Flash of Fury

by Lea Griffith

  King McNally was hot for her.

  “I won’t have to, once I’ve got my hands on you,” he murmured before he stood, swayed, and then sat back down heavily.

  “You’re screwing up here, sir,” Ella said in a rough voice.

  King cocked his head at the woman and narrowed his gaze on her. Allie swore the other woman shifted nervously beneath that glare. “Have I screwed up as much as you have, Banning?”

  That straightened Ella’s spine, and her head snapped up. “We’re keeping score?”

  “Yeah, I guess we are,” King replied.

  Allie heard it then, the weariness in his tone. He was in pain, probably had the mother of all headaches, and he had Allie to take care of now. She rubbed her chest again. Her heart hurt.

  “I didn’t betray you,” Ella whispered.

  King shook his head. His disbelief in her statement clouded the air around them all. He glanced at Allie. “Give me the gun before you shoot one of us.”

  “If I wanted to shoot either of you, I’ve had a million chances so far, McNally. I know how to shoot.”

  King eyeballed her—no other description for it—just stared her down until she flipped the safety on and held the gun out to him handle first. He put it in the waistband of his cargoes and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Don’t do that,” she snapped.

  Ella gave some unrecognizable grunt-slash-snort-slash-wheeze, and King just raised an eyebrow.

  “That either,” Allie bit out. Dirty, delightful things. That’s what she wanted with him when he crossed his damn arms or, hell, pretty much whenever he breathed.

  He pointed at her. “You, I’ll handle in a bit. We’ve got some settling up to do.” He turned to Ella, and for some reason that rankled Allie. She had no doubt he meant about her use of the word fuck, but for him to dismiss it so easily? It bothered her.

  To Ella he said, “I don’t trust you any farther than I can throw you. Where are we?”

  Ella’s face tightened before smoothing like someone had waved a wand over it. “We’re in a house on a hill.”

  King nodded. Allie had no idea what that meant. All these people spoke in a code she couldn’t decipher. She knew they were in Spain—had no idea where in Spain though. For someone who didn’t trust Ella, King sure didn’t seem in any great hurry to get away from her.

  “I’ve got questions you’re going to answer,” King said to Ella. “How much time do we have here?”

  “I’ll give you what I know, but nothing that compromises myself or Madoc,” she replied. “And we should be clear for at least forty-eight hours. Savidge thinks I’m in Morocco.”

  King went still. It was the eerie stillness that spoke of bad things headed your way. Allie didn’t relish being in Ella’s position.

  “Madoc?”

  “We survived. Did you not think to make sure we were dead before you saved your own asses? So much for no man left behind, right, Master Chief?”

  Allie noticed two things. One, she’d called King Master Chief. Two, the temperature in the room had dropped to subzero. She didn’t want to be involved in a shoot-out. She’d just survived an RPG through her hotel room.

  “This is nice, huh? Catching up and stuff? Tell you what? How ’bout I just mosey my happy ass on a plane and go home? Then you guys can handle whatever misunderstandings are coloring your black ops world, and we can all just moooove along.” Allie nodded and smiled vacantly.

  Neither one paid her a bit of attention.

  A hand touched her shoulder, and her heart dropped. She fell to the floor a nanosecond later, sweeping back with her leg, then grunting when she encountered an immovable object. The hand on her shoulder tightened. She heard King shout, but she was up by then, reaching for the hand and twisting it around. On a smaller man, her maneuver would have surely broken a finger. On Madoc, it did nothing.

  “Let me go, or I’ll break it,” Allie threatened.

  Madoc smiled, and Allie wondered if he was crazy. “You can try, little bit,” he said evenly.

  A breath later, she was out of Madoc’s space, well to the side, as King got in the other man’s face with his pistol, saying nothing but letting the gun speak volumes.

  “We survived, Your Highness,” Madoc ground out.

  “You put your hands on her again, and I’ll make sure that state changes real quick, Brody. We clear?”

  “As glass,” Madoc, first name Brody, replied with a smile.

  “Go sit by the bed. I’ll be back in a few,” King said.

  Allie waited for Madoc to do what he’d been told because although he had several inches and more than a few pounds on King, the big man looked like he was absolutely subservient to his team leader. None of that helped the fear reverberating through Allie.

  King’s head swiveled to her, green eyes frosted over as he raised a single eyebrow.

  “You mean me?” she asked inanely. “Wow, okay. I’ll go sit like a good dog then. You hurry back, and be sure to bring me a treat or something, okay?”

  Anger wound through her, but she did as he asked, all the while categorizing escape options, entrances and exits, windows and doors. She’d gotten away from him once; it could happen again. Wait. She’d promised him she wouldn’t run. Damn it.

  King grunted, then stepped back, waiting for her to sit before he motioned both Ella and Madoc out of the room. The door slammed behind them, and Allie heard the distinct sound of a lock being engaged.

  She took several deep breaths. She’d saved his ass. Okay, Madoc had saved their collective asses, but she’d watched over King when he couldn’t watch over himself. She’d returned the favor he’d had done for her when she’d been shot. They were even.

  He could tell her all day long she had no rights, that she was under his command, but the truth was that she wasn’t under anyone’s command. He wasn’t her team leader or anything else. Liar, her heart whispered.

  Her gaze roved the room, landing on the phone by the bed. King had left the room with two people he clearly didn’t trust. What if something happened to King, if they ambushed him or something? Based on Ella betraying her whole team—whether intentionally or not—Allie knew the woman wouldn’t bat an eye about using her, especially since she considered Allie’s dad responsible for her problems. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, indeed.

  She hesitated for several seconds and then picked up the ancient handset and was surprised to find it operational. She dialed a number and waited.

  “Hello?” Her father’s desperate voice had tears springing to her eyes.

  “Dad? I’m safe. I don’t know how long it will be until he comes back,” she said in a rush. “Is this line safe?” She had no intention of striking up a lengthy conversation, and from what she’d seen of tracing a call—and to be honest here, her knowledge came from action movies—she had to assume some minimal amount of time was required to route the call. But if she was wrong…

  “Yes. This line is secure.” Her father breathed deeply. “This is bad, Allie. Keep your head, girl, and know that I’m doing everything I can to get you back here. Has McNally hurt you? He’s a dead man if he’s hurt you.”

  “He’s done nothing worse than get on my nerves. He also saved my life on that plane, Dad. They were looking for me. They weren’t looking for him.”

  “They were looking for you because of me. Listen to me, Allie. Someone is willing to use you to hurt me or get to Endgame Ops. You’ve got two choices.”

  She was beginning to hate choices.

  “You stay with him, or you get away and go deep.”

  Panic knifed her gut. “Those aren’t really choices. What do you want me to do?”

  “I’d prefer you stay with McNally, but if push comes to shove, you survive. Get the hell away from him and go deep. Trust your gut, girl.”

  The same gut now sli
ced into tiny pieces? She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I got it, Dad. Look, he’s good and he’s motivated. He also says you’re responsible for his team being in the position they’re in.” She heard him preparing to rebut that information. She cut him off. “I don’t have time, Dad.”

  He said nothing.

  “You taught me how to play the game, and I opted out. I don’t have a choice now. But this man is honorable. I don’t know what you know about him. I don’t care. I can take the measure of a man, and I’ve taken his. Whatever he and his people are involved in is theirs. I don’t want any part of it. But, Daddy, if you have them hurt before you know the truth, I’ll be disappointed.”

  “Allie girl, you be safe. Remember the trail home. Skip, hop, and jump, but trust no one. I’ll have money waiting for you if you need to separate from McNally.”

  “No! Somebody knows every move you make. Boko Haram knew about me first—they used me as a pawn. I’ve been shot, run to ground, and now my hotel has been ripped open by an RPG. Whether it’s to leverage you or for some other reason, I get the feeling Savidge or Dresden don’t want me so we can play Parcheesi. So until we know why, I don’t want you sending anything anywhere. It’s traceable and opens me up. They’ve got eyes inside your organization. I’ve got this,” she said in frustration.

  “This isn’t what I wanted for you,” her father said, and his voice was thick with unshed tears.

  “It was inevitable though, wasn’t it? You are who you are, and I’m a part of that no matter how badly I don’t want to be. Watch your back, Dad. You get to King, you give him a chance. He saved my life, and for that alone he deserves your mercy. You do that for me, we clear? I’ll see you soon.”

  God, now she was really starting to sound like King. She closed her eyes and felt the hot lick of a single tear down her cheek.

  “Come home, Allie. I’ll keep you safe,” her dad replied.

  In spite of her father’s reassuring words, Allie knew she wasn’t going to be safe for a long time. With that knowledge in her mind, her eyes fell on the bathroom door and the light streaming underneath it. She took a deep breath and hung up.

  Chapter 19

  “Tell me everything,” King demanded.

  He watched as two people he’d thought dead sat down on the delicate settee in the middle of the elaborate room. Ella Banning looked as beautiful as ever, her face model-worthy with the exception of a ragged, raised scar at her temple. Brody Madoc was still the same behemoth he’d always been, though a bit rougher around the edges, and there was a look in his brown eyes that spoke of mayhem and a driving need for retribution.

  “Where should I start?” Ella asked softly. “Maybe where you left Madoc and me to die in Beirut?”

  She was trying to bait him, and there was dangerous anger in her tone that had brewed for over a year. King wasn’t going to rise to it.

  “Yeah. Start there,” he commanded her.

  She took a deep breath, and King could see the struggle play out on her face. His gaze skirted to Madoc, who remained impassive, even though a shudder ripped through his large frame. What had they been through? Who were they working for now? Dresden? Broemig? Both?

  “There are things I can tell you and things I cannot,” Ella began.

  King had both of his guns out that quickly, one aimed at her, the other trained on Madoc, who still hadn’t moved.

  “You’ll tell me everything, and we’ll move on from there. I don’t like liars, Banning.” King waited for her to acknowledge who held the power here. She nodded, and King lowered his weapons.

  “I was put into Endgame by Broemig for the sole purpose of monitoring your activities and making sure the balance was held. Your Piper plays games that get all sorts of people in trouble. Broemig was worried about his interests, so he made sure I was the liaison for Endgame,” she said. Bitterness flavored her tone.

  King shrugged. “I knew when the Piper put a liaison on the team, even if you were under the guise of intel gatherer, you were a plant. Hell, we all knew. Even Jude.” She flinched at the man’s name, and King realized she was nowhere near over Jude Dagan. “It didn’t stop us from making you part of the team. It didn’t keep us from trusting you, because at the end of the day, you were Endgame even though you’d started as Company.”

  He let that sink in and reined in the need to hurt her. Her eyes glittered in the falling light, and King might be a first-rate bastard, but she’d been one of his at one time. He didn’t like that she was hurting.

  “Did you kill Nina?”

  Her gaze shot up. “What? No! She was my—”

  “Your what?” King asked in a dead voice.

  Ella shook her head, then sighed. “My partner.”

  King had suspected as much. The CIA had master intelligence gatherers. Why would Broemig stop with one when he could have two? Endgame Ops was the cream of the crop. The elite of the elite. Soldiers taken from every armed force by virtue of their exceptional talents in their respective units. SEALs, Rangers, Force Recon—the men of Endgame had been handpicked by the Piper because they were stone-cold killers and they did it well. The shadows held them, and they moved within them. Their intelligence gatherers needed to do the same.

  The Piper allowed CIA into Endgame because its agents were the best at what they did. What he hadn’t controlled was their leader.

  “Doesn’t surprise me. What does is why Nina was killed. Could she not have instigated Beirut the same as you?”

  Ella’s face drew down, mouth flattening, eyes going blank. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. She got sick, I stepped in, and we went on the mission you initiated. I didn’t instigate anything.”

  He laughed. “Priceless. Company to the end, huh, Ella-Bella? We trusted you. The man you were fucking trusted you. When Dresden rose up and shot you, we mourned. Then, when we went over the mission, shit started not adding up. Nina was dead. I put you on the mission. We went down, and there was Dresden, staring at Jude as he kissed you on the cheek before he blew your ass away. Or so we thought.”

  Ella swallowed hard. Madoc stood up and began pacing. King let him, understanding the man’s need. Memories of that night, the senseless slaughter and devastation, the…loss… It haunted them all.

  “I didn’t do this,” Ella said firmly, but in her voice was doubt. King recognized it, but instead of it reeking of subterfuge, it tasted of confusion.

  “You didn’t know,” King said into the silence.

  “I can’t give you—” she began.

  King raised a hand. “You can’t give me what? The goddamn truth? Not even for the man you loved and led into ambush? What about Jude, Ella? Let’s say you didn’t give a shit for me, Rook, Black, Chase, Madoc, Knight, or Samson, but what about Jude? You’re a cold bitch. I’ll give you that.”

  She stood then, cheeks red in her rage, hand reaching for the piece she carried at her side.

  “Don’t do that, Ella. I’d hate to put a hole in you,” King said in a near whisper.

  It took her a second to gain control. Madoc stood to the side, a silent sentry, and King wondered about their connection. Had Madoc been in on it too? Did Loretta not know Madoc had survived, or had she kept that information from him?

  “No, Madoc would have killed me if he’d known anything about my other mission. Dresden shot us all, but Madoc survived and I begged for his life. Dresden granted me that in exchange for other information,” Ella whispered.

  She’d been tortured, King thought. It was in the trembling lines of her body, the hitch of her breath. Lust for Dresden’s throat in his hands nearly overwhelmed him. At the same time, he wanted to knock Ella to the floor because he had a sneaking suspicion about the information she’d given up.

  “Allie.” King’s heart slowed, even as his body chilled. She’d given up her boss’s daughter to save her teammate.

  Goddamn
, what a choice to make. An innocent for her teammate.

  “I would have stopped her,” Madoc said. His voice was broken, as if he’d screamed for days from pain or anger and finally his voice had deserted him. Or maybe the bullet he’d taken to the throat had destroyed his vocal cords?

  “He couldn’t have stopped me. Broemig is a bastard. If his daughter had to be given up for my teammate, I’d do it again. Besides, I only gave them verification of what they already knew to be true.”

  King had her throat in his hands before he knew what he was doing. “You won’t give her up again. I’ll kill you first.”

  Ella smiled. “I learned from the best, Your Highness. Team comes above all, even an innocent.”

  He swallowed hard, his words coming back to him from the past. He’d taught her that, and she’d done it. But now? King couldn’t do it—use an innocent to meet an objective. Or maybe he just couldn’t use Allie.

  Madoc standing in the room with them was living proof that Ella had done exactly as she said.

  “How did Dresden get to you?” King asked her, putting a little more pressure on her windpipe.

  “Broemig had to have set it up. Feeding him information on Dresden was my mission. I was inserted into Endgame because you had the track to him. If I could ensure he was eliminated, or if it got screwed up, it wouldn’t fall back on the CIA or Broemig, but on the private entity that was Endgame Ops. It’s all about deniability,” she responded.

  Her pulse beat slow and steady under his hand. Madoc still stood, watching everything, waiting for something, though King didn’t know what that was.

  “The Piper had no idea, Ella. He had no idea what was going on. You had a mission within a mission, and at any moment you could have come to me—or hell, Jude—and you didn’t. You let us go straight into that ambush without a hue or a cry. Samson is on you. That you saved Madoc by giving up an innocent woman is a true sign of a guilty conscience.”

  “If you think the Piper wasn’t aware of what was going on, you’re blind. His ideals are even more convoluted that Broemig’s. Talk about giving up your firstborn? The Piper would not only give up his child, he’d go have another and do the same thing. If you hear nothing else I say, hear that. I did what I had to do, McNally. I saved you all because without me giving over that information about Allie Redding, you’d all be dust in the wind today,” she responded faintly.