by Cara Carnes
Enemy drones firing on them and terrifying the workers wasn’t the plan. Fallon, Donovan, and Rhea were supposed to quietly enter the facility and blow up the engineering area downstairs.
“New plan,” Mary said. “Dallas, Walker, you two get inside. Walker, help Sanchez and Spade herd those workers out via the northern exit. Minimize casualties. Dallas, work with Donovan and Fallon on ordnance.”
“Secondary location secured,” Marshall said into the com. “Three missiles secured.”
“Roger,” Jesse said. “Levi, your team is clear for final phase of the residence. Blow it, then move into position along the northeastern sector to corral workers from compound.”
“Roger,” Levi said.
“In position to corral along northwestern sector,” Gage said.
“Roger,” Nolan replied. “Team in position.”
“Exterior enemy drones are down. All combatants tranqed,” Cord said.
“Shit.”
Zoey’s curse quickened Rhea’s pulse as Fallon and Donovan headed down a rickety stairwell.
“Care to share?” Mary asked.
“Our hack is being hacked,” Vi said, her voice less calm than typical. “Whoever Carlisle hired, they’re good. Way better than the asshole we were expecting.”
One unknown computer whiz against Vi, Zoey, Cord, and—if needed—Mary? Rhea forced a calm breath and inhaled the moldy, stagnant air of the facility’s lower level.
“Need your brain, Doc,” Spade said via com. “I’m up on the second level, where Jesse rescued that college kid last time. Lab’s still here. Drones are scanning, but there’s drugs here. Lots of them.”
Fallon halted. Donovan continued into the darkness. A drone whizzed by and aimed shafts of light forward.
Rhea studied the images coming to her via HERA. “I can’t tell just from looking if it’s the same agent, but the neutralizing compound should work either way. Everything Stan had access to includes the component I’m targeting.”
“Set the initial blast to disperse the neutralizing agent along with a secondary one as planned,” Fallon ordered.
“Roger,” Spade said.
Rhea’s nerves were frayed by the time Fallon and Donovan fanned out on opposite ends of the basement and set the charges that’d help bring the building down. Within minutes, the two men were done and navigating her toward the first level. Dallas and Walker were along the farthest wall of the facility. Spade prowled on the second level along the southern side, while Sanchez was on the northern catwalk.
Both men on the upper area signaled their completion and disappeared. Rhea noted their movement downward on her view screen.
“Doc.” Fallon’s voice dragged her attention to her job.
She unlatched from him and focused on the assembly-line style warehouse. White powder in small baggies filled one area, but she ignored them. Street drugs weren’t her problem today.
“Think you need to see this, Rhea,” Dallas said into the com.
She peered across the large warehouse but couldn’t see what he did. She and Fallon made their way to Dallas. Large, cone-shaped, liquid-filled cylinders filled a table. Twenty per row. Six rows.
“Fuck,” Fallon growled. “Tell me those aren’t what I think they are.”
Without some tests, she couldn’t confirm with one hundred percent certainty, but she shook her head as her gaze moved to the farthest wall where opened RPGs sat. Two contained the large cone-shaped cylinders crammed into them.
“Were the workers from this area wearing suits?”
“Most were in underwear with those damn collars,” Nolan growled into the com.
Rhea swallowed. Stan and the bastards he worked with wouldn’t concern themselves with workers getting exposed. “This isn’t good.”
“He could’ve made thousands by now,” Zoey whispered into the com. “Those weren’t there before.”
No. They hadn’t been. Rhea had watched the Cuba facility clearing. Street drugs and the allusion to chemical weapons was all they’d found.
“Crazy bastard didn’t halt production when we hit,” Jesse said. “He increased it.”
“He thinks he’s untouchable,” Rhea said.
“Set charges, get out, and blow it up,” Mary ordered. “We’ve gotten all we can data wise, and we’re having trouble keeping our hacker friend out. He’s a determined shit.”
Dallas, Donovan, and Fallon set the dispersion charges, then the final blasts. Rhea spent the time studying the RPG designs, which were sprawled on a table nearest the weapons. A symbol in the right bottom corner drew her attention.
She recognized the logo.
“No.” She shook her head in disbelief. Those crazy bastards.
“What?” Jesse asked.
“Mandrake Limited,” Rhea whispered. “Just saying their name violates my nondisclosure.”
“Thinking we passed nondisclosure a while ago,” Jesse commented.
“Mandrake?” Bree’s voice rose. “I didn’t know you worked there. When?”
“Two years after MIT, contract work on and off,” Rhea said. “Mostly black-in-black government gigs.”
“Me too!” Bree exclaimed. “I always wondered how those nut jobs heard about me.”
“Stan,” Rhea said, letting the anger rise in her.
“Was this what you worked on? Stuff like this?” Mary asked.
“No,” Bree said. “Mine was mundane shit focused on protective barriers and energy boosters.”
“Stuff that could be used elsewhere, say in drones you didn’t know about,” Vi said. “The bastards doled out the work they couldn’t figure out to the ones they stole the designs from.”
“Son of a bitch,” Rhea said. “Energy amplifiers and bulletproof housings would’ve been too broad an assignment to worry, Bree.”
“And you? What’d you do?” Donovan asked.
Her work had been far, far darker. Her gut twisted.
“Rhea, we need to know,” Mary said.
“Their contract with a black-in-black group required a neurotoxin.” Damn. “I’ve created so many of them over the years I’d forgotten. The additive in this agent, it’s similar to what I used back then.”
“They likely used what you did back then, pulled from the same concept, and tested until they got the results they wanted,” Bree said. “If it wasn’t such a shitty move, I’d almost admire it.”
“We’re literally fighting ourselves,” Rhea whispered.
“No. You aren’t.” Mary’s voice boomed in her ear. “You were contracted to do a job. They used the intel outside of that contract. None of this is on you. Zoey, get to work on Mandrake. That’s likely the link.”
“Link?” Fallon asked.
“I’ve been trying to figure out how Carlisle got into bed with a Russian terrorist cell. A black-in-black operation like Mandrake would fill the gap,” Mary said.
“I’ve never heard of them,” Vi said.
“I haven’t either,” Fallon admitted.
“Once this is over, we need all of you who’ve worked black-in-black to debrief. We need all the organizations out there who might circle back and strike,” Jesse said. “Fuck nondisclosures.”
“I agree,” Mary said. “Top priority once this is done.”
“Great catch on the logo, Rhea. Not sure we would’ve ever noticed that, even with what the drones caught,” Jesse said.
“Get the hell out of there and get home,” Mary ordered.
Mandrake. Rhea had almost forgotten the stint she’d done there. How many other black ops groups had she helped? How many horrible concoctions had she created, then forgotten about?
“Rhea.” Fallon caressed her cheek. Intensity loomed within his gaze. “Talk to me.”
“We can’t. We have to go.”
“Don’t take this on. It’s not your fault.”
“Maybe not, but it is my problem. It’s our problem.” She looked up at the man who’d slay every monster around if she only asked.
; Everyone at The Arsenal was in this fight even though the never-ending maze of assholes behind Stan Carlisle got worse and worse. Mandrake connected him to the Russians. Maybe they were closer to the final solution than Rhea realized.
“We’ll get them,” Fallon said.
“Every last one of them,” Dallas affirmed. “We took on The Collective and won. Mandrake has no chance.”
“You know them?” Zoey asked.
“No, but I know all of you. No way in fuck they’re ready to take all of you and us on.”
Rhea was amazing. Fallon exited the dense forest and stepped onto the coastline. Nervousness crawled down his skin, but he ignored the sensation. Exfil had gone exactly as expected. Drones circled overhead a moment, then flitted to the ground.
Donovan and Dallas opened their packs and got to work putting the tech up. They’d done a hell of a good job. Everyone had. Smoke billowed from what’d once been Carlisle’s Cuba facility. Secondary charges around the perimeter discharged enough chemicals to help choke out the fire before it got out of control. Workers had been chased out before detonation. Guards were the only casualties.
He drew Rhea into his arms and stifled the curse rising in his throat when she trembled. Doc tried hard to hide how much the latest discovery affected her. How much more did she have to go through before Carlisle was scraped out of her life?
“I can’t wait to be home,” Rhea whispered. “I’m not cut out for fieldwork.”
“You kicked ass,” he commented. “But I can’t wait to get you home, make love to you.”
“Fallon.” She squeezed him tight.
Make love. Had he ever said those words? Stunned, he remained silent and watched the boat approaching from a distance. For now, all that mattered was getting Rhea in a good headspace because he couldn’t stand the thought of her hurting.
She mattered.
Fuck.
“What’s wrong?” Rhea peered up at him. “You just tensed.”
“Nothing.” For once in his goddamn life, he couldn’t think of anything beyond the woman in his arms. No one mattered more than her. “Just realized something.”
“What?”
“You’ve crawled into my heart, Doc. Not sure how it happened, but you’re there and I’m not letting you out.”
“Fallon,” she whispered, her hot breath on the base of his throat. “I think you’ve crawled inside mine too.”
“Erm, wow. So not trying to break the moment here, but you two are on coms.” Bree’s voice fractured the awareness arcing between Fallon and Rhea.
“Shit, sorry,” Fallon mumbled. He didn’t give a damn who knew, though.
Dallas and Donovan both chuckled, but neither made comment. Spade, Sanchez, and Walker wore grins as everyone headed toward the boat. Red rose in Rhea’s cheeks, but she laughed and rose on her tip toes.
The brush of lips awakened a need in him, blood surged southward. Fallon groaned and severed the contact. “Let’s get you home.”
The small craft was large enough to contain the team, but didn’t offer extra room. Three operatives Fallon recognized but didn’t know helped everyone stow gear. Everyone piled in. Fallon helped Rhea aboard, then settled beside her toward the middle of the left side.
Waters were choppier than expected, but the boat trundled forward, the motor sounding loudly in the otherwise silent area. Coms would remain on until they were safely aboard whatever larger vessel awaited them deeper in the ocean, where radar and government assholes couldn’t delay their departure. None of what they’d done was sanctioned.
Black-in-black.
Plausible deniability for the entire Carlisle takedown.
The boat dipped. Water swished in from the other side as the motor died. Tension struck the atmosphere. Water swooshed behind him, a distinctive splash as though something had surfaced.
Black drones.
Fallon had less than a second to let the thought settle before he reached for his firearm.
Donovan and Dallas were both firing. Their voices filled the coms.
“Enemy drones. Repeat, we’re under attack.”
Blackness descended.
17
“What the fuck just happened?” Marshall growled through the com.
Vi tensed. Shock struck her first, followed by a burst of fear. Denial. Rage. She keyed into HERA’s trackers and blinked when they all…
Vanished.
“That’s not possible,” Mary said beside her. “Scan again.”
“Activate the new ones,” Bree ordered.
“On it,” Zoey said.
“What can I do?” Jacob asked.
“Send last known positions to Nolan’s team. They’re the nearest,” Jesse ordered. “Everyone, dispatch drones. Fallon’s team is MIA.”
“What the fuck?” Levi’s shock was the start to a wave of disbelief and anger as the teams replied.
Pain shot along Vi’s back as it had the past couple of hours. She remained locked in position. Nothing mattered beyond finding her friends. Satellite imagery filled several of the viewing screens, followed by radar from the military vessel who’d unofficially been summoned to the area for a pickup of all Arsenal personnel.
“Cord, take over scans. I’ve got a call to make,” Vi ordered.
They’d intended to wait until the teams were in the air and on the way home to start the dive into Mandrake, but someone had just snatched an entire team without conflict. Who the hell were they fighting? Carlisle didn’t have anyone on his payroll with that level of precision.
But if he worked for Mandrake, that opened an entirely different can of worms.
“Vi, this is a surprise.”
“Short on time, Bob. We need help. A team was just snatched during exfil from the Cuba operation.” She paused, letting the information settle a moment. “Tell me about Mandrake. I know they’re tied to Carlisle.”
“I don’t know who that is, Vi, but I’ll ask around, see what I can find out.”
Bullshit. The Secretary of Defense would know exactly who Mandrake was. “We’ve been patient with you, Bob. We’ve done each other enough solids to overlook the fact we were hung out to dry with The Collective.”
“There are certain matters you don’t have the clearance for.”
“Then get me the fucking clearance. Our team was just snatched from a water exfil with zero confrontation.” Vi’s voice rose. Pain shot along her back and around her middle when she stood. She grabbed her lower abdomen and winced. “That doesn’t happen, Bob. Not with The Arsenal. Who the hell are we up against, and how are they tied to the Russians?”
“I do not know, but I will ask around and see what I can find out.”
“You do that. Meanwhile, we’ll do what we’ve gotta do. Warning, Bob. This is about to get very ugly very fast if you don’t help us out.” She slammed the phone down.
Jud arrived at her side. He ran a hand along her back. “You’ve sat too long, Viviana.”
“Vi?” Mary asked. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted as her friend stopped in front of her. Vi felt a slight pop. Water burst from her and spilled on the ground between her feet. “Oh no. Now’s not the time, little one.”
“Holy shit. Did that just happen?” Zoey asked.
“Shit.” Cord stood.
“Back on the computer, brother. We need every live feed you can get in the area,” Jesse ordered.
Jud lifted her up. Vi shook her head and pounded a fist into his shoulder. “Put me down, Judson.”
“Hell no.” The man headed toward the door. “Bud, make the calls, then help Edge. You’ve gotta fill in for Viviana.”
“On it,” Jacob said as he threw a towel over the wet spot on the floor and sat down.
The shock fractured when another pain struck her. Jesus. She was in labor.
Real, honest to goodness labor.
“We’re having our baby,” she whispered against Jud’s throat as he ran down the corridor.
Riley M
ason had just exited the barn when her cell phone rang. She snagged it from her back pocket and glared at the device a moment before answering. “Why are you calling? Marshall was very clear I wasn’t to bother any of you today because you were doing big brother commando work.”
“Riles, need you to listen. There’s not much time.” Worry edged Jesse’s voice.
Of all her brothers, he was the last to show emotion. He hadn’t survived six months in hell being weak, which meant he bottled everything up inside. “Jesse.”
“Jud sprinted out of here with Vi. She’s having the baby.”
Excitement exploded within her, but she’d learned from Jud to process and not react. She stayed quiet and waited for whatever put the worry in her big brother’s voice.
“Get to Kamren, Riles. Stay with her and the boys.”
“Why? What happened?” When Jesse made no reply, she pushed harder. “Jesse, tell me what the hell is going on.”
“We don’t know. Fallon’s team is off the radar. They disappeared.”
“Okay.”
“Riles, Dallas is with them.”
No. No. No.
“I need you on this, Riles,” Jesse said. “Tag in Ma if you think she’ll deal, but I need you on this.”
Her six brothers hadn’t ever tagged her in to the troubles they handled with swift proficiency. She’d worked alongside Jud since his arrival and had learned a lot. She’d had no idea what they all did. No idea.
Until shit started hitting the compound in a way they couldn’t hide from her.
“I’m on it. Find him, Jesse. Call me when you know something. Until then, we’re focusing on Vi.”
Jesse made no reply. The call ended.
Riley shoved the phone in her pocket and ran toward the nearest vehicles—which were in the new mechanical bay. The scents of oil and fuel filled her nostrils when she powered forward to the massive, tattooed man leaned over one of the Arsenal’s many trucks.
“I need a ride,” she said.
Dominic DeMarco stood fully, back to her. He snagged the grease rag from his shoulder, wiped his hands, then slowly turned. Breath swooshed from her lungs as her breathing knocked up a few steps, as it always did when Dom was around.
