Buried Treasure Ch. 11-15

DEA Senior Agent Frank Donovan's POV

Ocala, Florida

Director Grimes had been riding my ass all morning long, and I was itching to do something. The abduction of Harleigh Ryder had stirred up a hornet's nest, and the result was the full briefing room at the Ocala Police Department precinct house. "Good morning everyone, I'm DEA Senior Agent Frank Donovan, leader of the Tezcatlipoca Interagency Task Force that just hit its two-hour anniversary." Nervous laughter echoed through the room. Most of the people here didn't know what we were dealing with here. The phone calls had come early and often to get people here.

I started my Powerpoint show with a picture of the Sons leadership in their cuts. "For those of you are joining us late, here is the deal. The Sons of Tezcatlipoca, a violent outlaw biker gang with chapters in the Southwest, showed up in Florida this past week. Four of them showed up at the home of Sean Ryder, a retired DEA agent who two decades ago worked deep undercover against biker gangs in California. They tortured him and his wife, a former Federal Prosecutor, and current County Attorney." I put up a photo of the two. "These animals raped his wife in front of him before killing her, then executed him." I cut to a crime scene photo. "Their daughter came home at the end of the attack. She was shot but managed to drive her Harley away and escape to the clubhouse of the Steel Brotherhood."

"So, we're in the middle of a biker gang war?"

I put up a photo of Harleigh in her Steel Ladies cut. "No. The Steel Brotherhood hasn't broken any laws, and they are not our target. They were able to get her inside the gates and killed three of the four men who chased her there." There was a murmuring in the room; they suddenly didn't mind the Brotherhood so much. "The man who survived was injured and has been identified by DNA testing as Jose Carreira, son of one of the senior Sons leaders." I put up a photo of the girl in the hospital. "Harleigh survived the shot to the back, but early this morning was kidnapped from her hospital room in Orlando. A police officer guarding the room was poisoned and nearly died." Now I had their attention.

"The Sons sent twenty men to Florida after their three men got killed, and they have been holed up on a property in Ocala for a day now. The property belongs to a shell corporation and is suspected to be a Cartel safe house. Since this group hasn't done anything illegal yet, we haven't been able to do anything. For the intelligence update on the property, Sheriff Lance Justice of Marion County."

The Sheriff stood up and put up a satellite view of the ten-acre property just a few miles outside Ocala. "We have been monitoring the situation with the Sons of Tezcatlipoca since we found out that they are headed for Orlando," he said. "My men took license plate numbers and ran the registrations of the riders. None have outstanding warrants, but none are boy scouts either. We can't get them on parole violations. We didn't have any evidence that would allow us to search them or their motorcycles, and the home is clean. Based on the request from Orlando Police, we have maintained surveillance on the entrance to the property since they arrived." He pointed out the sprawling home, with a large pole barn and detached garage. "We sent a drone over after dark last night with infrared, and it shows nothing suspicious, just the men we know are there. The utility bills do not indicate the property is as a grow house or another illegal enterprise. Their motorcycles are visible in the open door of the pole barn during the flyover."

"Have they been riding in and out of there, or have other vehicles shown up?"

"Not until this morning. Our stakeout is near where the driveway meets the road, and it's been quiet. The infrared showed the engines of the motorcycles to be cold." He showed a photo of a panel van turning into the lot. "This van was rented yesterday in Orlando. The woman who rented it has no warrants or record. It showed up just before sunrise, drove into the garage, and hasn't come back out. The infrared camera showed two people in the back, one lying down the other sitting." He looked at everyone. "It's circumstantial, but with the history and the information the DEA has provided on the losses of former agents and the gang's practices, we were able to obtain a search warrant for the property. We also have an active Federal warrant for one Jose Correira. We may or may not find Harleigh in there, as we did not get notified of the abduction in time to stop the van." He put Jose's photo back up. "If she is found, we arrest them all. If not, we arrest Jose if he is there." I looked out over the room, and people were ready to go. "With that, I turn it over to FBI Hostage Rescue Team and Senior Agent-in-Charge Tim Needles."

The HRT leader was a real snake-eater; former Delta Force commando who left to join the FBI and now was in charge of one of their elite groups. They specialized in high-risk warrants and hostage situations, and each man on the team highly trained. He put up a layout of the home, pulled from County building records. On it was superimposed the heat signatures from the night before. "The home is big, and there are a lot of men to control, so we're going in heavy on this op. My team will infiltrate the property from the north, taking station behind these bushes. Our objective will be the bedrooms in this wing, where the hostage is likely to be kept. We will enter from the patio and these windows, using flash-bangs to disorient the occupants. We will secure to this hallway," he said. "Marion County SWAT, followed by the DEA agents, will take position behind the garage and the pole barn and breach the property at the front door, living room window, garage door, and kitchen door. All officers need gas masks as we will be using flash-bangs followed by tear gas canisters to expedite the takedowns. Nothing fancy. The first in taking down the first bad guys they encounter, those behind them keep moving forward until the home is secure. Cuff them and hold them down, then when all clear is called, lead them outside."

It was as simple a plan as you could get for taking down almost two dozen members of a violent biker gang. The forty-some officers in the room might be enough. "Rules of engagement are normal; force is authorized to protect yourself, a fellow officer, or the hostage. We load up in twenty minutes; drivers meet me after the meeting to go over routes. Time on target is 0900, HRT will give the signal. Radio channel five."

The Sheriff spoke up next. "The mobile command center will be set up in the staging area, the old E-Z Mart parking lot. We need to be in the game on this, we've got a ton of officers and a potential hostage, so I don't want friendly fire taking anyone out. Be sure of your target and what is behind it," he said. "Let's get these fuckers."

I drove in one of the three Suburbans that had been brought up from Miami, going over the plan with the team as we drove. The DEA guys had lots of experience with no-knock warrants and high-risk apprehensions, but we didn't do a lot of hostage situations. "We need to be ready for anything," I told them. "Hostage Rescue thinks she will be in a back bedroom, but we can't be sure. Given what these guys do, we're just as likely to find her tied for a gang-rape in the living room or beaten half to death in the garage. I want these guys bad; they did not only go after one of our own, but they also targeted his FAMILY. We need to get Harleigh Ryder back," I said.

"What did her father think when he named her," my driver said when the moment passed.

"He probably thought she would never be able to buy a rice burner," I said with a grin. "It was a way to protect her from the crotch rockets."

"A father has to do whatever he can," the agent in the back seat agreed. "I think it's a great name. 'Murica! Hell yeah!"

"Well, her club name is Crash," I said. "I'm told it was based on her softball play, but now I'm not so sure it isn't because she crashed into the clubhouse. She managed to outrun four bikers while bleeding from her liver after knowing her parents were dead. She's the kind of person we NEED to save."

They dropped me at the command post, then drove on to their staging area on an adjoining property. The Sheriff had quietly gone to the neighbors and evacuated them, and he had drone video up on the large television in the command post. "That your asset or mine," I asked.

"Neither, the FBI brought it in," Agent Needles said. "It's got four hours on station and flies high enough to be silent and invisible. The camera is good, but infrared doesn't work for shit with the sun being up this high," he said. The camera was showing a wide view of the buildings and the surrounding property. I could see the teams starting to move through the trees towards their initial points. The movement was planned carefully to use the garage or pole barn, or the thick pines, to hide their approach.

"All the motorcycles still there?"

"We didn't get a count, but we can see some of them through the open pole barn door. It looks the same as the photos we took last night."

It was going well as the teams reached their positions; I knocked on the wooden desk, hoping Mr. Murphy would stay away for this one. The team leaders checked in with the FBI, and I could see them all doing final weapons tests. "Thirty seconds, don gas masks," the FBI team leader ordered. "Hostage Rescue on my count, remaining teams on their delay." We had calculated the distance the teams would have to run from their initial points to the entry points. The Hostage Rescue guys were going first because they had the longest run, and they needed to be the first to breach. Even a few seconds of warning might be enough for them to kill the hostage before they could get inside."

I watched as the teams got into their assault formations, single file, their left hand on the left shoulder of the guy in front of them, rifles at the ready.

"Ten seconds."

"Five, four, three, two, one, GO GO GO."

Seven teams started moving, three to the back of the house were Hostage Rescue, the four in front County SWAT and DEA. The Hostage Rescue guys reached first, and I saw them slap the plastic explosive on before moving aside. "Two One BREACH," came over the radio, then multiple explosions as the doors were blown open. Flashbangs, grenades that used loud explosions and light flashes to disorient and confuse the people inside, went off in multiple locations. The teams poured inside, tossing tear gas to make sure the defenders couldn't put up a defense.

"Team two CLEAR."

"Team one CLEAR."

"Team three CLEAR." The Hostage Rescue guys had secured their rooms.

"Team five clear, no contacts."

"Team six clear. Sheriff, there's nobody here." A couple of minutes later, after a full search by all the teams of the home and buildings, it was clear they had bailed out. There was no evidence of illegal activity or Harleigh.

"What biker gang leaves their motorcycles behind," the Sheriff asked.

No. It couldn't be. "Get ahold of Orlando Police, let them know the Sons may be heading their way." I walked outside and away from the Command Post before I opened my phone and dialed Director Grimes. "Sir, the raid failed. They had to have been tipped off, they were there last night and gone by the time we got the warrant."

"Son of a BITCH," he said. "They didn't just leave?"

"No, sir. They left motorcycles behind and didn't leave via the driveway. They must have gone through the woods and been picked up elsewhere. Local law enforcement couldn't properly maintain surveillance on this property, and until Harleigh was taken, no one was planning to raid this."

He didn't say anything for a bit. "Make sure the Sheriff alerts highway patrol and head back to Orlando. They might be heading home, or they might be in the woods," he said. "If they've got Harleigh, she'll be dead by sundown if we can't find them. Make sure to cover the Steel Brotherhood clubhouse."

"Why?"

"Because the bastards might dump her body there to make a point."

Ch. 12

Alpha Chase Nygaard's POV

Steel Brotherhood Clubhouse, Orlando Chapter

We pulled into the parking lot of the club just after three in the morning with our load of stuff. This was the second load out of Harleigh's room, and this time I brought more photographs and papers I'd collected from the house and garage. I also decided to do something about the bedroom so no one else had to see it. I hauled the mattress and box spring out to the garage, moved the furniture, and tore out the carpeting. I then found some bleach and soap and started cleaning the bloodstains on the walls and floor. It still needed work, but at least people wouldn't throw up when they see it.

I'd gotten the word from Tom and Meghan that the snatch of Harleigh from the hospital had gone perfectly, and they were on their way to the airport. Another team of warriors from Oxbow Lake Pack, Nate, and his mate Connie, had flown down to replace them. Connie's wolf was similar enough in coloration to Meghan's that she would pass for the same dog. Nate was using the story that he was replacing Tom, who had to head back for work. Since I was a patched member and vouched for them, there was no issue at the gate.

We unloaded the boxes into a storage area behind the garage; then I called the three teams of dogs and handlers to me outside the gate. "We're changing tactics," I said. "Way too many Club members are here, and it makes more sense for us to be outside the fence than inside now. There's a hotel about a half-mile back, get three rooms at it. I want two teams on duty outside the Clubhouse at all times. One team stay close to the front gate; the other roam the perimeter of the property. Use the SECURITY vest and the WORKING DOG vest and stay visible, and the handlers are visibly armed." It was standard practice for our Packs to get a Minnesota concealed carry permit, plus a Florida non-resident permit. The combination gave us more states with reciprocity we could carry in, and Florida was our main winter hangout. "The third team can sleep."

They nodded; it was not the best schedule, better to have four groups, but werewolves were stronger and could function on less sleep. "Food? Are we getting it on our own?"

"I'll make sure they send out food for both teams from the kitchen. They don't have dog food around, so you'll have to make do with burgers," I joked. Wolves can't laugh, but Connie licked my hand in thanks. "You're meant to be a deterrent. If a big group comes in, you can't shift. Either get back inside the fence or get out of the way, don't get caught in the crossfire."

"Like when the four Sons came riding for the gate," Nate said as he nodded. I'd filled him in on what had happened while we were packing.

"Exactly. They've got a couple dozen around, and we can't go full werewolf with all these humans around." I looked at my watch. "Work out the schedule and get the rooms under your credit cards, we'll settle up with Pack funds late."

"Yes, Alpha," the men said.

I walked back inside the gate to find Rori; she was sitting with a group of the Ladies near the memorial wall. I looked at it and smiled; she'd captured them perfectly, his Harley in tight formation, wind in their hair, her chin perched on his neck. I picked her up out of the chair, bringing her up to my face as her legs wrapped around my waist. "I am blown away every time I look at your work, baby." I kissed her hard as some of the Club members hooted, then set her down. "Ready for bed?"

"Yeah, I'm exhausted. I just finished about twenty minutes ago. Make sure no one touches it," she asked the women at the table as she gave me a sultry look.

"No problem, Rori. Go ride your man; you make beautiful babies together," Bumpers said. She was the Old Lady of the Miami chapter and got her name because of her tits arrived in the room five minutes before she did. My sweet girl was embarrassed to be called on her lustful thoughts, but I could sense her excitement over the bond. I took her hand and led her up the stairs to the guest room we had been given.

I closed and locked the door, and she was already tossing her clothes into the hamper. Mine followed as I watched her move into the shower, my body responding to her. She was sexy as hell, and her body had quickly returned to pre-pregnancy shape thanks to her werewolf metabolism and her workout regimen. The example she and Cora set for the women was amazing; all Pack females, regardless of rank, had at least two hours a day of physical activity. Even number days were cardio, mostly swimming, long runs in each form, or stationary bikes. Odd numbered days were weight training.

And EVERY day was self-defense.

It was one of the things I found helpful in my work with abused women; to make them feel they were in control, they had to be able to fight. We had instructors who taught Karate, Judo, Taekwondo, Boxing, Mixed Martial Arts, Krav Maga, Knife Fighting, Pistol, Rifle, Archery, and Wrestling. Every person in our Pack was required to master at least one armed and one unarmed discipline. The gyms in the basement of the Pack House at the lake were filled with these classes throughout the day.

I watched as she stepped into the shower and turned on the water, her toned backside and legs on display. Rori wasn't voluptuous, she was built slender and athletically. She was the fastest runner in the Pack, and her reflexes were her strength in the ring. She made a good complement to my build, which was more typical of Alphas. My height, broad shoulders, and tapered midsection over powerful legs was more like a heavyweight fighter than a runner. It made for fun sparring matches between us.

"Tilt your head back," I asked as she finished getting her hair wet. I massaged her scalp as I worked the shampoo into her red hair, now cut above her shoulders since the twins were born. She moaned as my fingers worked down the back of her head to her neck. Her painting could leave her shoulders and neck stiff, and I let my hands and the hot water relax her.

"You can do that all night," she said.

"Sorry you need sleep." I rinsed it out and put in conditioner, then grabbed a cloth and started to wash her shoulders and back. Like all times we showered together, getting clean was just a side effect of what I was really doing, which was pushing her body to a heightened state of arousal. I loved the feel of my mate as she came on my fingers, her legs shaking as I held her to me. When she was steady again, I rinsed her off. "Go get in bed; I'll be there in a few minutes."

She turned, her hip rubbing against my excitement. "Don't you want me to take care of this for you?"

"In bed," I told her. She finished getting ready for bed as I finished my shower, and when I tucked into bed, her naked body rolled into mine.

"You're still hard," she said.

"Getting hard isn't the problem around you, getting rid of the hard-on before I stand up is," I said with a laugh. "I love you more every day, and making love to you is better than ever."

"Let's test that theory," she said as she straddled my stomach. I reached up to her sides, my large hands lightly touching her before they cupped her breasts. She was still breastfeeding, and I didn't mind the extra size and weight it gave her. I moved my lips to a nipple, nipping and licking as the milk started to let down. "That feels so good," she said as I sucked some of her milk out.

I moved between the two as she reached behind, grasping my maleness and positioning it at her core. The shower and the foreplay had her ready to go, and she moaned softly as she sank on my length. "Soooo good," she said as she raised back up. She picked up the pace, and I could tell she wanted it hard and deep.