by Dee Davis
They’d spent the last four weeks trying to find answers in the aftermath of all that had happened. But there had been little to go on. Questioning Aamir’s parents had been a dead end, the couple clearly unaware of their son’s militant leanings. And backtracking on Saed’s movements had proven equally futile, the trail growing cold in the mountains of Afghanistan along with all traces of Kamaal.
Not surprisingly, the remains of the boat had yielded nothing. They had found .22 caliber brass casings on the floor of the UN’s conference room mezzanine, a choice of weapon that was obviously meant to have incriminated Mossad had the assassination of Bilaal been successful. And despite hours poring over pictures of potential killers, no one had been able to identify the man who’d tried to kill Bilaal and held Jillian hostage.
Thankfully, though, Bilaal had been saved and, with him, the hope for a lasting peace in the Middle East. There was still a long way to go, but with him as part of the process, there was a real chance of success. He was turning into a true Yusuf, crossing cultural lines with charm and an innate goodness.
The FDR had reopened, as had the seaport. And the Yankees had gone on to win the World Series. With the deaths of Lester, Rivon, and Isaacs, their network seemed to have dried up. Which was at least a small success. But overall, though the Consortium had lost this battle, the final outcome of the war had yet to be decided.
“So, if I can have everyone’s attention,” Avery said, breaking into Jillian’s thoughts, his smile warm and inclusive.
She’d been surprised at how easily the team had accepted her as a part of their family. Of course, it was mostly due to the fact that Simon had made his feelings for her more than clear. But she also felt as if she’d earned her place—on her own merit. And that meant more to her than she could ever have thought possible.
“We’re here tonight to honor Jillian and Simon.” Avery’s voice filled the backyard, and everyone grew quiet.
“Not exactly necessary,” Simon insisted from his perch on the edge of the table. “After all, this was a team endeavor. Anything we accomplished was part of a group effort. Any victory belongs to all of us.”
“Spoken like a true kiss-up,” Harrison heckled, as Drake and Tucker exchanged grins over the grill where they were manning the meat.
“The two of you,” Avery continued, shooting a sharp look in the other men’s direction, “were the ones who put yourselves directly in harm’s way to protect Bilaal. Without your quick thinking, the man would surely be dead, and America would potentially be on the brink of war. The way I see it, you both deserve more than a medal.”
He reached into his pocket, producing two small velvet boxes. “And so on behalf of the United States government, I’m very pleased to present you both with the Intelligence Star. I don’t have to tell you what an honor it is to be recognized in this way.” He opened each of the boxes and held them out for Jillian and Simon while the others lifted their beers and cheered.
“But I’m not even CIA,” Jillian protested. Actually, she wasn’t even with Homeland Security anymore, but they hadn’t told anyone yet.
“As far as Langley is concerned, you were acting as a member of this unit, which makes you CIA,” Avery assured her. “And well-deserving of the honor.”
“Well, if you ask me, these medals belong to all of us,” Simon reiterated, still looking embarrassed as he rose to his feet.
“No worries.” Tyler laughed, her arm linked through Owen’s. “This is the only time you’ll ever actually see them anyway. They give them to you and then take them away. After all, technically, we don’t exist—which means we can’t risk having something as auspicious as a medal hanging around. So enjoy the moment.”
“I knew there had to be a catch,” Simon said. “Oh, well, easy come, easy go. I’ve got all the reward I need right here.” He slipped an arm around Jillian, and her heart flipped over in her chest. The man had always had that effect on her, and now he always would.
Harrison smiled and pulled Hannah closer. Madeline and Alexis, now visibly pregnant, soothed Bree, who was clearly not as enthralled with the proceedings as the grown-ups. Annie and Nash moved over to their son, the three of them starting an impromptu game of Frisbee. And Drake, sporting an Angels cap, was squirting water on a burst of flames coming from the grill as his brother gave him a hard time.
After everything that had happened, things seemed absurdly normal. But then maybe that was the way it was supposed to be. The hard stuff, the difficult bits, just a blip in what was otherwise a perfectly ordinary life. Jillian sighed. Just at the moment normalcy sounded like heaven.
“If you guys have a minute,” Avery was saying, “I’ve got something else I need to say.”
Jillian settled on the picnic table next to Simon, lacing her fingers with his.
“I wasn’t kidding about your being a part of the team, Jillian. I want you here, permanently. So I talked to the brass, and they’ve authorized me to offer you a position. I’m sure you’ve heard us talking about Lara Prescott.” Avery paused to take a sip from his beer. “Among other things, she served as the team’s medical officer. And as you also may know, she’s taken an indefinite leave of absence. So long story short, we need someone to take her place, and we’d like that to be you.”
“Did you know about this?” Jillian asked, turning to Simon.
“No.” He shook his head, holding up his hands in denial. “Not a thing. Avery is pretty good about playing his cards close to the vest.”
“I didn’t want to say anything until everything was approved,” Avery said. “So what do you think?”
Jillian glanced over at Simon, wondering if this new offer would change anything. They’d talked and talked about their options and where they wanted to go next, not only with their relationship but with their lives. And while she wanted to be with him, it was important that she have a life of her own as well. And A-Tac was Simon’s world.
“I think J.J. has already made another commitment,” Simon said, reaching for her hand, telling her with just a touch that nothing had changed. Decisions about her life would always be hers.
“Please tell me it’s not with Homeland Security.” Avery frowned. “I’d hate to think we’re losing you to them.”
“No.” Jillian smiled, loving that she was wanted, but equally pleased with her decision. “Although the director did play a part in it. I’ve decided to go back to medical school. And he pulled some strings to get me into Cornell. I start in the spring. And though your offer is tempting, the truth is that, while I want to save lives, I’d rather do it in an OR than in the field. I’ll leave that to you and Simon and the rest of the team.”
“And you’re sure it’s what you want?” Avery asked.
“Very sure. Between Cornell and Simon, I feel as if all my dreams have come true.” She squeezed his hand, feeling absurdly happy in the moment.
“Well, I can’t say that I’m not disappointed,” Avery groused, “but I understand the choice. And I’m happy for you. And after you graduate, if you change your mind, there will always be a place for you on my team.”
“That means the world to me, Avery,” Jillian said.
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to do without me, too, boss,” Simon said as she turned to look at him with surprise. “My leg isn’t going to get any better. And if I learned one thing out of all of this, it’s that you have to grab on to the things that matter while you’ve got the chance. And for me,” he looked down at her, his eyes full of love, “that means being with J.J.. So I’m going to move to the city with her.”
“But you can’t resign,” Jillian protested. “You love A-Tac.”
“I do. And assuming Avery’s willing, I think I can still be of use to the unit, helping with logistics when I’m needed. But beyond that, I think maybe it’s time for me to reinvent myself, too.”
Jillian felt tears welling in her eyes. She’d never have asked him to choose. But he had anyway. And he’d chosen her.
�
��So am I still on the team?” Simon asked. “Or did I just quit?”
“I’m happy to have whatever you’ve got to give me, Simon,” Avery said, his face breaking into a smile. “And I wholeheartedly support your decision. Most people don’t get second chances, and the two of you need to cherish the fact that you’ve been given one. Next to that, nothing else really matters.”
Simon walked across the back patio, the autumn night crisp and sweet. The BBQ was still winding down, his friends huddled in groups around the backyard, their voices carrying on the soft breeze. J.J. was sitting on the porch swing, the last of the light caressing her golden hair. He dropped down beside her, relishing her warmth as she leaned against him with a contented sigh.
“Happy?” he asked, already knowing the answer, but loving the sound of it anyway.
“Incredibly.” She sighed, cuddling closer, then tipping her head back so that she could see his eyes. “And you?”
“Beyond belief,” he said, stroking her hair. “I think I’ve always loved you, Jillian Montgomery. Starting that first moment I saw you at orientation in college. Avery was right. Most people don’t get a second shot. But you’ve given me one, and I intend to spend the rest of my life proving that you made the right decision.”
“You don’t have to prove anything, Simon.” She lifted a hand to caress his face. “It’s enough just to know that you love me.”
“And that I do, sweetheart,” he said, with a smile, as he pulled her onto his lap, his lips slanting over hers. “That I do.”
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Dire Distraction.
Köln, Germany
I’m afraid, my friend, that your time with the Consortium has come to an end.” Michael Brecht stared down the muzzle of Anthony Delafranco’s gun, anger mixing with surprise. He wouldn’t have believed his friend capable of such betrayal.
But he recognized the determination in Delafranco’s eyes, even as he saw the slight movement of his hand tightening on the trigger. Michael dove for the ground as the quiet garden exploded with gunfire. Pea gravel scraped across the skin on his forearms as he fell, Delafranco’s first shot going wild. Behind him, Michael could see his associate Gregor struggling with Delafranco’s bodyguard. And as Delafranco tried to readjust the trajectory, Michael scrambled for cover, wishing to hell he had his weapon. This wasn’t the way he’d planned for it to end.
More shots rang out and Michael flinched, then blinked as Delafranco’s gun fell from lifeless fingers, his body crumpling forward, blood staining the gravel walkway. Gregor stepped from behind a rose bush, still holding his gun, the bodyguard’s lifeless form stretched out beside him.
“You okay, boss?” Gregor asked, kicking away the bodyguard’s weapon and bending to check for a pulse. There was no need to check on Delafranco. His blood and brain matter had been sprayed across the roses like macabre graffiti.
“Is he dead?” Michael asked, brushing the gravel from his pants, his gaze still on Delafranco.
“Yes.” Gregor stood up, holstering his weapon. “We’ll need to get the bodies out of here as soon as possible. We don’t want any unnecessary questions.”
“Agreed. You can call Stephan. He’s discreet. And he’ll make sure there’s nothing for anyone to find.”
“Still, you’ll have to explain Delafranco’s death to the Council.”
Michael reached out to pluck a wilted rose from its stem, thinking about the group of men he’d hand-picked to help lead the Consortium. “Eventually. But for now, we’ll just let them believe he’s disappeared.”
“There will be questions.”
“That’s to be expected. And I trust that you and Stephan will leave a trail of answers. Delafranco would never have dared to try this if he were on his own,” Michael admitted, the taste of the words bitter in his mouth. “I need to know who was acting with him. And then we can weed out the rest of the traitors. Once that’s done, I’ll make sure the others know the real truth. That I created the Consortium. And that I’m the one in charge. And should anyone else try to interfere, he’ll meet the same fate as Delafranco.”
“As you wish,” Gregor said, nodding his agreement. “But what about A-Tac? Delafranco was right. They are going to continue to be a problem.”
“Not to worry. I’ve got plans for them too. All that remains is to activate the file I embedded in the hard drive I had Kamaal Sahar leave behind at the camp in Afghanistan. And when Avery Solomon and his merry band find it, the wheels will be set in motion. He’ll come running, and vengeance will be mine.”
Sunderland College, New York
All right, chow is served,” Avery Solomon said, setting a platter of burgers on the game table in his living room. “First pitch is in five. So fill up your plate and grab a seat.”
“Angels are going to kill,” Drake Flynn said, sliding two burgers onto his plate along with a healthy serving of potato salad. “Just so you guys are prepared.” He settled on the sofa and reached for his beer.
“In your dreams, surfer boy.” Nash Brennon laughed, dropping into an armchair as strains of the Star-Spangled Banner resounded from the surround-sound system. “Yankees rule.”
“Most of the time. But this year your pitching sucks, and we’ve got Pujols.”
“And not much else,” Avery said, settling into a chair. It was good to have some down time. Of late, it seemed like the team had been spending a hell of a lot of time chasing after ghosts. Most of them sent by their nemesis, a secretive arms cartel known as the Consortium. And despite the fact that they’d managed to win most of the battles, the cost had been high.
Too high, if he had to call it.
But it was what it was, and there was nothing he could do to change the past. Best to focus on the future. And on the moment, the things that made it all worthwhile: baseball, beer, burgers, and good friends.
“Where’s Harrison?” Nash asked, taking a sip from a bottle of Shiner Bock. The beer, a Texas import, was a favorite. And Harrison, recently back from a job consulting with drug enforcement agents about an operation on the Mexican border, had brought Avery a case. “I thought he was supposed to be here.”
“He is.” Drake nodded. “But he also just got back from almost a month on an operation. And if Hannah is anything like Madeline, let’s just say absence really does make the heart…” he trailed off, waggling his eyebrows for effect.
“Jesus, Drake.” Nash blew out a disgusted breath. “Do you ever think of anything besides sex?”
“Yeah. Baseball and beer.” Drake grinned, lifting his bottle. “The trifecta, of course being all three at once.”
“Good luck with that,” Nash snorted, shaking his head.
Avery watched his friends, suddenly feeling too damned old. This business had a way of sucking the life right out of you, particularly when they were dealing with the Consortium. He took another sip of his beer, turning his attention to the TV. The first Angels batter was up to face C.C. Sabathia on the mound for the Yankees.
Behind them, the doorbell rang.
“Harrison,” Nash said, shooting a sideways glance at Drake as he bit into a burger. “Told you he’d be here.”
“It’s open,” Avery called. C.C. threw a curveball for strike three.
“Sorry I’m late,” Harrison said, something in his expression sending alarm bells jangling. “I was working and sort of got sidetracked.” He held up a mangled-looking black box, his eyes telegraphing regret.
“Dude, you’re not supposed to be working,” Drake protested. “The Angels are playing the Yankees. Where I’m from that’s almost sacrosanct.”
“Big word, Drake,” Nash said, turning to look at Harrison, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the black box in Harrison’s hand.
Apparently Avery wasn’t the only one to sense that something was up.
Never late for the party, Drake swiveled around, looked first at Harrison, then
at Avery, and then back at Harrison again, the game forgotten. “You’ve pulled something off the drive.”
The mangled hard drive had been recovered in an abandoned terrorist encampment in Afghanistan. A-Tac had received intel about the possibility of a Consortium-funded operation, but when they’d arrived, the camp had been abandoned, everything of consequence removed or destroyed.
Except for a notebook that had helped them stop an assassination attempt. And the remains of the hard drive. Avery hadn’t doubted for a minute that if there was recoverable information, Harrison would find it. But he’d also been fairly certain that there wouldn’t be anything left to find.
Clearly, he’d been wrong.
“I’m sorry,” Harrison said. “I know the timing sucks.” As if to underscore the sentiment, the solid swack of bat meeting ball echoed through the room, but nobody turned to look. Not even Drake. “But you’re going to want to see this.”
Harrison’s gaze locked with Avery’s, and suddenly he wasn’t all that certain he wanted to know. But there was nothing to be gained in putting off the inevitable. Whatever the Consortium had in store for them next, he was ready.
“Okay then,” Avery said, switching the TV off with the remote, then pushing the burgers out of the way as they all gathered around the table, “what have you got?”
“It’s a little startling.” Harrison paused, clearly searching for the right words. “And kind of personal.” His gaze met Avery’s. “You might want to hear this on your own.”
Avery shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’re all family here. So tell us what you’ve found.”
Harrison hooked the box up to his laptop and hit a key. A woman’s face filled the screen. Her dark hair curled around her face, brown eyes glittering with some unshared emotion, her generous mouth giving nothing away.
