Sins of the Past

By Sierra Rose

When Tiger Force member Rafael Valdez’s past comes back in a violent way and his plan to protect his teammates backfires, it turns into a battle of loyalty as he must choose his long-lost brother over the woman he loves and the team he has dedicated his life to as Sins of the Past return with a bloody vengeance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sierra Rose
• Release date: Dec 2, 2009
• ISBN: 9781452323824

Book preview

Sins of the Past

By

Sierra Rose

******

Sins of the Past

Sierra Rose

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2009 Sierra Rose

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of either the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, businesses, events, locales or details are completely coincidental.

Sins of the Past

Cover Image © Phase4Photography-Fotolia.com

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this books with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Please see more from Sierra Rose at Smashwords.com

*****

Chapter One

Atlanta, Georgia. The birthplace and burial site of Martin Luther King, Jr. Home to three major sports teams, as well as some very successful and important business hubs.

One such was Sullivan Industries, an international corporation with just one of many large branches in Atlanta. However, by no means would this particular corporation be called normal or typical compared to the other leading businesses in the city.

It is far more than that, and so are the employees who work both the company headquarters in downtown Atlanta, and the several homes owned by its owner all over the world.

One such example would be the two-story, one hundred-room mansion on the outskirts of the city. The house itself was out of the movie, Gone with the Wind, but the inside is completely different.

As are the normally laidback security agents who lived here. However, when things go wrong, as they usually do, this particular group of young men are nothing but professional. Despite little problems, like differences in opinion, they never panic or over-react to something like a breach in their security, or a car crashing into the place’s south wall.

Toby, the Marauders assistance would be nice. Jason Gallagher, Sullivan Industries twenty-two year old chief of security, told the tall, dark-haired young man who was leaning up against a wall as sirens blared.

Toby O’Reilly, twenty three year old leader of a private security group based out of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, shook his head. Sorry, Ry. he shrugged. We’re getting paid just to make sure that your boys and the boys out of Los Angeles don’t get into it again. Protecting things is your job. Not mine.

Jason’s face went hard and he started to get angry, when a strong hand grabbed his arm. Jason, Peter, and Colby want this mess cleaned up ASAP. a voice with a pure California accent stated calmly. Forget Shaw and go do your own job.

The voice belonged to a tall, slender man in his late twenties with short wavy blond hair and clear blue eyes. However, at that very moment those eyes were hard and cold with business.

Someone has broken through your security systems and standing here arguing with this asshole isn’t going to fix it. Shay Prescott declared in a firm voice. Now, get your ass out there and help your boys, Jason. I’ll be there just as soon as J.D. says the house is still secure, he added. Go on.

The twenty-six year old weapons expert from Los Angeles watched as Jason ran out of the house before he turned and caught Toby by the throat, shoving him all the way back against the wall.

You might be hot stuff in Louisiana with Marc’s boys, but up here you’re nothing but a self-serving, spoiled little brat who only got this job because your brother and his team were already on assignment. Prescott hissed harshly. Get this straight, Toby because I don’t plan to repeat it. These boys do more in a week than your lunatics do in a full year and I’ll be damned if you’ll talk down to Jason because he’s a few months younger. he added coldly

Toby glared but remained silent as Prescott released his throat to step away from him.

Watch your step, Toby. Because the next time you talk big, I won’t let go. Prescott warned in a harder tone, walking out of the house and leaving the younger man alone in the foyer.

Hell, Toby’s lucky that Shay let go this time. a young man, his blond hair dropping into blue eyes, observed the conflict quietly.

His comment was directed to the two dark haired men who were working with the high-tech security monitors.

Peter Murphy, twenty seven year old vice-president of Atlanta’s S.I.’s office, smiled with irony. The Shay Prescott I recall wouldn’t have done that, Colby. He remarked. He would have just shot J.D. without thinking.

Shay grew up in the four months he was jailed for that murder. Colby Blake, the new twenty-four year old vice president of the Los Angeles branch, smiled calmly. Almost being fired from the company, then having Kevin nearly killed in a riot taught him a lot and he’s a totally different man now.

The two friends were referring to when Shay Prescott had been found guilty of murdering one of the O’Reilly’s Raiders, a world known mercenary group that doubled as head subsidiary of Sullivan Industries.

The weapons expert had spent four months in prison before it was proved that he had, in fact, acted in self-defense.

J.D. White, Atlanta’s twenty-two year old computer/electronic genuis, put a hand over the earpiece he was wearing before keying the intercom. We’ve got our intruder, he informed the two vice-presidents.

Wonderful. Colby sighed in relief. Now, we don’t have to worry about telling the boss. I was not looking forward to that call.

Umm, guys? Jason’s voice coughed over the in-house speaker nervously. We have a tiny problem out here, he stated.

Colby and Peter exchanged looks, neither liking the tone. What’s wrong? Peter asked warily.

You’d better call Garrington Estates, Peter. Shay Prescott spoke up, sighing. Your so-called intruder is one of theirs.

Who is it? J.D. demanded, not understanding why one of their employer’s friends would come crashing through their wall.

Prescott was silent for a few moments then returned in a hushed tone. It’s Rafael Valdez, he declared, adding grimly. Dave thinks he might be dead, Peter.

Oh, shit. Colby groaned as Peter’s hand went white on the back of a chair. This is so not good.

So much for the peace and quiet I was hoping for this weekend. Peter muttered, reaching for the nearby phone to make a very unwelcome phone call.

*****

Chapter Two

Miles away from the busy and often hectic city life of Atlanta, nestled in the Berkshire Hills of Massachusetts on a lovely marrow tract of lower land extending into Connecticut is the Garrington Estates.

Garrington Estates has stood on the lush green acres of land for more than three hundred years and is still owned by the original family. Now it is somewhat more than a prospering dairy farm and thoroughbred horse center.

Now it is home and headquarters to a select few brave people who considered it their only job to protect the lives and rights of innocent people around the world.

Jack and Michael Garrington, the current owners, volunteered their ancestral home to help the free world remain just that.

The Garrington Estates is now home to the worlds best two fighting unites: Tiger Force and Eagle Team.

Sanctioned over ten years earlier by the President of the United States, the Estates was known to very few people as Eagle Team handles the domestic problems and their Tiger Force counterparts took the troubles of the rest of the world.

Now though, a part of the Force stood in the Estates underground shooting range testing their skills against the group’s resident weapons expert, John Iron Sky.

Iron Sky is a 6’5", 220-pound former United States Marine, Olympic athlete and a full-blooded Sioux Indian. His long curly black hair was pulled back into a low braid and his tanned face showing his heritage.

Right then he was competing against four people who were at least twenty-five years younger than he was.

Beat that, guys. Iron Sky invited while smiling at his target sheet. Proud of his shooting skills, he tipped his large white Stetson hat to one side to allow a colored feather to fall over its side.

Shots rang from several stalls in the range and all the bullets hit their intended targets nearly perfectly.

Damn. Iron Sky sighed, crossing his massive arms across his muscular chest. I should have known better than to challenge you hotshots to anything concerning guns, he muttered sourly.

John, when it comes to designing weapons, you are certainly the master. Jacob Goldberg, fifty six year old retired Mossad Major and team leader of Tiger Force, stated. However, when it comes to the accurate firing of that weapon, you are dealing with four of the best right here. he added, motioning to the four people with him.

He didn’t include himself in that equation because everyone there knew that when it came to combat the French Israeli was a master of about every kind of combat known.

Iron Sky nodded grimly. Guess I just had to see for myself, Jacob. he declared while looking at the blue-steel gun he was holding. There must be something wrong with the firing chip, he muttered half to himself.

Or there’s something wrong with the user. Matthew Durand commented seriously. It worked fine the other day. The tall, muscular Canadian demolitionist and sharpshooter added.

Alex Calabria, the Force’s prime medic and only Greek/Italian member, laughed in agreement. Greg had no trouble with it. he declared, his voice deep, having only a slight trace of an accent left.

His handsome face deeply tanned, wavy black hair and intense ebony eyes told of both his heritages.

Iron Sky glared at the two men before handing the weapon over to the blond haired girl who was standing there, quietly watching the scene.

Here. See what you can do with this thing, he instructed, adding sourly. You’re the only other one here who knows how it works.

Caitlin Sullivan, the youngest member of both Tiger Force and Eagle Team at twenty three and the owner of Sullivan Industries, shrugged and replaced her Apache ear protectors before taking the new gun the forty year old Native American had designed.

As her partners replaced their own ear protectors, the young British woman assumed a Weavers combat stance with her left hand supporting her right as she fired at a new target sheet.

The gun has a targeting and firing chip that responds to Caitlin’s eyesight. Iron Sky explained to the others over the gunfire.

It had never ceased to amaze the big Sioux that such a young woman could be so good with weapons but he was greatly impressed as always.

You mean if Caitlin looks at the center of the sheet, the gun will target the center automatically? Goldberg asked curiously, pushing his graying blond hair off his forehead and out of his gentle mist blue eyes.

The Indian weapon smith nodded in confirmation. That’s the theory. He admitted as the young woman fired the gun dry, speed loaded and fired again. Each of the 9mm bullets hitting the target perfectly.

It works fine for me, John. Caitlin stated in a British accent, beginning to hand the gun back to him when another pistol fired several times, striking a different, yet deadly, position each time.

Uh-oh. Caitlin whispered, recognizing the sound of the gun instantly because she had grown up around it.

Not bad for plain old human eyes and a plain old gun, eh, mates? a full British Cockney accented voice inquired from the doorway.

Oh, no. Durand groaned, shaking his head with long sable colored hair that was pulled into its usual ponytail. David’s showing off again. he muttered sourly, turning to face the tall, slender handsome Briton who had just shown off his own skill with a pistol. Are you ever gonna give that old relic up? he asked for the hundredth time in their ten year friendship.

David Kincaid, Tiger’s British ace and Caitlin’s older cousin, smiled calmly as he reholstered his 9mm Browning Hi-Power. I’ve told you blokes that I’m not giving up my gun for anything. he declared firmly, and then added with his usual flair for tact. "And certainly not for something that’s run by a bleedin’ microchip.

It is not run by a… Iron Sky began hotly, ready to fight to protect the honor of his creation, when Caitlin pulled her own Browning Hi-Power and fired it at another target.

The young woman’s shots destroying the target before turning to her cousin with a sweet smile of complete innocence.

You’re not the only one who can destroy a target on this team, David, she reminded him while nodding at the target.

Kincaid looked at her for a few silent moments, wondering if he shouldn’t be angry with the girl that he’d raised on and off since she was six days old. Then a warm smile lit his light-skinned face. I taught her everything she knows. he told the others over his shoulder.

Durand snorted. Yeah, sure you did, David. he nodded, grinning. How about that being the other way around. he suggested. I think she can out-shoot you anytime she wanted. She just doesn’t want to humiliate you.

Kincaid turned slowly toward his Canadian best friend, a sharp comment already forming in his brain, but before the friendly fight could start, the shooting range door opened to allow a commanding looking black man with graying hair and a pipe in his mouth walked in, looking grim.

Timothy Bridgeman was Garrington’s controller and head liaison with the President of the United States, as well as one of the top Federal agents in the country.

Am I interrupting something? he asked, chewing on the pipe end as it hung from the corner of his mouth.

The man was fifty-eight years old with more muscle than fat on his body. He had been top in his field before taking a desk job for the government, becoming boss of Garrington Estates and the two teams that worked out of it.

Calabria shrugged. It’s just the usual argument between David and Matt.

Well, pack your bags because you guys are off to Atlanta. Bridgeman declared in a strong Southern accent that his years up East had done nothing to soften. Peter Murphy just called to request Tiger Force’s presence as soon as possible.

The team glanced at each other with surprise. What have those boys done that they need us? Goldberg questioned, knowing the young men had a bad habit of finding trouble.

Bridgeman sighed, obvious reluctant to say. Apparently, the boys had an intruder tonight who drove his car through the south wall. he finally explained.

Caitlin’s mouth dropped open at that statement. Who’d be stupid enough to drive his bloody car through my wall? she demanded.

Rafael. Bridgeman replied quietly then waited for the explosion he knew would come.

The silence that hit the room was deafening as the warriors digested this piece of news. Then reacted in a way that their boss knew was normal for them.

What? Kincaid was sure he heard wrong.

Why would Rafael drive his car through a wall that he knew was almost unbreakable, Tim? Durand asked. What was he thinking?

Peter says our friend was in severe shock, delirious and had extreme blood loss at the time of the crash. Bridgeman declared in a calm voice that was pure politician.

How did it happen? Caitlin’s voice was a near whisper as a cold feeling came over her at the mention of the man’s name that she was in love with.

The black Fed shook his head in regret. No one down there is real sure how or what exactly happened. He’s been unconscious since the crash and he’s in serious condition now. He explained, adding. I figured that you guys would want to get down there right away.

Damn straight. Calabria agreed with a nod.

Tim, please call Gabriel and tell him to meet us at the Atlanta airport. Goldberg requested, motioning to his team. As soon as we grab our stuff we’re out of here, he stated.

Iron Sky frowned deeply as the door swung shut with a hollow slam. Something in my gut or maybe it’s my Sioux heritage coming through but something deep inside tells me that we’re going to have a lot of trouble this time, boss, he stated quietly. He hated to admit that he really believed in all that mystical mumbo jumbo that his grandmother taught him years before.

Yeah, I get the same damn feeling and I wasn’t even taught like you were. Bridgeman agreed grimly, knowing that anything Tiger Force got involved with usually brought big trouble snapping at their heels and this time would probably be no different. Jack, call those other lunatics in Maryland and tell ‘em to get back here pronto. he spoke into the in-house intercom while knowing that recalling the three men of Eagle Team wouldn’t be much help but it would ease his nerves some.

Though the Fed knew whatever was happening in Georgia could only lead Garrington Estates and her two teams into deeper trouble.

*****

Chapter Three

Fourteen hours later found Shay Prescott praying that the remaining Tiger Force warriors arrived before there wasn’t anything to come for.

Most of the security agents from Atlanta and Los Angeles had already exchanged sharp words with the members of the Marauders, but so far no blows had been thrown. At least up until then.

Colby Blake and Peter Murphy were also listening to Jason Gallagher and Toby O’Reilly arguing loudly.

Rafael almost bled to death because your people refused to help get him out of that car faster, or apply medical attention. Jason declared firmly.

I told you once before, Jase, Toby began wearily. My team is here for one reason and one reason only. Playing doctor wasn’t it, he declared, adding calmly. Besides, with all your wonder boys outside one of you should have been able to stop that car before it even hit the damn wall.

Damn, this won’t be pretty. Shay muttered, closing his eyes as he sensed the oncoming fight.

Murphy, meanwhile, had straightened to his full 6’2 height and glared at the younger man. Are you saying that it was our fault that our boss’s best friend almost died?" he demanded in a voice low with suppressed anger.

No, Peter. I am saying that your boys are just plain incompetent in whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing here. Toby corrected with a smile, ignoring the concerned looks his team were giving him.

The Sullivan Industries personal all looked ready to kill by this point. However, as the double oak front doors opened and a tall, athletic man in his late twenties with long blond hair and intelligent brown eyes, walked in, the boys slowly changed their minds about taking any further action.

The man waved the others off and with a cold stare of determination stepped up behind Toby, slowly putting his hand into his leather jacket, coughing softly to gain Toby’s attention.

Yeah, what the hell is…? Toby demanded sourly, turning around impatiently. As soon as he looked up at the new arrival, his mouth felt like dropping and his own brown eyes opened wide. Gabe? he stammered quietly just as the other’s knee was suddenly rammed into his stomach with such force that it doubled him over on the marble floor of the house’s main foyer.

Why me, Lord? Colby wondered aloud. I’m in charge for six lousy months and I already feel the grey hairs popping out. he sighed, watching the confrontation warily.

How the hell have you been, Toby? Gabriel O’Reilly was the twenty-nine year old founder and leader of Sullivan Industries main subsidiary and world known mercenary unit called O’Reilly’s Raiders.

He was also Toby’s older estranged brother and near sworn enemy and even as he was asking his question he was also pulling his .357 Desert Eagle Magnum out of its shoulder holster to aim the weapon on his brother’s head. "Au revoir, mon frere." he murmured, starting to touch the trigger.

It had just started to move when a sharp voice came from the doorway with a practiced authority. Gabriel!

The elder O’Reilly frowned but didn’t lower the weapon. Yes, Jacob? he asked, without bothering to look over his shoulder at the voice.

Just what the hell are you doing? Major Jacob Goldberg demanded sternly.

The rest of Tiger Force and O’Reilly’s Raiders were behind the graying French/Israeli commando in the doorway.

I was just settling some old business with junior here. Gabriel shrugged. "Nothing that concerns