Dead Reckoning

by C. J. Snyder

  “My little sister Cassidy started calling me Ghost about a year later. Said I might be walking around but I’d died that day too and until I got over it and Greg came back, she’d just call me Ghost.”

  His little sister Cassidy was pretty smart. “Are you back to Greg? Around your family, I mean?” He dropped a quick kiss on her lips. “Nope. Some things you don’t get over.” “Don’t you think if you find her–their killer. . .”

  Ghost let out an amused burst of air. “That it will bring them back? Make me forget? Put my soul back together?”

  “Well, no, of course not, but–“

  ”Listen, Mykael. I know you want to avenge him. I know you think that will fix things, that you owe it to Blade, but the truth is you don’t. It won’t make you feel any better. .” “But–“

  ”There aren’t any buts. You killed your brother’s butchers, right?”

  She nodded because she had killed Melina’s butchers, not because she agreed with him.

  “And you’re telling me that it changed anything? Inside of you? That avenging him changed anything?” Inside, she boiled. For Greg, for herself, for her sister, his wife, for Peter. “He didn’t get to live. He stole my brother’s life and he didn’t get to live his.” It did help, was enough. It had to be enough because it was all there was. All she had. The only thing she could do.

  Greg sighed at the fierceness of her tone, the certainty of her voice. “Yeah, there is that.” She bit down on her lip, ground her eyelids together and offered him a truth. “It doesn’t help. There isn’t sleep. Only nightmares, where Peter dies—again and again. Only the emptiness of knowing I lost my baby because I couldn’t take care of myself. Didn’t take care of myself.” She tried to tug her hand out of his, but he wouldn’t let go. “Empty, cold, and it’s all you can do to make a plan. Get out of bed. Put the details together.”

  “Carry on,” he whispered.

  “Because there isn’t anything else.” He rolled to his side, swept her up on top of his long hard body. He cradled her face over him, waited until she opened her eyes to meet his. “Except one day” he whispered, “there was you.” She stilled, not even daring to breathe. “I don’t know what it means, Mykael. Don’t know why we’re here, next to each other. Why you do what you do to me. It’s like you’ve crawled inside my heart, shoved down the walls and made yourself at home. It’s not like I want you there. I didn’t invite you. Wasn't looking for you.”

  Mykael shuddered as he spoke all the words spilling out of her own heart. Words she couldn’t utter, didn’t dare speak. “Not even like I know what to do with you, because I don’t have a clue. There isn’t life after Hunter. After Robyn. But there’s you. You’ve got me twisted into so many knots I’ll never get untangled.”

  She could feel the tension in his body, feel him fight futilely against those knots. His long strong fingers weaved through her own. “Not sure I even want free.” He cleared his throat. “Do know we’re past the lies. So.” He thwarted her attempt to free herself. “Your turn.”

  “You already know everything I have to say.” “Not true.” He rolled back to his side, allowed her a small amount of space. Not enough, especially when he wrapped up her fingers tight. “Peter first,” Greg directed. “He was my friend too, although he was closer to Tron. It killed Ice to follow that order.”

  “Didn't kill him enough,” she muttered.

  “Tell me,” he whispered, gathered her close again, settled her head on his shoulder, and cradled her cheek in his hand. “We met at a bar. I was in Mexico. He was working. He never did tell me what he was working on. He bought me a beer, a room and dinner.” She couldn't help her smile at the memory. “He got me. Right away. Like he'd known me for ages.”

  “He had that gift.” “I didn't think it was possible -to fall in love that quickly. Or even to love at all. But there I was, there he was, and all around us was magic.” Not knowing how he could see in the dark surrounding them, she was surprised when he brushed a strand of her hair away from her eye and lifted it back atop her other curls.

  “Yeah. I know the magic.” She supposed he spoke of his lost wife but she couldn't hurt for him any longer. Not if she wanted to get through this story. And for some reason, she knew the telling was now or never. And she had to tell him, to get it out. At least this part.

  “We met in between his assignments, he'd fly home and we'd steal time. We had two years. Then he got word, from Tron I think, that he was marked. We got married. Moved to Mexico. Stayed near my grandparents' place in the Zapalinamé mountains above Saltillo. We stole another couple of years. But Peter, he knew. He knew there wasn't any way out. He never understood why his team thought he was a mole, but he understood how the team handled traitors. He told me he would do the same thing. But the traitor wasn't him. It wasn't him and it was so unfair.”

  Ghost brushed away the tears she didn't know she cried.

  Turned out there were emotions in the abyss after all.

  He tugged her closer, rolled her into his own strong body, his cheek against hers, silent but offering a comfort she so desperately needed.

  “I know you know Ice's identity. I know you well enough to know you'll do anything to protect your friend. But I need you to know I don't have any options.” “There are always options.”

  “Not for me. Not for a long time.”

  “Maybe we can find them together.”

  “There is no together,” Again, she tried to pull away, but he only followed her. Now he was over her, surrounding her. There wasn't anywhere to get away--anywhere to go that he wasn't. He filled up the room, the bed, the empty spaces in her heart, and still he wanted more.

  She didn't have more to give him. Not here. Not while there was a Caldera still breathing. He was stealing her vengeance for Ice—she could feel it waver, feel him as if he reached into her heart and dismantled it, piece by piece, leaving another empty hole which he immediately expanded to fill with the tenderness he showed. She couldn't let him have Melina too.

  “Who gave the order to kill Peter?”

  “Viper. “

  “Why?”

  Greg sighed. “There're only theories. I'll let Ice tell you when you meet him.” Her heart revved up in her chest. Ghost would take her to Ice after all. Why?

  She knew she hadn't spoken the question out loud, but he answered it anyway. "I know you'll make the right decision. The only decision.” “What will you tell him?”

  “I want him to meet my lady.”

  Her heart stopped. Just stopped. Then picked up beating again with a painful thump. “I'm not your lady.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, you are." Greg gave her a couple of seconds to digest the truth of it before his mouth claimed hers to erase any doubt. For long minutes, there was no talking, only sighs, only murmured names and half words while he showed her what she needed. What she'd longed for. As it turned out, what she needed to live wasn't that much. Only him. Only them.

  Which scared her like nothing had, like nothing did. Not in forever. Too fast, too much, too intense and more than her head could take. She tried to tell him, but he only shook his head. "No. Not tonight. Tomorrow if you have to, but not tonight."

  She was left to wonder again how he knew, how he could read her thoughts so intimately, so aggressively. Did she want to be involved with someone so fearsome, so dangerous, so-"Mykael..." His words held a warning but caution did not dictate her response. He was right. She was born to be with this man. Now. Tonight. All of her. With all of him.

  "Maria," she whispered. “My name is Maria.” "Maria," he repeated soft and sweet as if he whispered a precious gift.

  "Maria...Maria...Maria..." He punctuated the words with kisses deep and thorough, yet gentle enough to spark more tears from her eyes.

  "Greg, I--" but she couldn't tell him, didn't have words to express. "I know, baby," he whispered. "I know." He covered her body with his own and showed her that he did know, indeed. Eventually, he even showed her she could sleep, without the
nightmares, if the rhythm of his heartbeat thrummed through her ear, filling her mind with peace.

  He was gone when she awoke. A note next to her pillow told her she was to take the ten am flight to Denver where Tron would meet her. Next to the note was his communicator. “Use this instead of the phone I gave you. It’s more secure and we can stay in touch more easily. Cap is in town if you need anything quickly. Press 48 to get him. 41 will get me. See you in Denver later this morning.”

  Mykael shoved Maria away so quickly it hurt, grabbed up the communicator with a cry. She could find Ice on her own. She didn't need to see Ghost again. She could see the plane ticket information on the nightstand, along with the credit card he'd used to make her reservation. He trusted her.

  Trust hurt.

  Chapter Eight

  Mykael arrived at LAX with highly mixed emotions still firmly in place. The breakfast she’d shared with Sean had been extremely uncomfortable, the silences long and foreboding, until Sean had looked her in the eyes and declared a moratorium on their professional lives.

  Sometime between his restaurants and his undercover work, he’d managed to visit their grandparents’ hacienda in central Mexico. Saltillo, he told her, was alive and well, the road up the steep mountains to the hacienda still one lane shale and dangerous. Padre had a new wheelchair, and her aunt, who lived on their vast acreage and kept an eye on things, had installed a ramp from their second floor bedroom suite balcony to the main patio.

  After Melina’s death, Tia Selena had pleaded with Mykael to bring Sean home. Mykael had used the money they sent to send Sean for summer visits, but she wanted her brother to live in America, be an American. Her grandparents were rich by Mexican standards, living in a grand century-old mansion, surrounded by walls that crumbled with every passage of a truck. There weren’t that many trucks, however, and their simple life was wholesome and nourishing, provided enough to sustain the household, and the laborers they employed, but little else.

  Her mother, and Melina after her, had been adamant. Sean would go to college. In the United States. Mykael had gone them both one better by sending not only Sean, but graduating herself. It had taken six years, but somewhere in the secret basement, under the burned out ruins of her little cabin, her diploma was tucked away.

  As long as they both managed not to discuss work, the conversation was bright, cheerful and meaningless in its very friendliness. Behind her smile, Mykael wanted to shake her brother until his pearly white teeth chattered.

  Before breakfast, her long-awaited rendezvous with Ghost’s communicator had proved just as frustrating. Ice had vanished, as surely as if he’d never existed. She’d read his file, made notes of his kills, but there was nothing else. Without Greg’s unknowing comment, she could believe he’d actually died the same day as Viper. Only he hadn’t. Ice had quit. Somewhere, he still had a life. Maybe a family.

  She’d accessed Viper’s file, too. It held little more information, but enough to determine that whatever psychoses he’d suffered had been quickly swept under the carpet. There was a veiled reference to a Dr. Nathanial Jannsen, a tidy list of the orders he’d given. Two were obscenely scrubbed, referencing a mole within Black Fire. The dates were more clear than anything else. One was three years before Blade’s death. The second two days before Viper’s own. Did that mean the mole was still operating? Two moles? Ghost had hinted that Viper himself had been the mole. Why would Viper order his own death?

  “He wouldn’t.” Mykael had tossed the disappointing communicator into her purse and boarded the plane to Denver. She felt Ghost's absence acutely. Silly to miss a man she'd known for such a short time. Silly to wonder what he was doing. Not so silly to wonder if he'd spotted her, been able to discern her features under the blonde wig she'd worn into the restaurant. She had no doubt he wouldn't recognize her exit from Sean Juan's. No one knew the identity of Los Cochillos. One more Caldera and Melina's death would finally be avenged.

  Still, she spent the entire plane ride picturing Greg's lean features, The smoky depths of his eyes as he leaned close to kiss her. The cinnamon smell of the mints he loved that was forever linked with him in her mind.

  Tron surprised her by waiting at the gate. Apparently Black Fire didn't have to live by the rules the rest of the mere mortals were subject to. He gave her a quick smile, eased her heart. Ghost hadn't recognized her. If he had, she'd be in cuffs, instead of walking freely next to the dark-haired agent.

  "Hungry?"

  "Sure."

  "We've got a couple of hours before Ghost gets here, then a couple more while he meets with someone. We’ll get you a hotel room, but I thought we could eat first."

  "That’s fine." She wanted to smile. Apparently all Black Fire agents believed in feeding those who were about to be interrogated.

  She waited until they were settled into a booth at the Denver Chop House airport restaurant and then took the offensive. "Why are you named Tron?" He smiled, showed just a hint of a dimple. "I like to tinker. I make stuff."

  "Like what?"

  He lifted the communicator from his belt. She could feel her eyebrows shoot up in amazement. "You made that?" "Yeah."

  "Interesting. I suppose you like to blow stuff up?"

  He shrugged. "Been known to explode a thing or two." For some reason the thought had his features drawing in on themselves, like his face was shutting down. "What's wrong?"

  "The agent taken out last night was our munitions expert. Crater loved blowing stuff up."

  Mykael willed her heart to continue beating. A friend. She'd killed a friend of these men who'd taken her in, protected her, kept her safe.

  She wanted to beg his forgiveness but there wasn't anything she could say. "Ghost told me a little about that."

  "Los Cochillos," Tron muttered the name like a curse word. "We'll find him. We'll find him soon." There was enough venom in his voice to take down an elephant.

  God help her if they ever found out.

  No, she amended quickly. God help her if they found out before she took down Carlos Caldera. And Ice. After that it wouldn't matter if they found her, if they took her out. "So how'd a nice boy like you get into the terminator business?"

  He smiled at her description. "I got tired of watching the bad guys win. Decided I might be able to do something about that." "How long have you been with the unit?"

  "Ten years."

  "So you knew Blade?" Sensitive subject, but he probably already knew about her. Had known as soon as Ghost figured it out.

  "He was one of my best friends."

  Mykael closed her eyes, waited for an icy jab but was surprised when the cold abyss stayed silent.

  "Are you the one who warned him? That the team had branded him a traitor?" Tron’s thick, shaggy hair dipped to cover his eyes as he nodded. "I worked for two years to prove otherwise too. Only..."

  "Only?

  "Only there was too much. Too much evidence. Too many kills with his finishing touches all over them."

  "He wasn't the mole."

  Now Tron's green eyes simply reflected sorrow. "I know. In my heart I always knew. It was a god-awful mess and parts of it still are."

  "What do you mean?"

  Tron shook his head. "Can't say. Shouldn't have told you what I did. But I know you...you and Peter... I know you were close."

  "I loved him," she whispered, surprised once again to feel only a soft sadness, not the overwhelming grab of inconsolable grief.

  "He was a special man." Tron flashed her a quick teasing grin. "Never expected him to settle down." She smiled back. "Neither did he." Her smile widened to become a grin as she remembered. "For the first year he told me he wouldn't be staying, that we'd be over in a bit, but that it wouldn't hurt. That we'd stay friends. During the second year, he didn’t talk about it much at all. We were married soon after that year ended.

  “Ghost said you had a baby.”

  “Edward. He was stillborn. Too much stress. Another casualty.” She cleared her throat. Thoughts
of Edward still stabbed ice-cold and deep. “I met Cap. In San Diego.” Tron gave another smile that was nearly a smirk. “Cap's a good kid. What did you think of Magnum?”

  “He's a good kid too. A little starry-eyed.”

  Tron nodded. “They all are. Nothing a few more scenes like I heard that one was to rub off that gleam.”

  If she had her way, Magnum wouldn't ever get the chance to have his gleam rubbed off. Time to change the subject again.

  “What other kinds of things do you make?”

  Now he looked embarrassed. “Just stuff. I can show you some of it.” He pulled a nondescript black backpack closer. “Some of it, well, if I show you, I'll have to kill you.”

  She knew he meant it to be funny. That it fell far short was her own problem. “I'd love to see.” He showed her amazing things: a pen-holder that allowed you to simply release the pen and it stayed exactly where it was, hovered over the paper, until your fingers grasped it again. A table that folded into a two-inch square.

  “But my favorites,” he confessed, when they'd left the restaurant and headed for the train which would take them to the hotel, “are my spyders.”

  “Spiders?” “I'll show you,” he promised. “Handy little things.” When the cab dropped them off at the hotel's front entrance, he took her hand with a wink and headed to the parking garage. She stood and watched as he removed a small piece of black metal from his bag.

  “Now watch,” he whispered and crouched down to place the metal on the ground. No sooner had he released it than it skittered away, making no more noise than the wind blowing a scrap of paper. Tron stayed crouched down, but he wasn't watching the contraption as it headed under a car. His eyes were on a tiny screen she could barely glimpse. She crouched down next to him to see better.

  “The key,” he murmured, as if she'd understand,” is to find the right spot. Otherwise you can do a lot of damage. But every car has one,” he flicked and spun a tiny lever, “one very,” another flick, “sweet spot.” With that he pressed a button and she followed his gaze to the car, which rose a foot and a half in the air, turned 180 degrees and then lowered back to the ground. The object, which looked amazingly like a metal spider, returned to his side. He took her hand, spread out her fingers on the ground and the object obediently climbed into her palm.