Today Bestselling Romantic Comedy and Contemporary Author, Stephie Klaire.
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1
“Wit Meyer, you’re under arrest,” said a man dressed in black fatigues, a flak jacket, and draped in weapon holsters as he pinned Wit to the wall, arms cuffed behind him.
It happened so fast that no one had been able to wrap their mind around what had just transpired. The Keepers had stormed a building on a tip their mark was there and instead… walked right into a trap. One they didn’t have an immediate way out of as they all were forced to their knees at gunpoint and held by operatives they didn’t recognize while Wit was being detained.
“Charged with what?” Wit hollered as he fought back.
“Capital murder,” the man in black deadpanned.
“You’re making a mistake.” Cane O’Reilly interrupted from his knees where his fingers were laced together behind his head. “You have the wrong guy.”
“No. We don’t,” the man said, looking over his shoulder at Cane and the team as he removed Wit’s obvious weapons and began to pat him down, hunting for more.
“Ooh. You gettin’ a little handsy there, brother. If this is you askin’ for a date, you’re goin’ about it all the wrong way. Plus… you aren’t my type.”
The man jabbed a fist in Wit’s side. “Shut the hell up.”
“You haven’t identified yourselves,” Coy bantered. “Who the hell are you?”
The man holding Wit turned to the group and quickly flashed a shiny platinum shield before hanging it back on his belt. “It’s in your best interest not to interfere, or we’ll hook you and take you in for obstruction and any co-conspirator charge I can tack on.”
“C’mon, man. I don’t think you know who you’re dealin’ with.” Wit chuckled. “This ain’t gonna end well for you, cowboy.”
“Wit,” Cane scolded.
“What? I don’t recognize that shield and neither do you. It doesn’t get any more off the books than us.” Wit was turned abruptly to face his arresting agent, back slammed against the wall. “You like it rough, huh?”
“Jesus, Wit,” Ronan chimed in, earning a kick to the gut from one of the men holding them at gunpoint.
“Hey!” Wit yelled, guilt rolling off his words for antagonizing their newfound enemy. “Leave them alone. You guys bounties? You here to collect our reward? Take it. It don’t need to be like this.”
“The bounty is for you,” one of the men in black seethed.
“Me? Who exactly do you think I killed?” Wit questioned.
“Wit Meyer, you are under the arrest for the brutal murders of Clyde and Meira Skriver.” The man grabbed Wit’s arm and pulled him from the wall. “Come with me.”
“Hang tight, man,” Cane yelled. “We’ll get Landry on this. You’ll be home in no time.”
The butt of a rifle met Cane’s face as the group of men in all black worked their way backward in an effort to retreat. The unidentified man led Wit from the area first and through a doorway, out of sight from the rest of the Keepers. One by one, the men disappeared through the doorway until only one was holding them at gunpoint from a distance.
“They didn’t read him his rights. They aren’t official,” Ryker said under his breath to his team. “This is bad. Are we going to just let them take him?”
“Not a chance,” Cane said. “Wait for it.”
“Wait for what, cousin?” Ronan asked. “They could be tossing him in a rig right now, ready to haul ass out of here. They leave the parking lot and our chances of retrieving Wit reduce by half.”
“Killion, you still live on comms?” Cane asked, hoping his brother was on the other end of his earpiece listening in.
“Heard it all, brother,” Killion said back for the whole team to hear. “Killed Wit’s comms since it’s been compromised. I have air support launched and running video from all your body cams through facial rec and everything else I got.”
“Damn, he’s good,” Coy said, taking to his feet after watching the final guard disappear through the doorway. “We ready to jump on this?”
“Take the lead,” Cane said, following suit. “Everyone knows their job.”
The Keepers lined up and trailed through the building carefully and methodically, each knowing what to do and how to do it should they encounter their newly made enemy. Brother’s Keeper Security – now referred to as BK Security – was a very sophisticated, high-end firm that had contracts with the wealthiest and most powerful—from celebrities and tech tycoons to political dignitaries from around the world.
Their largest contracts were with the United States government, but you wouldn’t find a record of that anywhere. They were highly sought after, but only by those who knew they existed, as they were very much off the grid when it came to publicity. They hunted terrorists, serial killers, and every kind of criminal in between – the worst the world had to offer. And it seemed the worst was just beyond the steel doors before them, holding one of their own.
Ryker trained his weapon behind the last obstacle in their path before breaching the doors. “Clear.”
“We don’t know what’s on the other side of those doors,” Cane said. “Just where our rigs are. Be quick and be smart. Find cover, then assess.”
“Copy,” they each said in unison.
“I have aerial,” Killion said. “You have four vehicles lined up blocking yours in – count twelve, maybe thirteen agents.”
“We’ll grab him and get back to Watermark so we can figure out what the hell happened here and why he has a target on his back,” Cane informed before asking. “You got a path for us to get to Wit?”
“Affirmative. They’re walking him north to the second rig, and…” Killion paused. “Shit.”
“What is it?” Cane asked. “What’s happening, brother?”
“We have incoming. They’re cresting the berm across the parking lot and flanking both sides,” Killion informed. “You’re boxed in.”
“Friendlies? Anyone we know?” Cane asked as gunfire rang out. “Never mind. That answered my question.”
“Can’t get a positive ID just yet, but they’re firing on those agents who have Wit.”
“Shit. Where is he?” Ryker asked over the comms.
“They moved him to the front vehicle,” Killion said. “Driver didn’t make it around the rig. He’s down. Wit is still sheltering in place along the side of the first rig, covered by the back of one of ours.”
“We need to get out there,” Rip said as the team took to the floor to avoid stray bullets penetrating the building.
“And shoot at who?” Cane asked.
“Give me a minute. I’m getting hits on
facial rec,” Killion said. “Holy shit… you aren’t going to believe this.”
2
“Dammit, believe what?” Cane seethed.
“They’re moving in and covering you. You’ve got friendlies,” Killion said just as the door propped open and a hand came into view, motioning for the Keepers to move. “At least I think they’re friendly this time.”
“This time?” Cane said as he captured a glimpse of who that hand belonged to. “I’ll be damned. Let’s move. Wit still on that first rig?”
“Yeah, and probably pissing his pants. I don’t see a weapon,” Killion reported.
“They took his guns. All of them,” Rip said. “He’s a sitting fucking duck out there.”
Heavy fire filled the air, holding the team back as they attempted to exit despite the assist from this newly on-scene regime. The Keepers hunkered down once more to avoid the heavy fire.
“You have company from the south. Black SUV coming in hot,” Killion stated. “Driving right through the middle of that shit.”
Ronan shook his head. “What team are they on? Having trouble keeping track here.”
“They just pulled up alongside the first rig. I’m losing visual. Dammit. I’ve gone dark over here. They got him. They have Wit, and they’re jamming my drones,” Killion growled. “How the hell did they know we had them up?”
“Body cams still running?” Coy asked.
“Cams are down. Don’t go running out into the middle of that shit show. You wouldn’t get anything anyway. No plates or facials before I lost visuals. We’re dealing with pros,” Killion confirmed.
“Pros who know our shit,” Rip said. “Interesting.”
As the gunfire died down, someone pounded on the door. “O’Reilly.”
Rip shared a bewildered look with the rest of the team. “What the hell?”
“It’s okay,” Cane said, taking to his feet as the others followed. “Stay alert.”
Cane slowly pushed through the heavy steel doors and found what appeared to be an abandoned war zone. Demolished vehicles covered in steel-bending bullet holes, bullet casings scattered on the pavement, and dead bodies dressed in all black littered the ground. It was chaos, pure and simple.
“Good seeing you, Bozz,” Cane said, offering a friendly handshake.
Bozz nodded and returned the gesture. “I’d say the pleasure was all mine, but it’s yours, and we all know it.”
The men laughed at the lighthearted remarks amidst the murder and mayhem surrounding them.
“Making friends? You here for these guys too?” Bozz asked.
“They came for Wit,” Cane said as he and Bozz moved farther into the scene to evaluate the damages. Their teams followed suit, wary of the other.
“What agency was that, and how the hell did they know his fucking name?” Coy asked. “None of us are in the databases anywhere.”
Bozz shook his head. “No clue, man. It wasn’t us. We’re here on a lead for a case to settle some old scores. Didn’t expect to run into you or walk in on your rescue.”
“We weren’t here on a rescue. Same as you, we were following a lead and settling old scores. Wit was on the job with us. They came for him out of nowhere,” Cane shared.
“Damn. We read it wrong,” Bozz said. “What are the odds of you guys showing up at the same scene and on a similar mission?”
“Dirty Dozen on another one of our cases?” Cane questioned. “That doesn’t fit.”
“Or does it?” Bozz fired back as the men from Dirty Dozen and the Keepers circled the scene. “It wouldn’t be the first time we both stood on the front lines of the same war as friend or foe.”
“Which are you this time?” Cane asked.
“You’re still standing, O’Reilly.” Bozz snickered. “That answer your question?”
“Touché.” Cane chuckled back. “We have enemies in common.”
“That we do,” Bozz said. “Pretty sure that’s no coincidence, either.”
“Now ain’t that somethin’ crazy,” Hen added. He was one of the members of Dirty Dozen. “We all have scrubbed profiles, yet here we all are, summoned by who? And why? What does your man have to do with it?”
“Wit? No fucking clue,” Cane answered. “What do any of us have to do with it?”
Bozz didn’t have an response and seemed just as perplexed as everyone else at this point. “Well, we clocked the two snipers on the roof across the street. Their sights were on your boy and exit team. Glad they were able to get out, then.”
“Exit team? I think I misunderstood. That wasn’t you guys who ran him out of here?” Rip asked.
“The cowboy, right? Rowdy and says yeehaw all the fucking time?” Bozz questioned, and the team nodded. “What the hell would we want with him? We were here for this pile of shit.”
Bozz kicked at one of the bodies making up the pile of death and destruction.
“Well, good thing you’ll be gettin’ him back. Shouldn’t be too hard,” Hen said. “Don’t worry about this mess. We made it, so we’ll clean it.”
Ryker raised his brow in surprise. “Get Wit back? You know something, Hen?”
“Nothin’ more than y’all do,” he answered, seeming confused by the question. “Just sayin’ it shouldn’t be too hard to track since you know who grabbed him. Everyone has a little miscommunication on their team from time to time.”
“One of ours?” Cane grilled.
“Shut up, Hen. I don’t think we are all on the same page here.” Bozz pointed at the sky. “You got birds up. You didn’t get anything?”
“No. They used a jammer or something to run interference, and we lost visual,” Cane said.
“Oh shit. We both walked into a trap, and you’ve got a bigger problem than you thought.” Bozz shook his head and let out a deep sigh as he began to pace. “We thought he was good to go and grabbed by one of yours.”
“A Keeper?” Rip asked as the team jumped to high alert.
Cane put a hand over his ear to hear Killion as he came through the comms. “You got a helo flying over. It’s ours. We’ll find him.”
As the helicopter flew over, the Dirty Dozen began to move for cover.
“It’s ours. You’re good,” Ronan said, realizing they hadn’t heard Killion’s notice. “You were saying?”
“Yeah.” Hen nodded. “I thought it was an extraction detail. We held the fucking line for them to get in and out. Dammit.”
“Who the hell was it?” Coy demanded, his anger growing over his missing longtime friend.
“I’m sorry, guys. I don’t know who it is. Just know it’s one of yours. Seen them before,” Bozz said as he signaled for his team to round up and prepare to exit.
“Who, Bozz?” Cane demanded. “Who grabbed him?”
“One of yours, that’s all I know. A woman.”
3
Wit sat in the back of an unfamiliar vehicle with a black hood over his head and his hands bound behind his back. Neither the scents of the vehicle nor the way they drove was familiar. An operative of his caliber noticed those things. All he could put together was that it was a larger vehicle, trucky wheels based on how it took the rougher roads and tossed him around, and that it was new based on the chemical smell.
He did recognize one thing – the softness of a woman. It wasn’t a scent, or sound, or even how they drove. He couldn’t quite put a finger on it other than he just knew. A gut feeling. Something he felt in his soul.
The silence from his captor was deafening, but everything else rang loud and clear. They were traveling at a high rate of speed – maybe eighty, ninety. He counted the seconds between each turn so he could find his way back –– or out of wherever they ended up. He noted the sounds around him like the sound of a salted road, the muffling whir as they traveled through trees, and the brief sound of children playing on a playground or at a school. God, he hoped they would end up far from the kids. He could handle a lot of shit but not kids getting caught in crossfires, and he knew those crossfires were coming.