MERCILESS

by Christy Reece

  “Finished?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  Speculatively, she watched Ash clean up the coffee table. Every time she’d asked if she could help, he had declined. Was it his way to do everything himself, or was he being polite? Either way, it needed to stop. She was almost one hundred percent again and needed him to see that.

  When he came back and sat on the other end of the sofa from her, she said, “So when are we going back to work?”

  “In a few days. Don’t worry. The rest of the team is keeping busy. OZ never sleeps.”

  “I feel fine. There’s no need to stay away on my account.”

  For several long seconds, he eyed her as if he were a scientist and she were an interesting specimen he’d never encountered. Jules held his gaze, refusing to give him an inch. She knew her strengths, knew what she could handle.

  “Did you know that you scream in your sleep?”

  He said the statement so mildly, one would think he was discussing the weather. Still, her heart gave an extra thud of dread. Her nightmares were not a topic for discussion.

  Refusing to allow him to put her on the defensive, Jules matched his mild tone when she answered. “I’ve never taken anyone’s life. Even though it was self-defense, I would think nightmares would be normal. Doesn’t mean they’ll have any impact on my job.”

  For the most part, until this latest event, she had been able to relegate the nightmares and night terrors to only a couple every month or so. Even then, they usually came after she’d hunted down a killer. She had known they were back, she just hadn’t known that she’d screamed out loud.

  “Can’t argue that. I have them on occasion, too.”

  Barely breathing, she waited for more questions. Asher Drake was known for not backing down. Talking about her nightmares without discussing their content would be impossible. She wasn’t ready to go that far. When he found out the truth, everything would end. It was too soon. She had accomplished nothing. She had to have more time.

  “What made you decide to create OZ?”

  The lame attempt to change the subject brought a slightly raised brow, but no other reaction. And he did her a favor by actually answering the question.

  “A lot of different reasons. After I left the FBI, I didn’t do anything for a while. Kate called and asked for a favor. It felt good to be doing something productive again…to help someone. After that, another job cropped up, then another. We were a group of friends with specific skills that could be utilized to do good things. We worked well together, trusted each other. We just needed a name and a place to work from.”

  “And Option Zero? How’d that name come about?”

  He lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug, but his words were some of the most profound she’d ever heard. “At our core, that’s who we are. We help people who have nowhere else to turn, who have zero options. We’ve been there ourselves. The name made sense to us.”

  And that was one of the biggest reasons Asher Drake fascinated her so much. She knew his past…knew the things he’d been through. Instead of allowing bitterness and grief to overtake him, he had let his circumstances motivate him to help others.

  In part, he was the reason she hunted down killers. Yes, she did so because of her past, but Ash was the person she’d had in the back of her mind when she’d first started hunting. Like Ash, she had a unique perspective and specific abilities. She, too, had been stuck in limbo for a long time, unable to get past her pain. Hunting monsters became her way of coping.

  “I know I’ve only been involved in a couple of ops, but neither of them was to help just one individual.”

  “Some are, some aren’t. A few are ongoing. Even though I make the final decision, we have a meeting once a week to discuss possible cases. Everyone gives input.”

  “Kate said that you have a tremendous network to pull from. How did you gain so much trust in such a short amount of time? OZ has only been in existence…what? Five years?”

  “I think you’re confusing trust with need. We’re given intel to handle a situation. What we aren’t given we get through any means necessary to accomplish our objectives.”

  “Like what?”

  “Barter, bribe, coerce, intimidate. It’s not always pretty, but to get the results we need, we sometimes have to get creative with our intel gathering.”

  “What are some of the ongoing cases?”

  “The one with Schrader is our biggest.”

  “How did it come about?”

  Jules listened as Ash described the care he’d taken in creating Humphrey, fascinated by the intricate details. She had a lot of experience with creating a false identity, but OZ had taken this to a completely different level. Breathing life into a nonexistent person was one thing. Faking identifications and past history were done all the time for various reasons. Creating a man with Humphrey’s reputation was an undertaking few could carry off.

  “Through Humphrey, we’ve been able to apprehend some low-level arms dealers and one terrorist wannabe. Taking Carl Lang down will be our most ambitious project so far.”

  “Will you retire Humphrey after this?”

  “Hard to say. Hate to lose what we’ve built. We’ve put so much work into him. But if by sacrificing Humphrey, we successfully take Lang, it’ll be worth it.”

  “When do you think the auction will take place?”

  “Within the next couple of weeks. Even though he’s injured, Omar won’t put it off. He takes pride in his negotiations, and since his latest one was an abysmal failure, he’ll want to put it behind him as soon as possible.”

  “Will this op involve the whole team?”

  “Yeah. All hands on deck.”

  “You’re Navy?”

  “Marine.”

  “For how long?”

  “Eight years active.”

  “Once a Marine, always a Marine?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You didn’t want to make it a career?”

  “Thought long and hard about it, but—” A shadow crossed his face, and he shrugged. “I was married then. Meg and I wanted kids, but we both wanted to be there for them. We decided to wait until I got out to start a family.”

  “That didn’t work out.”

  “No. We had trouble conceiving…then trouble elsewhere. It wasn’t in the cards.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I guess you know what happened.”

  “Some of it.”

  “Never saw it coming.”

  “How could you? You’d caught the monster. How could you know he would escape?”

  “It was my job to know. I failed at both.”

  “Both?”

  “My job as a husband was to protect my wife. My job as an agent was to expect shit like that to happen and be prepared to handle it.”

  Insisting that Meg’s death wasn’t his fault would do no good. She knew more than her share about that kind of guilt. No matter what you did, no matter how hard you tried, it clung to you like a leech. Eventually, that guilt became embedded inside you, became a part of who you were, what decisions you made.

  “You managed to catch him again.”

  “Yeah.” His disgust evident. “I did do that.”

  Unable to stop herself, Jules reached for his hand and squeezed it gently. It wasn’t much…it wasn’t anything, really. Right now, this was all she had.

  “You quit the agency after that?”

  His smile was bitter. “‘Quit’ might not be the right word. More like I was encouraged to leave.”

  “You apprehended a sadistic serial killer twice. What would make them…”

  “Let’s just say that the Bureau doesn’t take kindly to one of their agents accusing a sitting senator of arranging a murder.”

  She told herself to stop right there. She knew the story. There was no reason for him to tell it. She knew every intricate detail of how Clark had been apprehended. Cockiness or carelessness, maybe both, had finally led the FBI to a hole in the wall motel in Orego
n where he’d been staying while terrorizing another city.

  The first takedown had been quick, without even a hint of bloodshed. But then the bastard had inexplicably escaped. The second capture had been neither quick nor bloodless. Clark had been lying in wait, ready to kill Ash. The tables had turned dramatically. FBI Agent Asher Drake had single-handedly almost beaten the monster to death.

  She also knew all about the senator. There was nothing new that Ash could tell her. But she had to ask more questions for two reasons. First, she needed to hear the facts from Ash, no matter how painful they would be to hear. And second, not asking questions would look suspicious. What person wouldn’t want answers after his statement?

  “You think someone…a senator…arranged for Clark’s release?”

  “Escape, not release. And I don’t think it, I know it. Proving it is another issue altogether.”

  “But why—”

  “It’s a long story. Condensed version is I was in Colombia on what I thought was a simple protection detail. We got attacked by a local cartel. The people we were protecting heloed out of there, leaving us to fight our way out. Senator Nora Turner was one of those people.”

  “Why would…”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to find out since I recognized her. I confronted her, and she denied it, of course.

  “Then we caught a break and finally captured Clark. He was tried and convicted, headed to prison for the rest of his life. His transportation had some problems. Next thing I knew, he’d escaped.”

  “And he found you and your wife.”

  “Yeah…he found us.”

  “And you think…sorry, you believe Turner arranged all of it. But why? If she wanted you dead, wouldn’t it be a lot easier to just hire someone to kill you?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know what her thinking was. My instincts tell me she did it to make it look as though Clark had a vendetta against me.”

  “But you don’t think that’s the case?”

  “Oh, I’m sure he has a vendetta against me, but how many people would have the ability to find a lake house five hours away from my home? Clark had to have connections and intel to find me. The only person who was remotely interested in seeing me dead back then was Turner. She got the intel to Clark and made arrangements for his escape. He took care of the rest.”

  “Have you asked her?”

  “Not exactly. I confronted her on the steps of the Capitol. Got arrested. Somehow, the press never reported anything about it. I was given the opportunity to resign from the FBI and ordered to stay away from Turner.”

  “Have you?”

  “No, I have not.”

  She almost smiled at that adamant reply. Giving up was not in Asher Drake’s DNA.

  “And OZ is working to find proof for you?”

  “Yes. And we will. One day, maybe when she least expects it, Nora Turner will finally get exactly what she deserves.”

  Jules’s heart squeezed. She so wanted to tell him the truth. But she kept her mouth closed. If he knew what Turner was up to, what would he do?

  Ash had given a succinct, condensed version of what had happened. The pain and guilt she knew he must feel were deeply buried. Determination to bring Turner down had taken the forefront, which was how Asher Drake coped. She understood that kind of coping mechanism all too well.

  Jules had watched all the drama from the sidelines, unable to do anything other than swear that someday, somehow, she would find a way to help Asher Drake get the justice he sought.

  She would not stop until she had fulfilled that promise.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  His right fist slammed into the leather boxing bag, followed by his left. He repeated the process again and again, looking for relief from a multitude of frustrations. Ash had to give himself credit. He definitely knew how to spoil a mood. He’d initiated the conversation, hoping to get Jules to talk about herself and her issues. Instead, he’d ended up talking about how his monumental screw-up had gotten his wife killed.

  The conversation had halted after that. Even though he might’ve gotten Jules to talk, his mood had taken a downturn. His only choice had been to get away from her for a while. The hotel gym offered him just what he needed. A half hour at the boxing bag had given him a much-needed release.

  The bag in front of him alternated between two faces. One was the chubby-cheeked, innocuous-looking visage that hid a sadistic, cold-blooded killer. The other was a strong, female face belonging to the woman who had manipulated a broken system for no other reason than to cover her own ass.

  Only a few people knew the true events of that night. One of the biggest reasons was because Ash had no proof. On the surface, it had looked like a series of unfortunate, completely unrelated events. Events that had enabled a serial killer to escape and find the FBI agent who months before had apprehended him. The van transporting the criminal to the maximum-security prison had broken down. New transportation had been called, but had somehow been delayed. During that time, John Leland Clark had taken down two guards and escaped. How Clark had been able to find the lake house remained a mystery, but powerful people had ways of obtaining information. He knew to the depths of his soul that Nora Turner was responsible. She had used her power with single-minded ruthlessness to get her way.

  Regret was a helluva thing. If he hadn’t pushed Turner about her involvement in the incident in Colombia, Meg would still be alive. In demanding justice for the men who’d died, he had become a target. And Meg had lost her life.

  With no proof of Turner’s involvement, Ash had come off looking like a grieving, paranoid fool with an ax to grind. But he knew who was responsible, and he would have proof someday. He would not stop until he got justice for Meg. And for the men Turner was responsible for leaving behind.

  They were getting closer. Even though the cover-up appeared impenetrable, Ash was finally seeing cracks in the surface. He just needed a little more time.

  “Are you okay?”

  He’d been pounding so hard, so deep in thought, he hadn’t been aware of his surroundings. A great way to get himself killed.

  The compassion in Jules’s eyes was almost his undoing. She had strength, kindness, intelligence, and wit. Plus, she possessed a strong desire to right wrongs and see that justice was served. From her beauty, to her strength of character, to her skill as an operative—all of her attracted him like no one had since Meg.

  The temptation of losing himself in Jules’s soft body and comforting arms was almost undeniable. Forgetting his tortured thoughts, even for a few minutes, would be a reprieve he longed for with an aching intensity. Damned if he would do that to her. He had never used a woman in his life, and he would not start now.

  “I’m fine. Sorry. Sometimes, the only thing that helps is to pound the hell out of something.”

  “Totally understand. It’s my favorite way, too.” She touched her shoulder and grimaced. “I think my arm is a little too sore for that, but a half hour on the treadmill would be good.”

  They were back to being polite strangers. While he regretted that, it was for the best. His thoughts about Jules had been altogether too tender. There was little room in his life for those kinds of feelings, especially for an OZ operative.

  Giving her a nod, he headed to the exit. “I’ll leave you to it.”

  “Wait…Ash. I wanted to ask…I mean, I wanted to say that if you ever need someone to talk to about…things, I’m a good listener.”

  There was that wash of tenderness again. Before he could give in to temptation, he gave her a quick nod of thanks and walked out the door.

  * * *

  The instant the door slammed closed, Jules let out a shaky breath. Seeing Ash’s pain was a difficult thing to bear. Would it get better once he got the justice he deserved? She could only hope.

  Knowing she had no choice but to proceed, Jules pulled the burner phone from her pocket. She’d hidden the phone in a secret sleeve of her suitcase, but today was the first time she’d c
hecked for messages. There were five missed calls and five voice mails. All from the same person, each one demanding information.

  Telling Turner not to call her had been like telling the wind not to blow. The woman’s persistence would have been admirable if she’d been doing this for any other reason than to protect herself.

  Jules pressed the callback key and rolled her eyes when Turner answered on the first ring with a grating, “It’s about damn time. Where have you been? I’ve been calling you for days.”

  Giving the excuse that she’d been busy wasn’t going to work this time. The senator was expecting results. If Jules didn’t give her something, Turner might fire her on the spot. That couldn’t happen. At least not yet.

  “I overheard a conversation this morning that could be exactly what you’re looking for.” Jules sold the lie, embellishing certain elements to make it seem as if, with the right spin, Asher Drake were skirting the edges of treason.

  “This is perfect!”

  “It’s not much right now. I’ll be able to gather more soon. I—”

  “It’s a great start. We can build on it…make it seem a whole lot worse. One tiny seed of doubt can grow into a forest of suspicion. By the time we’re through with him, Asher Drake won’t be able to get a job as a gravedigger. Once he’s gone, it’s just a matter of time before that ridiculous organization of his is history, too.”

  Jules ground her teeth so hard, her jaws ached. Asher Drake and Option Zero saved countless lives and brought evil people to justice. Calling them a “ridiculous organization” was like calling Turner an honorable human being.

  This might be the toughest job she’d ever had. Pretending excitement to ruin a good man, all the while acting as if she were in cahoots with a woman she despised. But if this worked, it would be one of the most worthwhile things she’d ever done.

  “When can you get me names and locations?”

  “I don’t know yet. I’m still trying to gain his trust. He’s still careful around me.”

  “Don’t worry about getting everything. If you can get me just one name, I’ll have my people start working up a story.”