Agent U7: Keegan

by Joni Hahn

  “Have you considered that you’re tired because you’re too busy?” he said.

  “Clinton, don’t patronize me. You know I don’t like it.”

  What do you like, Mother?

  “Where are you?” He listened for any change in tone or background noise, as he watched the yellow dots on Cyrus’s DNA tracker account.

  “Just reading at home.”

  “Let me guess,” he said, old familiarity filtering into the conversation. “East of Eden.”

  “I am.” Wind whooshed over the line, the sound of voices in the background. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Nothing,” he said, his gaze intent on the screen. “You’ve just read it at least twenty times.”

  Suddenly, Natalie’s dot appeared on the monitor—in Texas.

  The same place where the two dots appeared on Cyrus’s monitor.

  The others soon followed in quick succession.

  Anger thrashed about inside him like a live wire. Grabbing a wastebasket under the desk, he knew he’d puke his guts out, any second now. His lips curled over his teeth to keep it down, to keep from screaming at her, to bury the words churning like hot coals in his gut. His own mother, the woman that had given him birth, had kidnapped his friends, had hidden the truth of Cyrus’s birth, had set out to destroy D.I.R.E. and change the world.

  She took his call, knowing he’d send the agents.

  Tossing aside the trash can, his fingers flew over the keyboard as he sent Natalie’s location to Mitchell.

  “I really must go, Clinton.”

  Clearing his throat, he worked to keep his voice calm. “Get some rest.”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice distracted, before she hung up.

  Leaning back his head, he shut his eyes and rubbed his hands down his face.

  “Robinson.”

  Mitchell’s voice propelled him up in his chair. He hit a button on his keyboard and his boss’s face appeared. He wore a camo t-shirt, a matching cap on his head. Bent over at the waist, he stuffed something into a black, lace-up boot, several guns at his waist.

  His boss looked ready for battle.

  “It’s her,” he told Mitchell. “My mother’s tied to this somehow.” He couldn’t keep the foul curse words in his mouth.

  “Yes,” Mitchell said, as he threw a back pack on the desk. He stuffed combat paraphernalia inside.

  “Yes?” Clint threw a pen across the room, his voice laced with incredulity. “You knew?”

  “I’ve done some research since we last spoke.” He zipped up the pack.

  “It’s the farm.” Austin came up behind Clint, staring at the screens. “They took them to the farm.”

  “What else did your mother say?” Mitchell checked the armband strapped to his arm, his face a mask of dominant determination.

  “Nothing. She didn’t want to talk. She said she was busy.”

  Breaking a man out of prison, kidnapping a group of women and trying to change the world would put a person a little on the hectic side.

  “Mitchell, where are you going?” Austin stood beside Clint, his brows folded into a deep groove.

  His eyes met theirs for the first time. “I’m going to Texas. I’m sending Angela to HQ.” His voice lowered. “Take care of her, will you?”

  An ominous sense of panic settled over the room like a thundercloud, heavy and black. He and Austin exchanged a glance before Clint looked back at the screen. “Mitchell, what do you plan to do?”

  “I’m going down there alone. I need to see what we’re up against before I send in the team. I just can’t risk them all.”

  That wasn’t all there was to it. Mitchell had seen something in that video of Jim’s clone. Clint knew better than to expect an explanation.

  “We can’t risk you, either.”

  Mitchell’s sharp tone brooked no argument. “We don’t have a choice.”

  They were talking about the agency itself, the agents, their girls—their entire existence. Nothing was expendable.

  “What do you want me to do?” Clint said.

  “Record my feed. Whatever you do, do not lose contact. I’ll let you know when you can notify the others. But, not before. Is that clear?” Mitchell glanced at Austin.

  “Yes, sir,” they said in unison.

  Mitchell’s somber gaze settled on Clint. “Under no circumstances are you to relinquish Keegan or Monica to them.”

  With a firm shake of his head, Clint said, “Understood.”

  “No way in hell,” Austin said, in a raised tone of obstinacy.

  “Good.” Picking up the backpack, Mitchell threw it over his shoulder. With one last glance at the screen, he spoke in a soft voice. “For what it’s worth, Robinson, I’ve never doubted you for a moment. I’m damned proud of our decision to hire you, and I’m damned impressed with all you’ve accomplished.” He gave him a half grin before turning to walk away. “Hoorah.”

  Watching his boss walk away, Clint tried to swallow over the globe lodged in his throat. The words were like a massage to his blood pressure levels, a weight off his mind. He’d probably never know what had prompted it, but he’d take it.

  Chapter 7

  Keegan went to stand on Clint’s right, while Monica made her way to Austin on his left. Clint stared at the blank screen where Mitchell had been seconds before, his eyes narrowed in thought. He still wore tuxedo trousers, his throat exposed at the top of his white, button-down shirt. His blond hair was mussed, his jaw showing thick stubble. A mix of light cologne and starch wafted around him, drawing her near. Her hand moved to rest on his shoulder, before she snatched it back.

  She cursed herself mentally. This attraction to Clint was pure madness. Despite his actions, she felt sure—well, kind of sure—he’d been feeding intel to Cyrus and The Madam. Otherwise, how would they have gotten Jim’s DNA?

  He spat an expletive at the screen, startling her. He turned to Austin. “I need to tell Tristan.”

  With an arm around Monica’s shoulders, Austin shook his head. “He gave a direct order, Robinson. We wait it out.”

  “Where’s he going?” Monica said, as she studied the screens. Her mouth dropped open before she turned to Austin. “He’s not going to the farm alone, is he?”

  Austin gave her a crooked grin. “I’m not the only idiot that does solitary ops.”

  “Yes, but Mitchell has experience,” Monica countered, with a timid shove against the inexperienced, D.I.R.E. agent’s chest.

  Clint leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “He hasn’t been in the field in decades.”

  For a fifty-something, former Navy SEAL, Mitchell Jacobs still looked fit and intimidating enough to run an op. However, in this case, that op was personal. Too personal, to go it alone.

  “Maybe I need to offer myself for the women,” Clint blurted aloud. “My mother wouldn’t hurt me.”

  “Your mother?” Keegan and Monica said in unison.

  With a wary glance over his shoulder, Clint nodded at Keegan. “Yes. It looks like Cyrus and I share the same mother.”

  With a step back, Keegan stared at Clint, her mind reeling. Not once had Cyrus ever mentioned his mother. Over the years, he’d talked about his grandfather often and in admiration, but never his mother—or father. How could it be that of all the people in the world, Clint and Cyrus shared the same mother? It seemed too coincidental.

  Which made his guilt all the more likely.

  She tried to erase the scowl on her face but it wouldn’t seem to clear. “And, you knew nothing?”

  He matched her scowl for scowl. “No. My mother and father weren’t…shy when it came to taking various bed partners.”

  Striking, stylish Cyrus Matheson was the product of an affair? It would explain why he never talked about them.

  It also explained Clint’s unyielding stance on her recent one-night stands. He held an old and buried belief that carried back to childhood and had taken root. With news that Cyrus was a result of one of those lia
isons, his attitude would never change.

  “Perhaps, he was sent to live with his grandfather for that reason,” Keegan said. “Your mother was trying to hide him.”

  Clint started shaking his head before she finished her statement. “They didn’t hide their affairs from each other. They didn’t care enough.”

  It explained so much about Clint. His research on love in college, his drive to find the right wife and raise a family the way he thought it should be done. He needed fidelity, honor, to be a part of something he could believe in. D.I.R.E. had become the family he’d never had.

  Or had it?

  It all seemed too perfect, too coincidental. Something just wasn’t right.

  Until she figured it out, she’d have to stick close to him. With the others gone, it was up to her to keep an eye on him. Even the most intelligent slipped up.

  A dawning light shown in his eyes. His mouth dropped open, his face turning a milky white. Reaching for the wastebasket, he bent over the can, the contents of his stomach spilling into it with an alarming rush. Holding her breath, she brushed back the hair from his face, her other hand rubbing his back. She crooned incoherent words, her only thought to help him through the awful experience.

  Coughing, he swiped his mouth with the back of his hand, tears resting at the corners of his eyes. His other arm fell across his middle before he bent over the can again to finish the job.

  “Damn, Robinson,” Austin said, “are you okay?”

  Monica shoved a bottle of water in his face. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to throw up, too.”

  Taking the water, he unscrewed the top and downed half of the bottle. He wouldn’t look at her, or anyone, his eyes closed tight. Setting the bottle on the floor, he bent and put his face in his hands and groaned.

  “What is it, Clint?” she said, genuine alarm setting in. “Do you need to go to the medical wing?”

  Austin looked at her over Clint’s head. “He has orders to stick around.”

  Clint jumped up from the chair, startling her. He started for the door without a backward glance. “I’ll be back in a few, Rose.”

  The three of them stared after him. Dumbfounded, she watched his wide shoulders retreat.

  “I’m going after him.” She started forward.

  Monica stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Give him a minute.”

  Austin said, “Yeah, something upset him. He was fine a few minutes ago.”

  Keegan ran the last few minutes through her head. He must’ve remembered something—or figured out something. Nodding her head, she decided that had to be it. An answer came to him; one he didn’t want to share with any of them.

  All the more reason to hound him until he confessed.

  The phone rang in her hand. Private.

  It had to be Cyrus.

  This time, Clint wasn’t there to protect her.

  You’re stronger than you think. You have to do this, if you want any chance at peace.

  “How did he get my number?” she mumbled with feigned sarcasm, before pressing the speaker button.

  Cyrus’s voice carried in the silent room. “I expected you with the others, my love. Where are you?”

  She stared at Austin and Monica who gazed back at her with sullen eyes. “As far away from you as possible.”

  Twin smiles appeared on their faces before Monica gave her a thumbs up.

  Silence filled the room before his voice carried low and lethal. “That’s too bad. I had hoped to avoid hurting the others, but I see you give us no choice.”

  Guilt gouged her stomach as Natalie’s face popped into her mind like a thousand flash bulbs. “There’s always a choice, Cyrus. In this case, you’re choosing to hurt me.”

  Austin did a fist pump, while Monica nodded in solemn agreement.

  She acknowledged them with a wink.

  “I would never choose to hurt you, my love. You know that.”

  Clint walked back into the lab, his ashen face dotted with perspiration, his eyes bloodshot. Horrible didn’t do justice to the way he looked and the only thing that ran through her mind in that moment was that she needed to make whatever ailed him go far away. With Cyrus.

  “You have my sister, Cyrus.” She scanned Clint’s wide-eyed face, which took on a murderous expression. “Of course, that hurts me.”

  “I thought you would be with her.”

  “Why did you have to take them at all? I don’t understand.”

  “Did you think we could allow D.I.R.E. to stop us? We have plans for the world. Those plans can’t happen as long as they exist.” He lowered his voice to a seductive whisper, making her skin crawl. “This is all for you, my love. We’ll bring up our children in peace, make a new world for our family.”

  “Who is we, Cyrus?” Keegan said. “Who are you working with?” Her eyes zeroed in on Clint with lethal intensity. “You’ve never mentioned anyone else before. I thought this was all your plan.”

  His swallow echoed in the silent room. “Our visions are each pieces of the master plan. Come to me and I’ll reveal all.”

  Perhaps, it was her destiny. To live with Cyrus to keep her family and Clint, safe. If she went to him, perhaps it would give the others time to stop this. Maybe she was never meant to have peace. Maybe, she was meant to be a sacrifice for the greater good.

  As though he’d read her mind, Clint’s glittering grey gaze bored into hers. “Like hell.”

  She turned her back on them and spoke low. “I’ll come to you if you release them.”

  Turning her to face him, Clint gripped her by the shoulders and shook her. “No, Keegan.”

  “I can’t, my love,” Cyrus said. “We need them. Especially, Teague Hamilton. But, I’ll release your sister… For you.”

  Austin’s low growl carried to her ears. Giving into Cyrus meant he still controlled her, and everything in her rebelled at that thought. Yet, what were the alternatives? To let the agents walk into an ambush?

  A part of her wondered why it wasn’t someone else’s turn. Hadn’t she served her time? She supposed Riordan had said that more times than he could count during his years in Cyrus’s prison. Teague was probably saying that now, knowing Cyrus was responsible for her parents’ deaths, and her work in Capri’s lab.

  Yet, if it meant Natalie’s freedom, and Teague and Riordan’s freedom from sacrifice, it was worth it. After all, it was a life she found familiar. She’d done it for over twenty years.

  “How do I know I can trust you, Cyrus?”

  His voice held a heavy note of incredulity. “Have I ever lied to you, my love?”

  Her scoff came swiftly. “Yes.”

  “Keegan, don’t mistake my omissions for lies. I have always kept your welfare foremost in my mind.” He hesitated before adding, “Come to me. We belong together. You know that.”

  A vicious, frightening growl erupted from Clint. Words spewed from his mouth like the bile moments before.

  “Lies of omission are your forte, aren’t they? You always were only about yourself, you sonovabitch.”

  Keegan caught her breath. What the hell was he doing? What was he talking about?

  “Who’s there with you, Keegan?” Cyrus said.

  Shaking his head at her, Clint took the phone from her hand with calculated purpose. “I’m hurt you don’t recognize my voice. Then again, you never did shut your mouth long enough to listen to anyone else.”

  Keegan would’ve never guessed the quiet, stoic scientist had such a patronizing, cruel side. And damn, if she didn’t like it.

  “You will die,” Cyrus said with toxic certainty.

  “Eventually,” he said with nonchalance. “Then again, so will you.” Clint lowered his voice to the same, malicious tone Cyrus used seconds before. “Of course, you’ve had a little practice, haven’t you…James?”

  * * *

  “What was that?” Keegan said, as Clint slapped the silent phone in her palm.

  “Yes,” Austin said, sitting back on the desk, Monica besi
de him. “Why’d you call him James?”

  Clint paced in the small area, hands in his hair, on his face, and tightening in front of him. He didn’t normally pace. He considered it a useless waste of energy. However, in this instance, if he didn’t do something, he was going to blow.

  Disbelief warred with betrayal inside him like a bag of snakes, striking at his mind, his gut, his heart, releasing a poisonous venom that slowly, painstakingly devoured him.

  “I’ve lived with the guilt all my life,” he muttered. “I’ve run it over and over in my head, wondering what I could’ve done different. I spent years trying to figure out a way to make it up to my family, before realizing I was destined for a life alone because I had stolen his.”

  He glanced at Keegan’s stunned face before turning away.

  His stomach roiled again, gurgling, before bile shot up his throat. Plopping down in the chair, he bent over the fresh can, soiling it, soiling the memories and any loyalty he may have felt toward his family. They’d allowed him to wallow in the bog of guilt unnecessarily. His mother and James had lived a completely separate life and probably ridiculed his attempts at showing family allegiance and love.

  “Well, fuck them,” he spat into the trash can. “Fuck them all.”

  Keegan’s tentative hand on his back sent a shockwave of arousal through him. He stiffened, hating her for it, hating himself, yet shamefully yearning for more. He shrugged off her touch and jumped up, that live wire buzzing with anger, whipping and snapping at his insides.

  “Clint, you’re not making any sense,” she said.

  Worry lined the most beautiful eyes he’d ever looked into, their green-gold depths a pool of confusion and pain. They’d screwed up her life, too, had used her and still tried to abuse her from afar.

  She still wanted to sacrifice herself.

  He couldn’t let that happen.

  “You’re the reason they’re in trouble, Keegan.” He held up a thumb. “Way to pay back Hope for rescuing you.”

  Her eyes flashed like steel in the midday sun.