by C. J. Snyder
“Mykael, meet Spyder IV.” The tiny object raised up two inches on legs as thin as paper clips, then bent in a type of bow.”
Mykael laughed. “Amazing, Tron. What happened to the first three?”
“They're currently deployed in the Middle East. Four here will be joining them soon. In the meantime, we have fun confusing the drivers of the world.” He nodded to the backwards car. “What do you do if there are other cars next to it?” “Spyder can run it out into the middle before he makes the turn around, but it takes a bit more time. Which attracts,” he took her elbow as a uniformed hotel employee started toward them. “Questions we don't want to answer.” He smiled broadly at the man. “Which way to check in, my good sir?” His accent was outrageously aussie. So amazingly perfect, Mykael gave him a second glance as she hustled to keep up with his long strides.
“How did you find the sweet spot?” she wondered when they were far enough away from the garage attendant to not be overheard.
“That's why it's a spyder. Cameras, gps, and extractors.” He gave her that crooked grin again. “I'll show you in the room.”
*** Greg arrived at Denver International Airport four hours before Mykael that morning. He headed for a concourse bar. He’d love a whiskey, but would have to settle for juice. Cole’s plane would arrive in an hour. Along with the information he carried in his brain, Cole was bringing Greg a replacement communicator. He’d left his with Decoy the night before as a way to figure out what she wanted. The plan had worked perfectly. She was good, but not as good as he was. She’d used Blade’s backdoor codes to access personnel files, looking for Ice, confirming what he’d guessed.
He missed his own communicator like crazy. He’d already reached for it five times this morning. The cheap little cell phone he’d picked up instead wasn’t secure, didn’t work well inside the airport and didn’t have his address book. He grimaced as he called Calla for the fifth time that morning.
“Me again.”
Calla, never happy to hear from him to begin with, gave a deep sigh at the interruption. “What now?” “Another phone number.”
“You writing these down?”
“Nope,” he responded cheerfully. When he’d first met Calla, he couldn’t believe Viper had actually hired her. She had the personality of a laundry room door, couldn’t tell the difference between sarcasm and a rib-tickler and was born without the ability to smile as far as he could tell. But, and it was a huge but, she ran the office with a cool efficiency he doubted he’d be able to replace in a million years. “And don’t tell me to call directory assistance. In my personal files, I need the number for Maxwell Crayton.”
“Crayton Security, phone, fax, cell. Maxwell Crayton residence, cell. Kat Jannsen cell.” Calla enunciated each syllable of the Maxwell Crayton-related numbers like she was talking to a three year old.
“Jannsen cell number please.” His phone vibrated with a warning he’d received a text message. Efficiency. He could overlook a lot for efficiency. “And might as well send the others as well.” Another buzz from his phone as he spoke told him she was, as usual, ahead of him.
“You won’t be able to read them,” she warned. “I told you to get reading glasses before you left.” Ghost let that one slide. Efficiency was one thing but he’d be hanged if he’d get reading glasses before he turned forty. Somehow he’d get through the next eighteen months without glasses. “Anything–“
”No messages. Don’t change the schedule again until tomorrow. You’re in enough of a mess one short. I’m leaving at two, Mom’s got a doctor’s appointment. I’ll be in late tomorrow as I’ve got to stop by Senator Caruthers’s office to pick up those new protocol files he wants you to see. Will you be wanting them delivered to you tomorrow?”
“Not sure. Probably not.” He heard the cluck she didn’t try to hide at his indecision. Respect wasn’t in her vocabulary either. His own mother couldn’t stand the woman and she got on with everyone. “Have a good afternoon, Calla.”
A faint click was the only response. It was a good thing they didn’t deal with the public, he supposed, and turned his attention to the array of numbers displayed in the tiniest print he’d ever seen. He sighed. Did she have to be right about everything? Luckily, he’d been graced with long arms. It took him over five minutes to manipulate the minuscule keypad. Rather than calling her from a number she wouldn’t recognize, and therefore wouldn’t answer, he simply texted: Call me. This #. GL.
His phone rang less than two minutes later. “What’s up, Greg? Don’t cancel on me.” “Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart. Wanted to let you know you’re out of a job.”
“Oh, no.” He could hear the sadness in Kat’s voice, even through the distortion of the cheap phone. “Permanently?” “Yeah. Last night. I’ll fill you in tonight.”
“What time will you be here?”
“Sometime this afternoon. Depends on what kind of transport I can rustle up. Max around?”
“Hang on, I’ll get him. Can’t wait to see you.”
“Goes double for me, sweet stuff. Put on something sexy, would you? Let’s drive Max crazy.”
He heard her chuckle before Max’s familiar voice filled his ear. “You trying to seduce my woman again, Lassiter?”
“Need privacy, Max.” There wasn’t a response, but he didn’t expect one. When Max spoke again, his voice had changed. No trace of levity, no trace of any emotion whatsoever. “Door’s closed.”
“I found her.” In his mind, he could see his friend close his eyes, drop into his chair. He’d waited over a year for the information Greg was about to give him.
“Where?”
“I’m going to bring her to you, but I want an evaluation before you tell her who you are. She’s after you.” “Kat’s evaluation or mine?”
“Both.”
“Why bring her here? I can be in Denver in no time.”
Why indeed? He couldn’t explain why. Only that Mykael had to meet Max and Kat. There was more, lots more, riding on the meeting, but he couldn’t–wouldn’t–go there. Even in his own head. “I want her to see you–both of you, as you are now.”
“Happily-married-father-of-two-security-consultant?”
“Exactly.”
“She hasn’t forgiven Ice?”
“She’s been looking for Ice for years.” He didn’t try to keep the grim reality out of his voice. “And you’re going to bring her to my home?”
“I think it’s the only way.”
“To what? Kill my family?”
“To save the future.”
“Whose future?”
“Yours. Hers. Mine. See you this afternoon. I’ll entertain your wife while you get acquainted with Peter’s bride.” Max’s sign off was as abrupt as Calla’s. Greg sighed. O for two. Across the busy terminal, he watched the crowds emerging from the escalator into the terminal. Good thing he had four at-bats today.
He flicked on the recording of Kat’s last session with Crater, looking for a reason his team member was smoking dope with Jaime Caldera last night. During Kat’s last session, Ghost sat in. Crater had ignored Kat to chew on a piece of his new boss.
“You let Ice kill him, you son of a bitch.” Even over the tinny recording, Crater’s voice spewed venom. “Then you covered it up. Viper’s the reason Black Fire exists. He didn’t deserve to go out like that. He wasn’t doing anything but his job. There isn’t anything else to talk about.”
“And the little girl? He cut off her toe.”
Crater had shrugged. “She’s alive. You know the rules. We were after a mole. He’d killed our men. He doesn’t get to breathe. However it happens, whatever it takes.”
Those were the rules. The problem was, “that wasn’t a mission.” “You weren’t there. Sure as hell was a mission. If Ice were alive, he’d be in jail for treason. He killed Blade.” Furious rage had shone from Crater’s eyes. “You were his friend. You’ve fucked everything up since you took over. You’re not Viper—can’t even begin to fill his sho
es.”
Had Crater looked to Jaime Caldera to fill Viper’s shoes? What the hell was he doing with Carlos’ brother? Crater was team, like a brother, but not if he’d turned. Not if he was sharing secrets in the dark in Magnum’s office.
He switched to the surveillance camera feed and set the recording to play. The talk was about women. Two in particular. They were to meet them later in the evening, in the office, where it seemed the women would “service” Caldera’s little brother and his former agent. For now the men warmed up with pornography that turned his stomach. He listened to what was probably Crater’s last laugh as the woman on the screen was raped by two men.
His agent. Ghost shook his head.
Former.
No way else to think of him. The man on his communicator was as dark, depraved and disgusting as Jaime Caldera. He bore no resemblance to the soldier Ghost had been proud to serve beside. Viper’s doing? Viper probably bore most of the blame. But Crater had made the decision all on his own.
He watched the small, almost tiny man enter the room. His assessment of the two men was immediate and barely perceptible. He rightly evaluated each man’s threat, turned a gun on Jaime and slit Crater’s throat before he agent’s fingers even twitched. His former brother had been too stoned to move, too stoned to save himself. For a Black Fire team member, it was unbelievable. Los Cochillos was fast. Crater should have been faster. Jaime was dispatched just as quickly. Los Cochillos even controlled the blood flow with a towel, leaving as clean as he’d come in. Damn.
Cole dropped into the chair next to his, eyeing his tomato juice. “Little early, bro?” Ghost shut down the surveillance tape. “Not loaded. How’s home?” Glad for the distraction, he leveled a steady gaze at his brother, appraising. Cole looked good. “Mom rescheduled dinner. Next Sunday. And you’d better be there.”
“No promises. Lots of hairy crap happening. How well do you know the Calderas?”
Cole snorted. “Well enough. I know they’re running scared after last month. Down to two of them.”
Greg shook his head and held up a single finger.
“No shit? Los Cochillos? You should recruit the little guy. The DEA wants to pin a medal on him.” “They might not get a chance. He took out a Black Fire member last night.” Ghost had a missed call, a message from Caruthers and could already guess what it said. He blew out a breath in a rush. “I’ve got to rent a car. Come sit in it with me.”
Cole gave a nod. Greg saw the slight limp his brother tried to hide. “What’d you do?” “Landed on a tree stump. Night jump. Didn’t see it til my ankle was good and hooked. It’s nothing.”
“You’re supposed to have the safe job, remember?”
Cole’s work for the DEA was a concession to their mother. She said she didn’t mind if they both worked for Uncle Sam, but only one of her boys was allowed to flirt with the grim reaper. “If Los Cochillos gets his way, I’ll be reassigned.” He waited while Ghost obtained keys to a large rental SUV.
*** The dry Denver heat was merciless, seeping into the lobby with a suffocating thoroughness. Mykael took a last breath of the hotel’s air-conditioning and was immediately swept up against a body of steel.
Greg’s arms closed around her and she buried her head against his firm, strong chest, fighting an inexplicable feeling of homecoming.
He released her to take her chin in his hand, searching her eyes before he shook his head. Surprising her, he only said, “Let’s go,” and relieved her of her small bag.
In the car, he turned away from the city and headed north on Tower Road until he reached a deserted side street. There were no houses, no cars, nothing but his wonderful, terrible eyes. “What’s next?” She asked, even though she really didn’t want to know. How could she long so much to be next to him, miss him desperately when she wasn’t and yet hate how he tore her up inside?
“Maria,” he whispered, and she struggled to meet his eyes. “No more lies between us.” He pulled her close, and she buried her nose in his strong shoulder, inhaling the healthy, all-male scent that was exquisitely his, hating herself for the truth she couldn’t share. Hating him for making her doubt the only thing that gave her life meaning. “Clear?” he whispered, and she pressed a kiss against that unrelenting jaw, unable to be truthful, unwilling to lie again.
His kiss was soft, warm and just long enough to elicit a moan from her throat and clear her head of anything but him. Now he met her eyes, and smiled, referring to her earlier question. “Next is dinner. With old friends. No business tonight. Settle back and relax, we’ve got a bit of a drive.”
Except dinner with Greg Lassiter would always be business. Mind-blowing, body-wracking kisses aside, she couldn’t afford to let it be anything else. The bit of a drive lasted over three hours. The rental car grew smaller as each mile passed. Much too aware of Greg, his body, his being, she fought to keep hunger at bay. He turned on the radio and she remembered those fingers playing her body. The music offered only a momentary distraction, until his soft accompanying whistle shifted her attention to his mouth. She swallowed a groan.
“Did you join Black Fire after you lost Robyn and Hunter?” Rather like the need to pick at a scab, she couldn’t stop the question. She wanted to know more of this man, even if it meant getting closer to the pain that turned his eyes dark and his soul blacker.
He shot her a glance and gave a nod. “Two week’s later.”
“Did Viper recruit you?”
This time he didn’t look away from the road. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel though. “No.” She wanted to touch him, to soothe the hurt. The urge was strong, and frightening. What was it about this man? Her fingers straightened involuntarily, tips itching to feel the rough texture of his hand, stroke the hair on his arm. Until he spoke again. “Ice recruited me.”
Her fingers curled to fists and she closed her eyes, but even that wasn’t safe enough. She turned her head to the window.
Grateful for the reminder to keep her mind on task, she nevertheless flinched when his hand covered her fists in her lap. “Sorry, Maria.” She forced her eyes and hands open, turned to face him and forced a bright smile. “I’m sorry there is a Black Fire at all.” A text saved her from babbling on. She glanced at the screen on his communicator. “Calla wants to know where we’re going.”
“Bluff River Falls, Wyoming. Tell her it’s on my agenda: Crayton. Now tell me about Magnum. About what you thought of him.”
She turned her gaze out the window. The blue summer sky stretched out around them for miles and miles. “He’s too young.”
“Rookies always are. He’s older than most. What’s really going down here, Mykael? Is he an old boyfriend?”
That brought a glimmer of a smile to her lips. “No.”
“Then what’s your problem?”
“He’s just not right for this. He’s too naive, too–too friendly.” Lies. Why did she always have to lie to this man who demanded nothing but truth?
“So you want me to turn him down because he’s too friendly?”
“I do.” She forced her eyes to meet his, hopeful for the first time since the awful realization had sunk in yesterday.
Greg shook his head. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”
She shrugged. Hadn’t she known it would be a losing battle? “I can’t. It’s just a hunch. Intuition.” She didn’t look away, even when his gaze softened. “I’m never wrong, Greg.” “Guess we’ll see. He’s inside where we haven’t been able to get, providing more Intel than we’ve garnered in years. I can’t pull him because you’ve got a hunch.” “I know.” She sighed and offered a silent prayer. Until Carlos Caldera’s reign was demolished, she had the feeling she’d be doing a lot of praying. “How about the scumbag who blew up my Mule? Azisi? Who is he?”
“Actually, Magnum had some insight there. Said Azisi was hired by Caldera for protection. Tron’s on it. We’ll figure it out.”
“Did you find out anything from the security tapes?”
“Not yet, but we’ve got facial recognition on it. Enough shop talk , okay? I’m off the clock now.” Could their facial recognition work on her own face? Or just known criminals? The software she’d developed on her own used driver’s license databases throughout the United States. If theirs did too, off the clock was definitely best. Off the grid would be better. Mykael reached for the radio and turned up the volume.
The old friends turned out to be his psychiatrist friend Kat Jannsen and her security consultant husband Max Crayton. They had an eleven-year-old daughter who made Mykael dizzy after two minutes in her company and an infant son all three adored. Lizard, as Max called his daughter, vanished with the baby shortly after their arrival. Kat hugged Greg a little too tightly for Mykael’s liking, then disappeared into the kitchen, murmuring something about drinks and checking on dinner. Max seemed much too attentive, although his eyes were shuttered, impossible to read, except for a slightly shell-shocked look she wondered about. He did tear his attention away from her shortly after their arrival to give Greg a single nod. She must’ve missed the question.
Max ushered them outside to a wide flagstone patio overlooking the river which bisected the quaint old-west-flavored town of Bluff River Falls. He lit citronella candles and offered a can of bug spray.
“The mosquitoes will be out at dusk, so we’ll eat in, but there’s always a few early birds in the bunch.” Mykael sprayed obediently, although inwardly she smiled. The small-town security consultant hadn’t really ever seen a mosquito. Not the way they grew them in South America. And she wouldn’t even mention the ones in eastern Asia.
“It’s a nice view,” she admired truthfully, moving to a railway tie fence. The scenery reminded her a little of her home in Nevada. The house sat high on a butte, the deck overlooking both the river and town below. Trees grew, dense and tall along the riverbank. Beyond that was familiar desert scrub brush and grass that struggled desperately to live in mostly tidy patchwork yards.
