by Cara Carnes
“You didn’t give her up.” Fallon looked at Rhea. “You gave her a home. You trusted those you loved to raise her and give her what you couldn’t.”
“I could have. So many have babies at a young age and are wonderful parents. I could have.”
“Were you in the headspace to do that? With what happened?” Fallon suspected not. How many teenagers could move on from losing the ability to have kids?
“No, but I could have powered through.”
“Don’t second-guess what you can’t change.” He grasped her chin and kissed her lips. “You’re an amazing woman. I didn’t meet her when they were here last, but if she’s anything like you, I know she’s an amazing girl.”
“She loves music.”
“You mentioned that. I play guitar.”
“I didn’t know,” Rhea whispered.
No one did, except the four friends he’d left behind years ago, back when the system declared him an adult.
“I bounced around from foster home to foster home for a long time. Everyone finally gave up on me fitting in and they shoved me into a group home,” he said, unsure why he was sharing it with her. No, he knew. A part of him wanted a deeper connection with Rhea. For once, he felt as though someone truly saw him. The real him buried beneath the job he’d been forced into.
She stroked his chest. “Where did you learn guitar?”
“A rec center around the corner from the home. A guy there taught whoever helped around the center. I hauled out trash, scrubbed toilets.” Fallon laughed. “The shit jobs no one else wanted.”
“How old were you?”
“Nine, ten at most.” He swallowed. “Me and a few other boys in the home learned together. They were a little younger, but street smart. Shit, there wasn’t anything we couldn’t do back then. We thought we were invincible if we were together.”
“A troublemaker from the start.” Rhea grinned.
“That came after,” he admitted. “That’s where I met Paddy. Paddy O’Ryan. He was a surly guy who lived two blocks over. We met when I hauled trash out one day. Didn’t find out until much later he’d been watching me, waiting.”
Rhea’s arm firmed across his stomach.
“I didn’t find out his history until Edge got me out of prison. Paddy was a former bomb maker for political groups, mainly the PIRA back in the day. His hands were gnarled with arthritis and his eyesight wasn’t good. He hired me to be his fingers and eyes.”
“He taught you.”
“Biggest mistake of my life. But back then, he was an answer to every prayer.” Fallon rubbed his chest. “He was a mean son of a bitch, didn’t teach by example. He let me fuck up. Shit exploded in my face, burned my fingers and face. He taught me to trust no one but myself and to do whatever was needed.”
“You were so young. I can’t imagine living like that,” she admitted. “But that’s why you’re the best at what you do. You had to be, even back then.”
“The money I earned helped me and my friends through. By the time I aged out, I worked gigs on my own, paid a small cut to Paddy for pushing the work my way. I struck out on my own, cut him out so I could send more back to the boys. They were a couple years younger.”
“Are you still in contact with them?”
“No. They moved on. So did I.”
“And Paddy?”
“He’s the reason I was rotting in that prison, about to face a firing squad before Edge decided I was worth saving.” Fallon threaded his fingers in Rhea’s hair. “She was the first person to take a risk on me, other than the bastard who betrayed me.”
“I hope you made him pay,” she whispered, anger in her voice. She cupped his face. “Tell me you made him pay.”
“Bloodthirsty.” He kissed her and let the heat between them erase the bitter past. “I like it.”
“That’s not an answer,” she said. She nipped his lower lip.
“He paid. Edge helped.”
“Good.” Rhea kissed his throat. “Come back to my cottage with me.”
As much as he loved the idea, Rhea needed rest. So did he. He felt scraped out on the inside, raw but somehow more alive than ever. “I’ve never shared that with anyone.”
“Thank you for trusting me, Fallon. I won’t ever betray you.”
“I know.” He sighed. “I knew that day I came back from the assignment Marshall gave me, saw you curled on the sofa in the operations building lobby. Waiting. You’ve kept that between us.”
“I should’ve talked to you first instead of Bree. That sounds weird, but I feel like…”
“Like what?”
“Like you understand me. Like there’s nothing I couldn’t give you that you’d judge me for. I’ve always had a darkness inside me, buried there since it happened. That’s why I turned away from being a surgeon. I needed to feed the darkness, the thing buried in me. I needed to own death, make it my bitch.”
Fallon chuckled. “I get that, Rhea. You know what I do, the way I’ve dispensed death. We’re more alike than either of us realized. Maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to you. We’re both cheating death every day.”
“I guess you’re right. We do cheat death by lording over it.”
“Come on. Let’s get you back into bed so you can rest. Security will eventually patrol, and I’d hate to kill someone for seeing you like this.” He kissed her mouth again. “You’re a beautiful woman, Rhea. I hope you know what you’re doing, because I can’t walk away.”
“I’m not walking away from you, Fallon.”
16
Fallon studied the new com Rhea had slid into his palm when their plane lifted off. He put it into his “bad” ear and sighed when the conversation on the other end was clearer than it’d ever been. She’d been buried in work, helping Bree get everything they needed completed, but she’d found time to make a new com that’d help him hear better.
“You good?” Walker asked.
He was far from good.
“We’ve got this, boss.” Sanchez’s assurance barely sounded over the loud plane about to dump them in the target zone.
Fallon kept his attention on Donovan, who’d gone through the jump procedure with Rhea since they’d lifted off from the Florida airstrip. Someone had called in some big favors to get a cargo plane this large. Operatives stood around him in various states of readiness.
“We’ve got this,” Spade confirmed. “Alternative plans are on the back burner, just in case.”
Fuck. Fallon wondered what the crazy son of a bitch had done, but he hoped to not need whatever it was. Edge and Jesse and the others in Operations had one hell of a plan, one which had more operators on the ground than he’d seen in one area since the FUBAR that’d brought Zoey into their world.
“Too bad we can’t toss a few missiles on that facility and call it done,” Walker commented. He took a drag on his cigarette and looked around. “She ready?”
No, but that wouldn’t stop Rhea. She was the most amazing woman he’d ever met. It’d been two days since the barn. Need had overruled common sense, and he’d acted like a randy teenager rather than giving her what she deserved—something special.
It’d been the best night of his life. He’d take her somewhere after they handled Carlisle. They’d escape reality awhile and get to know one another.
Fallon closed the distance between himself and Rhea. Donovan stepped backward, giving them what little privacy he could, given the circumstances. Pink rose in her cheeks, a light shade he barely noticed.
“Hey,” she whispered softly, the sound louder in the com he’d already turned on.
“You’re looking like a paratrooper,” Fallon commented.
“I look ridiculous.”
Impossible. The harness Donovan strapped on her earlier accentuated her curves. “Donovan’s got you. Just listen to him, do whatever he says.”
“I will.”
Fallon traced the movement of her throat. The distinctive swallow incited his protectiveness. Doc was nervous but trying damn h
ard to be strong for him and the teams. He silently thanked the fates that so many gathered around them had jumped thousands of times. They’d secured the extra weapons and munitions on secondary packs split between the teams.
A loud buzzer sounded. Everyone shuffled forward. Fallon’s pulse quickened.
Go time.
He wished she could jump with him, but her safety was more important than his pride. One of the first things he’d learned from Edge and the fearless operatives around him was there wasn’t any shame in tagging someone more qualified in.
Team.
The concept had rooted within him before he realized and spread quickly now that he was worried about Rhea. Not that she needed his protection. She was a beautiful and intelligent woman who could handle herself in almost any situation. But she wasn’t a battle-hardened operative like Addy.
He kissed Rhea, tumbling into her scent and taste for a few seconds. The contact pulsated awareness through him.
“That’s some sendoff,” Walker commented with a slap on Fallon’s back. “Donovan needs to get her hitched up, boss.”
Right.
He took a few steps forward and positioned himself in the appointed jump queue.
“We’ve got this,” Edge assured in the com.
Damn straight they had this. Fallon would do anything to keep Rhea and those around him safe. He’d blow up the whole country if necessary.
Rhea trudged between Fallon and Donovan. Evergreens interspersed with shrubs and vines signaled the forest was semi-deciduous rather than merely an evergreen. Either way, they were tropical, dry forests. Rhea filed the unnecessary information away to appease her brain. Woodpeckers worked overhead, adding their presence to the wilderness concerto. A gecko scrambled past her.
Where had they gone? Nolan and his team had literally been right beside her just a minute ago.
Rhea blinked.
“Problem, Doc?” Sanchez asked.
“Nolan and his team. They’re gone?”
“Put your headgear visor down,” Bree said in Rhea’s ear.
“Oh.” Rhea tugged the visual display into position. A heat signature map flashed red bodies within the overgrowth around her. Camouflaged with the terrain, Nolan and those he led were undetectable. Wow.
Skydiving was now her all-time favorite activity. Donovan’s cool, calm personality had made her first experience easier than she’d expected. Fallon had been at her side the moment she landed.
Sex with Fallon Graves was the most amazing experience she’d ever had, and she couldn’t wait to do it again. He was equal parts patient and commanding. Her skin tingled whenever her mind replayed the things they’d done. His mouth and hands were lethal weapons.
Focus.
You’re in a freaking forest about to take down a weapons facility.
Donovan and the rest of Fallon’s team continued forward, nearer the facility, which sprawled across more carved-out forest than Rhea anticipated. No wonder they had so many teams on the ground. Carlisle’s compound was like a small town, though not as large or formidable as The Arsenal.
Black drones flitted about the air, their larger bodies easily spotted compared to Bree’s newer and sleeker designs. Machine gun armed guards prowled every few feet as employees loaded crates onto a flatbed trailer.
“Looks like we walked into a scheduled delivery window,” Jesse commented. “Let’s find out what’s in the crates.”
“On it,” Zoey said.
One by one, the teams clicked themselves into position. Green lights peppered the small map on the display’s left. The visual panels had undergone a significant overhaul, thanks to Kamren’s input. The woman’s unique real-life experience clued Rhea and the others in to a few obvious facts they’d overlooked.
Information overload.
Wind patterns and telemetries and assorted facts may be pertinent, but commandos in the field hadn’t needed them—not when HERA could easily do the work and give them quicker, much easier-to-use guidance. Instead of giving them data to calculate the perfect shot, HERA now color-coded potential shots based on where the operative looked.
“Alpha in secondary position,” Marshall said into the com.
“Roger, standby,” Vi said.
Marshall’s team, along with the FBI, ATF, and Homeland Security, would hit the Russians’ hideout in Florida once Vi, Zoey, and Cord hacked into their security and Cuba’s. Then everyone else would move.
“You’re beautiful when you get that determined look on your face,” Fallon commented with a smile.
“All teams, disperse drone packs one and two,” Jesse ordered.
Rhea shook off the awareness arcing through her whenever Fallon was near and focused on the mission at hand.
Pack one would be the new zappers, which would not only incapacitate combatants but also disable enemy drones via electronic field disruption. Bree programmed the tech to correspond with the destroyed drones they’d recovered in Tucson. Pack two was a mix of sleeper drones, armed with Rhea’s knockout juice, and Bree’s new grenade drones.
Spade and Walker opened the cases and crawled backward as the drones rose in the air and hovered a couple feet up. Waiting.
Twelve drones per team, five teams. The math stupefied Rhea a moment as she calculated how much work would be involved in keeping not only those drones up and running, but the ones used in Florida.
“At my back, Doc,” Fallon ordered.
She nodded, threaded her fingers through the center belt loop at his waistline and noted the weapon in position. As always. The specially programmed scope was setup for her headset, not Fallon’s.
In case she needed a weapon.
“Alpha One, you are a go for entry. Repeat, you are a go for entry,” Mary said.
“Roger.” The link syncing Florida to the operatives in Cuba broke off.
Rhea understood why Mary and Vi severed the feeds—information overload. But Rhea wanted to know everything going down, not just her small part in it. Her heart thudded wildly as Fallon and his team moved forward. Footsteps behind them matched the shift of red on her display.
Nolan’s team was advancing to secure the southern area of the compound.
“All teams, you are green lit for phase one,” Jesse said.
Clicks sounded in the com as one by one the teams noted their acceptance. Although everyone in back office would be privy to all the coms’ chatter, Fallon and his team would hear only what they needed.
Fallon paused every few feet as he had in Tucson. Ordnance this far out translated to potential forest fires, but Rhea trusted everyone to know what they were doing. War was messy. Fallout was not only possible—it was expected.
“We have control of facility security,” Cord said.
“Not all drones are in the system,” Zoey said. “We have eight outside and three inside on manual navigation.”
Fallon halted. “Can you hack them?”
“Eventually, but it’ll take time,” Vi said. “Each one is on a different frequency.”
“Phase two drones will take them down,” Bree said. “Fly them into range.”
Silence descended a few moments. Mary’s voice sounded. “Do it. We’re on radar once they go down. Be ready for entry.”
Gunfire exploded, a thunderous cannon of sound. Her pulse quickened as Fallon and Donovan sprinted forward. She kept her focus on Fallon’s back, then his feet.
They paused.
Donovan scrambled over a ten foot or so fence as though it wasn’t there.
I can do this. I can do this.
Fallon stooped. Hands together, he waited.
Rhea put her foot into his hands. Hand on his shoulder, she stifled the surprised yelp when he shoved her upward with such force it was as though she flew. Metal wire met her frantic grab near the top of the fence. Her arms burned as she pulled up, then flung her leg over. Barbs along the top pricked through her clothing, but she ignored the pained sensation and hoisted herself fully over.
Strong arm
s gripped her waist. Donovan set her on the ground.
Fallon landed seconds later.
Rhea forced a deep breath despite the pounding pulse in her ears. No time for conversation or assurances. Move out.
Drones whizzed beside them, blasting and zapping anyone and anything within their path. Fallon and Donovan shot. Rhea saw nothing beyond their backs and the narrow area between. Spade and Sanchez were penetrating the facility from a different entry while Walker and Dallas were in overwatch—sniping assholes to clear a path.
Fallon stepped over a prone body. Lifeless eyes peered upward at Rhea when she followed. A hole between his eyes made her pulse pound harder. The Arsenal commandos were damn good.
Fallon’s warmth settled around her as he angled her to the side and down. A loud pop sounded, followed by a hard thud. Smoke filled the air and her lungs. She coughed.
“Doc? You good?” Fallon asked.
“Yeah, sorry.”
“You’re doing great,” Donovan assured. He stepped onto the thick metal door they’d just blasted off its hinges and charged into the entry.
This was really happening. Raised voices and gunfire echoed around her, a cacophony of violent death. War. Fingers once again curled around Fallon’s belt loop, she followed him into the facility.
“Down!” Cord shouted into the com.
Rhea crouched, arms over her head, curled into a ball like she’d practiced.
“Oh hell no!” Bree spat angrily in the com.
Bright light filled the area as one of the new drones blasted the area. A laser blasted near her knee as the enemy drone fell to the ground. Donovan crunched it beneath his boot as he continued forward, weapon drawn.
“You’re okay,” Fallon whispered into her ear. “We’ve gotta keep moving.”
Right. Keep moving. Solid plan.
She stood, curled her fingers once again and continued forward, behind Fallon. Mind numb, she forced her attention outward, to the cavernous interior. Shouted screams and voices echoed from the work area.
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.
