Way of the Warrior

by Suzanne Brockmann

  The guard laughed but removed his hands from her ass. “I’d like to see you try, little girl.”

  Vivi ignored him. She had no choice because the man she’d come to see, Prisoner R5762, the infamous Sergeant First Class Rook Granger, raised his head, narrowing his gaze on the guard’s hands, jaw clenching.

  Vivi inhaled sharply. She had no frame of reference to compare the beauty of Rook’s face. The symmetry of his broad forehead, high cheekbones, and square jaw was breathtaking. His eyebrows were wide swaths of ebony against the bronze of his skin. The bridge of his nose was slightly crooked but did nothing to detract from the otherwise striking canvas of his features. His lower lip was fuller than the top, but the curve of his mouth gave him a mocking, almost rakish appearance. It actually took that face from beautiful to downright sinful.

  But it was his eyes that took her breath, hell, her mind, away and replaced them with an emotion so foreign to Vivi she couldn’t name it. Coal black, bright with malice but shadowed with secrets, his gaze was both a silken caress and the burning promise of retribution.

  His stare unsettled her so much that she simply stood there for several seconds, unaware of her surroundings. The guard pushed her forward and she stumbled, righting herself before she sprawled face-first into the cell. The chains rattled again, and malevolence poured off Rook.

  Honor, her brother had said as he lay dying in the hospital. Rook Granger had more honor in a single breath than most men could claim their entire life.

  Yet here he was—a prisoner of the U.S. Disciplinary Barracks at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. Honorable men didn’t go to prison, did they?

  Sometimes, she mused. Prisoner R5762 was living proof.

  “You don’t like it when I touch her, blade runner?” the guard taunted. The reference to the prosthetic on Rook’s left leg fell like a gauntlet.

  He remained silent, but the vow in his eyes was unmistakable. With that look, it wasn’t hard to believe he was the killer his Army superiors made him out to be. Vivi held her breath, willing the fear to subside. She wasn’t his target.

  Not yet.

  She straightened her shoulders and glanced at the guard. “You can leave.”

  He smirked. “I’ll be right outside if you need me, little girl.” It was a taunt, plain and simple.

  If only she’d met him outside these walls…

  Yeah, Vivi? What would you do? Hack into his email account and send his wife pictures of him having sex with her sister? Hack into his bank account and send all his money to a charity in Africa? Flip him the bird and stomp off?

  She ground her back teeth together. She might be CIA, but she wasn’t quite as physically intimidating as she’d like. She’d love to hand him his ass. She’d love some revenge for the feels he’d copped, but there were rules in this setting and she had a goal that wouldn’t be met sitting around jonesing for payback. Maybe she’d hack into his email next week.

  Vivi smiled serenely, affecting a look of tranquillity like she’d been born to it. She’d damn well practiced it her entire life. As a woman in a man’s profession, she’d had to swallow more than her fair share of shit. This was small potatoes. She could do this.

  She walked to the only other chair in the room, located approximately five feet in front of her quarry, and sat down. It didn’t escape her notice that Rook’s eyes fixed on her once the guard left. His gaze was a tactile stroke, leaving no part of her untouched. Vivi took another deep, cleansing breath and raised her head.

  She met his gaze, and the air in her lungs froze. Panic sliced through her as the black ice of his eyes effectively trapped her thoughts, bypassing her intent and worming through her veins. Stone. Cold. Killer. It seemed there was no life behind those eyes, nothing but a veiled intent to destroy anyone who got in his path.

  She was now all up in that path—a direct target. And she’d put herself there intentionally. She glanced at the chains that shackled him to huge bolts in the floor. Yes, he was a big, strong Delta Force officer. Yes, he was one scary dude. Yes, he’d been convicted in the deaths of his entire Delta Force unit. But the chains were overkill. He’d pissed somebody off so badly they’d determined to make every second of his life behind bars miserable.

  She smiled and lifted a shaking hand to push a wayward curl behind her ear. “My name is Olivia Bentwood. I believe you knew my brother, Michael.”

  She left her words hanging in the air. She’d made the initial foray and waited for him to either pick it up or leave it lying there. He did as she expected and said nothing.

  She didn’t drop her gaze but cocked her head and made it glacial. “You knew my brother, served with him in Iraq, Afghanistan, Syria, and Lebanon, along with a few incursions into Indonesia. According to Michael, you pulled his ass out of so many cracks during the time you served with him that he could never repay you. On July 3, 2007, you saved him from a burning helo after it crashed in Helmand Province. On September 3, 2008, you pulled him, shot and bleeding, from a firefight in Kunar Province. And on February 24, 2010, you saved his life when your Delta Force unit and two CIA paramilitary operatives were ambushed at a security checkpoint outside Mogadishu, Somalia. He had more respect for you than anyone he’d ever met, and your name was the last thing he said before he died from the wounds sustained on that op.”

  She paused, searching for any flicker of recognition, any hint of emotion. As Michael had told her he would, he remained ice cold. He had no way of knowing, would probably not understand, but one day she’d thank him for that iciness. It gave her strength.

  She sighed and plastered the smile on her face again. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sergeant Granger. My brother spoke highly of you, swore the gods of war had created you as the perfect soldier. Said that although you lost your leg in the Second Battle of Fallujah, you were the best damn warrior he’d ever known. He passed nine months ago, in a hospital bed at Walter Reed. They said you were responsible. My brother knew different. You saved his life, and I’m here to repay the debt.”

  The silence in the room was absolute, an empty void waiting to be filled. He didn’t disappoint her.

  “Leave.”

  One word, so simple, yet complex all at once.

  “I cannot do that, Sergeant Granger. You’re in trouble. You’ll rot here if I don’t get you out. And actually, the point is moot because the wheels are already turning.” The clanging of a door down the hall resounded in the sudden silence. Determined footsteps headed their way. “Here comes our first salvo now.”

  She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Her thumb caressed the screen, hovering over a particular button. Almost time. She stared at him, trying with her demeanor to calm the beast she knew writhed beneath his skin. He stared back, promising hell if she didn’t do as he’d commanded.

  “We will be leaving here tonight, Sergeant. I have information I believe you’ve needed for almost a year now. That information would have saved your men’s lives and negated the need for your imprisonment. It’s important you listen to me very carefully.”

  His face was blank. His eyes, filled with cold temerity moments earlier, shut down flat. He slouched in the chair now, leaning back negligently. But Vivi had the upper hand here. He couldn’t bluff her because she knew the truth and she knew he wanted that truth. Badly.

  “Leave,” he said again. Oh, the look on his face was calm, bored even, but his voice was horrible. Yet the deep baritone moved her, settling her nerves.

  He was a strong man. An honorable man. He’d been done wrong. And Vivi had made a promise to her brother. Rook Granger would not prevent her from keeping it.

  She shook her head, crossed her legs, and stared at him, waiting for the next phase of his denial to begin. He stood so abruptly the chair skated backward, hitting the wall behind him with a banging screech of metal. The guard behind the glass to their left stood up as well, walking around to the door to
unlock it and get her out of there. She held up a hand and thanked her lucky stars Brigadier General Johansen had seen fit to help her, greasing the wheels for this venture so everything went smoothly. The guard stopped and returned to his seat.

  Vivi remained seated, though now she looked up to where he stood, arms stretched to his side by the metal chains bolted to the floor. “You don’t scare me, Sergeant.”

  “I should fucking terrify you.”

  She ignored him, keeping her voice even but low, almost a whisper. “You are going to walk out of here with me, and we are going to do whatever must be done to get to the truth. I made a promise. I have called in favors owed to me by men in some of the highest positions of our government. If you do not go with me, my life is forfeit. My inquiries have no doubt met the ears of the very people responsible for your incarceration—the ones responsible for the death of your Delta Force unit and my brother. In an effort to hide their very ugly truth, they will eliminate whomever they need to. Neither my position in the CIA, nor the people indebted to me, will be able to stop the bad guys. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  He said nothing, maintaining that stony silence.

  The door to the visitation cell opened. “It is time, Ms. Bentwood,” the new guard said.

  She stood to her feet, keeping her gaze on Rook, daring him to naysay her. The guard walked over to stand next to Rook. He was an average-sized man and the difference between him and Rook was startling.

  The war truly began in that next moment. The first skirmish was one Rook had with himself, and it showed in small ways. The tensing of his jaw, the muscles there bunching and relaxing. His narrowed gaze and flaring nostrils. He was a wild thing, and Vivi irrationally wanted to soothe him.

  She smiled once more, aware it may be her last for a while. Michael had told her Rook Granger was a mean son of a bitch when riled. But he hadn’t met Vivi. She was the most stubborn woman in the world. Badass Delta Force commander or not, she could take his mean and counter it a million different ways, tipping the scales in her favor.

  The first guard, the one with the touchy-feely hands, glared at her through the doors. He was her biggest obstacle at the moment, but not for long. Her thumb pressed the screen and within moments the lights of the holding wing of the prison began to flicker.

  Vivi trained her gaze on Rook.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Rook asked in disbelief.

  Long seconds passed, and she arched a single brow. He bit off a curse but raised his arms. The guard unlocked his shackles and stepped back as the lights went out completely. As soon as the lights extinguished, every guard with the exception of the one in the room with them scattered to assure the prison remained locked down.

  “This way,” the guard said and moved for the door, placing a key in the lock and opening the cell.

  The backup generator kicked in, the lights flickered back on, and Rook Granger was in her face before she took a breath. “I don’t know you. I don’t know why you’re here. But if this is some kind of trick, it won’t matter that you’re Michael’s sister. I’ll snap your skinny neck and keep moving.”

  His heat wrapped around her, and she wanted to sink into him, let that warmth chase away the chill his gaze had spread.

  “You would have to catch me first, Sergeant. I feel it only fair to tell you that I’m pretty fast,” she murmured.

  “You think because I’ve got a prosthetic I can’t catch you?”

  She wouldn’t even dignify that with an answer.

  “Ms. Bentwood,” the guard urged.

  Vivi turned away from Rook, away from that sensual, mocking curve of his lips and that bitterly cold ebony gaze. His hands landed on her shoulders, preventing movement but not painful. A shiver worked through her.

  Even as she recognized he was affecting her, Vivi pressed one more button on her phone. The entire holding wing of the prison went dark once more. Security protocols were overridden, and the backup generator was disabled. Vivi had hacked the prison’s system, infiltrating it two weeks ago with an ease that made her stomach cramp. She’d established a program that allowed her to remotely manipulate the lights, cameras, and security grid for this wing with her smartphone. The doors to the cells would remain locked unless a key was inserted to override. She’d shut the entire wing of a federal maximum security prison down with the touch of a button.

  Rook leaned against her back, lowering his mouth to her ear. He inhaled deeply, the air he moved with that breath slithering against her skin, heating her in ways she’d never been heated. “Michael told me about you. How much he loved you, how he helped raise you when your parents died.”

  She snorted as the darkness pressed on them. “There’s a reason for this?”

  “Just one and I want you to listen to it closely,” he said.

  Another shiver caused by a voice that was gravelly but delicious nonetheless. “I’m waiting.”

  “Don’t make me kill you. I don’t have much of a conscience left. Killing Michael’s little sister would destroy it,” he whispered.

  He stepped past her, and then they were hurrying down the hall, following the faint yellow glow thrown by the guard’s flashlight.

  I don’t have much of a conscience. The phrase rang in her ear the entire way through the holding wing. The sounds of the prison moving into lockdown mode came from a distance. Vivi had built in a twenty-four-hour window to allow for their truth-finding mission. It would take another A-rated hacker that long to discover the virus she’d placed in the system and potentially correct it.

  Her hope was they’d be too busy chasing their own asses, making sure the prison was safe from any further infiltration, to chase his. After that twenty-four-hour bubble, a full-scale, nationwide search would begin and nowhere would be safe for Rook or Vivi. It might be a fruitless hope, but it was all she could offer.

  They exited a side entrance normally used by officials and prison personnel.

  The vehicle was waiting where she’d left it. The guard opened the passenger door, and she bypassed him, walking to the driver’s side and opening the door. Rook shook his head, refusing to get in.

  She sighed. “I’m a good driver.”

  He shook his head again. The guard tried to cover his laugh.

  “Get in the car. Me driving is nonnegotiable,” she said and got behind the wheel of the blacked-out Suburban.

  It took a solid minute for him to come to grips with the fact that he was at the mercy of a female driver. She couldn’t see him, but she felt him glaring at her. Finally, he got in and slammed the door. Vivi bit off her smile and pulled away.

  “We now have twenty-three hours left of your temporary reprieve from prison,” she told him.

  “Why twenty-three?”

  “I’m giving them twenty-four hours to find and override my virus in their security system. After that, all bets are off. That whole song and dance we just went through at the prison used up one hour. Are you ready, Sergeant, to discover the truth?” she asked.

  “I know the truth. I was framed,” he bit out.

  She shrugged. “Yes, well, finding the proof is the problem, isn’t it?”

  Vivi pulled out of the prison facility. She took a right on State Route 73 and then a left onto Twentieth Street. From there she took another left onto Seneca and pulled into a liquor store parking lot.

  “I’m not thirsty, but I’ll watch the car for you,” he said in a hard voice.

  She laughed, couldn’t help it. Somewhere under that painfully gruff exterior was the man he’d once been—the man her brother admired so much his name had been the last word he’d uttered. “No need. We’re switching cars.”

  She turned the engine off, sat back, and waved her hand in front of her. “Pick.”

  He remained silent, and she sighed again, getting seriously put out by his reticence.

  “
We have no choice but to change vehicles. This one was tagged before it was dropped off for my use. While I’m sincerely appreciative for the efforts of Brigadier General Johansen, we don’t need him to know all our secrets, now do we?”

  He turned his gaze to her, and her breath locked in her throat. “You just told him.”

  She forced her serene smile back in place and reached into her pocket. He went on alert, in her face and grabbing her hand in one of his while wrapping his other hand around her throat before she could pull out what was in that pocket.

  “You are so suspicious,” she said with that same smile plastered to her face.

  He grunted. She was starting to realize that was his rote response to most things.

  “Let me go,” she ordered calmly.

  “Don’t try me.” But he released her.

  She pulled a tiny black box out of her pocket and set it on the dash. “Jammer,” she said softly.

  His gaze never left hers, but eventually he sat back on his side of the vehicle. The goose bumps were back in full force. Being the recipient of his full attention was both exhilarating and unnerving. He finally, finally, looked out the windshield.

  “I don’t trust you.”

  She could understand that. “My brother prepared me for that. I think I can give you something that will help a little.”

  “Yeah?” He looked at her again, raven eyebrow raised. “What’s that?”

  “It’s a single word. Michael said you’d understand. After all, it’s the reason you’re in the position you’re in.”

  More silence. Her nerves were stretched. She really needed a damn break from all the damn quiet.

  “I’m waiting,” he said softly.

  She made sure her gaze connected with his before she said the single word. “Endgame.”

  His eyes didn’t flicker, his face remained impassive—there was nothing to betray he’d even heard her. The silence stretched again, taut, deafening, and filled with all manner of things she never wanted to know about. It was as close to death as she wanted to skate and had her brother been there, she would have seriously ripped him a new one.