Escaping the Blackness (A Cooper Brothers Novel Book 1)

by Norma Jeanne Karlsson

  “I’ll take care of it,” he assures me.

  “I need to do this,” I respond firmly. “On my own.”

  I wait while he digests my statements. Kieran is quick. The smartest in our family next to my sister. It’s the reason he’s a great crime boss. He doesn’t need time to consider decisions. He knows the answer before anyone else in the room. He’s simply deciding right now how much latitude I deserve.

  “I’ve got GPS on this SUV. Tell me where you’re goin’. I’ll watch you. If you deviate or take longer than I think necessary, I’m comin’ for you,” he dictates.

  I sag with relief and throw my arms around his neck with gratitude. Kieran kisses my hair and holds me fiercely against his body. We’re almost the same height, but I feel like a little girl in his embrace. He’s the smallest in our family as far as build goes. He’s still six feet tall and built to break a man with one vicious blow. Though in my family, I’m surrounded by hulking men. Kieran emits so much power from within, he often seems to be largest man in the room.

  “Run this shit through with me,” he orders, setting me back a few inches.

  I do what he wants. I tell him everything while he listens intently.

  When I’m done, I climb in his SUV and drive with purpose. I’m going to rid the world of a monster tonight. A monster who stole my life from me and then sent me to a dungeon where my life didn’t matter anymore. The only thing that mattered was how soon death would find me. It never did. Death avoided me while I lived in hell for two years.

  Tonight I get my vengeance.

  “Send it,” Mitch grunts.

  I squeeze the trigger and wait for confirmation of my kill. 2,612 meters is a long shot, but one I’m confident I made.

  I always hit my target.

  “Hit,” Mitch says and I can hear his smile.

  We’re instantly loading up and moving out as return fire crackles in the distance. Once we’re settled in the back of the Humvee, the SEAL team leader spins in his seat and says, “That’s a record, kid.”

  World’s longest kill shot, that’s the record he’s referring to. He doesn’t know that’s not my longest kill shot. He doesn’t know me or what I’m capable of, other than what he just witnessed.

  I nod.

  His brow furrows slightly before he turns away from me. Mitch balls his fist on his thigh, and I tap it with mine. We’re the best sniper team in the world. Only a select few will ever know that. There’s a small victory that the man in front of us just acknowledged it. It’s the only recognition we’ll get for this mission.

  The credit for the kill will go to one of the SEAL team members and the distance won’t be referenced. No record of Jake Cooper and Jase Mitchell being in Syria will exist. And the ISIS leader I just blew a hole through won’t be planning bombings any time soon. He was cocky. He walked around his compound with no concern, using his children as a shield from drone strikes and foolishly believing the perimeter was covered by his men and explosives from beyond the range of a sniper.

  Wrong.

  I feel relief as we pull up to our camp where an Osprey is waiting for us. We load in and take off within minutes. We’re all quiet as we fly. Mitch and I have been going at it for over twenty-four hours so we’re not up for much conversation.

  We got the call requesting our assistance for this mission while we were at headquarters in Virginia. The Domestic Crime Agency (DCA) is located just across the Potomac from the CIA in a bland building meant to blend in with its surroundings. We’re a clandestine agency under the umbrella of the FBI. American soil is where we operate. The DCA infiltrates every matter of criminal faction and dismantles them. Cartels, human trafficking rings, crime syndicates, kidnapping groups, spies, terrorists and arms dealers, just to name a few, have been destroyed by the DCA.

  A lot of agency work is done undercover. Other ops are conducted online with some of the world’s best hackers at our disposal. The DCA tries to get information about operations before taking them down. If you cut the head off these serpents, they grow back bigger and meaner. So when the DCA identifies a target, it’s usually a few months of work before the op is wrapped and bad guys are dead.

  I’m not that type of agent. I don’t work my way in and then take down a target after months of undercover work. Mitch and I go where we’re told and assassinate our mark. Long range is my specialty, but I’ve done hits up close and personal too. I also do a lot of work for the military on the side. If there’s a gun in my hand and you’re on my list, you don’t stand a chance.

  That’s not me being cocky. It’s a fact. I’m good. Not because the DCA forced me to go through eighteen months of sniper school, but because I’ve had a rifle in my hands since I was a toddler. I learned early in life if I missed my target, there were consequences. Violent consequences. So I don’t miss. Ever.

  When we touch down at Incirlik Air Base, the SEAL team commander meets us as we disembark the Osprey.

  “Helluva job, Cooper. Got your boss on hold.” He nods toward a building behind him before turning toward it.

  Mitch and I follow silently. Once we’re in a small office, the commander picks up a phone and listens as my boss tells him to leave the room. I can’t hear him, but I know how the man operates.

  Some grunted words are exchanged before the commander hands me the phone, saying, “I’ll give you the room.”

  I nod and wait for him to leave before putting the phone to my ear.

  “This is Cooper,” I say.

  “Got your target,” he responds. He’s not asking…he’s complimenting in his own strange way.

  “Did you have a question?” I retort.

  He snorts at my flippant attitude. My boss and I aren’t close. We have an understanding though. I do my job and he leaves me the fuck alone. It works to both our benefit. He gets an asset, and I don’t have to kill him.

  “Did you need somethin’, Roman?” I huff when he doesn’t answer.

  “Found your man,” he growls. “Attempt to be grateful, Cooper.”

  “Where?” I seethe, ignoring his request.

  “Chicago. I’ve got eyes on him. He won’t move without us knowin’. Get your ass on a plane.”

  “What’s the plan with the SEALs?” I ask.

  I don’t give a shit in this moment, but I’ve got two more targets I’m supposed to take out.

  “You’re not military. You’re DCA. I’ll explain that shit slowly with small words so they understand.”

  Roman Knight is an asshole. He’s been an asshole from the moment I met him. He was asshole before that. And he’ll be an asshole until the day he dies.

  “Always the professional,” I drone sarcastically.

  “I can have someone else do this job,” he threatens.

  “I can put a bullet in your head. Is this your version of I’ll show you mine if you show me yours? I’ll win, Roman. Every fuckin’ time,” I snarl.

  “You kiss your mother with that mouth, kid?”

  “Why don’t you call my dad and ask him? I’m sure he’d love to have a conversation with you.”

  That’s met with silence. My dad isn’t a fan of my boss either. Roman’s right to fear Agent Nick Cooper, but he should fear me more. I don’t hide behind my family. I protect them.

  “Your flight leaves in thirty minutes. Droppin’ you and Mitchell in Chicago. I’ll be in touch once you’re on the ground,” he says coolly.

  “Who’s the agent on-site?”

  “Zack Reed. He’ll meet your flight and read you in.”

  “Right.”

  “Cooper…” he trails off, rethinking his words. “Keep your head down,” he finishes gruffly.

  “Always.”

  I hang up before he can say anything else.

  “That sounded pleasant,” Mitch snarks.

  “He’s a barrel of laughs as usual. Found our man in Chicago. Rollin’ out in thirty,” I explain, clapping my best friend on the back.

  The door swings open as the commander stro
lls back in.

  “All set?”

  “Yes, sir. Sorry about my boss,” I apologize sincerely.

  “You ever want a job, give me a call, son. I’d be proud to have you on my team. Both of you.”

  “Thank you, sir. We’ll keep it in mind,” I respond the same way I have every time we receive this offer from military commanders. “We’ve gotta head out. I’m sorry to cut this mission short, but another time sensitive op needs us. I’ll get in contact with you once it’s wrapped.”

  “Understood,” he grunts, clearly unhappy but also knowing he has no power over me.

  That’s one reason I’ll never join the military. I don’t do well with authority or boundaries.

  We shake hands and Mitchell and I hoof it to the showers. Once we’re rid of sand and sweat, we dress in civilian clothes and make our way to the DCA jet waiting on the tarmac for us.

  “Hey!” the team leader from the Humvee shouts, running toward us.

  Mitch and I stop, waiting for the burly, bearded man to reach us.

  “I just wanted to say thanks. That shit was impressive, man. You ever need anything from us, let me know.” He presses a scrap of paper in my hand.

  I look down at my palm, memorize his name and contact information before passing it back to him.

  “Will do, Nate,” I respond with a chin lift.

  He smirks at me before my spotter and I ascend the stairs to our jet.

  “I’m sleepin’ the whole fuckin’ flight,” Mitch announces with a yawn, stretching out along the plush leather couch.

  I will too. I’m beat, and I need a clear head for what I’m about to do. I kill people for a living. It’s mindless, emotionless work for me. The piece of shit I’m going to end in Chicago is personal.

  The DCA did me a favor tracking this fucker down. They wanted him, but I wanted him more. There are a lot of ways to call someone evil in the DCA. Pedophile, human trafficker, slave trader, the list goes on. John Smith (lamest alias in the world) is worse than all of those things combined. He’s the reason my Cara ended up in a dungeon for two years. I’ll feel good when I kill him. It will be momentary, but in that moment, I’ll bask in the glow of revenge.

  I owe Cara this life.

  It’s the least I can do after abandoning her for six years.

  “Agent Cooper, we’ll be landing in about twenty minutes,” Jenny, the flight attendant says while gently waking me.

  “Thanks,” I rasp.

  She hands me a glass of water before rousing Mitch. He stares at her tits the whole time and when she walks away, offers me an eyebrow wiggle.

  I snort at him as he tries to smooth his always messy black hair. His slate grey eyes stay locked on Jenny’s ass while she prepares for landing. When she looks over her shoulder at him, he sends her a wink. If we had the time, he’d take her to the back of the plane and use his membership in the mile high club.

  “I passed out before I knew we had a treat on the plane,” he groans at me.

  “You snooze you lose, Mitch,” I taunt.

  “Did you hit that?” he asks disbelieving my insinuation.

  “I never kiss and tell.”

  He stares at me long and hard before smirking, knowing I didn’t touch Jenny.

  “Who’re we meeting?”

  “Zack Reed. You know him?”

  “He was in his last year of training when we started. Good guy, I think.”

  I rub a hand over my buzzed blond hair and try to place the name and face. Mitch and I don’t see a lot of other agents. And when we do, it’s only for hours at a time. Even when we’re at headquarters, we’re on our own. Teams are made up of field agents, support agents and research agents. Mitch and I are the only designated sniper team in the DCA. We don’t have field or support agents other than each other, though we have more researchers back at headquarters than any other team. But with only Mitch and me in the field, it’s not a very wide social networking pool. I’m good with that and so is Mitch.

  Jenny straps herself into her jump seat, facing Mitch and me. I’m not the one she’s looking at though. Her big blue eyes are trained on my partner. They eye fuck each other until we touch down. I’m happy when she opens the cabin door because the two of them have caused the temperature to rise a few degrees.

  I unhook my seatbelt at the same time Mitch does. But when I climb to my feet, he snags my wrist. I look down at him and know what he’s going to say before he utters a word.

  “Five minutes, Mitch. We’ve gotta move.”

  He beams a cocky, lopsided grin at me before I pass Jenny and descend the stairs.

  A man hops out of the driver’s seat, rounding a nondescript black SUV to greet me. He looks like a DCA agent, meaning he looks normal. He’s shorter than me by a couple inches, maybe six feet two. His hair is medium brown, styled short and pushed to the side. When he flips his aviators on top of his head, his eyes are an average light blue. He’s not ripped, but he’s in good shape. If you walked by Zack Reed on the street, you would think he was a good looking guy with a decent paying job. Not a trained killer working for a secret three-letter agency.

  “Zack Reed,” he introduces himself, thrusting his palm toward me.

  “Jake Cooper.” I shake his hand briefly as two pilots rush off the jet looking horrified.

  Zack flicks me a questioning look.

  “You wanna fill me in?” I ask, ignoring the awkward moment.

  “Should we wait for Mitchell?”

  “He’s indisposed at the moment. We’ll bring him up to speed.”

  Zack clears his throat, trying to assess me and the situation. He won’t read anything on my face. I’ve learned to shut that off over the years. I’m blank when dealing with people. This job requires it.

  “Smith took up residence in Chicago a few weeks ago. I’ve been working a small snatch and grab kidnapping ring here for about three months. There’s not a lot of depth to the operation. I was slated to wrap my op last week when Smith came on radar. He wants two eight-year-old girls by next week.”

  “Domestics.”

  “So he says. Why he wants children as domestics is lost on me. He’s got the pedophile vibe,” he grumbles.

  Some very loud moans filter out of the plane and Reed’s eyebrows hit his hairline.

  “Smith isn’t a pedophile, but he is a fuckin’ creep. He likes his domestics young so he can train them properly. He’s meticulous about his life and how he wants shit. His slaves are trained with his fists and fear.”

  “Why’d they call you in for this? I can take care of him.”

  I’m not offended by his assertion, but I feel a bit of protective fury bubbling in my stomach.

  “I’ve been lookin’ for him for six years. I almost got him four years ago in Palo Alto. He slipped through our hands eighteen months ago in Peru. Smith’s a sneaky fucker so we need to end this quickly before he’s in the wind again.”

  “Personal?” he questions without accusation.

  “Very,” I grunt.

  He puts his fist up for a bump, and I oblige.

  Jenny’s cries of ecstasy finally quiet as Reed and I chuckle. It wouldn’t be so obvious what they were doing if other planes were landing, but it’s eight in the morning on an early December Sunday and the DCA has shut down any other air traffic so we could land undetected.

  Mitch and Jenny emerge from the jet a few moments later. Her blouse is held together haphazardly, a few buttons in the wrong holes. Her blonde hair is a mess around her head and there’s bright red lipstick smudged out to her cheek. Mitch is also sporting some lipstick, but other than that, you can’t tell what he just did. Well, the I-just-fucked smile on his face is pretty telling.

  My spotter leads the woman into the tiny terminal with his hand in the small of her back, kisses her cheek and then strides back out to us.

  “Miss me?” he quips.

  “I didn’t need the movie to go along with the soundtrack,” I snark. “Jase Mitchell meet Zack Reed. If you’re done s
preading your seed, we need to get on the road.”

  They shake hands and we load up our bags. The baggage handlers snicker at Mitch the whole time.

  I’m used to Mitch. He’s been like this since we entered the field. When I first met Jase Mitchell, we clicked. It was instantaneous. There was a fist bump, a nod and a friendship was born. We’re always together. In the field and out, Mitch is at my side.

  But with his need to fuck loud and often, we always have separate hotel rooms. We don’t own homes or cars. Back in Virginia, the DCA has apartments for agents who spend most of their time in the field. Mitch and I crash in one together when we’re at headquarters.

  In the last six years, I think we’ve spent a total of a month in a DCA apartment. We stay busy. We like to be busy. The work fuels us for different reasons, but at the end of the day, Mitch and I need to be hunting, planning and executing targets in order to function.

  Reed and I fill Mitch in on John Smith as we ride to the safe house. We can’t stay with Reed without jeopardizing his cover. He’s the contact with Smith so shit needs to remain seamless. This is nothing new for us, but I’m antsy regardless. I won’t lose Smith again. He dies this time even if I have to strangle him with my bare hands. Maybe that’s how I should do it. Stand over him and watch the life seep from his features. It would make my moment of peace last a bit longer.

  Ending targets from the distances I do, allows for separation. I don’t see them as anything more than a spot to line up my shot. It helps that I’ve killed some of the vilest creatures on Earth, but I’ve always felt like this. The first time I killed someone, it didn’t bother me. I didn’t even flinch. The death doesn’t haunt me in my dreams. That job is reserved for one specific monster.

  “I did an extraction with your old man last year,” Reed says as we pull in a parking garage beneath a high-rise apartment building.

  I nod. That means he’s seen my dad more recently than I have. He’s talked to him more recently too.

  Six years is a long time. I haven’t seen my family since the day my parents got married. I walked my mother down the aisle and then I walked out of her life. I talked to my parents on the phone twice while I was in training, but when I went into the field, I cut off all contact.