by Bex Dane
Two months later
After a day of traveling back to the States, we met with Dallas in the war room at Siege.
"Kovalev was delivered to Brightman this morning," I said to Dallas. "Blaze set a decoy explosion on the north side of the compound and we extracted the target from the south. Kovalev fought us. Pointed a weapon at Diesel, so I had to shoot the idiot. Once he figured out we were there to save him, he cooperated and we got him out."
"Excellent work. Casualties?" Dallas asked.
"I'd estimate twenty insurgents with the initial explosion, another ten by sniper fire."
"Not them. Us."
"Us? No casualties or injuries. It came off clean. The after-action report—"
"There's no report for D Force."
"What?"
"No after-action reports. Either you succeeded or you didn't. Either you're dead or you're not."
"We succeeded, sir. No casualties."
"Then this mission is complete. Well done. You could have up to six months before the next mission," Dallas said to the group. "You're all welcome to stay on here in Boston or return to wherever you're training. You can train here with my deluxe cage. Got a sweet range too."
Diesel and Blaze already had a place in Boston. The rest of us said we'd go home to our respective families. More accurately, Falcon, Takoda, and I would return to the empty house in Wilmington.
Before we left, Dallas called my name and asked me to stay behind. He took a chair next to me.
"Tell me about Eden."
Shit. I hadn't talked to anyone except my mom about her. I didn't want to show him my weakness.
"I've worked with enough snipers to know they take on too much. They're like the kicker on an NFL team. The offense and defense work their asses off for hours, but the kicker is the one who can make or break the game. Being a kicker is very mental, like a sniper. You know what their top skill is? Not kicking. Focus. On the current task, not the weight of the team, the coach, the fans all watching him. The suicide rate among kickers is as high as it is among enlisted men. Probably would be higher if kickers had as much access to weapons."
"I'm kicking myself right now."
"You lost the Superbowl. But you don't give up the game. You keep practicing and get stronger and better for the next time you're called upon."
"I understand what you're trying to say, but when it's your woman you lost, it's far more serious than a game."
"I'm trying to help."
"I shouldn't have married her. I'd only known her five weeks."
"If the right woman walked in here, do you think I'd let her go? I'd marry her no question just like you did. I wouldn't watch her walk away because my job is dangerous. If she's meant for me, she can handle this. You being a unit sniper, you excel at compartmentalizing tasks."
"This one doesn't fit in a compartment."
"Did you shoot her?"
"No."
"Accidentally discharge your weapon?"
"No."
"Did a bullet from your rifle kill her?"
"No. But I killed her."
"No. An RPG fired by our supposed allies killed her. You did not kill her."
I shook my head. I killed her.
"Put it in a box and lock the lid for now so you can get work done."
"I returned Kovalev unharmed. Didn't I? Killed all the fuckers in that place."
"Ah, see. Unrestrained anger like that will be your downfall. What're your plans for the break?"
"Training in Wilmington with Falcon."
"In the same house you lived in with her?"
"Yeah."
"Her ghost all over that place?"
I looked away. No need to answer his question.
"I need a new security guard at Siege."
"I'm not working security at a club. No offense, but watching after a bunch of drunks isn't for me. I'll end up shooting some asshole who gets outta line."
"It's not just any club. Security at Siege is a specialized task. All branches of the military send men my way. I have other high-profile associates frequenting the club too. Don't underestimate the job. It pays well, and you can take leave whenever you need to. But when you're between missions, you work for me."
I agreed, because what else did I have to do?
"Thank you, sir."
"We'll get to know each other. If we both decide you'd be a good fit for my private contracts, we'll work out a deal."
Chapter 17
Three years later
In the master security room at Siege, surveillance monitor nine showed the typical weekend crowd at the door. Enrique Gutierrez and his posse filled all the VIP booths for his private celebration of the end of his North American concert tour.
"Keep at least three men in the VIP area tonight. Enrique's crew always pushes the limits."
"Yes, sir." Lux nodded his bald head. Watching over rock star groupies was easy work for him as a former British SAS, but he took the job as seriously as I did. "I heard The President appointed Marla Brightman secretary of state." He raised one eyebrow and peered at me.
"Heard that too." I keep my eyes on the monitors.
"Operation Devil's Gate have a go date yet?"
Over the last three years, Lux filled in for me as head of security at Siege whenever Brightman sent Alpha Squadron on a mission. We'd become friends, and I'd trusted him with some of the details about Jericho. Marla Brightman had called me her first week in office and promised to send Alpha Squadron back for Jericho by the coming spring.
"Expect to take over for me mid-May."
A hint of a smile tugged at his lips, and he patted me on the back. "Glad to hear it. Good luck."
Dallas entered the room, his shoulders high, his gaze darting across the screens. Lux passed him on his way out.
"Who's the girl in the box?" His eyes stopped on monitor four. A curvy brunette shook her assets in a plexiglass cube suspended above the dance floor.
"New employee. Her name's Cyan. Jovanna hired her yesterday as a waitress. Brock promoted her to box girl."
He sighed like he always did when his brother interfered in Siege business. "Background check clean?"
"One arrest for solicitation of prostitution." His head shot to me and his brow furrowed. "No conviction. Other than that, she's never even had a parking ticket."
He gaped up at her as she snapped her hips to the beat. "She's exquisite."
Her tits spilled over the top of her tight tube dress. Rainbow sequins glistened in the strobes like fish scales on a mermaid. She spread her legs wide enough to catch glimpses of her black panties.
"Mmm-hmm." The box was meant to titillate the patrons by offering crotch shots exactly like the one Cyan displayed.
Dallas growled and clenched his jaw. "Get her down. She's fired."
"Yes, sir." I snapped to attention and schooled my features.
He strode to the door like a rabid dog who'd been thrown a steak, temporarily pacified but still highly volatile. "All box girl assignments go through me now."
***
"Jerk!" Cyan slammed the door to Dallas's office and huffed out a deep breath as she stomped down the stairs. I stepped aside to let her pass. Within seconds, a pissed-off Dallas came through the same door, chased her down the stairs, and hauled her into the alley via the employee exit. Ten minutes later, he returned, only this time he carried Cyan over his shoulder. She beat his back with her fists, her wild hair swinging near his knees. "You can't carry me around like a sack of beans! Put me down, you ass!"
He marched up the stairs and banged the door to his office behind him.
I stifled my chuckle.
***
The next night Cyan and a leggy red-headed woman sauntered into the club through the main entrance. They rolled in dressed-to-kill in tight, sparkly dresses, big hair, and geometric platform heels that raised their asses high. The women sashayed straight to the bar. Three men swaggered over to them within a few seconds.
Dallas stood to my left in the security
room, his gaze cemented to the monitor showing the bar. One of the men, a Marine I'd seen at the club before, spread his feet wide and stood in front of her with his thumbs in his waistband, his fingers pointing to his dick. A vein twitched in Dallas's neck.
"I thought you fired her."
"I did. She's here as a patron."
"What's her story?"
"I'm about to find out." He peeled his eyes from the screen and strode to the door, motioning with his hand for me to follow. "You make sure her girl gets home."
"Yes, sir."
I trailed behind Dallas as he bee-lined through the crowd on the main dance floor. He stared down the man talking to Cyan, who wisely stepped away, palms up in front of him. Dallas turned to Cyan and planted a kiss on her. Her heels shifted and struggled to find purchase on her barstool as she fought him off. He grabbed her neck and forced the continuation of the kiss. After a brief struggle, her limbs relaxed and she kissed him back.
I made eye contact with the redhead as I approached her. She looked from Dallas and Cyan to me with her eyebrows held high. "My name's Rogan. I'm head of security here at Siege."
"Is something wrong? Looks like everything's okay here." She smirked and pointed a thumb at the kissing couple.
"We're leaving." Dallas scooped an arm under Cyan's knees and lifted her off the stool.
Her hand fluttered, covering her bottom where her skirt had hiked up. "I can walk."
Dallas grunted and carried her toward his office.
"Uh, bye! See you at home later." Cyan waved over Dallas's shoulder.
Dallas stopped and planted his feet to swing her toward us again. "She won't be home later."
"What do you mean I won't be home?"
Dallas hauled Cyan away, leaving me alone with her friend.
"Is she okay with him?" She looked in the direction they'd left.
"Trust me, she'll be safe with Dallas. What's your name?"
"Tori." She held out a manicured hand with red fingernails pointing down.
I crossed my arms over my chest. "And you live with Cyan?"
She folded her hands over her knees, covering up the awkwardness of my rejection to touching her. "She's staying at my place right now."
"I'll give you a ride home."
"We just arrived. Stay. Let's have a drink." She turned and motioned to Dirk, the bartender on duty. Dirk arrived at our end of the bar and looked to me for her order.
"What would you like?" I asked her. "Drinks are on the house."
"How about a red-headed slut?" She pressed her lips together and winked at me.
Luckily, Dirk tilted his head to let me know he'd heard her order. He left to prepare it.
"So, Rogan, what do you do apart from rescuing abandoned best friends in clubs?"
"What do I look like I do?"
"Work out, scowl, kill bunnies?"
"Sounds about right. You?"
Her drink arrived and she took a sip. "I'm a lawyer."
"You don't look like a pitbull."
"Oh, I am. I fool 'em with my looks, then go for the jugular." I held back my laugh when she scrunched up her nose and bared her teeth in a look that was not fierce at all. She bounced her foot to the beat of a hip-hop song the DJ played. "You wanna dance?"
"I don't dance."
She hopped off her stool and worked her dress down her hips from where it had hitched up her thighs. "Well, I squeezed into my LBD, and I'm here to dance."
"I'll wait."
"I can take the T."
"Not safe on the T. I'll wait."
She sauntered off to the dance floor, leaving her purse behind. I opened it up and checked her wallet. Tori Fawkes. Cambridge, Massachusetts. Business card for Gunderson, Murphy, and Hale in Beacon Hill. Scrolled through a client list… One name stuck out. Dominic Dubare. Dallas had several operators in Atlanta working to take down a drug cartel that Dubare was rumored to be associated with.
I texted Dallas.
Me: Find out anything on Cyan?
Dallas: Not much except she's an incredible fuck
Me: She may have ties to Dubare
My phone rang.
"Why do you think she's connected to Dubare?" I heard a door close behind him and the sound of his footsteps.
"Her girl Tori works for a law firm representing Dubare."
"Tori's defending that scumbag drug lord?"
"Not sure. He showed up on their client list."
"How's Cyan involved?"
"Didn't mention this earlier, but Cyan's prostitution arrest was in Atlanta."
He paused for a moment. "I've tried and failed three times to take down Dubare's prostitution ring in Atlanta."
"That's why I contacted you when I saw the name."
"Dubare sent Cyan to Siege as a plant?"
"Worth investigating if Cyan is gonna be spending time with you."
"Oh, she's going to be. I'm moving you from Siege to Cyan. Whenever I can't be with her, you're on her."
"Okay."
"Find out what you can from Tori and I'll grill Cyan. After I'm done fucking her. Which might be tomorrow. Or the next day."
"Ten-four."
***
On the ride to Cambridge, I asked Tori, "How do you know Cyan?"
"She's a client. I'm helping her with a pro bono case."
"Didn't know lawyers worked for free and took clients into their homes."
"We were close friends growing up. She needed some help. Didn't have anyone. I stepped in and gave her a hand."
"That's generous of you."
"It's my way of making up for it."
"For what?"
"For being a lawyer."
"Not all lawyers are scum. Granted. Many are, but there's honorable work out there too."
"Gunderson, Murphy, and Hale defends criminals."
"Why don't you make a change? Take the pro bono work full time."
"Right now's not a good time to make a move."
"Why not?"
She looked at me, exasperated. "I'm stuck at GMH for now. Unfortunately, fighting for the underdog doesn't pay the bills, and my student loan debt is as much as a house payment each month."
"Where'd you go to school?"
"M.I.T. and then Harvard Law. All funded by loans."
"Ahh."
"If I'd known how hard it would be to get a decent paying job as an attorney, I never would've racked up the loans. But I wanted to have the prestigious names. It was stupid."
"Getting a law degree from Ivy League schools is not stupid. You'll get there."
"GMH pays me associate salary even though I'm a junior attorney. Maybe because I'm sleeping with the boss."
Oh, this is getting interesting. "Uh, Tori, I don't need to know the details..."
"My boyfriend is a partner at GMH." Her voice got softer as she talked.
"Your boyfriend?"
"Tyler Gunderson."
"Of Gunderson, Murphy, and Hale?"
"Yes. His father founded the firm. We were the it couple for a few years. Living the life. Since I started the pro bono work, he's gone cold on me. I don't understand why he's so against the idea if I do it on my own time."
"If he's making money defending criminals, and you're prosecuting them on your time off..."
"Yeah, conflict of interest can kill a relationship."
We pulled up to the curb in front of her townhouse. A guy in a suit stood at the base of her stairs, arms crossed, eyes on my vehicle.
"That Tyler?"
"Yes."
He moved his hands to his hips, pushing his coat aside and revealing his holster. His strong forehead and slick black hair looked a lot like some of the Italian wise guys I knew. What the heck was Tori doing with a mafia thug?
"I'll walk you up."
"You don't have to. He looks meaner than he is."
"I'll walk you up."
I helped her out of my truck and kept my glare on Tyler as I guided her to her door. Tyler gave me one last stare before he follo
wed her inside.
***
From my truck, I called Dallas.
"What?" He sounded frustrated.
"Tori's an attorney. She's helping Cyan. Her boyfriend's Tyler Gunderson at Gunderson, Murphy, and Hale. Probably representing Dubare against forced prostitution charges."
"Yep. Cyan confessed the same."
"Why Siege?"
"She says the other hookers told her to get a job at Siege. She'd be safe from Dubare here."
"You're earning a rep as a savior."
"I don't mind. Send them to me if it gets them off the streets and out of Dubare's stable."
"Dubare's gonna be after her if she's a witness against him."
"She's safe now. Stay diligent."
"Always do."
I heard Cyan's mumbled voice in the background.
"No," he said to her.
"Please," she asked in a sweet voice.
He sighed. "Cyan has a shopping trip planned with Tori tomorrow. I have meetings. Can you tail them?"
"No problem."
"Thanks, Rogan."
***
Sitting in my truck outside Cyan and Tori's townhouse the next evening, Dallas texted me he'd arrive within the next two hours.
Tori came down the apartment steps and walked over to my truck. I rolled down the passenger-side window for her. She'd put on darker makeup and fluffed up her hair since her shopping trip today. The tight skirt she wore showed off her long legs and shapely figure. She looked fantastic. No idea why she stood outside my truck.
"Thanks for putting up with us today, Rogan. You're a trooper."
No. I'm a Ranger and a marksman, but not a trooper.
"Sorry about trying to ditch you; I told Cyan we shouldn't."
"Appreciate that. And yet you did try."
"Did you like our stealthy moves? You totally lost us in the food court."
"Never, at any point in the day, did I lose sight of you or Cyan."
She blushed like I'd given her a compliment. Shit. I didn't mean it that way.
"Can I ask you something?"
"What?"
"Can I uh, get in?"
Get in my truck? "Why?"
"Just visiting."
I opened the passenger-side door and Tori climbed in.
"How's it going?"
I grunted.
"So, I was wondering if… you had a girlfriend."
"What?"
"Or maybe a wife?" She glanced at my left hand.
