Falcon: The Quiet Professionals Book 3

by Ronie Kendig

  “It’ll matter to your wife.”

  “Oh shut up,” Lance groused. “Go on. Get on with it. Tell him what he needs to know so he’ll stop looking at me with that pathetic look.”

  “Sorry, sir. It’s just a relief to see you’re not six feet under. I know Raptor will be very happy to see you.”

  “Then they’ll kill him,” Tony said.

  “Who needs your mouth, VanAllen?” Lance’s gaze had always been as fierce as his gravelly voice. “I can bust you down a rank.”

  “Sorry, sir.” Tony crossed his arms over his thick chest and grinned. “No longer under your command. Private contract.”

  “Well,” Lance groused, “I can make your life miserable.”

  “Have for the last two weeks, sir.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Lance said, but a smile tugged at the drawn lines on his face. “Man, it’s good to be alive to make someone else miserable.”

  Eamon pivoted. “My father—”

  “Your father is a great friend and asset. His role is complicated, even beyond yours.” Sajjan held his shoulder. “I’m afraid I have more news that you must quickly accept and adapt to for this night to succeed.”

  The man was a veritable fortress of strength. Legends were written about men like Eamon Straider. “You’ve withheld more information from us? That’s not a smart tactical decision.”

  “Perhaps not tactically, but it was imperative that this information be kept close to the heart until the very last minute.”

  “Fact was,” Lance said, his speech slowing.

  Sajjan motioned to the nurse, who moved toward the bed and raised the safety bar.

  “No, give me a minute.”

  “You must rest,” Sajjan said.

  “After this is done.” Lance shifted his gaze to Eamon, who took the meaning that Lance wanted to talk to him and drew closer. “Ramsey will be here tonight.”

  “Yes, sir. We’re making arrangements with the FBI to take him into custody.”

  “Good.” Lance’s eyes drooped. “But…” Breathing seemed a chore. “There’s more…”

  “Why tell me, sir? Tell Dean or Falcon. They’re team leaders.”

  But Lance had fallen asleep. Sajjan had the nurse adjust the bed to a prone position.

  “Raptor team needs to be told about General Burnett,” Eamon said.

  “Not yet.”

  “Why?”

  “Sir!” Waris rushed into the room.

  Sajjan held a hand up to his associate. “As I said, this secret must be kept close. Too many people know, and… tonight could be for naught. And I must ask that you not speak of this to anyone. Not to a single person.” He speared him with a look until he was sure Eamon’s mind landed squarely on Brie Hastings. “No one.”

  “Sir, sorry—the Aga Khan’s car is arriving now.”

  “I’m not sure about this,” Cassie whispered, staring at her reflection in the mirror. A mocha brown gown hugged her body, and while the neckline wasn’t plunging, she had cleavage showing. Hair swept up, she looked more like a movie star than a soldier on a mission. She glanced at the beautiful brunette standing behind her. “You said the point was to blend in.”

  “It is.” Timbrel reached around in front of Cassie and draped a multistrand necklace with chocolate pearls and crystals.

  “How am I supposed to blend in when”—Cassie glanced down— “certain parts are standing out?”

  Timbrel laughed. “Believe me, girl. There will be a lot more standing out in that gala. “There is nothing wrong with what you’re showing. It’s still very modest.”

  In front of her now, Timbrel twined a lock around her finger and let it curl along Cassie’s neck. “Besides, I hear a certain soldier is having trouble remembering what he felt for you.”

  Surprised, Cassie looked her new friend in the eye.

  Timbrel laughed. “Yeah, I think it’s endemic of elite operators. Maybe too many bumps on their brain bowls.”

  There was a rap on the door. “Okay, ladies. Showtime.”

  “Coming,” Timbrel called over her shoulder. She made one more adjustment to the dress then gave her nod of approval. “Now let him act like he’s uninterested.”

  “Look, this is great ’n all, but seriously—tonight, I just want to get to Kiew. That’s my goal.”

  “You keep telling yourself that, sweetie.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I. But when you see that look in his eye, the one that says he is totally into you, that he could devour you—yeah, tell me how good your mission focus is then.” The timber of her laughter carried them both into the hallway.

  “Okay, I’m changing.”

  Timbrel caught her hand and kept walking until they were in the living area. Candyman turned and his gaze completely feasted on Timbrel. He let out a long, low whistle and pulled his wife into his hold. “I think we need to skip the fund-raiser.”

  With an arched meaning, Timbrel looked at Cassie as if to say, see?

  But there was one difference—those two were married. She and Sal had gotten the cart before the horse before. And it’d been completely messed up ever since.

  Tony turned to Cassie and nodded. “Yeah, that’s how to knock a guy on his butt.”

  Timbrel slapped him.

  A growl came from the side—her dog lying there, lifted his head and upper lip in a snarl.

  “Hey, not me. I’m talking about Falcon,” Tony explained. “Let’s go before I get in trouble.”

  He escorted them into the elevator and down to the second floor, where the entire level served as a banqueting area. Heavy security stood along the sidelines, appraising each attendee waiting to enter. Two eight-foot tables were draped in luxurious linens and floral arrangements.

  “Audrey! Darling, there you are!”

  Timbrel groaned. “I swear she calls me that on purpose.”

  “Any time she can,” Tony said.

  “Mother.” Timbrel approached the table, bypassing the long line. She glanced at her mother. “Timbrel and Tony VanAllen. We’re on the list.”

  The platinum-haired woman waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, you know I can’t get used to that name.”

  Nina Laurens. It was the Nina Laurens standing right there big as day!

  Timbrel nodded. “This is Cassandra Walker. She’s on the list.”

  “Of course she is, darling. And such a pretty name for a beautiful woman.”

  “Thank you,” Cassie said. “And I just loved you in Evening Love, Miss Laurens. But you’re awesome in any movie.” As soon as the words escaped her lips, Cassie cringed.

  Timbrel groaned. “Do not feed this woman’s ego,” she said and threaded arms with Cassie.

  “Oh, aren’t you sweet. Thank you, Miss Walker.” She flitted her hands toward the wall of doors affording entrance. “Go on. Enjoy the event.”

  Timbrel led her through the wide doors.

  “I’m sorry,” Cassie mumbled. “I can’t believe I did that.”

  “Happens to the best of them.”

  But Cassie’s mind had already shifted into work mode. Into seek and find—Sal that is. She wanted to see him. Ached for him to look at her the way Tony had, as Timbrel said, devoured his wife with his eyes. As if he couldn’t get enough of her.

  “Hey,” a large, dark blur moved in front of them. “Here’s your coms piece.”

  It was Sal. Right in front of her. Angled sideways and he hadn’t even seen her. Not two feet away. And he stood there, talking with Tony about the coms and the mission and who was expected.

  Cassie’s heart plummeted. So much for standing out. Timbrel had been right—she was blending in. So much that Sal didn’t notice her.

  “Excuse us.” Arms still threaded, Timbrel barreled with Cassie right between Sal and Tony.

  “Sure. Sor—Andra?”

  He hooked her arm, pulling her around to him. And it seemed every breath he took soaked up more of her strength because her knees suddenly felt like Jell-O.

>   “Booyah,” Timbrel muttered in Cassie’s ear. “Sorry, I need to dance with my man.” She and Tony vanished.

  Sal smiled at her. Really, deeply smiled. “You look amazing.”

  She probably matched the royal-red curtains draping the space between the massive marble columns. “It was Timbrel’s doing.”

  He hadn’t let go. He just stood there staring. For a very. Long. Time.

  CHAPTER 40

  Kabul, Afghanistan

  10 April—1855 Hours

  Falcon. Idiot. Ask her to dance,” came a taunting voice through his coms.

  Sal gritted his teeth, half embarrassed. Seeing her all dolled up, those curves taunting him. Curves he’d once been intimately familiar with—and now off-limits. A beauty of a woman—inside and out.

  “Dance?” he finally managed to ask.

  “Hooah!” came a chorus of cheers through his coms.

  “Shut up,” he hissed.

  Cassie frowned then her blue eyes noticed the small plastic piece in his ear.

  He guided her onto the dance floor and took her into his arms. He turned off his mic. “This is really unfair.” Though he stood a head taller than her, she always fit so perfectly against him.

  “What?”

  “You, that dress… the mountain between us.”

  Hand on his shoulder and one on his arm, she met his gaze. “Why is it still there?”

  “Good question.” He could not get enough of her. The oval face. Her full lips—not pillow lips like a lot of Hollywood and plastic women, but natural, taunting ones. The long, graceful slope of her neck and—

  Sal lifted his gaze back to her eyes. Safe territory. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thanks. You clean up pretty good, too.”

  “Heads up,” a voice said as they swirled past a small crowd.

  Sal reached up and turned his piece back on.

  “You back on, Falcon?”

  “Yes,” he subvocalized.

  “Kiew Tang is on-site.”

  “Tang is here,” Sal said, and immediately felt Cassie go rigid. He pressed a hand against her back. “Easy. Keep it natural.”

  Cassie hauled in a breath. “I see her.” Her gaze locked on to something. “I don’t see him. Seems she’s alone.”

  “Confirm,” Dean’s voice came through the coms. “Tang arrived alone.”

  “She came alone,” Sal repeated for Cassie’s benefit.

  Cassie nodded, tucked her chin, and let out a breath.

  “You ready?” Sal asked, suddenly unwilling to let her go. To release her to try to connect with a woman who turned out to be a much more highly trained operative than they could’ve imagined. More than just a high school roommate.

  He let go, but Cassie clung to him. “Andra?”

  Her fingers tightened against his biceps. “The reason I did the POA—”

  “No,” Sal said. He cupped her face. “Just focus on tonight. Don’t let your mind go there.”

  “If anything happens to—”

  “It’s not.”

  “But if it does—”

  “Andra.”

  She clutched his arms as he held her face. “Promise you’ll take care of Mila.”

  “Move!” Dean growled through the coms.

  Sal glanced to the side. Saw Dean and Titanis navigating the thick crowd. But then he saw the willowy, elegant figure of Kiew Tang. She’d narrowed in on Cassie, but worse—on him. “She’s watching us.”

  Cassie slapped his face.

  Sal jerked, stunned as she stalked off.

  “Nice save,” Dean whispered. “Falcon get lost in the crowd.”

  Carrying his wounded pride off the floor, Sal ignored the smirks of the team, who were littered around the massive event hall and interwoven among several hundred guests.

  Sal pushed around one clique after another to take up position by a marble pillar. Had she slapped him because he hadn’t answered? Or because she wanted Kiew to think them at odds? “Where is she?”

  He surfed the crowd, searching for her. She’d been headed in Tang’s general direction, but with this many people finding her would be a challenge.

  “Anyone have eyes on Walker?” Sal asked, pushing farther back toward the windows to more easily move through the hall.

  “Negative,” Eagle said.

  “Just lost her,” came Titanis’s reply.

  “We need eyes on her at all times.” Sal reminded the team. “Find her!”

  “Easy, Falcon,” Dean said quietly. “She’s not the only bird in play.”

  Maybe she wasn’t but she was the only bird he cared about.

  Might as well put her through a clothes wringer. Cassie held her breath as she pushed through one tangled mob after another, heading in the general direction she’d seen Kiew.

  A shoulder bumped hers.

  “Sorry.”

  A hand wrapped around hers, passing something to her. “Coms,” a voice breathed.

  Cassie stopped, rolling the small piece in her hand as she looked around, searching for whoever from Raptor had handed off the communications device. But strange, unfamiliar faces glanced back. One or two men smiled, and another started toward her, innuendo clear in his posture and pace.

  Great. Cassie turned and ducked, grateful she wasn’t tall and could bob through the crowd without too much notice. Irritation clawed her partially from the claustrophobia choking her but also because she’d told Raptor she didn’t want a coms piece. It’d stop Kiew from contacting her.

  Through a cluster of tuxed-out men, she saw Captain Watters trolling.

  Cassie aimed for him. Caught his arm.

  He turned, his expression stern. “What—?”

  “No.” She held out the coms. “I told you, I’m not wearing one.”

  Slowly, he looked down at the coms. Then back at her. “It’s not ours.”

  Cassie blinked. “What?”

  “Ours are clear and long range. It’s shortwave.” Captain Watters stared at her for several long seconds. Though he looked at her, he wasn’t looking at her. His expression firmed with what looked like determination. “Put it in.”

  “What if it makes my head explode?”

  He smirked. “It won’t.”

  She nodded to his coms. “What’d they tell you?”

  He didn’t answer quickly. “That it’s safe.”

  With a huff, Cassie moved away from him, wandering to a table that provided an array of drinks—water, punch, liquors, and sodas. There, she casually let down her hair and slipped the coms piece into her ear, rubbing her scalp and reveling in the way her scalp no longer throbbed from the updo.

  “My friend.”

  Cassie inhaled, her gaze skimming the crowd as she turned and breathed, “Kiew.”

  “I hope slapping him was not for my benefit.”

  Cassie smiled, still searching for her friend. “Completely my benefit. He wouldn’t make a promise to me. Where are you?” Probably shouldn’t have asked that, but it’d come out before she could think it through.

  “Remember the OVA when Shinji was in the robot and Asuka was in one as well?”

  Cassie’s mind whirred to a stop, trying to extract that long-ago memory card. “I… barely.” Yeah—she recalled the original video anime. It was called You Can (Not) Redo. “Sorry. You loved Shinji more than I ever did.” Where was she? Why wouldn’t she talk to her face-to-face?

  “Remember that robots sometimes went rogue.”

  The words turned Cassie’s stomach into a knot.

  “Asuka’s robot went rogue and started killing?”

  Nausea roiled through her.

  “And Shinji was forced by his father to shoot and kill the robot Asuka was in?”

  “Kiew—”

  “Remember how angry and upset Shinji was?”

  “Kiew, please talk to me. Where are you?”

  “I’m afraid, Cassandra, that you may have to be my Shinji.”

  CHAPTER 41

  Kabul, Afghanistan


  10 April—1915 Hours

  Tides were shifting. But with tides, when one thing shifted, another invariably got knocked around. For Sal, the tides had started with the little girl.

  No, no it was before that. Seeing Cassie again. All those old memories and images catapulting to the front of his mind. But he’d taken control of them, managed them. Contained them with bonds of determination.

  Until the little girl obliterated those bonds, unleashing a flood of revelations that had tethered him to new determination—to change.

  Then Cassie had to go and show up in that hot little number tonight. Way to mess with a guy’s focus. He’d lost sight of her for a few minutes earlier, but once he reacquired her location, he hadn’t let her vanish again. She stood very still, her expression taut.

  When her eyes widened, Sal tensed. What was she seeing? He tried to follow the direction of her gaze but only saw dozens of guests. Nothing discernible. She whipped around and her eyes locked on to him.

  Something in those baby blues yanked him forward. Sal was halfway across the room in a purposeful stride before he knew it.

  What did his heart good was that she was heading his way, too.

  She met him. Caught his arm. “Kiew—she’sgoingtodosomething-butshewantsmetostopher. Idon’tknowwhatitisbutIhavetofindher.”

  “Cass—”

  “Shetalkedtome, toldme.”

  “Slow down.” Sal held her bare shoulders. “You said something’s going to happen?”

  She nodded, her hair loose and curling around her shoulders. “Yes, she”—Cassie touched her forehead—“it’s a long story, but she told me to stop her.” She licked her lips. “I think. I mean—”

  “What’s happening?” Dean came up behind her.

  Cassie yanked around. “You were right—it was Kiew. I put the earpiece in and she was there.”

  “What’d she—?” Dean froze. His face washed white.

  “Captain?”

  His nostrils flared, lips pressing into a pinched line.

  Sal slowly glanced around. “Dean, you okay?”

  “Nianzu—the Lion,” he said through gritted teeth.

  Over his shoulder, Sal spotted the Asian who’d been responsible for torturing Dean. Enabling the rape of Double Z. The visceral response from Dean set off alarms in Sal’s head. He shifted to block Dean’s view of the man. “You got it together?”