True Peril

by Veronica Forand

“I have good news for you. If you can walk down the hall with minimal assistance, I think they’ll let you go soon. I’ve found a nice place near Simon’s house that we can rent. If you don’t want to go there, we can fly somewhere else. Anything you want.”

  “I want a wedding,” she said.

  A wedding? “White gown, big church, a huge reception, and a devastatingly handsome groom?”

  “No. None of that.” She yawned. A combination of fatigue and healing. “I prefer something black and short and very sexy, on the beach, with only our closest friends.”

  “And the groom?”

  “You’re invited, too. And yes, you’re devastatingly handsome.”

  He couldn’t contain the grin that kicked up his mouth.

  He kissed her forehead.

  She leaned forward and spoke with a dry, scratchy voice. “And I want to return to my job with you and Simon.”

  He didn’t have the heart to tell her that Simon may be permanently out of his job. And did he ever want her in this position again? His stomach turned to stone. She shifted herself to more of a sitting position, and her smile faded.

  Did she think he’d be mad?

  Frustrated? Yes.

  Mad? No.

  “They just pulled a bullet out of you. You want back in? What if this happens again?”

  “I’ll know to duck.” Optimism spilled out in her words. “I’ve trained for this most of my life. Why do Simon’s men continually return?”

  “Part insanity, part money.”

  “Maybe that’s my reason as well.”

  Dane couldn’t help but laugh. He’d fallen in love with the most stubborn female alive. “Let’s take it one day at a time. I don’t know if I could bear to see you get hurt again. I’d prefer it if you worked in a nursery school with chocolate-covered faces and dirty diapers.”

  “Would you want to do that?”

  Little children, screaming, running, and making a mess. “Not in a million years.”

  “That’s not the life I want, either.” She shook her head as if to shake the thought from her consciousness. “I know I can handle this job once I understand all the players.”

  “It’s more like the players need to know and respect you. In your favor, Simon praised your quick thinking under fire. You acted perfectly for a person manhandled for your weapon and shot at. And Liam only has praise for you after you saved his ass.” And she’d become even better as her confidence grew. Was killing easier for her now? Had he invited this beautiful person to sentence herself to hell by giving her a moral invitation to take life after life in the name of national security?

  She shrugged and clasped his hand. “I’m glad you’re here. You make a terrific husband.”

  “Words I never thought I’d hear.”

  He pressed his mouth against hers again and held her close. Her muscles relaxed into his embrace, completely trusting, completely at ease in his arms. If he had to choose between keeping her safe or keeping her happy, he might end up losing her either way.

  …

  With a bit of hesitation, Dane said good-bye to Eve, but left her in good hands with Jenny. After he’d explained to her his plan, she understood why he needed to leave. From now on, Eve had to know everything. He either trusted her 100 percent, or he should let her go, so she didn’t resent his secrets.

  Cassie, another amazing woman, was staying in Oxford with some friends. She’d worked for hours behind the scenes to make sure their plan held enough punch that they would only have to hit one official. And they’d found their perfect pawn. Greg.

  Dane arrived at Greg’s house in Fairfax, Virginia in the middle of the afternoon. Children played on the street and joggers cruised the sidewalks in front of renovated colonials in a perfect neighborhood designed for those who desired plastic lives. He entered without a problem and waited. After setting up his laptop, Dane grabbed a beer and sat on the couch of Greg’s family room, a stuffy place where touching things would result in smudges and a run to the kitchen for some glass cleaner and a paper towel. Huge windows permitted light to brighten the area, but a thin, gauzy curtain blocked some of it. Wouldn’t want the fancy fabric on the furniture to fade. The only proof humans actually lived in the house were a few photos framed in sterling silver and one doll’s dress poking out from under the bookcase in the corner of the room. A toy box, matching the oak wood of the rest of the room, must be hiding any other evidence of his daughter’s existence.

  Greg’s wife and child were both at a church function for the next few hours. Greg played tennis every Sunday afternoon. He’d be home shortly. Entirely too predictable to make a decent field agent. And his security system sucked as well.

  The garage door opened, and Dane placed the beer bottle on the coffee table next to, but not on, the coaster. He could relax a few more moments because Greg needed to park on the street instead of inside the garage since Dane had taken his spot with his rental car.

  Greg entered with his phone in his hand instead of his gun. Typical bureaucrat. When he spotted Dane, he didn’t show signs of panic. Instead, he frowned. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Dane just raised his eyebrows to answer him.

  Greg rested his lanky body, decked out in a thousand-dollar suit, on the doorframe. His fingers pressed into his temple, and he let out a sigh as though dealing with a wayward teenage boy. “We offered you the opportunity to come back. You not only botched your second assignment this year, but your target is sitting in a jail, completely unable to provide us with any information on the players in his world other than his cellmate.

  “If you wanted me back, I think a box of chocolates would have been more persuasive than wiping out my assets.”

  “You don’t want to return to field work, and yet you can’t even negotiate a simple sale to willing buyers. You could have salvaged that Indian deal if your dick wasn’t dictating your actions.”

  “Simple sale? The military put up so many barriers blocking me from gaining the goodwill of the Indian Defense Ministry, I couldn’t have sold them a cup of chai.”

  “We all have issues to deal with. You couldn’t handle the assignment. And we may have a few other ideas about a different mole in the Dunn organization. Your wife, perhaps? She already reached out to us.” He walked to the coffee table, placed Dane’s bottle on the coaster, and used the side of his hand to remove the condensation from the wood.

  “You so much as look in Eve’s direction, and you’ll regret it. Since you wiped out my chance at a comfortable retirement, I seem to need a new career. And I think I found something that will be highly profitable. I’ve decided to work in white collar crime.”

  The dramatic pause in Greg’s movements made Dane smile. Just wait a few more minutes. Greg might be crying by then.

  “We’ll be watching you, O’Brien. If you act up, I’ll order your passport confiscated, and you’ll be looking at prison time.”

  “No. You’d never do that. You have too much to lose.” Dane tossed his open laptop at his former boss.

  Greg scanned the website, the one displaying his own bank accounts—all listing zero balances. He sat in a chair with his mouth partially open, but nothing came out. Greg never was a quick thinker.

  “Those are only your credit union accounts.” Dane leaned back on the couch and rested his feet on the coffee table. “The international funds, like the account in Geneva, are empty as well. While it would have been a clever place to hide your extracurricular earnings from your illegal dealings with Argentina, there are some pretty sophisticated hackers that can not only locate the money, they can backtrack and find the source.”

  “You son of a bitch.” Greg’s face flared crimson. With a low bellow, he dove at Dane, who sidestepped the attack, knocked Greg to the ground, and pulled out his Glock. The barrel rested on the midpoint between Greg’s rat-shaped eyes.

  “As soon as my life is restored, yours will be as well. Frankly, I don’t give a damn if you’re advising other countries on t
he side. I do care, however, that you screwed me over.”

  “You’ll regret digging around in affairs you know nothing about.”

  “Since I’ve been on a fairly intense job search, I’ve gained quite a few contacts. Simon Dunn, for instance. You screw with me, and I will rip your life apart, from the illegal advice you provide to Argentina on military contracts to your screwing around with your intern Michelle. Great video, but I’d personally refrain from having sex in public places. Wives don’t tend to understand these things.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want a job consulting with the government. Nothing fancy, just access to the director if I ever need a favor. And I also need Simon Dunn out of prison in Quito. All charges dropped. Contact the U.K. embassy to make it happen. You scratch my back, Greg, and I’ll restrain myself from imploding your life. Contact the IRS, drop the liens, and return my property. If it’s not all complete in the next twelve hours, you can kiss your career good-bye. I think some jail time might be a possibility, too.”

  Dane hated seeing arrogant men appear weak and pathetic. He re-holstered his weapon, picked up his laptop, and left Greg alone to think about all the ways his perfect life was a complete sham.

  …

  One week later, the Dunn-O’Brien clan were back together in Oxford. Simon seemed a few pounds lighter, and was seething over Federico’s attack. Eve, on the other hand, appeared stronger and stronger every day. Her shoulder was healing, and her nose was no less adorable than it had been a month before.

  Now that Dane had basically threatened the third most powerful man in the CIA, he would forever be one step removed from the radar of the world, the perfect match in the CIA to Simon’s position in MI6. He had a few high level contacts in the agency who understood his new role as an observer with the influence to warn the Pentagon about arms transactions affecting U.S. interests. As long as both governments stayed out of their handling of the operation, Simon and Dane could do as they pleased.

  Eve curled up in a blanket on a couch in the Dunn living room. His amazing wife. Better than anyone he could have conjured up in his mind. At times he truly believed he could live happily ever after in this world with Eve at his side, but doubts gnawed at the edges of his fairytale. The doubts were shrouded in blood and death.

  If they killed Juan Carlos and Federico, would others hunt them down for revenge? Would they ever live in peace? For certain, the two men who wanted them all dead needed to be neutralized, but the killings, would they ever stop?

  A vacation wasn’t an option right now. Federico and Juan Carlos had to lose their ability to enact revenge against them. Simon wanted a quick in and out operation. The obvious choice would be for Dane to go in alone. But they were better than that. The four of them were clever and intelligent and perfectly capable of creating a better scenario.

  Hours of “playing” on the computer by Cassie produced records of several calls between Juan Carlos and Federico in the days after they escaped Columbia. They were both in Venezuela. Not the most friendly country for their purposes, but their team could handle it. Simon was relentless in pushing Dane into his former role as a scrubber—a person who cleaned up messes. The exact reason he preferred a desk job. Death was ugly, and he’d killed too easily in Columbia. Too many. The final count was sixteen of Juan Carlos’s people dead, including Liliana and two of their own men.

  Simon wanted revenge. Liam also expressed an interest in avenging Mitch and Gunther’s deaths. If Dane didn’t do it, they’d send in the team.

  Perhaps this would be easier to handle alone. Dane could slip into the men’s lives, eliminate them, and disappear. No one else would be put at risk. He fought his own soul, trying to blacken his conscience and create a person who killed without remorse. It didn’t work.

  Simon interrupted his thoughts. “I need to know their weaknesses. Once they’re dead, we can return to our normal lives.”

  Dane shook his head. “No. I think we need to do something more intelligent, less violent. Perhaps we can screw up their lives so much, they won’t have time to think about us.”

  “I want this finished, so I’m not always looking over my shoulder. If my name is tied to the murders, then I just protected us from other assholes who would try to take us down.”

  “You talk about murder like it’s a tax credit. I don’t give a shit how you handle things. You’re not in charge of this operation.”

  Simon stomped over to Dane’s space and tried to look intimidating. “I’ve run this business fine for years without your moral code. You have no idea what I’ll do to keep my family safe.”

  “Come closer, Dunn. It’ll be easier to take you down if you put yourself within my arm’s reach.”

  “See. Violence is your blood, O’Brien.”

  “Fuck you.” Would he ever lose that drive to remain on top in the most violent way possible? Probably not. If Simon refused to change and Eve wanted to remain in this world, perhaps it would be best for him to leave. Watching Eve put herself back on the front line after almost losing her to a bullet would cut so deep inside of him, he might never recover, and he couldn’t justify killing over and over and over again.

  The object of his heart lifted her hand toward him, beckoning him closer. “Are you okay?”

  He sat next to her and held her hand, feeling her warmth and wishing he could keep her in his life forever. But she had a choice to make, and so did he. “I’m trying, but I refuse to travel across the world to kill two men, no matter how bad they are. If this is the life you want, I won’t stop you, but I can’t be part of it. Killing is too easy to me.”

  “I know. I guess it’s getting easier for me as well. I didn’t want to kill those men, but they were trying to kill us.” The emptiness in her eyes showed him that it did affect her, even if it had been justified.

  “What about the next time? And the next? This job doesn’t get easier. The more powerful we are, the more people will want to take the power away from us. More attacks, more killing.”

  “But we’re helping people, stopping wars.” She turned to Cassie and Simon for support.

  Cassie, a woman who had her own battle over her conscience, nodded. “If we aren’t the ones instigating the killing, and we aim to keep innocent people out of harm’s way, it’s the best we can do.”

  “You’re a bloody idiot.” Simon stormed over to Dane. “Juan Carlos and Federico must die, or you’re leaving a target on Eve’s head. Do you want that? I would scorch the Earth to protect Cassie and the baby. No second thoughts, no regrets.”

  “Don’t you ever tell me how much I care about Eve. Ever.” That son of a bitch was making everything black and white, but it wasn’t. Simon’s operation fell somewhere between storm cloud gray and the color of charred ruins.

  “Wait.” Eve tried to sit up, grimaced and leaned back again. “Dane, who did you kill to get Simon out of jail?”

  “No one. I placed Greg in a spot where it would be in his best interest to work with me.”

  “Exactly. What if we give Juan Carlos and Federico something else to deal with instead of us?”

  “Like what? Blow up Federico’s factory?” Cassie sighed. She didn’t seem enthusiastic, and truth be told, Dane didn’t see how that would work, either.

  “It wouldn’t work,” he replied. “They’d want revenge.”

  Eve wouldn’t back down. “Our actions need to be concealed. If no one can link us to this plan, then we’ll be free from them.”

  Simon shook his head. “Juan Carlos isn’t tied to Federico financially, not that I know of, so what does that do to him? And for Federico, all it would take is a few years of rebuilding. Their lives need to be flipped inside out. Permanently.”

  Eve’s excitement dimmed.

  Dane squeezed her hand, but he wouldn’t sugarcoat his opposition. “And blackmail won’t work. Unlike Greg, they’d be willing to risk it all.”

  Yet his stubborn wife wouldn’t back down. “It can be done. Give me time.”r />
  “We don’t have time.”

  “It won’t work. Period.” Simon raised his voice as though his volume would make him the final decision maker. “We go in and eliminate the threat and be done.”

  Eve shook her head. “One night. Just give me one night to figure it out.”

  Cassie called Simon to her side. She had to remain on the recliner to keep her blood pressure under control, and Simon couldn’t help but attend her every need. “Could you serve everyone? I need a little peace and quiet for a few minutes.”

  Simon headed to the kitchen. “Set the table O’Brien. I’ll get the stew. We have a mission to plan.”

  Cassie stared after her husband until he left the room, and then conferred with Eve on possible ways to stop their enemy without killing them.

  …

  Sneaking into Maracay, Venezuela, for the sole purpose of blowing up a munitions factory was not the easiest mission Dane had ever been on. Maracay, a port city in the Caribbean, was also home to the Venezuelan military complex—two air force bases, a tank division, paratroopers, and the government owned ammunition and weapons factory. Just a few people to get around to achieve their goals.

  Eve and Cassie had worked around the clock on the logistics of the operation, although they both were supposed to be resting. Simon sulked a bit at first, but finally was persuaded. The women knew what they were doing, so Simon and Dane would look stubborn and foolish if they didn’t listen.

  The team arrived by boat, except for Dane. He flew into the airport with an alias and a few changes to his appearance. His hair was now black, not brown. His eyes, framed in glasses, were a darker brown. He also wore his clothes a size too big and added strategic padding in the shoulders. The key would be to remain off any video feeds anywhere. And if he was seen on them, he shouldn’t be recognizable.

  A businessman with samples of his products, he cleared through customs easily. The products included a few boxes of men’s dress shoes, and custom suit and shirt samples.

  His first stop? Monsieur Jubert’s Boutique, a high end French clothing store. Although the tailor had been in Venezuela for fifteen years, his French accent still bled through into both his English and Spanish. Jubert was waiting for him. They met for thirty minutes to go over Dane, aka Richard Underwood’s designs. Would Jubert be willing to have a Canadian assistant who understood quality while maintaining a high profit margin? Perhaps.