by Laura Kaye
“What the hell is SAD?” Marz asked.
“I’m putting my money on the Special Activities Division—the CIA’s covert paramilitary operations unit,” Nick said.
“Merritt wasn’t involved in an illegal black op,” Shane said. “He was involved in a clandestine assignment on behalf of . . . somebody. Go back out to the file listing and scroll to the bottom.” Marz did. “He requested this transfer and then almost immediately sent these files in a hidden, heavily encrypted chip to his daughter a half a world away.”
The Earth’s plates were potentially moving under Marz’s feet here. If Shane was right, that meant—“He was working undercover?” he rasped.
Nick stood bolt straight, his fist pressed to his mouth. “Yeah. And this was his insurance policy. In case something went wrong or his cover was blown. That first document was about thirty months before the transfer request. This is looking like he’d gone undercover, knew he was being made, and tried to”—Nick swallowed, hard—“tried to get away from us before it blew up in his face.”
Merritt . . . wasn’t dirty.
The room went deathly quiet, and then Nick turned around and made his way to Becca. “I was wrong, sunshine. He wasn’t dirty. He was exactly who you always believed him to be. I’m so fucking sorry. All this time . . .” He shook his head.
She sucked in a halting breath and threw her arms around Nick’s neck.
Marz pushed up from his chair and laced his hands on top of his head. Merritt had tried to protect them. Their commander hadn’t betrayed them as they’d believed all these long months. The only man Marz had ever respected as one might a father had, in fact, cared. About him. About all of them. Looking at each of his teammates’ faces, Marz saw that they appeared as shell-shocked as he himself felt.
Charlie stood with his arms crossed and his eyes to the floor. He’d been as convinced as the five of them of Merritt’s corruption. It was like they’d had a 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle nearly fully assembled and it had gotten knocked to the floor. They had to put the pieces together again from the beginning.
From a beginning that started with Merritt as innocent as the rest of them.
“Jesus,” Marz said. “This changes everything.”
Nick turned from Becca to face them again, and he didn’t try to hide the wetness around his eyes. “We rethink everything we know, starting now. And we go through these files with a fine-tooth comb, because Merritt was a master strategist, and he wouldn’t have included what he did here unless he thought it important to revealing the other players and their activities.”
Marz dropped back into his chair and went out to the directory again. He started at the top and slowly scanned downward. He clicked one labeled Accounts, which took him to a subdirectory with more files—as he opened some of them he realized they represented different parts of the exchanges Merritt must’ve tracked.
At the bottom of the Accounts files was one listed WCE. “Guys,” Marz said, “a file on WCE.” God, they’d been looking for information about who or what that acronym represented from the beginning. In fact, it was Charlie’s search for that acronym on the Web that had apparently brought him to the attention of the Church Gang, and his interest in WCE was part of the reason he’d been abducted, interrogated, and tortured.
A lot of the documents in the WCE file recounted the Singapore bank account information they already had from Charlie. But one document gave them something new.
It identified Merritt’s WCE contact as GW.
It listed a phone number in the 703 area code—Northern Virginia.
And it recorded a seven-digit code.
Holy shit. Marz’s heart raced in his chest. Now they were cooking with gas.
“Charlie?” Marz said, pointing to the code. “Didn’t you say the bank account required a seven-digit code to access the funds?”
“Yeah,” he said, stepping closer.
“Check it,” Marz said, “while I look up this phone number.” Fingers flying over the keyboard, Marz brought up a number lookup, but it said it was unlisted. No big surprise there. So Marz followed a hunch and opened up the webpage for Seneka Worldwide Security.
And . . . bingo.
“This number in the WCE file almost definitely goes to a SWS extension. The specific number is unlisted, but the public number shares the same first seven digits: 703-555-4000 for the main operator, and 703-555-4264 for the direct line,” Marz said, turning to Beckett. “Grab me a burn phone?”
Beckett went to where their supplies were stored along the wall in front of the desk and retrieved one of the disposable—and more importantly, untraceable—phones. “Here you go,” he said, “but I bet it doesn’t work.”
“Let’s see.” Marz dialed the direct number, feeling like they were so much farther along than they’d ever been before.
It picked up on the very first ring. “This extension is no longer in service. Please hang up and try again or press zero for the operator.” He pressed zero. Two rings later, a woman’s voice came on the line. “Seneka Worldwide Security. How may I direct your call?” Marz disconnected. “Definitely Seneka. They’re the key to all of this.”
“Shit,” Shane said. “So Seneka was involved in what happened to us and connected to WCE, who deposited millions into a secret bank account for Merritt. Money which he appears never to have touched, it’s worth noting.”
Murmurs of agreement all around. More proof that Merritt hadn’t been corrupt. Bad guys didn’t just leave twelve million in an account for several years without ever making a withdrawal.
“Now that we have the code, should we access the money and move it somewhere this WCE doesn’t know?” Beckett asked, his eyes still wide from the revelation about Merritt.
Charlie gave a hard shake of his head. “I wouldn’t. Not unless you want to attract their attention. I’m pretty sure one of the ways they narrowed down on me was through my efforts to get into that account.”
“Well, it’s been sitting there untouched for over a year, so it’s secure there until we’re ready to move it,” Marz said.
“And when we’re ready, that twelve mil will go a long way toward leveling the playing field against Seneka,” Beckett said.
Marz nodded and met his best friend’s gaze. “Amen to that.”
“So, how do we make amends to a dead man?” Easy asked, his arms crossed tight over his chest.
“By telling the story he wanted told,” Nick said, pointing to the computer.
“I’ll get on it,” Marz said. “It’s just going to take a while to wade through.” And he was going to have to push hard to gather as much data from these records as he could before their next threat emerged.
“I’ll help,” Charlie said.
“So will I,” Becca said.
“Hell, we can all take parts of it to read, but you should set up some sort of organizational system so we can keep track of where any leads we find are coming from,” Nick said. “Besides, having been so wrong about the man, I’d like to read for myself what he was really doing.”
“Roger that on both accounts,” Marz said. “I feel like we’re finally getting somewhere. You know?” And he was pleased to the bottom of his soul to know Merritt hadn’t betrayed and abandoned him the way he’d believed all these long months. The realization snapped a broken piece of himself back into place.
A lot of nods and cautious enthusiasm, except from Beckett, whose face was set in a frown.
“I do agree,” he said. “But if Seneka is our next target, it’s like going from the minors to the majors. Yesterday morning proved that. And we got lucky we didn’t lose more people. It would be damn nice if we could find who Merritt was working for, because I bet they’d put us on a far more even playing field to take this on.”
Beckett was right. Otherwise, they were going to have to David-and-Goliath it and hope that worked out in their favor. But they’d faced uneven odds before.
Marz turned and found Emilie, and he made his way to her.
>
“Good news, then?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“More good than bad, I think.”
“Sounds like a good day to me.” She gave him the prettiest smile and pushed up onto tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “And, who knows, it could still get even better.” She lifted her eyebrows in invitation.
And Marz threw his head back and laughed.
Who the hell knew what the next step of this clusterfuck was going to bring them. Not him. Not any of them.
But what Marz did know was that this clusterfuck had a silver lining of pretty major proportions, at least for him. Because in a few weeks’ time, he’d reunited with his brothers, made at least some amends with his best friend, learned his mentor didn’t betray him after all, and found a woman to love—who loved him back. That was a good day by his books.
Marz hooked his arm around Emilie’s shoulders, turned to the group, and rubbed his stomach. “Anyone else hungry?”
Chuckles went around the room.
These fuckers had all eaten some chow in their day. Why’d they always give him such shit?
“The world is shaking under your feet and you’re thinking about pancakes,” Beckett said, rolling his eyes.
“Actually, I was thinking about bacon. But pancakes on the side would be completely satisfactory,” Marz said, making Emilie chuckle. And, damn, did that feel good.
“I’d be happy to make breakfast, Derek,” Becca said, leaning against Nick’s chest. And was Marz imagining it or had this news about her father put a sparkle in her blue eyes that hadn’t been there before? He hoped so, because she deserved it.
Shane elbowed Beckett as they started to cross toward the door. “It’s not a prosthetic limb, it’s a hollow leg.”
“You know,” Marz said, “that would actually be freaking cool. It could be refrigerated, and you could keep drinks and snacks in it.”
Beckett just stared at him.
“When I’m a kabillionaire, off my refrigerated prosthetic hollow leg, don’t ask to borrow a drink. That’s all I’m saying.” Marz held open the door to the hallway and everyone streamed through.
“It’s hard to believe he’s the brains of the operation sometimes,” Beckett said as he went into the Rixeys’ apartment.
“The brains and the beauty, Murda. And don’t you forget it,” he called.
Jeremy and Charlie were the last ones out, and Marz brought up the rear—only to find his girl waiting for him in the hallway.
A mischievous look on her face, she waited until the apartment door closed behind the guys, and then she slowly pushed Marz backward against the brick wall and kissed him like she was starving and he was a feast.
“What’s this for?” he asked when they came up for air.
“Just because I love you,” she said.
Love. Brotherhood. Loyalty to the end. What more could a guy ask for?
Yep. Best day ever, for sure.
Acknowledgments
Marz, Marz, Marz. He’s one of my favorite characters I’ve ever written, but his book was like a hard, slow labor that just might require a C-section to deliver. And I love Marz, Emilie, and the whole Hard Ink gang all the more for the challenge.
I owe a lot of people for helping me along the way with this book. First, as ever, my editor, Amanda Bergeron, who went to extraordinary lengths to help me keep this book on track. It’s a wonderful experience having an editor who’s not only a creative partner, but a cheerleader, a staunch defender of your time and health, and a strong advocate, too. Thank you so much, Amanda! I’m so glad you loved Hard Ink!
Next, I need to thank you tireless and diligent critique partner, Christi Barth, who once again immersed herself in the Hard Ink world with a careful read, comments, and questions that never let me get away with a thing. If someone is described wearing clothing in this book, it’s entirely due to her! *winks* In all seriousness, the Hard Ink series would not be what it is without her, and I so cherish her insights and friendship!
I also want to thank my agent, Kevan Lyon, for all the scheduling assistance, support, and cheerleading she provided along the way. Behind every successful author is an amazing team of hard-working, book-loving people, and I’m lucky to have someone like Kevan on my side. My best friend and fellow author Lea Nolan also deserves major thanks for helping me plot out the whole second half of this book on brown Panera Bread napkins, which now reside for posterity in the bottom of my laptop case.
These acknowledgements would not be complete without a huge shout-out to my wonderfully supportive husband and daughters, who went on vacation sans Mom because I was behind on my deadline. I literally couldn’t do what I do without their support and love, and I appreciate it to the bottom of my heart.
I also want to give a nod of acknowledgement to reader Bethany Croyle who shared a story with me about a date she once had with an amputee veteran where she shared her “leg rule,” where anything with less than two or more than four legs must die! It was such a perfect funny for Emilie that I asked to incorporate it into Emilie and Marz’s date, and Bethany kindly agreed! Let me also say a huge thank you to AmputeeOT, the social media screen name of a woman who posts educational videos on YouTube about what life is like with an amputation. Watching lots of her videos gave me the confidence to feel I could do Marz’s story justice.
Finally, I give thanks to my Heroes for being such wonderful fans and supporters, and to my readers, for being the bestest readers an author could have. Thank you for allowing my characters into your heart so they can tell their stories over and over again.
LK
Loving the men of Hard Ink?
They’re back and they’re hotter than ever in
HARD TO BE GOOD
Hard Ink Tattoo owner Jeremy Rixey has taken on his brother’s stateside fight against the forces that nearly killed Nick and his Special Forces team a year before. Now, Jeremy’s whole world has been turned upside down—not the least of which by a brilliant, quiet blond man who tempts Jeremy to settle down for the first time ever.
Recent kidnapping victim Charlie Merritt has always been better with computers than people, so when he’s drawn into the SF team’s investigation of his army colonel father’s corruption, he’s surprised to find acceptance and friendship—especially since his father never accepted who Charlie was. Even more surprising is the heated tension Charlie feels with sexy, tattooed Jeremy, Charlie’s opposite in almost every way.
With tragedy and chaos all around them, temptation flashes hot, and Jeremy and Charlie can’t help but wonder why they’re trying so hard to be good . . .
Coming Spring 2015
From Avon Impulse
Summer 2015
Don’t miss the explosive final chapter of the Hard Ink series
HARD TO LET GO
Beckett Murda hates to dwell on the past. But his investigation into the ambush that killed half his Special Forces team and ended his Army career gives him little choice. Just when his team learns how powerful their enemies are, hard-ass Beckett encounters the biggest complication yet—seductive, feisty Katherine Rixey.
A tough, stubborn prosecutor, Kat visits her brothers’ Hard Ink Tattoo following a bad break-up—and finds herself staring down the barrel of a stranger’s gun. Beckett is hard-bodied and sexy as hell, but he’s also the most infuriating man ever. Worse, Kat’s brothers are at war with criminals her office is investigating. When Kat joins the fight, she lands straight in Beckett’s sights—and his arms. Not to mention their enemies’ crosshairs.
Now Beckett and Kat must set aside their differences to work together, because finding love is never easy, and getting justice is hard to the end . . .
From Avon Books
About the Author
LAURA KAYE is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over a dozen books in contemporary and paranormal romance and romantic suspense. Laura grew up amidst family lore involving angels, ghosts, and evil-eye curses, cementing her life-long fascinatio
n with storytelling and the supernatural. Laura lives in Maryland with her husband, two daughters, and a cute-but-bad dog, and appreciates her view of the Chesapeake Bay every day.
www.laurakayeauthor.com
www.avonromance.com
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By Laura Kaye
HARD TO COME BY
HARD TO HOLD ON TO (novella)
HARD AS YOU CAN
HARD AS IT GETS
Coming Soon
HARD TO BE GOOD (novella)
HARD TO LET GO
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
HARD TO COME BY. Copyright © 2014 by Laura Kaye. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition DECEMBER 2014 ISBN: 9780062267931
Print Edition ISBN: 9780062267924
FIRST EDITION
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