Don’t Look Back

by Dawn Ryder

  “To what end?” She demanded as she broke free and put enough distance between them for her to think.

  Or try to, anyway.

  “Happily ever after?” he asked with a hint of frustration in his voice. “And before you start thinking that’s easy for me to say, it isn’t. The last woman I thought might fit that place in my life was after my money. Her mother set up a friendship with my father that was just as fake as her daughter’s love.”

  “My husband wanted a trophy and my mother made sure I was worthy of being displayed.” Answering him was a case of needing to soothe the wounded tone she heard edging his voice. She knew what it was like to always be alone. Seemed he did as well.

  “I gave up on happy ever after, too.” He stepped toward her as he spoke. “But this thing between us … it’s not going to be ignored.”

  She let out a rueful bark of amusement. It earned her a half grin from Dunn.

  “I don’t want to ignore it, Thais … do you?”

  The ball was in her court.

  Walking away would be wiser.

  More logical.

  Safer.

  And it would make you a fool …

  Thais shook her head, drawn back to him by everything she’d fought to deny and contain. His eyes narrowed as he tried to decide exactly what she meant.

  “No, I don’t want to walk away,” she clarified. Voicing it released something inside her, another latch on another door gave way to the force pulling them together and this time, the emotion she felt consuming her was happiness.

  A bubble of pure joy was lodged in her chest. She felt her lips curving into a huge, ridiculous smile that just felt perfect no matter how unsophisticated it might look.

  He came to her, framing her face with his hands, allowing her to feel the tremor shaking him.

  “Good,” he muttered, his voice rough with emotion.

  “Good?” she questioned.

  He lifted one shoulder. “I’m a little tongue-tied.”

  “I know the feeling,” she offered as she lifted up so she could kiss him instead.

  They communicated far better without words anyway.

  * * *

  Thais was sleeping when Kent tapped on the door.

  It wasn’t uncommon for Kent to see him in bed with a woman unless Dunn factored in the part about him lingering there so he could enjoy the soft sound of Thais’s breathing.

  He signaled his man and Kent closed the door softly. Dunn waited a moment, savoring it before he pulled away, careful to push the bedding up against Thais so she wouldn’t feel the difference in temperature.

  She could sleep.

  He was going to take care of her.

  She’d balk if she heard him say that out loud.

  So maybe he’d do it later just to enjoy the tussle that would ensue.

  He grinned as he pulled on some socks and pants. He was a beast but he knew Thais enjoyed it. Kent was waiting for him in the office space they had transformed into a command center.

  “Someone is looking into Thais Sinclair’s death.” Kent tapped a few commands into the keyboard and one of the large screens displayed a data-entry log.

  “Specifically, they were looking to see what arrangements had been made for a funeral.” Kent moved his mouse over two entries. “As a federal agent—”

  “There should be planning already happening,” Dunn said, finishing his sentence. “Good catch. I was distracted.”

  Kent was the model of decorum. Dunn reached out and clasped his shoulder. “I need to get this case closed. So I can settle down.”

  He opened his phone and dialed Kagan. But his section leader didn’t answer. The second call he made was to Saxon Hale. Dunn cussed when he didn’t answer, either.

  “If that was Saxon you were trying to reach,” Thais said from behind him, “he’s off grid. Which means his phone is off.”

  She was pleased with herself, for her ability to make him think he’d slipped out unnoticed. “What’s happening?”

  * * *

  Eric Geyer was waiting for Carl when he arrived the next night after another campaign event. Both of them were showing signs of fatigue as the final days of the campaign were packed with back-to-back events.

  “Was I right?” Carl asked. He looked around to make sure no one was listening. “About Sinclair?”

  “I believe so,” Eric answered. “It’s too quiet out there. Even if she didn’t have any family, there should be some mention of a funeral.”

  Carl got a half snort of mocking amusement. “I knew it.” He turned and sent a look toward Eric. “Miranda’s weak spot is her children. She was far too happy when I saw her. We clearly didn’t wound her deep enough.” He started pacing again. “We need to find a way … to bring her in line.”

  Eric waited. It wasn’t the first time but he felt it more keenly because Carl had a dark soul and Eric had a feeling his boss was getting ready to cross some more lines. The truth was, Eric was getting uncomfortable with the lengths Carl seemed willing to go to in order to get what he wanted. Maybe there were people who would consider it just deserts. For the first time, Eric was starting to agree with them.

  Ambition was a slippery slope. When you threw mud at someone, you came away with dirty hands.

  Carl slowly smiled. It was a creepy curving of his lips and when coupled with the gleam in his eyes, Eric found himself fighting the urge to back away and make a run for it before he even heard what Carl wanted to do now.

  “Her daughter might not have married me, but Damascus still has uses it would seem,” Carl began. He stopped to chuckle, clearly enjoying the idea he’d come up with. “See … that underground lab where Damascus works, it’s a very dangerous place. Just one little mishap and a contaminated sample might get loose … and well … Damascus signed an iron-clad contract with the military. She can’t leave…” Carl shot Eric a look full of sick enjoyment. “Especially if I’m commander in chief, Damascus stays right there where I can get at her. All we need to do is arrange for a little accident, one that will make it clear to Miranda that she will do exactly what I say if she wants to ensure her daughter’s and granddaughter’s safety.”

  It was brilliant.

  It also turned Eric’s stomach.

  There was a twinge of evil in the plan. Carl sent Eric a hard look.

  “You’re not going to lose your balls on me, are you, Geyer?” Carl asked as he leaned back in his chair. “I’m not asking you to kill anyone here, just arrange a nice little … containment breach. One with enough punch to make Miranda fall into line. If she publicly makes a show of supporting me, Tom Hilliard is finished.”

  Eric was back to thinking how brilliant the plan was. “It’s less exposing than having her taken out.”

  “Right,” Carl said, pointing at him. “Not that I wouldn’t have enjoyed knowing I’d put her six feet under. But seeing her flashing that smile of hers on my behalf … well, that just might be more fun in the long run. Get someone on it.”

  Carl considered it a done thing. His attention was back on his laptop screen as Eric found himself battling heavy feet.

  Part of him was sickened.

  Carl realized he hadn’t left. “Is there a problem?”

  “No, sir.” Eric turned and let himself out of the office. Outside, the rest of the security men tightened up as he appeared.

  They wanted to impress him. Among their ranks, he was the one who had succeeded, the master. Strange how moving through the doorway had placed him at the top of the food chain as opposed to when he was on the other side with Carl and he was the servant. What he hadn’t expected was to grow to dislike who he’d become so very much.

  Telling himself it was a dog-eat-dog world wasn’t soothing his misgivings anymore.

  Miranda was gaining respect in his mind.

  Eric paused, frozen in place as he felt his conscience refusing to die, funny how he noticed it.

  But there was nothing amusing in the sting he felt as he went to perform hi
s duty.

  * * *

  Damascus Ryland Hale knew her job well.

  And she was always focused.

  She smiled behind the triple layers of glass that made up the front of her suit’s hood. The assistant dressing her double-checked the locks and seals to make sure Damascus was airtight inside the hazardous materials suit. She got a thumbs-up and moved forward to the first of three air locks that would allow her to enter the laboratory.

  The complex was deep underground, one of the many safety measures taken to help prevent the diseases stored inside it from ever reaching the surface.

  Small pox, polio, Ebola, and the list went on. The pathogens of past plagues and the bacteria which the modern world feared were all there. Damascus lived and worked in the underground complex as she and her team struggled to find cures before the next outbreak. Her scientific brain understood that epidemics were a natural part of the cycle of life, but what sparked her dedication to her work was the fact that there were those who would see the diseases as the newest weapon available to promote victory for their personal causes.

  Not on her watch.

  She laughed softly as she hooked up to an air line to begin her work for the day. It wouldn’t be dramatic or even exciting. It was pure scientific method. Numbers, observations, and more of the same. That was how vaccines were developed. You looked at the same problem over and over and then, looked at it some more.

  But she believed in the work. So much so, she’d signed away the bulk of her life in order to gain access to the top-secret facility.

  You married a SEAL, so it works …

  Her husband, Vitus Hale, was a Shadow Ops agent now but that didn’t mean he’d stopped being a SEAL. She was pretty sure there was no end for that part of her husband’s persona.

  She smiled brighter.

  She liked that part of Vitus a whole lot.

  Damascus snapped her thoughts back onto her work. A member of her team was pulling blood samples out of a case that had been flown in from Africa. An isolated outbreak of disease had all the symptoms of being Ebola. Her fellow doctor handed the samples with care as he loaded them into a machine to begin the process of confirming the diagnosis.

  It was tragic, and yet it was her job to find in the diseased samples some hope for the future by trying to find a treatment. This would only come after they understood the disease, documenting it so they could formulate a plan of treatment.

  The team was focused on the samples being secured inside a machine that would spin them to separate the platelets. Then warning lights suddenly started flashing, filling the lab with red pulses of light. Damascus looked up and then back at the machine but nothing was out of place.

  “The case, Dr. Hale!”

  A voice came through her helmet from one of the control rooms that was monitoring the lab through a video feed. Damascus turned to look at the case. Smoke was rising from it. She dove away but whatever it was exploded, sending bits of glass and blood through the air at super high velocity.

  Contaminated blood.

  Damascus felt the air pressure in her suit change as she hit the floor. Her team was pounding on the air-locked doors but the alarm sealed them shut. She struggled to get to her feet, the clunky boots making it painfully slow. Her suit hung on her limply, confirming she’d lost containment. She reached up and pulled a handle. A second set of alarms went off.

  “Breach of containment! Breach of containment! Level two safety protocols in effect!”

  It was an automated voice, and right then, Damascus realized just how heartless it sounded, so devoid of any sort of humanity. Three walls slid down from the ceiling, cutting the lab into sections in an effort to control what might be an airborne virus. She was trapped in the center, the holes in her suit too tiny to seal. But the walls separating her from her team gave her hope.

  Hope that the virus wouldn’t escape the lab.

  Cassy …

  Her only thoughts were for her baby. Sleeping so peacefully two levels above her, her daughter had never had a choice in where her parents brought her.

  Please … please … please …

  * * *

  “What the fuck do you mean she’s still at ground zero?”

  Saxon wasn’t used to hearing his brother raise his voice. The entire team turned to stare at Vitus as he stood up, looking like he was about to crack the smartphone he had in his hand.

  “Get her the fuck out of there!” Vitus growled before he killed the call and shot Saxon a look full of rage.

  “A case of Ebola samples exploded in the lab. Damascus is compromised.”

  There was a crash as he kicked his desk chair back. “I’ve got to get Cassy.”

  Vitus wasn’t waiting. He was halfway out of the room when Bram Magnus stepped into his path. Vitus growled but Bram stood firm.

  “They won’t let you in, Vitus.” Bram had to shove Vitus back. “If the lab lost containment, it’s locked completely down until it’s cleared.”

  “Get the fuck out of my way,” Vitus growled softly.

  “My father is in there, too,” Bram countered. “You’re not getting in. Neither am I.”

  They faced off, the tension in the room thick enough to cut.

  “So we find who set off the explosion,” Saxon said. “And deal with them.”

  Neither Bram nor Vitus liked the idea. Truth be told, Saxon wasn’t very fond of it, either. He craved action just as much as his teammates.

  Being the team leader meant he had to be sure to control his emotions. He’d always known it, actually latched the collar on himself. Today though, he felt the bite of the restraint. They’d always known Carl was coming for them. Always understood the risk of having families that might end up in the line of fire.

  Love didn’t care about his logical reasoning.

  So he had to control his urges and work the case.

  “What does Carl gain?” Saxon addressed his team. “We’re going to cut to the chase this time. We know it’s his work. What’s his objective?”

  Vitus and Bram tightened their control before Bram grabbed an eraser and cleaned the white board so he could begin a new evidence chain.

  “Thais was attached to Dunn,” Vitus said as he started issuing observations. “Damascus is attached to me…”

  “The common link is Miranda.” Bram wrote her name on the board and circled it. “He failed to kill her…”

  “So he’s trying to break her,” Saxon said, finishing the thought. He looked over at Greer McRae. “Call Dunn.”

  His man was turning away almost before Saxon finished issuing the order. Saxon looked at his brother.

  “I’ll call Miranda.” Vitus read his brother’s mind.

  Saxon turned his phone on. “I’m waiting for Kagan’s call.”

  It had been a long road since their first collision with Carl Davis. They’d done their best to drop it but there was part of Saxon that enjoyed knowing it was going to come down to one or the other of them. Saxon wasn’t a killer by nature.

  None of his Shadow Ops agents were.

  No, there was a core of integrity needed to stand up against the darker elements in the world and not sell out.

  It was also the thing needed to face the overwhelming odds of going up against someone like Carl Davis.

  * * *

  Colonel Bryan Magnus cussed as Kagan walked into his office.

  “Nice to see you, too,” Kagan said as he settled into the chair in front of the colonel’s desk.

  “We’re locked down,” Bryan growled. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  Kagan only offered him a blink.

  Bryan landed back in his chair. “Normally I’d admire your brass balls. But this—”

  “Is going to turn out to be nothing more than a scare,” Kagan said, cutting Bryan off. “Not that I’m suggesting we take it lightly.”

  Bryan studied Kagan for a long moment. “No, you wouldn’t be here if you thought this was bullshit.”

  “I wouldn’t
be here if I didn’t think Carl Davis was trying to strike out at Miranda Delacroix through her daughter,” Kagan said, laying out his facts.

  Bryan inclined his head in agreement.

  Kagan offered him a very rare grin. “And you…,” Kagan said, pointing at Bryan. “You were so stinking proud of luring Damascus into your service.”

  “It was a brilliant maneuver,” Bryan said, defending himself. “She’s a genius.”

  “One you took advantage of,” Kagan stated firmly.

  “I gave her the opportunity to live her life the way she wanted to,” Bryan replied. “Instead of being the little socialite her daddy favored.”

  “Carl is still pissed about losing her as the perfect wife,” Kagan offered.

  Bryan grunted. “He’s a selfish prick to want to keep her locked away while he’s not interested in her at all.”

  “What he is,” Kagan said, defining their problem, “is determined to win. No matter the cost. He wanted the support of the Delacroix name. Seems he’s still determined to get it.”

  “We need a permanent solution.”

  It was a bold statement. Kagan admired Bryan for having the guts to state it so clearly.

  “Why do you think I’m here?” Kagan said, leaning forward. “I need something to do the job, without leaving a trace.”

  Kagan watched Bryan absorb the request. It was one of those gray areas that good men had to sometimes venture into for the good of everyone. Some people would condemn him for even considering it, claiming there were lines true moral men didn’t cross.

  Kagan rather thought of it as putting down a mad animal before it trampled the other members of the herd.

  “I’m glad you came to me,” Bryan responded after a moment.

  “I did my best to avoid needing this sort of solution,” Kagan replied.

  Bryan nodded. He shared a hard look with Kagan. “We’re both the sort of men who do their best to stay on the right side of morality. But part of that struggle is knowing when we have to do what needs doing. I’ll get you what you need.”

  * * *

  Bryan Magnus watched Kagan leave his office.

  After the section leader was gone, Bryan indulged in a moment to rub his eyes. There was an ache centered beneath his forehead. But it wasn’t guilt.