Dark Lies (DARC Ops Book 6)

by Jamie Garrett

“Thanks.” Tucker chose not to disagree with Jasper’s assessment. The less said to the rest of the boys on that particular subject, the better.

  “You were absolutely right about her,” Jasper said, nodding. “And the way she caught up to speed. She’s already running a quarter of the operation herself.”

  “That’s nothing,” Tucker said. “Just wait until you see her in action.”

  “I already did.”

  “You were half unconscious,” Tucker said, laughing. And then he thought about Macy in action for him, a different kind of action. He couldn’t wait for that, either. He suddenly felt a little warm in the parking lot. Sweaty, and almost weak. It was midday hot, and Tucker was more than midday tired. And a little stressed. With blue balls. He felt almost hungover, so much so that when Jasper turned to him, probably seeing his dark eye sockets in the full sun, he asked him, very quietly and seriously, if he was okay.

  “I’m good,” Tucker said.

  “Maybe you should be next for a hospital visit.”

  “Or a raise.”

  Jasper laughed. “I agree with you on that one. You’ll have to take that up with Jackson, though.” He stopped by his car. “I bet he won’t be happy with how many rental cars we’ve blown through already.”

  “Should I drive?” Tucker asked.

  “What? Why”

  “Your head.”

  Jasper shrugged, but held on to the keys. “About Macy, though. We still have to talk about that thing.”

  “What thing?”

  “The background check,” Jasper said. “I told Jackson about her, but he still wants some intel. And he wants you to get it for him.”

  Tucker didn’t know how to respond to that.

  “He said something about . . . wanting to test her.”

  Tucker slipped into the passenger seat without a word. Before he had a chance to think, or even to buckle his seat belt, the car lurched back out of the parking space and then forward with a screech of a tire. It was typical Jasper, who was obviously fully recovered and his driving as insane as ever.

  As they raced toward the highway, Jasper turned to him and said, “So, can you handle this?”

  “I’m just confused why you think it’s necessary,” Tucker said. “She’s proven her loyalty.”

  “You know, with the latest attacks on us, and Browning’s team seeming to know every move we make, Jackson might have a reason to be suspicious.”

  Tucker couldn’t believe that they were trying to pin everything on her. It enraged him.

  “It’s just a precaution,” Jasper said. “She won’t know a thing.”

  21

  Macy

  They’d offered her a ride, but she didn’t want it. She didn’t trust anyone who wasn’t Tucker, a rule that would have served her well back in St. Louis. It was too late for that now, but she could ensure she didn’t make the same mistake again, at least. Here in Johannesburg, she could maybe trust Jasper and some of the DARC Ops men, but when she was apart from her recent travel companion, something felt empty inside. It felt wrong. In contrast, when she and Tucker were together, it felt like they had been lifelong travelers. Tourists across the world. Between murder attempts, it had almost felt like a vacation, like they were two starry-eyed backpackers hiking through Africa.

  Back when she had the luxury of enough time to contemplate having a boyfriend or a more serious partner, that was the exact scenario she thought of. Start off as friends and build a solid foundation together.

  She frowned. Despite her foundation with Tucker having begun solidly, there were serious cracks, too. What they were doing now was a rush-job to pave over those cracks. He must know, too, that it was a precarious game.

  Another precarious situation was waiting here alone. She knew what could happen to her, and she’d just seen what had happened to Tucker and Jasper. It seemed like no one was safe. She’d lost count of the amount of enemies, no matter the motives.

  But it almost didn’t matter now. Macy could breathe just a little easier. She was finally leaving. And the idea of her sharing a boat . . . a cruise, with Tucker made it even better. She could endure any manner of uncertainty and paranoia, even fear, just knowing that she might be able to be alone with him again—and to have that as soon as tonight. They might even be able to finish what they’d started. For Macy, it was a continuation of something that had begun all the way back in St. Louis.

  But he was still late.

  Tucker was supposed to have picked her up twenty minutes ago, with all of her things from the hotel, and his things too, everything ready to head out. She was damn well ready.

  Macy rose from the concrete bench to take a few steps around, wasting time, walking, when a black car pulled up. Her chest instantly throbbed with butterflies, excited to see him again. But the windows were heavily tinted. It might not even be Tucker at all. She took a few steps back away from the road and to her seat, waiting to see who had come for her. When the car finally stopped and the passenger-side window rolled down, she saw no sign of him. Instead, a middle-aged blonde woman looked out the window. She was looking directly at Macy, as if she knew exactly who she was. She hated when people seemed to know her. Knowing her meant they were going to try to kill her.

  Or at least that was her learned experience. How long would it take to drop that and be normal again?

  “Are you Macy?” the woman asked, her hand up in her hair, finger twirling it innocently.

  “No.”

  “You’re not Macy Chandler?”

  Macy manufactured a look of puzzlement, and then gave way to annoyance. In her confusion it had taken a few seconds to be insulted at the obvious attempt to abduct her. Was no one really trying, anymore? “Who are you?” she asked.

  The lady made a face. “What? We’re here to pick up Macy Chandler and bring her to the defense compound. We’re doing this for Tucker. Do you know her? Is she inside? It’s really important.”

  “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

  The woman inside turned to the driver for a moment, the car still just sitting there idling. In the meantime, Macy brought her hand instinctively to her side, near her gun. She held even tighter when the woman’s door swung open. She seemed to be Macy’s height, if not a little taller. Her smile was bright and innocent, and she walked with a type of youthful bob. She looked very athletic. “Hey,” the woman said, walking up the steps.

  Macy wanted to tell her to stay back, and to do it in a cop voice, but instead she reverted to innocent Macy, simply saying, “Hey.” She even tried to smile, but she knew it looked pained.

  The woman kept walking and Macy kept moving backward to maintain a steady distance.

  “What’s wrong?” she said.

  Macy said nothing, still backpedaling.

  “Where are you going?”

  It felt like she was being pulled back by invisible ropes. Macy kept moving, until she bumped into the door as it opened. And then she felt a hand on her shoulder.

  22

  Tucker

  Her body pressed up against his, so close she could feel her shaking.

  “What the hell’s going on?” he asked, squeezing her, trying to subdue the trembles. They were standing alone in the stairwell. He’d walked into a very strange scene. Macy looked even stranger.

  “I don’t know,” she said, sounding frazzled.

  He was expecting her to be surprised to see him. But not this surprised.

  “I was waiting for you,” she said. “And someone came up and—”

  His gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing. “Who?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where?”

  “Just out front. I think they’re still there.”

  Tucker moved her aside and took a few steps to the door before feeling her hand on his arm.

  “Wait,” she said.

  He turned to see her, Macy’s face still contorted with adrenaline.

  “It’s a trap,” she said. “Has to be.”


  “If it’s a trap, then I’ll take care of it.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “Let’s just see who it is. But first, take a breath. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

  “I’m fine.” Macy took a step forward and Tucker had to beat her to the door. He held it open and peered, his hand at his holster, expecting to be face to face with another hit squad.

  But it was just some woman leaning against a car, chatting with the driver. She turned her head when Tucker stepped out. And then she was shaking her head, saying something to the driver and chuckling a little.

  “Can I help you?” Tucker said, crossing into the road.

  “We’re here for Macy Chandler. I’m assuming you’re Macy?” she said, laughing again.

  “Who sent you?”

  “I’m not going to divulge that.” And then she turned to face the driver.

  Tucker faced Macy and said, “I don’t know. We can’t just always assume someone’s trying to kill us. Can we?”

  “Are you serious?” she said, her eyes squinting tight. “After this morning? And after everything you’ve seen in the past twenty-four hours?”

  Tucker looked at her, studying the lines of frustration on her face, trying to figure out what to say. He just smiled instead and said, “Come on, we’re late.”

  “I’m not leaving with her.”

  “With me,” he said. “I’ve got all of our stuff. Are you ready?”

  “You’re going with her?”

  He reached for her elbow, pulling her forward, getting her feet moving, “Of course not. I have my own car out back. We’re late.”

  He could see it on her face, the difficulty she had trusting him in this. But she moved anyway. It was sad. In fact it crushed him, to think about how often she would go through this. How many times her mind would imprison her with memories, with the fears of next time. He couldn’t blame her for not trusting this woman. But he wondered, in the future, under normal circumstances, how often it would happen.

  Tucker gave her one last look and said, “It’s okay. Trust me.”

  He didn’t like it.

  This wouldn’t be the first time he’d have to fish around in a coworkers’ data. But Macy wasn’t just a coworker, someone who would happily oblige to having her personal belongings searched. It made him sick to think about what he’d promised to do next. At least, it was a step better coming from him than one of the other guys on the team. Maybe.

  So here it was, the first example of why he should always keep things professional. The first drawback to the messy situation he’d found himself in with Macy. He felt awful. The only thing he could do was not get caught.

  So he just had to be quick about it.

  Get it done and over with, clear her name, and then move on. And certainly, never speak of it again.

  Tucker tried to rewire his brain, at least for a minute, to see Macy as just another coworker. Sitting next to him in the passenger seat, he tried looking at her as just another agent of DARC Ops, someone who would be neither surprised nor offended at having their background checked—and double checked.

  And she was new. That was just the process. Tucker himself had gone through similar checks. This was a test for him, too, he was sure of it. Testing what he’d do to protect the mission. The most difficult test yet. He could only hope it was the last.

  He kept peering across to her lap out of the corner of his eye, not to enjoy the sight of her jeaned thighs, but to watch how she handled her phone. To wonder what she was doing with it, who she was contacting, what she was communicating. He wondered how in the hell any scenario could occur where she’d betray him and DARC Ops, but he came up with blanks.

  He had no reason to suspect her, and neither did Jasper. Unless his brain had actually been a little damaged and now producing some sort of paranoid delusions. Could Tucker contact Jackson about that without causing too much inner-drama?

  The drama from that would probably pale in comparison to Macy ever learning about her phone being hacked and monitored. Tucker, driving them toward their last stop before the mission began, had to quickly weigh the risks, to compare the damage of a personal versus professional drama.

  Then again, he could avoid both if he just checked her phone real quick and was undetected.

  He looked back down to the device, the only thing that stood between him and their happiness—and Jasper’s peace of mind. She was still using it, propping the phone on her lap. Her leg suddenly slung over and crossed tight across her other leg. She shifted her body in the seat, squirming almost.

  “What’s wrong?” Tucker said. “Need a bathroom break?”

  “How could you tell?”

  Tucker chuckled, opting not to explain his analysis of the international signal of needing to pee.

  “Can we please stop?” she said, finally releasing the frenetic energy that she’d been holding back. It seemed like Tucker’s question had only made things more urgent.

  “Sure,” Tucker said. “But can I use your phone?”

  “What?” She sounded almost wounded, like he’d stabbed her with the question. And when he turned to look at her, the pain was in her eyes, too. A sinking, smoldering suspicion.

  “Is that okay?” he asked.

  “Why?”

  Tucker focused on the road, driving like usual. “It’s okay if it’s not.”

  “I really have to pee,” she said. “Can you please pull over?”

  Tucker found a gas station two blocks down, not asking her again for the phone until the car was in park. He had it idling in a parking space, him turning to her again and asking, “Just for a phone call? My phone died.”

  She slapped her phone down on top of the dash with a brisk, “Here,” and then popped open the door and hustled across the parking lot toward the gas station. It happened so fast, and in the flurry of her movement, he’d almost forgotten why he’d even wanted the phone in the first place. He was suddenly faced with a much more enjoyable task, watching her speed-walking away toward the building.

  And then he remembered he’d have to keep an eye on her, for much different reasons.

  Hurry the hell up.

  He pulled a cord from his pocket, something special that Tansy had rigged up. He connected one end of it to his tablet, looking around one last time for Macy, and then connected the other end into her phone, hating himself even as he followed the simple steps to gain access to her cell.

  But it was happening anyway, even as the worries ricocheted through his brain like bullet fragments. Even though he knew it was wrong, he had collected her data for the good of the team. For DARC Ops, for the appeasement of Jasper and Jackson and whatever other arbitrary reasons.

  Despite all that, he knew he should never have even entertained the idea.

  While every bit of data on her phone continued to siphon into his tablet, Tucker looked around him in the parking lot. Another perimeter check. He’d almost lost track of the two cars pulling in and emptying out with men marching into the gas station. They wore the same green fatigues as he’d seen earlier.

  A coincidence.

  Right?

  He looked back at the data transfer, the process nearly half complete.

  And then he looked back outside at the increasingly worrying coincidence.

  He had taken a risk in stealing her data. And now he was taking another in not stepping out of the car to investigate these strange men, to make sure Macy was safe. He looked back down at the phone. 76% complete.

  23

  Macy

  At first it was mild panic.

  She couldn’t find the car.

  And then it was annoyance, at herself, that she could even imagine Tucker driving off and leaving her stranded. By now, in just three short and chaotic days, she felt intimately bonded to him. An ultimate trust forged by a longtime friendship, and a newly discovered sexual passion—as well as their dependence on each other to survive the various life-threatening situations they’d fo
und themselves in.

  Would there ever be a time when someone wasn’t trying to kill both of them?

  By working with DARC Ops, Macy was sure that neither of them could take the ownership of having put the other in danger. She had been the first, yes, in filling Tucker’s life with a little more excitement. But here in South Africa, with a whole other set of assassins coming after Tucker and his men—and now Macy—it was fair to say that things had balanced out a little. They were even. Both in danger. Both in lust for each other.

  Things could have been a lot worse.

  With increasingly morbid thoughts, Macy forced herself to ignore the specifics of how much worse. She spotted their rental car parked off to the side of the lot, in the shade, empty. No Tucker in sight, inside or out.

  After the last few days, it seemed as though any odd little change or surprise had her shocked, on edge. It was like her psyche had been peeled like an onion, exposing the raw surface underneath. A raw jumble of nerves all that was left after several years of constant fear. Maybe Tucker was right about the PTSD. In the past, without Tucker and the protection and normalcy he’d provided, she didn’t have time to worry about such psychological idiosyncrasies. But now, under the safety of his presence, there was room for wandering thoughts. Introspection. Weakness, even. The kind of tactical flab that could wind up getting her killed.

  Her approach to the car was slow and cautious, maintaining a line of sight back to the building and on anyone who could potentially be exiting it. When she finally made it back to the car, a sense of relief washed over her. Not because Tucker was waiting inside, but because she’d just turned back to see him leave the store. He was walking with his normal pace, only he wasn’t smiling back at her. His face was tight with concern. Like an infectious disease, that concern spread to Macy. She felt it deep in her bones.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked him when he got close enough not to shout. She understood the benefits of hiding her American accent.