Griffin glanced back. “No, but the Old Man does.”
He eased the weapon down, still monitoring the man’s movements. “He’s got experience.”
“Came in with Midas.”
“Why’s he here?”
“Don’t know. Old Man went all cryptic when I asked. The Latino said he has a score to settle.” “With?”
“The man who took us down.”
Max’s attention snapped to Griffin, a mixture of rage and vengeance enlivening his near-black eyes. “Who is it?”
The Kid appeared beside them. “My father.”
Evening snuck in, the sky darkening. A howl in the distance made Kazi pause and gaze at the crimson streaks amid ribbons of clouds. She moved lightly, giving care to her sprained ankle, as she made her way to a secluded part of the compound. Four feet wide and roughly fifteen to twenty feet long, the narrow corridor was perfect. No doors. Darkness. Solitude.
Kazi glided to the end, turned, and swung her leg out. Arms up, wrists bent, she closed her eyes, took two deep, cleansing breaths, then opened her eyes. After a short sprint—ignoring the slight pain in her ankle—she vaulted into the air. She started with an aerial, then a round off into a back-handspring.
Fire spiked through her foot and ankle.
She hissed and hopped on her good foot to alleviate the pain. But she quickly refocused and repeated the move, exhilarated as her body flew through the air. Free. Defying gravity. Breaking laws.
With an audible hum of electricity, light snapped through the compound. A round of huzzahs echoed through the night, no doubt congratulating Marshall, who’d been working the last four hours to restore power. She stilled, searching her surroundings to make sure she hadn’t been discovered or exposed.
A dark, round face peered from one alley.
Kazi’s heart sped, but she evened out her reaction. Collected herself as a girl of maybe ten or twelve eased into the open. Then, to her surprise, the girl did a cartwheel. A very clumsy, untrained one. But it made Kazi smile. She clapped, bringing a brightness to the girl’s face.
She showed her how to keep her legs straight, how to posture before the move.
They practiced a few more, and as the minutes clicked by, a small group of children gathered in the narrow space. On her knees, Kazi helped each child through a turn, guiding, instructing, and laughing.
Then two of the younger children took Kazi by the hand, led her to the mouth of the alley, and pointed to the stretch of sandy space. They wanted her to perform. Glancing around, she made sure only children were watching. Then with a giggle, she nodded. Cheers erupted.
Right leg out and bent, toe touching the ground, she raised her hands. And repeated the routine she’d done earlier, but this time added a double aerial at the end. Though her ankle ached, she determined to land as evenly as possible. She wobbled, caught her balance, then struck her pose. With the children, she laughed, relishing the free-spiritedness that she’d had to harness and suffocate as Carrick’s operative.
The realization pressed down on her, pulling the smile from her face.
A child raced into the alley, shouted something in their native tongue, then vanished back down the way he’d come. And with him went every child. Curiosity pulled Kazi out of the alley and in the direction they’d vanished. Shrouded by the low-slung shadows of the buildings and the darkening night, she slowed as the compound opened up before her. Beneath emergency lighting, Griffin, the Kid, Aladdin, and Max engaged in a game of football with several older children.
Griffin, still geared up with his tactical vest—sans weapon—palmed the ball, shouting, “Go!” He waved the young boy of twelve or thirteen farther down. Apparently satisfied with the distance, he threw the ball.
The boy leapt up and snagged the ball from the air. A dozen feet more earned him screams and shouts.
“Oorah,” Griffin’s voice boomed over the cheers.
Max and the Kid huddled near the makeshift hospital while Griffin congratulated the boy who’d made the touchdown. Arm around him, Griffin spoke as they made their way back toward their side. Something…something about him registered with her. What was different? What made Griffin stand out? How was he able to do what he did—fight for freedom, protect women and children with lethal force if necessary—and still be able to laugh and smile? He and the boy drew closer to her.
Afraid to draw his attention, Kazi slipped back into the shadows.
Griffin locked on her. He straightened, then glanced back to Max. “Be right back.”
Oh no. Kazi spun and hurried back down the alley.
“Kazi, hold up.”
She kept moving.
“We need to talk.”
Somehow, his words snapped her spine back into place. She glared over her shoulder at him—which unbalanced her. And her stomach squeezed when she met his eyes.
In his gear, weapon retrieved and dangling down the front of him, Griffin was formidable. And handsome.
No. She had a mission. Made a decision. In a few hours, how she felt wouldn’t matter. “We tried that once. You told me to stay out of your business.” Her heart hammered. “That I don’t know you like that.”
“This isn’t about us.”
Kazi slowed, grief clutching her throat. She hated herself for actually thinking he’d come after her…for her. Not because of a mission or a plan. But because it was her. But Kazi had learned long ago—nobody will rescue me.
“I know what you’re planning.”
She flashed her eyes at him. “No. You don’t. You might wish you did or you might want me to believe that, but I know better.”
His jaw muscle rippled.
“You forget, Griffin. I worked with Aladdin once before. He’s limited. He’s quick on his feet and has an uncanny ability to sniff out trouble, but his problem is accuracy.”
“Was.”
Kazi frowned.
“His problem was accuracy.” Hands on his hips, Griffin stared her down. “Not anymore.”
Her stomach squirmed. No way they decoded her message already. Impossible.
“What’s your game plan, Kazi?”
So he didn’t know. And he really didn’t want the honest truth. He wanted her to do what he needed her to do. “To stay out of your business.” Why did those words scald her throat?
He pushed into her personal space, eating up every salvageable cell of oxygen. “Don’t get slick with me, Baby Girl.” He spread his arms. “A’right. I don’t know what your plan is. But I do know—see it in your eyes—that you’re planning to jump ship.”
Don’t swallow. Don’t react.
“So, ditch the mind games. Let’s play it straight.”
He had it all wrong. But she couldn’t tell him. “Me? I’m the one using mind games? What are you doing right this instant, cornering me, getting in my face and space?”
Griffin eased back. Drew up his chin. “You’re avoiding, turning the discussion back on me. I thought more of you, Kazi.”
Sucker punch to the chest. “Yeah? Well, your mistake.”
He caught her arm, ferocity in his words and face. “No. I’m right. You don’t have to do this—you don’t want to do this.”
How did he know that?
He bent toward her, his face in hers. “You don’t have do this. You have a choice—“
“Again, your mistake.” She swung her arm up and around, freeing herself. “You’ll never get it, so quit trying.” She pushed herself away from him, a strange burning in her eyes.
“I told you I’d help you get rid of Carrick. And I believe with all my heart, God is going to help me fulfill that promise. How, I don’t know. But it will happen. I promise, Baby Girl. Just don’t do this now. Stay with me. I have to see this through with the team, but when we’re done”—again he moved into her space—“me and you. We’ll work this out.”
Kazi shook her head with a sigh.
Sincerity smoothed out his angular lines. “Let me help you.”
A harebraine
d fantasy had her leaping into his arms, kissing him, thanking him for being a hero in her life.
Heroes end up dead. Just like everyone else—only a whole lot quicker. And if she didn’t do this thing, if she didn’t sever things right now, his “quicker” would be within the next twenty-four hours because Carrick already knew her location.
CHAPTER 34
Green World Health Clinic Compound, Uganda
Gather up.” Max waved to the men, never in his life so glad to have everyone under one roof. The only thing that could make this perfect, give him more assurance, was seeing his family, verifying they were alive and well. Hearing Sydney’s voice.
Already at the table, Midas stared blankly at the computer screen in front of him. Sweat beaded on his brow and lip. Was that discoloration in his face on the monitor, or was he really that bad? He shifted—tensed, then let out a labored breath.
“Where’s Legend?” the Kid asked.
“Recon. He’ll be here.” Max adjusted his position so he could see the others as they dropped into chairs around the planks from a picnic table. “Squirt and his team are en route.”
Cowboy swung a chair around, straddled it, then folded his arms over the top. “Glad to have you back.”
“Ditto.” Max nodded. “Catch me up. What do you know?”
“Evidence points to the Kid’s father being behind all this.”
Max frowned, staring at the youngest member of the team. “Yeah, you said that earlier. Why?”
The mischief and lightheartedness that had normally parked itself in the Kid’s bearing was gone. In its place, worry. Shame. Confusion. Anger. “When we were attacked at the Shack, I woke up in what I thought was a hospital. Turned out to be my father’s house.” The snarl in his words couldn’t be missed, giving Max pause for concern. Was the Kid’s assessment tainted by the history of bad blood between him and his father? “He was drugging me to keep me there, feeding me lies about all of you.”
Max eyed the Kid’s fisted hands and saw so much of himself reflected in the demeanor.
“The Old Man figured that out and sent in an angel to rescue me—“
“Squirt’s sister,” Cowboy interjected.
What would Squirt think of the Kid calling his sister an angel?
“When we escaped, I cleared out my dad’s safe.”
Max scowled. “Stealing?”
“Dude, I don’t need his money.” His lip curled. “I was looking for proof. He was lying to me, drugging me—he’d never been so direct in his disapproval of my choices. I wanted to know what was up.”
“And?”
“He had copies of the photographs your wife got in the Philippines.” The Kid went on to explain how he wasn’t in any of the images, then how the team had tracked down his father’s Green World charity and realized it had connections in several locations where the team had intervened.
“So, we were stepping on his toes.”
The Kid snorted. “You were stepping on his money.”
“Your father is Senator Vaughn?” Scott asked.
The Kid nodded, clearly not happy.
Scott pursed his lips as he looked up at Max.
“What?” the Kid asked.
“The mine you’re all talking about?” Scott rose from his spot. “It’s not a diamond mine.”
“We figured that much out,” the Kid said.
“He’s mining yellowcake.”
Cowboy whistled. “How has he hidden this from the UN and the Ugandan government?”
“Most likely paid the officials to look the other way. Things were going fine for your father till last week.” Scott eyed Max, who nodded. “One of the men I’ve rehabilitated stumbled into the wrong tunnel in the mine. It scared him, so he brought me to the mine to show me. We were seen by the senator.”
The Latino poked a finger in the air. “That’s why they’ve been bombing this—trying to kill you?”
“And Marie.”
“Who’s Marie?”
“My wife.”
Max flinched. “You’re married?”
“He chose his boys over me,” the soft voice from the back drew the team around.
Max tried to see in the darkened area but couldn’t till she came closer.
His brother stood beside him. “She’s right. I was so convicted by what I saw with the young men forced to serve in the Lord’s Resistance Army that I couldn’t sleep at night.”
“So, he went off to save them, to rehabilitate them. Leaving me here.”
“I don’t mean to be rude,” the Kid said, looking at Scott. “But who are you, dude? Why are we worried about you?”
“I’m nobody,” Scott said. “But the people of this country need someone to step in and turn away the hand of greed and power trying to seize it.”
Max stood taller, drawing in a breath. Knowing what he had to say. “We care about Scott and this mission because it’s what we do—we’re Nightshade.” He clapped a hand on the guy’s shoulder. “And he’s my brother.”
Shock rippled through the room, and Max felt the weight of his guilt.
Cowboy came up out of his chair. “Wanna explain why you told us you had no family?”
“Because he didn’t.” Scott sighed. “We have the same father, but we’ve never been family, never lived in the same house. He hasn’t seen me since he graduated from the Naval Academy.”
“Look,” Max said, trying to pull the conversation back to the mission. To the nightmare. “This mission seems to be pulling all the ghosts from our past. But it’s also trying to dismantle us. We need a plan in place.”
“The Old Man wants the senator in custody. A confession would help,” Cowboy said.
The thought of how they’d get that rankled Max. They interdicted. “We don’t do interrogations.”
“I do.” Though soft, the voice contained a warning.
Max looked at the Latino man. “I don’t know you.”
A slow, calculating nod.
“No,” Max said. “You don’t understand. You’re not on my team. This is our mission. You won’t touch anyone.”
He thumbed over his shoulder. “Too late. I killed about a half dozen soldiers.”
“I will not authorize use of force like that. We don’t beat people to get our way.”
“It’s a fine line.”
“No.”
The man stood.
Max met him.
“No,” Canyon, who hadn’t spoken till then, ground out. On trembling arms, he pushed up. Through heavily hooded eyes, he stared at them.
Concern stopped Max when he saw how white Canyon had gone. “Midas—what’s wrong?”
Marie was at his side, touching his arm. “How long have you been like this?”
Midas shifted to Max as Marie placed a hand to his forehead. “Vaughn slit his throat. Navas…”
“It’s okay, Midas. No need for them to know,” the man said.
“He’s burning up,” she said. “How long?”
Pushing her hand away, Midas weaved.
Cowboy lunged toward him.
“No,” Midas growled.
Cowboy pulled up short, hovering.
Steadying himself, sweat dripping from his longer-than-usual hair, Canyon breathed—swayed. “I’m staying. With…the…team.”
Max fisted his hand, seeing how every word seemed a complete labor.
“To…the end. I’m not—” Midas’s face screwed tight. Veins bulged at his temples as he groaned, eyes shut, mouth clenched white. He toppled forward.
Cowboy and the Kid caught him.
Marie started for the side exit. “Get him on my table—stati!”
“How’s Midas?”
“In surgery.” Max dumped water into his mouth as they waited in the tent.
Griffin sighed as he leaned against the table. “What happened?”
“Tear in his kidney. Slow internal bleed.”
Griffin stilled, his frustration over Kazi momentarily displaced. “He gonna make it?”
“Don’t know.” Max shook his head. “He knew—knew he needed a doctor. But he wouldn’t go, insisted on fighting. The whole time, he knew he was bleeding and just kept…going.”
The agony in Max’s face both warmed and warned Griffin. Warmed him because of the concern the team leader showed for Midas, but warned Griffin because there was something greater working through Max’s intense mind.
“You okay?”
“No.” Max paced. “Yeah. I don’t have time for this. We need to”—he jerked toward Griffin—“what’d you find out from her?”
“Nothing.”
Aladdin joined them. “She denied it?”
“No,” Griffin growled. “Fool woman. She knows I know. But she won’t budge.”
Max’s dark eyes darted over the floor as he considered the information. He peered up at Aladdin through dark eyebrows. “What do you know about her?”
“She’s one of the best.” Aladdin sniggered. “I’ve never seen anyone so effective. Our paths crossed years ago. I was in an op—apparently, someone sent her in for the same reason. I got caught, thought I was a goner, but she yanked me. Said she’d used my arrest to complete the mission but felt bad for setting me up.”
“Setting you up?”
Aladdin shrugged. “She sat there and recounted every piece of data I’d used to put together my mission. She knew because she had planted about 70 percent of it to give herself cover.”
Pacing, Max said nothing.
“We have to stop her,” Griffin said.
Arms folded and hands tucked under his arms, Max kept walking. “You afraid she’ll betray us?”
Rubbing his hand over his head, Griffin struggled for the right words to match what was happening inside him. “I…I don’t know.”
Max raised his eyebrows as he stopped in front of him. “That’s new.”
Heat crept into his cheeks. “What I know is that she looks out for number one, and that’s herself.”
“Not true.”
Griffin spun toward the assassin.
Unfazed by the dirty look Griffin shot him, Aladdin sat on the planks, his feet on a chair. “Her priority is to the mission. Always.” He opened his hands and motioned to the others gathered around. “Much like us.”
Firethorn (Discarded Heroes) Page 34
