by Sara Schoen
“I don't think dating happens a lot here, if you catch my drift,” she said with a suggestive eyebrow lift that caused me to raise one of my eyebrows in a questioning response. “Come on, there are no cute boys here.”
“You haven't even been here long enough to meet all the boys,” I said, interrupting her before she could start to talk about the boys she had met and why she didn't like them. I had met most of them already, too serious, too focused on work, and not nearly as much fun as they should be. Male spies and agents were supposed to be hot, mysterious, and boyfriend material. So far two out of three wasn't so bad.
“That doesn't matter,” she waved her hand dismissively at my comment. “What matters is you have this handsome man's information and you're just going to shred it.”
“What else do you suggest I do with it? Go to his house in Albany, Georgia and ask him out on a date?” I asked rhetorically, although sarcasm apparently goes over Camo's head because she immediate started nodding enthusiastically at the idea. “I can't even tell him my name! I can't tell anybody outside of the agency about my life here. What would I even say to him? That I know all about him because I read a file on him made by a gun for hire? He would definitely date me the second that came out of my mouth.” Camo continued to bob her head up and down in excitement, as if I would actually do that. “I can't believe we’re even discussing this, I'm not going to do it.” As the words left my mouth I slid the file into the shredder and let the folder and papers inside become scraps.
“Now we will never know if he was your true love,” Camo whined as she fell backward onto my bed in a dramatic scene.
“You only saw a photo of him,” I reminded her. “Stop being so overdramatic.”
“I have a feeling about him, I'm really good when it comes to this stuff,” she said with excitement twinkling in her eye as she popped her head off the bed to look at me. I furrowed my eyebrows together in confusion as I looked at her exuberant smile, unsure of why she was so happy.
“I'm sure you do,” I said sarcastically as I opened the shredder. I lit a match from the box in my desk and dropped it into the metal bin. I took the time to watch until the papers were nothing but ash, just to make sure the job was done before speaking again. “Just like I have a feeling that I'm going to Georgia for a mission sometime soon.” Sarcasm was dripping from my words like rain off the roof in a heavy downpour.
“Well, what about Demon? You guys would be cute together,” Camo added with a wink as another knock rapped on my door. Although this time it opened without my okay. Demon poked his head in with a gleam of excitement in his eyes. Speak of the devil and he shall appear, or in this case Hell's angel shall appear.
“Camo, you and Night Stripe are needed for a mission briefing after lunch. It's your specialty, cartels,” he said with a smirk as we glanced warily between each other. He must have caught the glance because he told us to meet him in Sharp Shooter's office as soon as possible, our plane for Florida was leaving first thing in the morning. So much for finishing my house arrest; I guess I'm going to Florida tomorrow.
When he left, I turned to see Camo giving me a devious smile. “You know, Florida is pretty close to Georgia. We could stop by Jackson's while we are down there,” she said as she lifted the photo of Jackson that had been in his file. How did she even get that? I had been so careful I thought, but then again I didn't look in the file after she had it. I just shredded it.
“If you don't stop, I'm going to go back to your old cartel and tell them where to find you.” I growled as I dumped the contents of my water bottle into the shredder's bin to extinguish the fire. I left a little bit in the bottle so that when I walked by I dumped some on Camo's head for her suggestions of how dating should go in the agency. She hopped off the bed quickly and raced out of the room, saying something about how water messes up her hair. I glanced at Jackson's photo that Camo had left on the bed, and sighed sadly. He was handsome, and I would love to have someone to share my life with as my family always hoped for, but if Camo was right, then I would be in for the ride of my life with this mission and I didn't need the distractions.
I turned on a heel and made my way out of the room, slower than Camo had, but eventually made it into the hall. I smiled as I shut the door to my room, I was leaving my old life behind me, but now I was going to change the world. No one would know it was me, but I would help so many people and I would make my family, both of them, so proud of me. I was changed, for the better, and now I could help others do the same.
When it came down to it, I decided to change my life, not end it. I have never made a better choice in my life, and will never regret it.
COMING SOON…
Covert Operations
***Sneak Peek***
Prologue
When I agreed to take this job, I never thought I would be doing anything like this.
I was standing in front of a no-name worker for the cartel I had been working at undercover for the last four years. It had taken a lot of work to win their trust, and also involved a lot of senseless deaths at my hands, just like now. I was ordered to kill this man, and while I had no trouble killing cartel members, I had a problem when it came to killing innocent civilians who had joined under false pretenses.
Many had joined the cartel to make ends meet one way or another. A few had even been tricked into taking the job. The Cardoza Cartel had a way of knowing who was in trouble and just how desperate they were to make money. Most took the job eagerly, and the few who declined never had to worry about having a gun held to their head, but the ones who agreed had to live with that fear every day.
This man, cowering in his seat with his eyes covered by a blindfold, had outlived his usefulness which meant he had to go. He knew too much, and
we couldn't risk the information getting out. Too bad that didn't ease my mind when it came to killing him, but if I wanted to maintain the trust of the cartel, I would have to do it.
If I didn't, they could investigate me further and see my entire story was a lie. When I first gained the interest of the Cardoza Cartel I had taken the place of someone they were meeting overseas for a drug and weapons trade, and was later recruited for my excellent work.
Apparently the man I had replaced was spoken of highly by the Russians who’d sent him, and they were sad to see him go. Little did they know that the man I impersonated was killed during the short exchange. At least he died for a better cause than drugs and weapon trading.
I shook my head lightly as I thought back to that day. If he had gone quietly it wouldn't have been a problem. I had told him that if he turned around and never spoke a word to anyone then he could live, but he refused. I needed to take his place for the exchange and he didn't make it easy when he tried calling for help. After that, the training just kicked in and there was no stopping it.
I had spent seven years in the military, after enlisting straight out of high school, and now at the age of twenty-four the training was second nature. It was a natural and deadly reaction. I spent the first three years in the Army, and the last four being bounced around to different Special Forces for a variety of training and disciplines, until I was with CIRA permanently. Needless to say, I had the ability to take the man down swiftly, and as silently as possible. Other than opening his mouth to call for help, he never even got out a word before I killed him.
If I hadn't been in CIRA, he may not have died. I wouldn't have had to kill him, but I didn't realize I was working for them until I was already in the agency. I went where I was told, and did what I was instructed just as I had been trained to do. I had never heard of CIRA before Demon approached me about it. Well, approached may be too loose of a word, it was more like being kidnapped and forced into it.
He had taken me in a fight, when his attempt to sneak up behind me had failed, while I was visiting home on the minimal furlough I was allowed. He should have realized that with the training came an overwhelming sense of paranoia, and rather well-developed listening skills and
reaction time. There were punches thrown, knives cutting into skin and clothing, and at times teeth tearing into flesh at the stray hit to the jaw.
Our brawl only lasted a few moments before he said something that made me stop. “I know what happened to your parents, and it wasn't an accident.”
Upon hearing those words I stopped fighting. My parents had died in a car accident just before my eighteenth birthday. I had been searching for answers, but found nothing. I wanted to know what happened to them, why it happened, and then track down who did it, and make him pay.
I should have known that Demon showing up meant trouble, and that the answers wouldn't come easily for me.
Demon had explained that he was a representative sent from CIRA—Combat Intelligence and Reconnaissance Agency—to bring me to my next team, or in his words, “Your final team.” After that, the bad news just kept coming.
I wasn't allowed to go back home.
I wouldn't be able to contact my sister again.
There was no going back to my old life.
I hadn't been home in four years, ever since I had started being bounced around to various teams and sent on different missions. I already had very limited contact with my sister, but now I had to completely cut ties with her. She wasn't allowed to know I was alive, and to her it would look as if I disappeared. I was already very far from my old life.
I had been working and training for CIRA without my knowledge while in the Special Forces, and they had already made it seem as if I had been missing in action after one of my earlier missions in a war zone had left no trace of me. To everyone from my old life, I had vanished and was presumed dead, even though I was still alive and well.
Then Demon told me the most important and deadly information. The Russian I had impersonated, for a directive I wasn't informed of when I first accepted the mission, was to be seen again by the cartel. Demon had said that they kept up the man's appearance, made it seem to both sides that he was still alive, and working with allies on the opposite side of the world. To the Cartel, I had gone back to Russia. To Russia, I had been recruited into Cartel as their liaison with their best customers.
“We need you to go back in,” Demon said. “You've been assigned by the Russians and the head of the Cardoza Cartel to act as a bodyguard for the heir.”
“I'm not a bodyguard, and neither was the man I impersonated. The cartel doesn't know me, why would they trust me with their heir?”
“The Russians speak highly of their man's services. Excellent marksmen, trained with their military, and ours. They need an ally with them, and you're the man for the job,” Demon explained, waiting for me to respond to say I would go, but I didn't want to.
“What about my sister?” I asked curiously. “She's alone. I didn't agree to this, yet you're treating me as if I have.”
“Because you did. Four years ago before we put you in the first mission, three years after your parents were taken out by a hit man to be more specific. You were taught Russian, then sent to work with their military to observe them since they wouldn't willingly work with us. You’ve been undercover for four years, and accepted that. You knew enough, and you agreed to it before you went.”
“I didn't know I was signing up for this,” I claimed. I hadn't, and for a moment Demon looked sympathetic, but in the end he told me I had a job to do, and that's all there was to it.
He had persuaded me with promises that he knew the man who killed my parents, the reason my sister was left alone, and the reason I fought against men like him. Apparently he worked with the cartel often. I would be able to find him and get the revenge I wanted if I finished this mission, and then if I decided to leave then I could, or I could end it all now and show my sister that I was alive. The only thing stopping me was that I'd never know who killed my parents in the car accident almost eight years ago.
I agreed, reluctantly leaving my sister behind to fend for herself and to believe I was missing. I took up the bodyguard position for the cartel. He had taken a shine to me when we met and allowed me to get closer to him than he should so early on. Whether it was the fake Russian accent I used or he actually admired my skill set, I wasn't sure, but both came in handy in this line of work. Especially now.
“Please, I won't tell anyone,” the man pleaded, pulling me from the memory and back to the present.
“You know we can't let you leave,” I said in a heavy Russian accent I had picked up in my time over there, and maintained for my cover. I glanced at the men Camden had sent with me to keep the member under control. Every once in a while when faced with certain death, a person would react violently. They were there to make sure that he didn't, but also that I truly killed them. I knew that I would be watched since it had barely been a year. I would just have to prove myself and gain their trust.
“Please,” he pleaded as I raised the gun to his head.
I took a deep breath, and relaxed my shoulders. This was the part of the job I hated, but it had to be done. There was no way of knowing how long I would be undercover, so I had to start off strong and end it now. My finger squeezed the trigger and the gun rang out, ending the man's sobs, letting the sound echo off the walls, and solidifying my spot in the cartel.
That was how Marco Rykov was born.
Chapter 1
A total of five years of my life had gone to this cartel, granted four of them I hadn’t known I was in the cartel, but what did I have to show for it? A couple of ruined shipments, more trades under my belt than most of the members in the cartel, and yet I was still nowhere near ending this mission. When I first realized I was undercover I thought that I would be out in a couple of months at most, but we hadn't gotten anything that was going to shut down the cartel and a year later I was still here. They were too clean. They kept the appearances they needed and because of that didn't warrant a search from local police, nor the entry of CIRA agents. I had given up my life as Jackson Reeves to become Marco Rykov, and I didn’t know how long I would be forced to maintain this identity.
Before sending me in, and in the countless meetings we've had since I joined the cartel, Demon explained that we were in search of something big enough to finally put an end to the cartel. The cartel had been trying to grow for years after they started spreading their ranks. They were set to take over power from other cartels, and had even gone to war and killed innocent people in the crossfire. All they cared about was the land gained. The lives of those people around them were who CIRA was fighting for. We wanted to save them before another war broke out.
In order for us to do that, and prevent the members of the cartel from reconnecting and starting over, we needed to get rid of them at the source. The headquarters was in my home state of Georgia; where better to start a drug cartel but in the middle of nowhere outside of any major town, where few people would come around to look at what you're doing? That also meant it was harder to get anyone to see what was going on here.
So I had spent the last few years doing whatever I needed to gain the trust of those in the cartel, even if it meant killing someone that shouldn't have to die. I shuddered at the thought of the man I killed all those years ago. His death was on my hands, and it haunted me, but I did what I had to for the mission and I stand by what I did. If I didn't, the guilt would have eaten me alive by now. Especially since I had to do it on more than one occasion, all to people that didn't deserve to die, but it was the part I had to play. There was nothing I could do about it.
While here, I wasn't allowed to be the person I had grown up as. I was no longer able to be the southern gentlemen who was raised on the morals and ideas of family, nor the teen that had spent weekends with friends and not thinking further than next weekend. Here I had to live up to the reputation of the man the Russians sent and make it believable. Luckily, I had managed to slowly lose the Russian accent over time. It had become almost second nature to speak with the accent, but I enjoyed not having to remind myself to force it. All it did was allow me to become more “Americanized�
� as Camden called it, and it was starting to work in my favor.
He had let me close to him, and while it took four years before they called on me, I was finally moved up to be his main bodyguard. The newfound freedom allowed me to discover where they kept their files, and I even found one on hitmen that they hired repeatedly. The records went back to when Camden's dad took over fifteen years ago, and I discovered one hitman who used car accidents as his signature; Ash Crest. From the looks of his file he had gotten rid of multiple families, but there was no record of the families in the folder. Without that information there wasn't a way for me to know if anyone had survived the crashes like my sister and I had, and no way to see if I could find them one day.
I feel sorry for whoever, if anyone, survived the accident. Living through that much death could drive a person to do unspeakable things, and they would suffer alone as I had done the first year after the accident. It was hard to talk about it with those that weren't there. If my sister hadn't made it as well, I'm not sure that I would be here now. I touched my shoulder in memory of where the bullet had passed through me. When the car accident didn't kill me, he shot me to make sure I went down, but he had been stopped by someone who saw the accident and called the paramedics. I had barely made it, but I had taken solace in knowing that he would suffer like I had.
“Marco,” a voice called, taking me out of my mental reverie.
“What is it, Wes?” I asked as I looked over his panicked expression. His face was red, and there was sweat beading on his forehead. Something was wrong. Normally he was calm and composed during a firefight. For him to be spooked it had to be something bad.
“I need to get in and talk to Camden,” he said, looking over his shoulder as if he was being followed. “It's really important. Something has happened to the base in Sandtown.”
