by Dawn Ryder
Carl was performing well. Shaking hands, looking as though he was listening intently as his supporters explained what they thought was important.
Hell, maybe the guy was sincere. Kagan didn’t know. Some men were so focused on their goal, so convinced of their own ability to do good, that they justified the means of getting into position.
Carl might be one of those.
Perhaps Tyler Martin had just been jaded.
Not that Kagan failed to see Tyler’s point. It was hard not to drool a little. Men like Tyler and himself were face-to-face with the wealth and privilege that many would never taste. Including himself. It was the sort of knowledge that would rot a man’s soul if he didn’t check himself.
“Kagan,” Carl said as he flashed his practiced smile. “It’s a real privilege to see you tonight.”
The press was on them but with a wave of Carl’s hand, they were pushed back.
Kagan fell into step beside Carl, crossing out of the ballroom where the event was being held and down the hall to where Carl had private rooms.
The door shut with a firm sound. Carl didn’t look at him but his lips took on a pinched appearance as he went to the bar and poured himself a whiskey. He tossed it down before refilling the glass and turning to face Kagan.
“Is he dead?”
Kagan nodded.
The ice clinked inside the glass in Carl’s hand. “I gather you’re enjoying telling me.”
Kagan shook his head. “Tyler said you were going to shut down the Shadow Ops teams.”
Carl’s pallor lost its grayness. Confidence returned to his eyes as he raised his glass. “There isn’t much you could do to stop me.”
Kagan slowly grinned. The glass went smashing onto the floor as Carl went ash gray again.
“Now … we can discuss this.” Carl struggled to find the tone he used so often with the public.
Kagan moved toward him. His steps didn’t make a sound and Carl was leaning back against the bar by the time Kagan stopped.
“I’m not going to kill you, Carl.”
There was an audible sound from the presidential hopeful.
“See,” Kagan continued, “that’s the difference between men like Tyler Martin and myself … and the Hale brothers. It’s the substance you really should cultivate in your team.” Kagan reached out and ran the tip of his finger down Carl’s lapel.
“Honor.”
The word was a whisper but it penetrated soul deep because of the look in Kagan’s eyes when he spoke it.
More than a word, it was an ideal, a way of life.
“I can’t kill you,” Kagan explained, “because that would make me no better than Tyler Martin.” He let it sink in for a moment. “And I believe that no matter how unfair life can be, there is still a good helping of karma out there.”
Kagan retraced his path to the door. He stopped with his hand on the knob. “Something to think about, on your road to the White House. Men like me and those on my teams are the ones you really want watching your back. We never sell out. You’ll sleep better with us as your friends than knowing we’re looking for the man who didn’t see any value in our dedication.”
* * *
“Home sweet home…”
Bram drove her to a slightly different location a week later.
“Home sweet … mobile unit…,” Jaelyn remarked.
A new mobile housing unit had arrived. This one was covered by a cargo net as well but set a good two hundred feet away from Saxon Hale’s home.
“Do you mind?” Bram asked. “That it’s not a house?”
Jaelyn sent him a wicked look. “We’re beyond the boulder fence. Sure you want to encourage me to misbehave?”
Bram sent her a grin. “Yes, ma’am.”
She winked at him. “Guess it’s a good thing you married me.”
“I’m grateful the reverend agreed,” Bram said. “We nearly destroyed his church.”
Her grandfather was pulling her door open, a smile on his lips. LeAnn was watching from nearby.
“Well, it looked like repairs were well underway.” Jaelyn tried not to wince as she put her weight on her leg. Whatever strange surge of adrenaline had given her the strength to ignore pain while fighting with Tyler Martin was long gone now.
“Shadow Ops teams know how to erase the marks they make.”
Bram scooped her off her feet and carried her to the steps of their new home. But he didn’t go inside. He sat her down and sent her a wink.
“Milton,” Bram began. “Now that you’ve taken off your wedding ring, I think it’s time you gave Jaelyn and me a little space.”
Jaelyn narrowed her eyes while the growing crowd accumulating around them made her bite her lip.
Bram was up to something.
There was the sound of a car coming around the house. As it came into sight, her grandfather let out a whoop.
Vitus Hale drove the honeybee right up to Milton. The dust settled, showing off the fully restored paint and body of the VW van.
“You’ll be needing this to do that getting-on-with-life part,” Bram said.
“Sweet God…” Milton was circling the van, reaching out to touch the shiny chrome work and the new tires.
Bram reached out and pulled the side door open. Every inch was restored. “We made a few upgrades, but she’s ready to roll.”
Her grandfather was beside himself. He climbed up inside the honeybee to tinker with the seats that folded down into the bed.
“I might have already stocked it with coffee,” Bram told her as he joined her on the steps.
“You’re perfect, Bram Magnus,” she said.
Absolutely perfect!
* * *
There were places time forgot.
Kagan slipped into a tunnel left from the Prohibition era. It was lined with crumbling concrete that was moldy. The thing was, the dark splats of growth were actually sort of worthy of respect for being tenacious enough to grow so far belowground.
He walked through the maze by memory, emerging in the basement of a building that hadn’t been in use in two decades. Here there was the buzz of old florescent lights. Some of them flickered and there were more than a few burned out.
He moved along toward a door that was chained shut. He fit a key into the lock and turned it, swinging the huge metal door open. Behind it was a shelter, built to withstand a nuclear blast. The walls were three feet thick, the air circulation system the only sound.
“Is it visitation day?” Ricky Sullivan had been lying on a sofa.
The shelter was like a small apartment with living room, kitchen, and bedroom.
“Come to check on your pet?”
Kagan sat a backpack down on the floor. It was heavy with provisions.
“It’s better than a Mexican jail.”
Ricky sent him a snarl.
“Or a grave.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Ricky grumbled.
Kagan retraced his steps toward the door. “Maybe you could ask Tyler Martin his opinion.”
Ricky was watching him, judging the distance between the door and Kagan.
Kagan shook his head. “Told you before, Sullivan. There’s a timer on the entrance to this floor. If I don’t cross back out within a few minutes, this building will be leveled by a blast from the C-4 buried beneath that sofa.”
“Might be worth it,” Ricky said as he plucked the backpack off the floor.
Kagan only sent him an unsympathetic look.
“I know you’re just keeping me alive in case you need me to rat on Carl Davis. Don’t be too sure I will!”
Kagan secured the lock without a shred of remorse. He moved back toward the control panel and typed in his code. Even the knowledge that Sullivan would starve to death if something happened to him didn’t keep him from rethinking his plans.
Carl Davis needed to be kept at bay.
And Sullivan was a hit man at best. He was lucky to still be drawing breath.
* * *
&
nbsp; Ricky dropped the backpack and left it lying on the floor for the next hour.
He’d be fucked if he was going to be grateful for scraps.
But even he got tired of his own company. He went over to the bag out of boredom. Carrying it to the tiny kitchen where he opened it and pulled out his food for the next … well, he didn’t know exactly how long. Kagan never came on the same day.
It forced Ricky to eat only what he had to, in case he had to stretch his resources.
He fucking hated the way it excited him to see what was inside the bag. Kagan always packed it full. There was food, a bunch of it dehydrated rations from military stock. He tossed the little foil packets onto the counter, digging for the heavier items.
Tooth powder.
The little tin looked like it was as old as Kagan.
Razors.
A roll of toilet paper.
In the bottom was a plastic case with several movies on DVDs inside it. The apartment was cut off from the rest of the world. He read through the titles, sickened by how much he anticipated having some fresh entertainment.
He finished and looked at the backpack. His mind buzzed with ideas of how to take it apart and begin making a net. He’d be able to trap Kagan in it on one of his visits.
But he knew the rules.
There was a security box in the wall. He had to put the backpack and his dirty clothing into it or Kagan would cut off his supply of water.
He wasn’t ready to die yet.
No, where there was life, there was hope.
And he really hoped he got the chance to kill Carl Davis.
* * *
“Liberation papers have arrived.” Dare Servant was grinning as he walked toward Thais. “We’re shipping out.”
He was as giddy as a child making ready to dive into his pile of birthday presents.
“Sure you’re not going to miss this place?”
Her implication wasn’t lost on her fellow agent. In the distance, LeAnn was busy sorting through boxes of supplies for her glass-making shop. She had rock music blaring as she worked her head with the beat. More than one of the men working on the site were having trouble keeping their attention off her bouncing derriere.
“Told you, Thais, it’s not my cup of tea … settling down.” Dare turned his back on LeAnn. “Why all the concern over my attachments to case subjects? Are you longing for the married life?”
Thais sent him a warning look. “I’ve had my fill of that.”
Dare lifted a dark eyebrow. “Really? Who’s the idiot who let you go?”
“I chewed through my chain,” she said venomously. “Didn’t you just say you could do without it?”
The amount of emotion was more telling than what she said because Thais never let her feelings show.
He admitted to being curious but the promise of a new case also brought with it more time with Thais Sinclair. Women tended to talk when they felt comfortable.
Thais wouldn’t be any different.
Or maybe she would prove him wrong. Truth was, he forgot from time to time that she was a woman.
His job was holding the line between the innocent and villians. Thais was competent and an asset to the team. Those were the qualities he kept foremost in his mind about her.
Dare liked the word “villain,” too. The men he went head to head against were evil. Plain and simple. They weren’t just criminals.
Villains …
And he was going back out because three good men were digging in now, their days as street agents over. He glanced over at Saxon and Bram. They were deep in discussion, intent on the project of creating a command center out of the silo. Dare didn’t dispute the need for it, either.
Only that his contributions weren’t needed.
No, he had more villains to catch.
And he couldn’t wait to begin.
Yeah, it might get him killed.
But that was just half the fun.
* * *
She really shouldn’t take the opportunity to poke him.
Miranda Delacroix had spent over twenty-five years playing it safe, keeping her chin down and her expression free of her true feelings.
Tonight, looking at Carl Davis, she found her resolve being tested.
He’d ordered her baby to be abducted.
That was the real problem with keeping her distance from the man. Carl had touched her daughter, Damascus, and a mother’s instinct to protect was just too strong.
Carl didn’t miss the attention she was giving him, either. All around them the fundraiser was proceeding smoothly. Waiting staff delivered beverages while the band played flawlessly and Carl … well, he was shaking hands, laughing at jokes, all the while calculating the amount each guest was going to contribute to his campaign.
“I appreciate your support, Madam Delacroix.”
Miranda offered a practiced smile that faded the moment she realized Carl had made sure to come over to her when they were mostly shielded from the rest of the guests.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” she replied before dropping her voice. “The chance to see you without Tyler Martin was worth the expense.”
Carl flinched. But he recovered quickly. “Yes, I am sure you’re relieved to know about his departure from my service.”
Miranda didn’t rise to the bait. She’d shot her late husband and no one was ever going to find out. A mother did what she had to do.
She sent Carl a hard glare before departing. Life was too short to waste her time and Carl Davis was definitely that.
* * *
“Yes, sir?”
Carl considered the man who’d answered his summons. There was an empty whiskey glass on his desk as he swept the man from head to toe.
The man stood still, which helped Carl cultivate confidence in his decision to ask the guy into his private office.
Tyler was gone. But Carl still needed a man at his side who wouldn’t cringe over getting his hands dirty.
“I’m looking to fill a position.”
The man slowly grinned. The expression sent just enough of a chill down Carl’s back to make him return it.
“I need Miranda Delacroix off the radar.”
The man’s expression tightened. Carl watched as he thought about the assignment.
“Let me check some resources.”
That wasn’t what Carl wanted to hear and the guy read the disappointment clearly.
“I don’t make promises I can’t keep. You ask for something, I’m going to make sure I can deliver. That’s where Tyler slipped up. He took assignments before checking the situation out. Sometimes, the risk outweighs the gain.”
Carl leaned back in his chair, thinking the matter through. “Right.” The springs on the chair groaned as he stood and offered his hand on the deal. “I think you just might be who I’m looking for, Geyer.”
Eric Geyer shook his hand before turning and leaving.
“You’ll need this,” Carl wrote something down before offering the slip of paper to his new head of security. “All the funds you might need.”
Geyer nodded and slipped it into his pocket. There was a soft click as the door closed behind him. Carl grabbed the glass and walked over to where a cabinet held his private stock of whiskey. The ice clinked against the crystal before the scent of the liquor teased his nose while he poured it.
Tyler had just been a guard dog.
A good one but replaceable in the end. A master had to know where the people around him ranked.
It was a lesson Miranda Delacroix needed.
He was going to enjoy schooling her.
* * *
“You’ve got to let him go.”
Jaelyn huffed at her new husband. “He’s almost eighty.”
Bram shrugged. “According to the doctor, he’s in great health.” He came forward and dropped his arms around her from behind as she watched her grandfather drive the honeybee down the road toward the open highway.
“I wouldn’t have restored that thing if the
doctor had said there was an issue with him driving it. The honeybee is a camper van, Jaelyn, and I swear he looks ten years younger behind the wheel. Don’t worry, I put a tracking beacon in it.”
“I know,” she mumbled. “You check your details.”
He kissed her head. “I do. So don’t think I overlooked making sure you have something to do while Milton is beach bumming.”
Bram turned her loose and pointed across the space between the house and the construction site.
“LeAnn claims you two used to enjoy blowing glass together.” He leaned over and kissed her again, this time on the lips.
LeAnn was waving at her from where their ovens were set up. There was a red glow coming from around the edges of the closed door on the crucible where the clear glass was held.
“We’ve got connections with art galleries or at least people who do.” He dropped another kiss on her head. “Go make something to sell. We need some income to build a real house.”
She slowly grinned. “In that case … stop distracting me, I’ve got work to do.”
“I love you, too.”
Jaelyn ended up turning around and watching her husband leave.
He melted her heart every time he said that, leaving her just a little pile of mush as he walked away.
But he’d be back.
She slowly smiled, feeling the tingle of anticipation. It would grow throughout the day, blooming when the sun started to set and she knew he was coming back to her.
Would it ever get old?
If she was lucky, no.
And honestly, she was the luckiest damn person on the face of the planet. Because she was in love with a man who loved her back.
It just didn’t get any better than that.
Read on for an excerpt from Dawn Ryder’s next Unbroken Heroes series
Close to the Edge
Coming soon from St. Martin’s Paperbacks
You’re playing with fire.…
His words and very, very true.
The problem was, fire was fascinating. Oh so tantalizing. Just like Dare Servant. Was it his real name? She found herself pondering that question as he pulled up to the Cliffside restaurant and the valet opened her door.
It would be nice to think she knew something about him.
