“Well?” Ian asked.
“Nicki’s going to make some calls.” Sean stalked over to the fridge and looked inside. Who wants another beer?”
A chorus of “yos” and “ayes” answered. Gabe couldn’t stand it any longer. “Who’s Nicki?”
“Sean’s croie,” Kane responded.
“His what?”
“His wife,” clarified Jake.
“His better half,” added Ian with a grin.
Gabe failed to see the connection between Sean’s wife and Virginia. “And he called her because . . .?”
Kane gave him a pointed look. “Because your Virginia sounds a hell of a lot like Sean’s Nicki.”
“Even looks like her a little bit,” Ian added, staring down at the tablet that had suddenly appeared in his hands. He turned it around so everyone else could see. It was the photo from the airport security camera that Silas had shown Gabe.
“Yeah, I can see it,” Jake agreed.
“How did you get that?”
Ian grinned. “The rumors are true. I’m just that good.”
It took several minutes of connecting the dots before Gabe said slowly, “Are you telling me that Virginia is not just a rogue sleeper agent? That there’s an actual organization?”
“Whatever gave you that idea?” Ian smirked, his eyes sparkling.
Son of a bitch. There was. And Sean’s wife was—or had been—one of them.
“Tell me,” Gabe said, but Sean was shaking his head before he finished getting the words out. “If there’s anything to tell, we’ll let you know.”
A fresh wave of frustration rose up inside him. Gabe put his beer down hard on the nearest surface and went outside before he said or did something he’d regret. He breathed deeply, pulling in the crisp, clean mountain air to calm himself. Fred sniffed around, intent on marking everything. Before long, Fred was joined by Kane’s massive black monstrosity, Angus, and the two of them engaged in a friendly but determined pissing contest.
Gabe was suddenly aware of Kane’s presence beside him. For as large as he was, he was a stealthy bastard.
“Fuck, Kane. I need to find her.”
“It’s not our call, man.”
“Need to know. I get it. I do.” Gabe exhaled, so sick and tired of that phrase. “But this waiting, the not knowing, it’s eating me alive.”
Kane’s heavy hand landed briefly on his shoulder in silent commiseration before he turned away and went back into the cabin. Gabe remained outside for another hour, walking around the compound with Fred. It reminded him a lot of his own place. Remote. Quiet. Scenic. A great place to get away from everyone and everything.
Except, unlike him, Kane wasn’t alone. He shared this place with his wife and daughter, with his brothers and their families.
That, in itself, wasn’t so unusual. Lots of guys got married and had kids. As Gabe had found out, though, it didn’t always work out for everyone. For men like them, men who needed that occasional rush that came with doing something extra, settling down just wasn’t enough.
The key, Ian informed him much later that night, was not finding a woman, but finding the woman. A croie. The one who was his perfect mate in every way.
Admittedly, Kane and his brothers seemed to have the best of both worlds, managing to strike a perfect balance between the roles of husband, father, and SEAL. Somehow, they’d discovered a way to find happiness without giving up who they were in the process. They hadn’t lost their edge or gone soft. On the contrary, they seemed just as lethal and effective as always, if not more so.
“I thought only women bought into that soul mate crap,” Gabe scoffed, the fine Irish whiskey warming his insides and loosening his tongue. They didn’t have to know that he’d entertained the notion himself a time or twelve, nor that he longed for the kind of connection a soul mate would bring. Rather than be offended, they simply smiled, their eyes filled with knowledge.
One by one, they shared their stories with him. Jake’s had shown up at his pub one night, on the run from a deranged psychopath. Ian had run into his on a bus when she was returning to Pine Ridge to bury her father. Sean’s story most closely aligned with his own and dealt with his wife’s thirst for vengeance. Even Kane had a tale to tell, starting somewhere in the jungle and picking up again with a local flood.
Gabe listened to all of them. By the time they’d finished, he still wasn’t sure he believed in croies, but it was nice to think it was possible. The things they described—the feelings of contentment, of soul-deep rightness—did make him think of the way he’d felt around Virginia.
And, he thought, maybe the way she’d felt around him, too.
Of course, that was all probably just a carefully crafted illusion. Anyone capable of pulling off a decade-long charade was certainly capable of feigning interest, especially when doing so played so perfectly into the overall mission.
But killing Christos and jeopardizing ten years of work to save his ass hadn’t been part of her mission, had it? Neither had allowing herself to show up on a Korfos airport security camera after Darius’s unexpected death using his name.
Sean’s phone rang. He held it up to his ear, his eyes shooting over to Gabe. “Uh-huh . . . Yep . . . Thanks, babe . . . Love you, too. See you tomorrow.”
“Well?” Gabe asked.
“Now, we wait.”
“Wait? Wait for what?” Gabe’s voice came out as a growl. “Do you know where she is or not?”
“Not,” Sean told him firmly. “But the word’s been put out.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means,” Kane said, leveling him with an icy blue gaze, “that we’ve done everything we can.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Virginia
Virginia sucked in a lungful of crisp, clean air and looked down at the stunning vista below. Rolling hills spread out in every direction, dotted with lots of fluffy, white sheep among an abundance of rocks and boulders. A soft breeze carried subtle scents of wild grass, heather and pine. Hiking the Highlands was invigorating, especially without the heavy weight she’d carried on her shoulders for so long. But the ache in her chest was still there.
In the months since Darius’s death, she’d been steadily working her way northwest through Europe, avoiding commercialized travel and staying off the grid. Doing small jobs that required nothing more than a few days of prep, a few weeks at most. Child’s play for someone with her skills, and woefully anti-climactic after Kristikos.
She was thankful for them, though. They gave her something to focus on besides that huge well of emptiness inside. Taking down Darius had been her sole ambition for so long. Now that he was finally gone, she’d lost her primary reason for, well, for everything.
To think, she’d almost blown it all. Years of work nearly tossed away in the blink of an eye, and for what? A man?
No, not just any man, she answered herself, accepting the ache and sense of loss that came every time she allowed herself to think about Gabriel Michaels.
Choosing Gabe’s life over Christos’s had seriously jeopardized what she’d believed was her only chance of getting close to Darius, but it really hadn’t been a choice, not at all. Christos would have killed Gabe in cold blood, and even though it would have been Chris’s finger on the trigger, it would have been a black mark on her soul. Virginia had done some bad things in the interest of the greater good, but no amount of time or effort invested could ever have justified that.
In a bizarre twist of fate, it was Christos’s death that had given her the opening she’d needed. In his grief, Darius had been so desperate for information about what had happened to his son, he hadn’t hesitated to bring her into his home.
Of course, he didn’t know then that she had been the one who’d pulled the trigger. No one did, with the exception of Gabe. There were no eye-witnesses who would go running back to Darius. As far as Darius knew, Christos had sent her away in an effort to protect her, because that’s what she’d told him.
<
br /> That was her big reveal in those last, sweet, sweet moments when Darius himself stared down the barrel of her gun. She’d made sure he knew exactly who she was and what she’d done before she killed him, taking a measure of perverse satisfaction in the sheer hatred she’d seen in his eyes, because it was only at that moment he could truly understand her pain.
She’d taken his sons, years after Darius Kristikos had taken hers.
It wasn’t exactly the same. She hadn’t set out with the intention of killing either Robert or Christos. Both were just supposed to be a means of getting to Darius, nothing more.
Neither one of them had been innocents, either. Their hands might not have been as dirty as their father’s, but they weren’t lily white. Robert was a philandering asshole who used his good looks and his position at the university to enjoy extra office hours with pretty, young coeds. Christos used his “legitimate” businesses to launder billions in illegal arms trafficking, indirectly playing a part in the loss of thousands of lives.
Her boys, though . . . their only crime was having a father who worked for Darius Kristikos. Not a day went by when she didn’t feel the pain of their loss. It wasn’t as sharp as it had once been. Twenty years had dulled the edge somewhat. But not enough. It would never be enough.
Her phone chimed, bringing her back to the present. She looked down at the screen, seeing the message from Taser. Her boss. Her savior. And the only other person alive who knew the truth.
Time to come home.
A shiver ghosted over her skin at the thought of returning to the US. She hadn’t been back since that clusterfuck with Christos. Inwardly, she winced, knowing that she’d left a hell of a mess for Taser to clean up in her wake. Yet clean up he had, working his magic to minimize the fallout. Now, it seemed, the bill had come due.
She could ignore the summons and just disappear, but she wouldn’t do that. It was Taser who had taught her everything, given her the means and the opportunity to exact vengeance. Because of him, she would live the rest of her days in relative peace, knowing that the world was a better place without Darius Kristikos in it. She’d gladly spend the rest of her days repaying that debt.
Virginia took one last look around, inhaled deeply, then turned and began the long hike back toward town.
Chapter Forty-Three
Virginia
Virginia trudged through the packed powder, working her way up the steep slope toward the Swiss chalet style A-frame, deep in the Rocky Mountains, far away from civilization. It was the only place of its kind for miles. Golden light shone from massive windows beneath snow-laden eaves, and wisps of white-gray smoke curled up into an inky black sky filled with thousands of twinkling, celestial lights.
Rumor had it, Taser had places like this all over the world. Other than the training facility, the location of which remained a closely guarded secret, Virginia had only been to one other.
Reaching the door, she found it unlocked. She smiled, knowing Taser would have been aware of her from the moment she’d crossed some unseen perimeter, tracking her every step. A welcome wave of heat hit her as she stepped inside.
She took off her coat, hat, gloves, and scarf, hanging them on the hooks just inside the door. She slipped out of her boots and placed them on the big mat next to the pair already there, then padded across the polished hardwood on silent feet.
She found Taser lounging in a hot tub on the back deck.
“Welcome back,” he said by way of greeting. “There’s a bathing suit in the guest room. Unless, of course, you prefer to go without.”
His golden eyes twinkled with challenge and devilish charm.
“Are you naked?” she asked.
“Get in and find out.”
She laughed, comfortable in the knowledge that Taser was all talk and no action when it came to that sort of thing. Playful comments and sexual innuendos were part of his act. No one, including her, knew anything about the real man behind the Chameleons. Taser might know everything there was to know about his people, but it didn’t work the other way around. Everyone had their own theories about what had driven him to create the elite team, but that’s all they were: theories.
Virginia went into the guest room, unsurprised to see it stocked with everything she’d need for a few days’ stay: jeans, tops, shoes—all in her size—as well as an assortment of personal care items. A bathing suit was on the bed, just as he’d said. It was a classic black one-piece, something she would have chosen for herself.
That was another thing about Taser—he knew people, sometimes better than they knew themselves. He possessed a gift that allowed him to get inside their heads and know what they thought, what they liked, what they were and were not capable of. If he wasn’t a bona fide psychic, he was the closest thing to one she’d ever seen.
It was Taser who psychoanalyzed each and every possible candidate for the Chameleons. She’d heard a rumor that less than one percent of those who came up for consideration made it to an initial interview. She believed it.
Being a Chameleon was a lifetime commitment. She once likened Taser to the devil himself. Handsome as sin and smooth as glass, he showed up when things looked bleakest, offering a new life in exchange for their souls. He’d liked her analogy so much, she’d heard he’d started signing contracts in dark red ink that resembled blood.
The training had been brutal, both physically and mentally; the life of a Chameleon was not for everyone, but she was grateful for it. Taser had taken her brokenness, her grief, and her rage and used them to transform her into a real-life avenger with purpose. How many people could say that?
She changed into the suit, gathered her hair into a high knot at the back of her head, and rejoined him on the deck, enduring the cold air for only a few seconds before slipping into the heat of the hot tub. In the brief time she’d been gone, a tray had appeared beside the hot tub, complete with wine, cheese, crackers, and grapes. His eyes opened almost lazily, their light golden-brown hue glowing in the ambient lighting as he appraised her. There was nothing sexual in his gaze, only professional assessment.
“You look good, Tenebris.”
“Thanks.”
“Tell me about your travels.”
She understood it for what it was: small talk to put her at ease while they worked up to the heavy stuff. As they sipped wine, she nibbled on the snacks and regaled him with tales of hiking the Highlands and touring the vineyards of rural France, as well as her brief excursions through Romania and Belgium during her “downtime” between assignments. Traveling the world without having to worry about expense was another added perk of the job.
The wine was excellent. The food, delicious. He listened to her ramble on, mostly without interruption. She knew he was analyzing every word, every inflection, everything she said and didn’t say, gauging her state of mind.
“So,” he said when she’d finished, “does that mean you’re ready to get back to work?”
“I thought that’s what I have been doing.”
He chuckled. “Those softballs I’ve been throwing you? Please.”
They had been extraordinarily easy assignments. And exactly what she’d needed. Of course, he’d known that.
“That was quite a stunt you pulled in Korfos,” he said finally.
Virginia wasn’t surprised Taser knew about that, but she was surprised it had taken him so long to bring it up. There really was no good explanation for what she’d done, so she didn’t insult him by pretending there was. She slipped further into the heavenly hot water and let the heat soak deep into her bones.
He wasn’t about to let her off that easy, though. “Mind telling me why you allowed yourself to be captured on surveillance? And why you chose that name in particular?”
She didn’t bother opening her eyes. “Something tells me you already know the answers to both of those questions.”
“You’re playing with fire, Tenebris. I hope he’s worth it.”
“If I didn’t think he was worth it, I would
n’t have done it,” she told him. “But it doesn’t matter. It’s over.” She’d wanted Gabe to get the message, but she’d made sure she’d covered her tracks.
“Are you sure about that, sweetheart?”
Something about the tone of his voice made her open her eyes. She found Taser staring at her intently, the power of those golden-browns a tangible thing.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know exactly what it means.”
A tiny bit of hope bubbled up inside her. Could Gabe still be looking for her?
Reality quickly snuffed out that burgeoning spark. Even if he had been trying to track her down, he’d hit nothing but dead ends. Taser had trained her well, and she was exceptionally good at what she did.
“He’ll give up eventually.”
“Is that what you want?”
“It doesn’t matter, does it?” she said, irritated by that damn bubble of hope that tried to rise up again. “I belong to you, remember? I traded my soul for the chance to take down Kristikos.”
The corners of his lips twitched. “That’s true.”
His ready agreement prickled. She shut her eyes again and used discreet deep breathing techniques to regulate her heart, which had begun to beat faster with the mention of Gabe. They lapsed back into silence, only the bubbling of the water and the hum of the jets cutting into the stillness. Virginia forced all thoughts of Gabriel Michaels to the far corners of her mind. She’d chosen her path willingly and would walk it with her spine straight and her head held high, no matter how much her chest ached.
“He’s called in reinforcements,” Taser said after a while.
“So? As you’ve said many times, you can’t find that which doesn’t exist, and rule number one is, we don’t exist.”
“Also true,” he agreed. “But, as you proved in Korfos, there are exceptions to every rule.”
She opened her eyes again. “What are you not telling me, Taser?”
SEAL Out of Water (Silver SEALs, #7) Page 18
