by Jordan Dane
Yet inside she readied her body like a coiled spring awaiting release. She would protect Mercer with her life—and the little man with the imperfect stomach—because that was her purpose.
***
Mercer smelled a familiar scent. Before he opened his eyes, she came to him. She wore a powder-blue silk negligee that he’d bought for her in Columbia. His Keara. Her lithe body undulated under the silk and moved with the fluid grace of a ballet dancer. She turned to look back at him, over her shoulder, with her sweet yet sexy smile.
“Come. Join me?” She winked and the sound of her throaty laugh warmed his heart.
He tried to speak, but couldn’t find the words. He sensed, that if he spoke, she would vanish.
He pushed off the sofa and caught only a fleeting glimpse of the safe house before he left it behind in the dark. When he followed her, his surroundings swelled and heaved like an ocean wave mounting its strength to crash ashore. The shadows tapped into his memory and morphed into the first house he shared with Keara. The safe house was gone.
Keara reached for his hand and pulled him into their bathroom. He heard the deep rumble of a steamy hot shower and felt the humid air on his skin. She smiled and ran her fingers down his cheek before she inched a silken strap down her shoulder, one then the other, until her negligee dropped to the floor at her bare feet.
She stood before him, naked. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
“See anything you like?” she whispered.
He wanted to make love to her, but his eyes grew misty and a tear spilled down his face. A part of him knew he straddled the line between the reality of her brutal murder and the warm spot in his heart where she would live forever.
More tears came. He couldn’t stop.
The pain of losing her all over again had closed in on him. In his dream, she existed to love him. She didn’t react to his pain. Keara yearned for him to lather her in a froth of suds and let the warm water caress her skin as he held her. She hungered for him to make love to her as if it would be their last time.
The woman who had given him the greatest joy of his life—his son, Braeden—only existed in his memory and his heart now.
When that reality hit him, Mercer awoke with a start and her name on his lips.
“Keara, don’t go!”
It took seconds for his dream to leave him, replaced by the stench and the squalor of the safe house and the reality of his life. A shadow moved toward him, one he recognized even in the dark. Keiko’s long black hair glimmered in a bluish haze and the scent off her body trailed in her wake. She never wore perfumes on the job, or anything to give her position away, but she had a distinctive natural aroma he had grown to know.
“You were dreaming, Mercer—of her. I heard you call her name.” Keiko knelt in front of him. She reached a hand toward his face and trailed her fingers down his heaving chest. “I wish I could take away your pain, but loss is a journey we must make alone. You and I know this.”
Mercer collapsed back onto the couch and stared at the stained ceiling. He shut his eyes, desperate to sense Keara lingering in his memory, but she’d gone.
“You take the sofa,” he said. “I won’t be able to sleep anyway.”
“As you wish.”
Keiko took his place on the couch, but Mercer noticed she didn’t close her eyes. Sleep didn’t come for her until an hour before dawn.
***
Denver, Colorado
Zoey Meager awoke in the middle of the night when she heard a noise. It sounded like the remnants of a scream. Her heart pounded its rapid thud in her ears until she threw off her covers and sat on the edge of her mattress, listening. When she heard the sound again, she knew Kaity was in the throes of another nightmare.
“Oh, God, please help her,” she whispered.
Zoey raced from her bedroom and headed for Kaity’s room. She didn’t bother knocking. When she entered, moonlight leached through the window blinds to douse the room in a bluish haze. She saw enough to know Kaity was not in her bed. The covers were off the mattress, but something moved in the far corner.
Zoey crept across the carpet to find Kaity curled up in blankets and whimpering on the floor. It broke her heart.
“Oh, Kaity. I’m here. I’ve got you.” She ran to her friend to cradle her in her arms. “Shh. It’s me. Zoey. I’m here. You’re safe. No one’s gonna hurt you. You’re safe.”
Kaity clutched at her waist and sobbed with her body trembling.
“I’m so sorry. I can’t stop it. What’s wrong with me?”
Tears trailed down her cheeks as Zoey held Kaity. Her beautiful, sweet friend had been changed forever, after her ordeal with human traffickers. Zoey could only imagine the horror of what she’d endured. She rocked Kaity in her arms and repeated her mantra of reminding Kaity that she was safe and loved, but in reality—whenever Kaity slept—the travesty happened over and over. She hoped time would blur the razor’s sting of the trauma, but witnessing Kaity’s torture only made Zoey worry.
I have to stay strong…for her.
“I’m turning the lights on.”
“No! They’ll find me.” Kaity dug her nails into Zoey’s arm, making her wince in pain, but she didn’t make a sound. She kept her voice calm.
“No, honey. The bad men who hurt you are dead. Remember?” She cupped her hands around Kaity’s face and kissed her forehead before she reached for the lamp on the nightstand. “You need to see where you are. You’re with me, in my townhome. You’re safe.”
Hatred welled up inside Zoey. Faceless men had robbed Kaity of her future, shattered her innocence, and sentenced her to a lifetime of pain that she’d have to conquer if she had any hope for a normal life. Any relationship she would have, if she’d be graced with the love of an understanding man, would be tainted by the unspeakable horror she had survived. The pain would always be with her.
“Let’s get you in bed, honey.” Zoey helped her stand and led her back to bed. After she spread the covers over Kaity, Zoey crawled under the sheets with her.
“You have work tomorrow.” Kaity wiped tears from her face with the sleeve of her pajamas. “You need to sleep.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Kaity Boyer. Just try kicking me out. I’m holding you until you fall asleep. Your room is nicer than mine, anyway. You’re a neat freak.”
Kaity wrapped her arms around Zoey and snuggled closer.
“Can we keep the light on…just for a little while?”
“Yeah, I think we can manage that.”
Zoey distracted Kaity with stories from her foster care days, memories that always made her friend laugh. She kept her voice low and stroked her hair until her breaths became steady and she knew Kaity had fallen asleep.
She kept the light on and stayed through the night. Zoey thought of Mercer as she comforted her friend, the man who had rescued Kaity, and saved Zoey from enduring a lifetime of guilt if she’d lost her friend forever. Mercer had given her Kaity back and she’d asked him to find a four-legged therapy companion to anchor Kaity to her new life and give her something to care for and love. She hoped it would be a good first step.
Let that be enough, God.
Before she fell asleep, Zoey prayed for Kaity.
Chapter 5
In the Laramie Mountains
Next morning
Saxon Abbott wanted to help his team, the Equalizers. They were his family. When he was contacted yesterday about a plan to bring down the Jaguar and the Galvez cartel, he agreed without hesitating. The Equalizers had crossed the path of the Jaguar before. Saxon followed the sketchy instructions he was given and boarded a private jet flying to Denver. No one on the flight crew asked him any questions.
He didn’t think twice about the clandestine arrangements, but hours later he had second thoughts.
Saxon felt like an ass, sitting in the rear of a black Lincoln Navigator, with a velvet hood over his head. His hands had been secured at his waist so he wouldn’t peek and his cell phone had been taken away.
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“I can tell this is the start of a great working relationship. Trust. It’s all about trust.”
The driver ignored him. A beefy cowboy dressed in Wranglers, boots, and a long-sleeved blue shirt sat behind the wheel after meeting him at the airport in Denver, the last time he had visuals of his location. The guy hadn’t said a word since the trip started, not even to answer any of Saxon’s purposefully obnoxious questions. He wasn’t used to being ignored.
“Your SUV sucks, man. Literally.” He sighed. “How many miles do you get to the gallon? Improving fuel-economy can save the planet.”
Silence.
The vehicle had been on the road for nearly two hours. With the slight chill in the air, he figured they were heading north, but he couldn’t be sure. For his benefit, the driver didn’t make a beeline. Saxon had lost his bearings, but he listened for sound hints of where they were. It gave him something to do, besides needle the closest human being behind the wheel.
As the SUV slowed, Saxon sat upright in his seat.
“Are we there yet, Dad?”
The vehicle jostled onto a dirt road. Saxon heard the gravel crunching under the tires and pinging off the undercarriage. They stopped and he heard voices before the Navigator continued and eased to a stop. The driver got out and came to open his door.
“We’re here, sort of. Sorry for the cloak and dagger. House rules for Z-town.” The driver undid his hands.
“Z-town?”
“Yeah, Mercer calls this place Zion.”
“Doesn’t that mean…heaven?”
When the driver took off his hood, he said, “Yeah, open your eyes and see for yourself.”
When Saxon’s bleary eyes cleared, he turned to see the stone archway they had driven through with an impressive iron gate and a manned guard station, the voices he’d heard. A man dressed in black BDUs and carrying an assault rifle looked like SWAT. More uniformed men with dogs patrolled the grounds, but when Saxon turned toward the base of the mountains, he took in the sight of an imposing compound—a damned fortress.
Shit.
Mammoth Ponderosa pines, birch trees, aspens, and cottonwoods dappled the hills of a dense forest that surrounded a sprawling architectural wonder. Zion fit into the hillside as if it were part of the lush landscape. Modulated buildings with their flat, terraced rooflines had countless vistas to view the grounds—or provide higher elevations for a well-placed sniper to defend the property. Sections of the complex were dug into a mountain. The design reminded him of ancient Native American cliff dwellings.
“Yeah, heaven. I can definitely see it.” Saxon nodded. “You do any rock climbing in those mountains? I see world-class opportunity for traditional crack, slab, and steep-face climbing, if you know what you’re looking for.”
“Yeah, we do some, when we run team drills.”
“You have a gym, somewhere I can work out? After hours of sitting, I could use a good sweat. A body like mine is a work in progress.”
“You’ll have everything you need.” The man crooked his lip into a lazy smile. “You ready to see your accommodations, or would you like some quality time in front of a mirror?”
He finally got a rise out of his driver and he returned the smile, happy to see he hadn’t lost his touch to irritate people.
“Lead the way.”
The cowboy let him sit in the front passenger seat as the man drove toward the compound, kicking up dust in the SUV’s wake.
Saxon knew he was to team up with a computer expert who lived on the premises and worked with the legendary CIA operative, Mercer Broderick. That’s all Santiago had told him. Saxon tried using his mad cyber skills to dig up information on Broderick, but came up empty. Anyone else might’ve been intimidated by the covert cover-up, the extraordinary stronghold in the mountains, and the secrecy surrounding Broderick—but not Saxon Abbott.
“Let’s see what you’ve got, Mercer.” He popped his knuckles like a pianist ready to tickle the ivories. “Your computer expert better not be a waste of my time.”
***
Minutes later
Stetson Debenham greeted his childhood friend, Saxon Abbott, with open arms and a grin at the entrance to Mercer’s sprawling compound and locked him into a bear hug. The six foot five Texan wore colors he knew Saxon would notice—the maroon and white ball cap of the Texas Aggies. His buddy must’ve read his mind. Abbott had on a University of Texas jersey, sporting the Austin school’s burnt orange and white colors, knowing it would get a rise out of Stetson.
“Anyone ever tell you that no one looks good in burnt orange, amigo?”
Stetson’s deep baritone carried its fair share of Texas, even if his Wranglers and snake-skinned boots didn’t give him away.
“When you look as good as I do, you don’t have to sweat the details.” Saxon slapped him on the back. “Good to see you, ass wipe.”
“Wish I could say the same, tea sipper. I’ll be grilling thick slices of Bevo for dinner. Not very choice meat. The rangy steer isn’t exactly prime, but as I recall, you never did have a very discerning palate.”
Bevo was the University of Texas mascot, a Texas Longhorn steer. Stetson couldn’t resist the college rivalry they shared since they attended opposing schools after they left home in College Station.
“Ah, very funny, Debenham. Texas beef is better than eating that mangy dog of your precious Aggies.”
The Aggie mascot was a collie named Reveille, a moniker coined from the bugler’s sunrise song.
“It goes against God and country to eat man’s best friend, Abbott. You better get that notion out of your head. Don’t let Karl hear you.”
“Karl? Is he a real dog lover?”
“Yeah, you could say that.” Stetson welcomed Saxon with a wave of his hand.
He escorted his guest into the house through a series of secured doors with high-tech cameras that followed every move. He noticed his friend eyeballing the slick, state-of-the-art security measures and fought a smile. When they came to a crossroad between sleeping quarters and the main part of Zion, Stetson stopped and turned toward Saxon.
“Your call. I can direct you to your guest room before we meet the others. You can decompress and drain the vein if you need it.”
“No, I’m ready to go. Let’s do this.”
Stetson grinned and said, “Thought you’d say that. You just won me a cool Benjamin. I bet a hundy that you’d hit the ground, ready to go.”
“Who did I cost a hundred dollars?”
“I am sworn to secrecy, amigo. Follow me. I’m taking you to the War Room.”
Stetson escorted his friend to a below-ground bunker, Zion’s command center, located in the bowels of Mercer’s compound and accessible only by an elevator with an optical scanner. When they got to the high-tech conference room, the team had already assembled and Stetson made introductions.
“This is Maddix McLeish, our security expert. He drove you here.”
Saxon leaned toward Stetson and whispered, “Nice guy, but way too chatty.”
“Next to Maddix is Ciara Flowers, our logistics and weapons expert.”
Ciara didn’t say a word, only nudged her chin in greeting and Saxon did the same, but when a large lumbering shadow entered the room, the team turned their attention to Mercer’s four-legged partner—and Saxon jumped out of the way.
“What the hell is that?”
The immense Tibetan Mastiff jumped into his master’s seat at the head of the conference table with sagging jowls and watery eyes that made him look human.
“That’s Karl. He’s in charge when Mercer’s gone.”
“I can see that.”
Stetson smiled and pointed a hand toward the last member of the team.
“This is Nilah Rolstad. You’ll be working with her on the cipher and setting up our strategy to communicate in NovaREAL. Failure is not on the menu, compadre. Too much is at stake. The Jaguar is one bad hombre.”
Stetson knew his friend. When Saxon had nothing smart ass to say
after he met Nilah, that wasn’t like him. He and Abbott had survived puberty together in a small Texas town. Once Saxon laid eyes on Nilah, Stetson recognized the horn dog coming to attention. The petite blonde wore her straight hair in a tight ponytail with virtually no makeup on her pretty face. She wasn’t a high-maintenance, fancy girl. She wore cargo pants, a black ‘I am Groot’ T-shirt, and had bright blue, high-top Vans on her feet.
No matter what she wore, Nilah had qualities men responded to—the girl next door with brains and a body that should come with a warning label. Stetson had never told her that. He didn’t want to embarrass her or diminish the woman she had become.
Nilah grinned at Saxon.
“In the interest of full disclosure, I saw you ask Stetson about the bet through our surveillance cam. I was the one who lost the hundred. Guess you proved me wrong.”
“Get used to it.”
It hadn’t taken long for Abbott’s ego to return, but Nilah didn’t appear to take offense.
“Big talk, Saxon,” she said. “You got the skills to back that up?”
“Only one way to find out.”
Nilah crooked her lip into a smile.
“Let’s see what you’ve got.”
***
Angel’s Triangle safe house
Morning
“Two men approaching on foot.”
Mercer lowered his voice as he peered out the curtains of the front window to the safe house. He pulled his gun and chambered a round as he spoke to Keiko.
“Secure Ziffle until I can confirm they’re Wolfe and Foster.”
“On it.”
She had her Beretta in hand as she shoved open the bathroom door to find their charge brushing his teeth. He had suds dribbling down his chin and the Little Mermaid toothbrush in his hand.
“What? Is something happening?” he mumbled, as if his mouth were full of marbles.
“If you don’t want to die with a Mermaid Princess dangling from your lips, I suggest you rinse and follow my orders.”
Ziffle spat.
As the two men approached the safe house, they were cautious and kept their eyes alert. Mercer could tell by their razor sharp focus on their surroundings that they were former military and skilled. They had the look of men who knew how to deal with danger.
