We heard a knock. I wrapped myself in one of the robes the hotel supplied, and padded to the door in anticipation of dinner’s arrival.
Instead of room service, my sister stood on the other side. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said, thrusting my medicine pack at me. “Forgive me, Miles.”
“Wait,” I said when she began to walk away. I opened the pack, removed a single bottle, zipped it closed, and handed it back to her. There weren’t many pills in the bottle I chose. I’d picked it intentionally. “I’ll be in touch.”
Lily nodded. “If you need anything…”
I pulled her into my arms and hugged her. “Thank you, Lil.”
“I love you, Miles.”
I nodded and watched as she walked to the lift without looking back. I closed the door and turned to find Pia standing a few feet from me.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“For?”
“Not realizing you would need more.” Her gaze was on the bottle of pills in my hand.
“I don’t want to need more, Pia.”
She stepped closer and put her arms around me. “Tell me what I can do, Mylos.”
I led her over to the sofa and sat beside her. “I’m going to contact Carson and see if he can arrange for me to get into a treatment program.” With wide eyes, she hung on my every word. “It will need to be at an in-patient facility.”
“Okay.”
“I know you need to get back to Valentini, but if there is any way you could stay until I’ve spoken with Carson…”
“I will stay, Mylos. As long as you need me to.”
The next morning, Pia and I hired a car from the hotel. We drove together to the Wellington Rehabilitation Centre, where Carson stood outside, waiting.
“Thank you, Pia,” I said before kissing her, long and hard. “You gave me my life back.”
“Mylos, I—”
I kissed away her words. “I’ll see you soon?”
“Sì. Soon.”
12
Grinder
Two Years Later
London, England
“You’re better suited staying with MI5,” said Z Alexander. As disappointed as I was not to be promoted to a position in Military Intelligence Section 6, I wouldn’t complain. Not to Z, not to anyone. I was lucky to work here at all. SIS had taken a big chance on me eighteen months ago when I finished rehab, and I appreciated the opportunity.
“Thank you, sir,” I said when Z picked up a file on his desk and began thumbing through it. When he nodded, I stood and walked out.
“Well?” asked Edge, waiting for me.
“Remaining with MI5.”
“I’m staying put too.”
I raised a brow and studied him. “Why?”
“Z’s decision, mate.”
“That’s bloody bullshit.” I slammed past him. Instead of waiting for the lift, I took the stairs. When I got to street level, Edge was waiting for me. “I don’t need a fucking nursemaid,” I seethed.
“Did it occur to you that this wasn’t my choice?”
“Sod off.” What I wanted more than anything was a pint, but since Edge would just follow me, I stalked in the direction of my flat. As I expected, he remained by my side the entire way.
When we arrived at my building, he followed me upstairs. Had I really expected him to do differently? I handed him a beer and sat down.
“I know you’re brassed off, but look at it this way, our careers have always followed the same path. How is this any different than both of us being accepted to Monckton, or getting the same intel assignment?”
“You could do better,” I muttered, watching as he took a long drink.
“Now you can sod off.”
Most of the MI5 missions were cooperative assignments with MI6. Domestic terrorism was on the rise, necessitating a combined effort with the international section.
We were in our morning briefing with one of the senior MI6 agents, Rile, when Z Alexander stepped into the room. “Wilder, repeat what you’ve just told me.” He put the call on speaker so we could all hear.
“There are reports coming in that there have been five simultaneous explosions in the underground. Stepping Square, Kensington Street, Lawrence Road, Chancery, and Hampstead stations. Multiple fatalities.”
Z nodded at the collective group, and we began mobilizing into predetermined teams. MI5 would lead the action since the attacks occurred within the UK. Additional resources would be arriving; our number-one priority would be to get bomb squads out to as many stations as we could, as quickly as possible. That there would be more explosions, more fatalities, was an imminent threat.
“You okay?” asked Edge as we donned tactical gear.
I looked behind us to see if anyone else was in earshot. “I don’t know.”
My expectation was that I would “enter a zone” and do what needed to be done. However, if another explosion occurred within range, I honestly couldn’t predict what my reaction would be. There wasn’t another living soul I’d admit that to. Edge knew that, and I trusted him.
“Ready?” he asked.
I nodded and followed him out the door.
Each team was sent to a different station. I went to Arnos Grove; Edge, to Warren. As I rode in the transport vehicle, thoughts raced through my mind. I put my hands on my head, feeling a migraine coming on like those I suffered when the memories of the explosion became unbearable.
This was the true test of whether I was capable of performing the duties for which I’d vowed. If I failed, I doubted I’d be able to live with myself.
I reached into my pocket and rubbed the stone that had become my talisman. It had been in my right trouser pocket the day I came as close to dying as a man ever should. Given the men triaging me had to cut the clothing from my body, the fact that the stone had been recovered was a testament to its power.
I closed my eyes, allowing myself to picture Pia the last time we were together. She’d given me a gift, and no matter whether we were ever able to find our way back to each other, I’d remain eternally grateful to her for bringing me back into the light.
The transport pulled up to the Arnos Grove station, and our team exited the vehicle. Something was about to go down here; I could feel it in my bones.
As Rile directed the team to unload the bomb dogs, officially known as explosive detection canines, I turned in a slow circle, surveying the scene and getting a read on my surroundings.
A double-decker bus full of tourists was headed in our direction. So far, the bombings had been in the underground, not out on the street, but there was just something nagging at me. I spun around and whistled at Rile, who was headed down into the tube.
“Hold up!” I shouted, pointing at the bus.
He nodded and called after another team member. They were headed my way when we heard it. An explosion tore the roof off the double-decker, sending debris flying through the air. In horror, I ran toward the scene. Before I could see well enough to start pulling out victims, the top level of the bus collapsed into the bottom.
This was it. The first test of the kind of man I was. There were people inside that bus, bodies on fire the same as mine had been.
Without further hesitation, I raced in and began pulling the victims, both dead and alive, from the rubble. Beside me were the team I’d arrived here with along with countless other civilian volunteers.
At final count, sixty-three people died in the bus explosion, including some who were hit by flying debris. The explosive device had gone off on the rear of the top level. The majority of casualties had been seated in that area and had suffered burns ranging from seventy to ninety percent of their body.
Hours later, the bomb dogs had found ten more undetonated devices in a van parked one block from Arnos Grove.
The casualty count from the tube explosions hadn’t yet been verified, given the number of locations and the difficulty in body recovery. Injury counts were in the thousands.
“Three weeks mandatory l
eave,” Z said when he called me into this office after the final briefing on the terrorist attacks.
“Unnecessary,” I countered. In fact, that Z thought I needed it, really brassed me off. I’d done my duty without hesitation, even in the face of something that might’ve cut me off at my knees.
He looked up at me and scrunched his eyes. “Did you not hear the word mandatory?”
“Is anyone else on forced leave?”
Z stood and rested both of his hands on the desk in front of him. “Yes.”
I suppose he was waiting for me to challenge him, but I didn’t.
“Whether you were injured during a previous mission or not, the same edict would’ve come down. This is not personal. Be on your way, then, before I extend it to four weeks.”
“Yes, sir.”
I left his office and went to mine. I didn’t keep much here; I was rarely at Vauxhall Cross. I was about to walk out when Rile, the MI6 agent who had been with me at Arnos Grove, caught up with me.
“Forced leave?” I asked.
“Mandatory,” he growled in an accent that was as much Spanish as it was English. I knew his background. Cortez “Rile” DeLéon’s father, Carlos DeLéon, Duke of Soria, was the youngest brother of King Felipe VI of Spain. His mother was second cousin to Elizabeth II, Queen of the United Kingdom. With dual citizenship and connectivity to royalty, Rile had become an early asset to SIS.
With that kind of lineage, it was impossible to say whether his affectations were that, or just who he was.
“Fancy a pint?” he said, motioning to the pub across from Vauxhall Cross.
“I’ll have one.”
When we walked in, Edge was already seated at one of the tables. He waved us over.
“Go ahead,” said Rile, indicating he’d place our order.
“Is this a coincidence?” I asked as I sat on the other side of the table.
“Hardly,” he answered, laughing.
“What’s it about, then?”
Rile sat down and set a glass in front of me and handed the other to Edge.
“Gentlemen,” he said. “Thank you for joining me.”
I raised an eyebrow at Edge, and we both laughed. Rile continued as though we hadn’t.
“I’m leaving MI6.”
I looked at Edge a second time, and he shrugged.
“I’d like you both to come with me.”
“Where are you going, mate?” Edge asked.
Rile raised a brow, but not in humor.
“Right,” said Edge. “But seriously. Where?”
“I’m starting my own firm. Private security and intelligence. I’m looking for partners.”
I leaned back, suddenly uncomfortable with the direction of this conversation. “I can’t speak for Edge, but why me?”
Rile brushed his bottom lip with his index finger. “I’m curious why you would question it.”
“Some say I’m more of a liability than an asset.”
Rile nodded. “They weren’t at Arnos Grove.”
“Is Lennox aware you’re approaching us?”
Lennox, known by those in SIS as Lynx, was Keon’s older brother. Like Rile, he was a senior agent in MI6.
Rile nodded his head slowly. He appeared amused. “He is aware.”
“What about Z?”
“As it so happens, he indicated he would be anxious to work with a firm such as ours.”
“Did he, now?”
I didn’t know Rile well enough to have much of an opinion of him, but it seemed as though Edge didn’t like him. Either that, or he was in a particularly argumentative mood tonight. Which, of late, had been happening on a more frequent basis.
“I’ve another question.”
I considered kicking Edge under the table. I didn’t understand why he was being so combative. If this was something he didn’t want to do, wouldn’t it be easier to simply decline Rile’s offer?
He motioned for Edge to go on.
“What’s the buy-in?”
Rile smiled. Not grinned or smirked—smiled. “Five mil.”
“Euros?”
“Pounds sterling.”
It was a hefty amount, but Rile wouldn’t have approached either of us if he didn’t already know we had it.
“What’s the split?” Edge asked.
“Equal. Among four.”
“Who’s the fourth?” I asked.
“Decker Ashford.”
I was tempted, but held it in. Edge, on the other hand, laughed out loud. “Good bloody luck. No way in hell Ashford will sign on.”
I watched Rile’s reaction. He clearly knew something neither Edge nor I did. If I were a betting man, I’d lay odds Ashford had already agreed.
Most in the intelligence world knew of the American man by reputation alone. There were rumors that when Z Alexander married a woman from Texas and settled in the States, he adopted Ashford when he was a teen. Seeing something in the boy, Z made arrangements for him to study with the master of all masters of intelligence technology—Burns Butler. It was said that even Burns considered Decker to be more accomplished in the field.
There were also rumors that governments, including the UK and the US, had offered Ashford ungodly sums of money to come work for them, and he’d consistently refused. Even Burns’ son, Kade, who was also a partner in a private intelligence firm, had attempted to recruit Decker. If Rile was so confident he’d be successful where so many others had not, I could only assume he had something on the guy. Something big.
“I’m in, as long as both Ashford and Grinder are.”
Rile brushed his bottom lip with his finger like he had earlier. It was a tell, but I hadn’t figured out exactly what for yet.
“You’re either in or you’re out. There are no ifs.”
Edge nodded. “Did Lennox turn you down?”
“Why would you ask?”
“I’m assuming you went to him first.”
Rile shook his head slowly. His expression changed to one of disappointment.
“I’m in.” I blurted the words almost as a man possessed. Seconds ago, I was leaning toward a polite decline.
Edge’s eyes opened wide. “You are?”
I nodded.
“Bloody hell. Then, I am too.”
For the second time, Rile smiled.
“What are we calling ourselves?” I asked.
“The Invincible Intelligence and Security Group.”
Edge looked from Rile to me and back again. “You can’t be serious?”
For a third time, Rile smiled, confirming he was serious, indeed.
13
Pia
Val d’Orcia, Italy
“You’re going to have to make some kind of decision, Pia,” said Georgio. I lost count of how many times we’d had this conversation. “We don’t have the money we need to invest in new equipment, and without it, we’re crippled. The longer you wait, the less you’ll be able to get for it.”
I knew Georgio was right, I just couldn’t bear the thought of selling Valentini. “There are other things I’m working on. Things that can bring in additional income.”
“Like what?”
“It isn’t to do with the winery.”
The door opened then, and Lucia walked in. “Am I interrupting?”
Before I could answer, Georgio stood and stalked out.
“What was that about?”
I didn’t want to burden Lucia, but I needed someone to talk to. “He wants me to sell.”
“Georgio wants you to sell? What business is it of his?”
“Things aren’t going well, Lucia.”
“I’m sure Matteo would be more than happy to help you. He’s offered many times.”
“I thought you said he had a new job?”
“He does, but if he knew you were struggling this much, I’m sure he could work something out.”
“I appreciate that, Lucia, but this is my problem to solve.” As hard as it would be, I’d reached the point where I’d have to t
ell my mother how bad things had gotten.
“I’m sorry, Pia.” She looked out the window for a minute and then back at me. “What about Mylos? What happened when you saw him in London? You never really said.”
While Mylos and I didn’t make each other any promises, the fact that I’d heard so little from him after he entered rehab, hurt. I’d written a couple of letters, got perfunctory responses, and then gave up. I hoped I’d hear more from him, but I hadn’t.
“There isn’t anything he can do, Lucia.”
“Maybe not, but maybe you could go and visit him again. You know, just to get your mind off things.”
I knew my friend was trying to help, but she was only making me feel worse. “That’s a good idea. I’ll think about it.”
The next morning, I heard an alert that someone was at the front gate as I exited the shower. The winery wasn’t open yet, so other than workers, who would have the code, no one should be entering Valentini at this hour. Whoever it was, I was sure would realize we weren’t open yet and leave.
I finished drying myself and getting dressed and was about to go to the kitchen when I heard a knock at the front door.
My mother, a night owl, wouldn’t be up this early, so I padded my way downstairs, puzzled by why neither Nonna Bella nor Nonna Carina had come to see who was knocking. I looked out the window, surprised to see Paolo.
“What are you doing here?” He called from time to time to check to see how I was doing, but I hadn’t seen him since we ran into each other at the hotel in London.
“Buongiorno, Pia.” He winked.
I smiled and lowered my eyes. “Buongiorno, Paolo.”
“Can I come in?”
“Of course.” I stepped aside and closed the door behind him. “Why are you here?”
“I wanted you to know that Donnatella and I never married.”
My eyes scrunched. “You woke up and decided that was important information to share with me at nine in the morning? In person, no less?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve wanted to see you…” I waited, but he didn’t continue. What’s more, he appeared pained.
Grinded (The Invincibles Book 3) Page 10
