by Liliana Hart
The screen went black, and Miller felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. She looked around at the faces at the table, the urge to run thrumming through the pulse in her veins. This was real. This wasn’t a book or one of her dreams. These were real agents who had a real job to do, and she wasn’t the job. The sacrifice of the few for the safety of the many. Isn’t that what Eve had said?
She pushed her chair back, and Tess grabbed her arm, keeping her in her chair. Miller looked at Tess like she’d never seen her before. They’d been best friends their entire lives, and Tess felt like a stranger. She didn’t know this part of her life. What secrets she had. Or how far she’d go to keep those secrets. She couldn’t trust her, not after the orders Eve just gave.
“Don’t panic,” Tess told her softly. “I can see all the scenarios going through your head. No one is going to let anything happen to you. We’ve all gotten quite good at working around Eve’s direct orders.”
“Elias,” Deacon said, saying more in that one word than he could in a sentence.
“Fuck,” Elias said, pounding his fist against the table. “I’ll do it. I’ve got vacation time coming.” He was still vibrating with anger after his conversation with Eve, and Miller had a feeling there was something deeper there to cause that kind of hatred for someone. And make no mistake, it had been hatred in his eyes when he’d looked at her.
Deacon nodded. “I was just thinking you looked like you needed a vacation. I’ll submit the paperwork to The Directors, and I’ll date it as of yesterday. Sometimes I’m bad about filing paperwork,” he said, shrugging.
“Careless of you,” Elias said, finally relaxing back in his chair. “Is it worth Eve’s wrath? We won’t be able to keep it from her for long. Hell, she probably already knows. Damned witch.”
“I’ll let Tess deal with her,” Deacon said. “They’ve come to an understanding of sorts, and Eve hasn’t tried to have her killed yet.”
“I haven’t tried to have her killed yet either,” Tess said. “That’s a two-way street. I do not like that woman.”
“If it makes you feel better,” Dante said, “I doubt she loses any sleep over it.”
“No, that really doesn’t make me feel better,” Tess said dryly. “I’d prefer she appreciate my wrath like the rest of you do.”
“I don’t understand any of this,” Miller said. “Who you are, what you do, where I am, how I’m supposed to save my brother, or why the hell Elias is taking vacation time.”
“We’re The Gravediggers,” Axel said.
Miller rolled her eyes. “Yes, that’s very helpful. Thank you.”
“She gets snarky when she’s scared,” Tess said. “Or hungry. Or when she hasn’t had coffee.”
“I think they get the point,” Miller said, glaring at Tess. “Of course I’m scared. I had a bunch of masked men break into my house, and then I was rescued by Mission Impossible.”
“She makes a lot of movie references,” Elias said to Tess. “Is that normal?”
“She says movies help cleanse her writing palate. She watches a lot of them.”
“I’m actually sitting right here,” Miller said. “It’s weird you’re talking around me.”
“Just giving you a chance to settle some,” Tess said.
“The Gravediggers are an elite ops team. Our agents are the best representatives from all over the world—MI6, Mossad, ASIS, CIA, SEALs—the best of the best working together to fight terrorism. We all had former lives, and we died in those lives so we could do what we do now.”
Elias rubbed a hand across his rough cheek and leaned back in his chair. “And sometimes it’s worth it.”
Miller looked at the men around her in awe, but she felt the struggle from each of them. There had indeed been a sacrifice, and they each wrestled with those demons silently. She watched as Tess took her husband’s hand and squeezed, and she felt a lump form in her throat at the connection they shared. Axel and Dante stared off, not making eye contact with anyone, but Elias stared straight at her, almost daring her to look too close. It unnerved her, but she didn’t break his gaze.
“We’re The Gravediggers because that’s how we’re reborn,” Elias said, finally looking at her. He looked resigned. And sad. “When we go from our old life to this one, we’re dug up from the ground and new life is breathed into us.”
Miller felt the blood drain from her face. “Well, that sounds awful.”
“It wasn’t my best day at work,” he told her. “To answer your other questions, you already know where we are. Our HQ is beneath the funeral home. That information is yours to keep, and if you can’t keep it, the memory serum Eve talked about does exist, though I wouldn’t recommend it. It’s not pleasant.”
“I’m starting to miss the days of ‘ignorance is bliss,’ ” she said.
“There’s something to be said for it,” Axel said. “It’s still a possibility. We can take care of Emilio Cordova and the threat presented there. And you can go back to writing your books and drinking wine with Tess.”
“What about my brother?” she asked, afraid she already knew the answer.
“Your brother made his own path,” Dante said. “Even if we take care of Cordova and his men, it doesn’t guarantee we’ll find your brother. Or that he’s even alive at all.”
“You can’t find him without me to decipher the letters,” she said. “If I go back to the way things were, then I’m leaving him to die. And I can’t do that.”
Elias nodded. “Which leaves us with your final question about why I’m taking vacation. The team can’t defy direct orders from Eve. Not unless we’ve been assigned the mission. But I can do what I want on my own time, and I’ve got plenty of vacation days stored up. We’re not on an active mission right now, just preliminary research, so now is as good as any a time to take it. I guess you found your John Cena after all. Though, for the record, I could kick his ass.”
“This is all grand in theory,” Dante said. “But how are we going to get them out of here without the sheriff or Cordova’s men being able to pick up their trail?”
“How are you going to keep this from Eve?” Miller asked. “I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me.”
Tess snorted out a laugh, and it was the first time Levi had an expression other than an impassive scowl on his face. His mouth twitched with a smile before settling back into its usual grim lines.
“Eve knows all, sees all,” Elias said. “And she could stop us before we even got started. But Eve has a weakness. She likes to play with her pawns. She’s a mastermind at the game. And she’ll watch and wait and see what we do and what we discover before deciding what to do with us or what actions to take. You think she wouldn’t want King Solomon’s table if it was handed to her on a platter?”
“Frightening thought,” Deacon said. “But before you can be her pawns, you need to get out of here without anyone else noticing.”
“Actually,” Tess said. “I have an idea on that.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
He’d been here before.
Most people didn’t know what true darkness felt like. There was always some source of light streaming from somewhere, giving a person the ability to let their eyes adjust to the darkness. This was the kind of total blackness that eyes could never adjust to. The absence of all light.
Elias kept his breathing even, knowing that panic would only make the time go slower. His pulse was rapid, but under control, and a light sheen of sweat coated his body. His finger rubbed in a slow circle across the satin lining of the casket, just so he knew he was still there and hadn’t faded into existence. They’d be able to breathe for five and a half hours before the oxygen ran out. They’d used up more than half of that driving to their destination.
He could do this. It was much easier than last time. The serum each of The Gravediggers were given to end their life so they could be put in caskets and transported to the United States without questions wasn’t easy on the body. It was a paralytic, and it slowed t
he heart to the point where a pulse couldn’t be found. But true hell was the brain waking up before the body, gasping for air and praying that they remembered to dig you back up before all the oxygen disappeared.
There’d been no serum this time. He and Miller had each voluntarily climbed into the caskets and let themselves be closed inside. He’d watched Deacon’s face disappear as the lid came down and entombed him in total darkness. And he’d listened as the locks clicked into place. He had the key to open it from the inside, but it was amazing how loud those clicks could be as the casket key cranked round and round, sealing it completely shut.
He’d felt the disorienting sway as the casket had been lifted and slid into the back of the cargo van. He couldn’t hear voices or even the sounds of the highway as they traveled, and he found it ironic that the caskets were soundproof. He was alone with the darkness and nothing but his own thoughts.
The plan was that the van would take them out of Last Stop and drop them at the nearest safe house. The safe houses were there for any agent at any time, but there was a seventy-two-hour limit before having to move to the next safe house. It was for the agent’s protection and the agency’s protection. And then The Shadow would come in and make sure nothing had been compromised.
He knew where they were going. The routes they were taking. The caskets had been brought through the underground tunnel leading from HQ to the empty field, and the van had been waiting for them there, just in case the sheriff stopped them and asked questions. But lights and sirens could still be seen down at Miller’s house—every on-duty cop in the thick of things—so chances of being seen were slim.
They’d been right about the sheriff coming to question them first. A sleepy Tess had answered the door in her bathrobe with Deacon at her side, and she’d calmly explained that Miller was out of town for a research trip and she wouldn’t be back for at least another week. Cal had told Tess to have Miller call him as soon as she could so he could let her know her house had been burglarized and considerable damage had been done.
Cal had never trusted any of them, and he’d run background checks on each new employee Tess hired. Not that there was anything to show in a background check. They were all exactly who Eve Winter wanted them to be. And they tried not to think too hard about the fact that she could change her mind on a whim if she got irritated enough. He wondered how far this little stunt was going to set him back with her. Maybe too far. But he found the longer he was with The Gravediggers, and the more under her thumb he became, the less he cared.
They’d never seen eye to eye on anything, not since she’d betrayed him and ripped everything he’d ever worked for and loved out of his grasp. She’d ruined his life. All for the purpose of making her team of handpicked agents. Eve always got her way. Even if it meant killing an innocent man and hanging another out to dry. Though he guessed he wasn’t so innocent either, since he was the one who’d pulled the trigger. It was a nightmare he’d live with forever.
His heart pounded faster in his chest, and a tightness settled there as he struggled to calm his breathing. Thinking of Eve always brought on a rage he had trouble controlling. She knew it too, but all she did was stare at him out of those cold eyes, never offering an explanation or an apology. Maybe defying her direct orders would be the one thing to finally push her over the edge so she’d take him out completely.
This kind of life wasn’t really living. He’d had a life. A family. A girl he’d been interested in. A hometown with friends on every corner who’d saluted him and thanked him for his service whenever he was in town. He’d been quarterback and homecoming king. He’d been an idol. Now they all thought he was a traitor to his country. A murderer. And there was no one to tell them any different.
His parents had finally moved from the town they’d both grown up in—fallen in love in—married in—and planned to be buried in. His mother had been unable to go to the grocery store without the shame of his name bringing her to tears. He’d never thought this would be his life. He was thirty-five years old, and he’d still had some good years in him as a SEAL. He figured he’d either die in the field or retire with honors and go back to his hometown. He’d eventually settle down and have a family so his mother would stop talking about grandchildren, and then he’d open a private business of some sort so his skills didn’t get rusty and so he didn’t die of boredom.
The best laid plans …
The day of his death had only been a year and a half ago, but it seemed a lifetime. Every day he spent as a Gravedigger was a reminder that loyalty and trust meant nothing. And that there were evil people in the world who needed to be brought down. It was the only reason he stayed and hadn’t ended his own life. He’d thought about it. He’d held his weapon in his hand and stared at the matte black finish, the weight familiar in his hands, knowing he could pull the trigger. Knowing that if he did, not one soul would care.
The only thing that had kept him from taking his life was knowing that if he didn’t take down Eve Winter, then no one else would. She was the definition of evil. She’d wanted him for a Gravedigger, and she’d orchestrated his demise. And her power was so great that no one could stop her. No one could know the truth of the heinous crimes she’d committed. But he was going to prove it. Somehow. Some way.
His only purpose as a Gravedigger was to destroy Eve Winter. And he’d gladly accept whatever consequences came from it. So he worked and trained daily. He’d formed a bond with his brothers, and he’d do anything for them—die for them. But he never took his eye off the prize. There was no room for anything inside him other than vengeance.
And then he’d watched Miller Darling stroll into the funeral home for the first time, bold as you please, a sassy grin on her lips and a hand cocked on her lush hip. And warning signs started flashing in front of his eyes. Her beauty was unconventional, but it was her smile that mesmerized him. Her mouth was wide, her top lip slightly fuller than the bottom. Her nose was small, but slightly crooked at the bridge as if she’d broken it at some point. And her eyes dominated her face, the color of aged whiskey, flecked with gold, and rimmed with thick black lashes.
When they’d first met, her dark hair had been long, almost to her waist, but he’d come to learn that it never stayed the same for long. She’d gotten it cut short not long after, and it had been vibrant red. And then it was a little shorter and a darkish blond he’d thought complemented her eyes beautifully. And then a few weeks ago he noticed it was miraculously long again, only shoulder-length this time, black again with bold blue streaks. He liked it. It suited her. They all suited her. But this style too would probably change before long.
He’d gotten to know her over the last year and a half, despite the fact he’d been determined to keep his distance. She drew him like a moth to a flame, and when she was on the premises he couldn’t help but stop what he was doing and make a pass-through, just so he could see her face-to-face.
His attraction to her was more than skin deep. She was smart, and her mind was like a machine. She never forgot anything, including passages of books she’d read and the pages they were on. Her humor was dry and sometimes cutting, but it always made him laugh. Laughter was something he hadn’t known much of in his adult life.
He knew he’d gotten to see a rare glimpse of her because of the closeness of her relationship with Tess. She didn’t like to be in the mix of crowds, and she definitely didn’t like to be the center of attention. When he’d seen her at viewings, or once when he’d been dropping off something at the Clip n’ Curl and she and Tess had been there with a room full of women, Miller always sat to the outskirts and watched. But when she had something to say, people listened, and oftentimes they didn’t understand they’d been taken down a peg with her subtle way of using words.
He’d let himself become weak where she was concerned. He’d taken his eyes off the prize, and in that moment of weakness, he’d let himself touch her. Let himself hope for something more than he knew he could ever have. He’d always been
so careful not to touch her. And once he had lost his mind. Her body had been made for his, as if he’d never touched another woman but her. If he’d taken her that night, there would’ve been no turning back. His passion for vengeance would’ve turned to passion for her. There was no way to sustain both. He had to choose. And he could never subject her to this life, especially not when he didn’t expect to come out of it alive.
But here he was. Voluntarily putting himself in her path. He didn’t know if he was punishing himself or her for being such a temptation. His only thought was that he had to protect her.
He felt the jostle as the casket was lifted from the back of the van and carried some distance away before being hefted up a little higher and abruptly set down. Traveling by casket wasn’t comfortable, and he wondered how Miller was doing. Some of the toughest men he knew wouldn’t have been able to withstand what they were doing. Deacon, for instance. He said he’d rather let Cordova’s men try to take him than ever close himself in that box again.
Deacon worked every day to overcome the claustrophobia that had almost crippled him from being able to do his job. And still there were days that were easier than others. Deacon had been the first of them to come over. An experiment. And the serum that had kept him in “death” had worn off long before he’d been dug up from the grave. It had been a kind of torture worse than many of them had already endured.
There were two sharp raps on the top of the casket. It was the signal they were in their final location and that they were on their own. He’d been holding on to the casket key in his hand, wanting to make sure he knew exactly where it was at all times. It would do no good to escape only to suffocate in the next hour.
Elias was a big man, skimming right at six feet, but he was broad through the shoulders and chest. That was going to be the challenge—getting his arm in a position above his head so he could fit the casket key in the tiny hole in the corner, which he had to find in the dark.
