Striker (K19 Security Solutions Book 6)

by Heather Slade

  Striker didn’t remember crying before his aunt died, or since, but tonight he let the tears flow freely. He felt the loss of her as profoundly now as he had the day she’d walked out of his condo and out of his life, not because she’d wanted to, but because he’d forced her to.

  —:—

  “What are you thinking about?” asked Ava, coming out onto the deck where Aine stood listening to the sounds of the ocean.

  “The same thing I’m always thinking about.”

  “You could always ask Tabon.”

  “Ask him what? Why my boyfriend broke up with me? You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “I could ask him.”

  “I’ll tell you what I was really thinking about, Ava. I was standing out here, wondering if I could possibly make a bigger fool of myself tomorrow than I did today. I’m like Dasher—a little puppy who follows Striker around, hoping he’ll pay attention to me.”

  “You weren’t following him around. He came to you.”

  “Because he had to. He had to check on me, make sure I was okay. God, I make myself sick, I can’t imagine how he must be feeling.”

  “Is this one of those times that whatever I have to say is unsolicited?”

  “Go ahead, tell me what you think, but be gentle.”

  “He can’t stay away from you. Every time he went to you today, it was his own choice. No one asked him to.”

  “He heard you and Tabon talking about me.”

  “So? He doesn’t seem like the kind of man who would stick his nose into anything he didn’t want to.”

  Aine’s phone vibrated, and she plucked it from her back pocket. “It’s Stuart. I should take it.”

  When Ava nodded and went inside, Aine accepted the call.

  “Hi,” she said, taking a deep breath and trying to erase the image she had of Striker in her head and replace it with Stuart’s likeness instead.

  “I know you just left, but I miss you.”

  “You’re right. It’s only been a day.”

  “I guess that means you don’t miss me.”

  “That isn’t what I said.”

  “Have you figured out how long you’ll be there?”

  “Not yet. Like I said, I just got here.”

  “What about Thanksgiving?”

  She’d invited Penelope and Tara for the holiday without considering that Stuart might want to spend it with her. Would it be too awkward if she invited him too?

  “Radio silence.”

  “I’m sorry. I was just thinking about whether you’d want to come here.”

  “Is that an invitation?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “You sure about that?”

  Aine cleared her throat. What was wrong with her? “Yes, Stuart. It’s an invitation. Would you please come to Cambria for Thanksgiving?”

  “I’d love to. Although, I have to admit, I was hoping you’d invite me down before that.”

  “Really? Don’t you have to work?”

  “I can get one of the guys to cover me next weekend, unless you have other plans.”

  Aine half-laughed. “What other plans would I have?”

  “I don’t know, maybe with that guy that works with your brother-in-law, who can’t seem to keep his eyes off of you.”

  “You’re imagining things.”

  “Right.”

  She heard him sigh.

  “I can’t wait to see you, Aine.”

  “Um, I can text you the address if you want.” She rolled her eyes. How else would he find her? “Do you want some suggestions of places to stay?”

  “I guess that means I won’t be staying with you.”

  “What? I mean, you can, but you never…”

  “Maybe it’s time I did.”

  11

  Aine couldn’t believe Friday, and Stuart’s visit, was only three days away. How had the last week passed so quickly? She, Ava, and Sam had spent each day with Quinn since Mercer was at the house too, working with Razor, Monk, and Striker.

  Between how busy they’d been and the fact that Striker always seemed to be at the house, Aine hadn’t found time to talk to Tabon about him.

  Every afternoon, she’d gone for a run with Dasher, and when they returned, Striker would sometimes be waiting for them in the grassy area near the deck.

  “I could go with you this weekend,” he said today when she met him at the top of the trail.

  “Um…I’m taking a break.”

  “Rest day?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Why do I feel as though you aren’t telling me the whole story?”

  Aine sat down on the grass and rubbed Dasher’s tummy. “Stuart is visiting this weekend.”

  Striker sat down next to her. “I see, and you’re uncomfortable talking about it.”

  “I know I shouldn’t be. I mean, we’re just friends, right?”

  “It doesn’t mean it won’t be awkward the first few times we see each other with someone else.”

  Aine felt sick to her stomach. She couldn’t handle seeing Striker with another woman. Not now and maybe never.

  “Are you seeing someone else?” she asked, not wanting to hear the answer but knowing she had to force herself to find out.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s far more likely that you’ll be married and have a family before I find time to date again.”

  Aine brought her knees closer to her body and wrapped her arms around them.

  “This is a conversation I’d rather not have,” she admitted.

  “It isn’t easy for me either, Aine.”

  Inside she was screaming, then why did you break up with me? But outside, she looked out at the ocean. “Would it be easier if I weren’t here?” she asked.

  Striker shook his head. “I don’t want you to leave on my account.”

  “So, you’re fine with Stuart visiting?”

  “Everything will be okay, Aine. Do whatever you want to do. Don’t take me into account.”

  “I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or sincere.”

  Striker stood and brushed the sandy grass from his pants. “I let you go, Aine. I have no right to ask that you do anything but live your life.”

  Thankfully he went inside before she could respond. If he hadn’t, she would’ve told him that he didn’t have to ask. If he said he wanted her to, she’d run back into his arms and not give Stuart another thought.

  But that wasn’t what Striker wanted. As he said, he let her go. He didn’t say he wanted her back.

  —:—

  “I heard back from the Bogotá consulate. Your meeting with the Cuban is set.”

  “When?” Striker asked Razor.

  “As soon as you can make arrangements to leave.”

  If there were ever an indication of fate intervening in his life, it was now. Instead of having to spend the weekend holed up in his room on Moonstone Beach in order to avoid seeing Aine with the plumber, he’d be on a mission in South America.

  “Where’s Onyx?”

  “On standby.”

  Striker called the K19 pilot, and they agreed to meet at the airfield at eighteen hundred hours.

  “The Harmony house is on your way, but go ahead if you need to leave now,” said Razor when Striker told him the plan he’d made.

  “I’m not staying there. I got a room on Moonstone Beach.” He’d planned to see if he could rent a house, but he’d settled into the inn and decided not to move.

  Razor nodded. “Like I said, do what you have to do.”

  His first inclination was to find Aine and tell her he was leaving, but should he? Would she wonder why he sought her out when, per his request, they were nothing more than friends? Or would she be hurt and angry if he left without saying goodbye?

  “Got a minute?” asked Mercer, laying out several documents on the table in front of them.

  “What have you pieced together?”

  Mercer had been working on the forensic accounting for the last few days,
some of which were productive, and some of which were frustrating. Striker hoped he had something worthwhile to share with him.

  “The Islamics in Benaventura have done a good job covering their tracks to this point. There is no history of money transfers. However, today I found out why.”

  Mercer pointed to several of the transactions on the printouts. “Without monitoring the activity every day, we would’ve missed these. The transactions are purged at the close of business.”

  Striker mentally added the totals; the final figure was in the millions, and that was only for one day. “Jesus,” he murmured. “There’s no end to what Ghafor could do with this kind of money.”

  “We have to stop him,” said Mercer, looking Striker in the eye. “I don’t think we can afford to wait any longer.”

  Until now, Striker had believed that Ghafor was limping along the same way he had for the last two years. That was no longer the case. There was too much money, which translated into weapons and payoffs. “I agree.”

  “Do we act before or after Bogotá?” asked Razor.

  “After. It’s likely the last chance we’ll have to find out who’s running the show in Buenaventura.”

  “Roger that,” said Razor, going back to the monitors.

  “Any leads yet?” he asked Mercer.

  “Not yet, but catching the money was the first step. Now that I have, I can start tracing it.”

  Something nagged at Striker. It couldn’t be as simple as the Colombian fundamentalists supplying the Islamic State leader with that kind of money They’d never be able to raise as much cash as had been transferred today, not to mention how many other days similar amounts had been moved.

  More likely, the money was coming from someone with much deeper pockets. There were two possibilities. First, one of the drug cartels was supplying the money. Second, any country that considered the United States an enemy, and there were too many of those to count. It could be anywhere from Venezuela to Russia.

  “Who’s going with you to Bogotá?” Mercer asked.

  “Ranger and Diesel, along with Onyx and Corazón.”

  “Get in and out as quickly as you can,” said Mercer.

  Striker nodded. “I hear you,” he said, packing up his laptop.

  “Godspeed,” said Razor as Striker walked out of the office and up the stairs.

  He made a decision as he slowly took each step. If he ran into Aine, he’d tell her, but he wouldn’t go looking for her.

  He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her sitting on the deck with her sister and Quinn. When he reached the top of the stairs and she looked straight at him, Striker motioned for her to come inside.

  “What’s up?” she asked, eyeing his laptop bag. “Quitting early today?”

  “Actually, I have to leave town.”

  “Oh.” She put her hands in her pockets.

  “I shouldn’t be gone more than a week.”

  “If you’re leaving because of Stuart…”

  “I promise I’m not.” Although he wasn’t complaining about having an excuse not to be here.

  “Okay. Well, stay safe.”

  Striker found himself leaning forward, as though Aine’s lips had a magnetic pull. If she hadn’t turned her head at the last possible moment, he would’ve kissed her mouth rather than her cheek.

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Habit, I guess. I didn’t mean—”

  “Goodbye, Striker,” she said, walking away, but not before he noticed her reddened cheeks.

  “Aine, wait.”

  She turned, but didn’t walk back over to him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said a second time.

  “Me too.”

  Striker swore his way all the way back to Moonstone Beach, got out of his car, went into his room, and swore some more. What the hell had he just done? It was as though he’d temporarily lost his mind.

  Jesus, he’d almost kissed Aine like it was the most natural thing in the world. What upset him more than his dickhead move, was the way it left him feeling. If he could, he’d drive back to that house and ravage not only her lips, but every inch of her body.

  Sex with Aine was always spectacular, but right before and right after a mission, it was especially so. He’d wring every ounce a pleasure from her body as though it would fortify him no matter what danger he faced. When he came home, he’d do the same thing, to fill the emptiness he’d felt every minute he was away from her.

  They’d only been together a couple of months, but the relationship he’d had with Aine was so different than any he’d had prior, that it felt like so much longer.

  Being around her again after so many months of denying himself contact, brought everything they’d shared back to the surface. He could feel, smell, and even taste Aine, just by being near her. He was starved for her, and only her.

  She’d asked if he was with someone else. No, he wasn’t, and it wasn’t likely he ever would be. Here he was, not quite forty, and facing celibacy for the rest of his life.

  He’d apologized twice, but it still didn’t feel like it was enough. It wasn’t just the attempted kiss he needed to apologize for. He’d given her so many mixed signals, and that was unconscionably unfair.

  The only solution he could come up with was to return to the East Coast and continue the mission from there. If he returned to Cambria, every time he saw Aine, he’d risk doing the same thing he’d done earlier.

  12

  Ava’s eyes were open wide when Aine came back out on the deck. “What was that?”

  “Habit.”

  “Huh?”

  “That’s what he said. First, he apologized, and then he said it was habit.”

  Ava looked at Quinn, who shook her head and held up her hands. “No comment.”

  “What a jerk.”

  Aine knew she should agree, say a few choice words against him, but the truth was, she was kicking herself for turning her head. If she hadn’t, she would’ve had the chance to feel his lips on hers one more time.

  “Are you okay?” Quinn asked, putting her arm around Aine.

  She shook her head, and her eyes filled with tears. “I’m not.”

  “Oh, honey. I’m sorry.” Ava stood and put her arm around her too.

  “What can I do to help?” asked Quinn.

  “Did you tell her about Striker’s sister?”

  Aine shook her head.

  “Have a seat, girlfriend,” Ava said to Quinn and then pulled out a chair for Aine. “I have to go get Sam, but you two can start without me.”

  “What’s she talking about?” Quinn asked, leaning forward to wipe away Aine’s tears.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  Quinn didn’t say much while Aine told her about Striker ending things right after he found out his sister died. However, she knew Quinn well enough that she could tell she was formulating a plan.

  “Remember when I first started seeing Mercer?”

  Aine nodded.

  “I had some questions about him, and you suggested that we look him up on the internet.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Have you considered researching his sister’s death?”

  “No.”

  “It’s worth a shot, right?”

  “I don’t know what that would achieve.”

  “Maybe you’ll find something that will give you a clue as to why it affected Striker the way it did. I mean, it’s kind of your specialty, Aine.”

  Quinn was right, it was. However, the research she’d conducted to get her degree was based in science, not hypothesis. The brain’s physical reaction had been her focus, not a theoretical emotional response. It would take at least a master’s degree if not a doctorate for her to take her research to the behavioral analysis level.

  Still, knowing something about Striker’s sister’s death may give her some idea why it had shaken him so much that he’d reevaluated their relationship enough to end it.

  “There’s nothing
,” Aine said to Quinn and Ava after she’d spent an hour surfing the net.

  “What are you looking for?” Tabon asked, coming into the kitchen.

  Aine waited for Ava to answer him. “What the hell?” she mouthed when she didn’t.

  “We’re researching something.”

  Tabon raised an eyebrow. “What are you up to, Avarie?”

  Her sister made a growling sound. “It really isn’t any of your business, but Aine is trying to find out what happened to Striker’s sister.”

  “Oh.”

  All three women turned and looked at him.

  “You know something, don’t you?” Ava asked her husband.

  Tabon scrubbed his face with his hand. “I’m going to kill Striker, unless he kills me first.” He pulled out a chair and sat down next to Aine, who studied his face. Whatever Tabon was about to say would be breaking a confidence, and that wasn’t fair to him or to Striker.

  “Don’t tell me,” she murmured.

  “What?” gasped Ava.

  “I’m serious,” she said, looking between her sister and brother-in-law. “If Striker asked you not to tell me, then you shouldn’t.”

  “I disagree,” said Ava, folding her arms. “If Striker wasn’t honest with my sister, then you need to tell her the truth.”

  “Come with me.”

  When Tabon stood and held his hand out to her; Aine was tempted to refuse to go with him. Whatever he was about to tell her was something he didn’t want to say in front of Ava or Quinn.

  “What do you know about Striker’s family?” he asked once they were out on the deck and he’d closed the sliding glass door behind them.

  “Just that his parents are both dead, as is his aunt, who raised him.”

  “Did he tell you much about his mother and father?”

  “A little. I know neither of them were in his life.”

  “Both of his parents were addicts—drugs and alcohol.”

  “I figured it was something like that.”

  “His sister was too.”

  “Okay.”

  “Striker may have some concern about genetic predisposition.”

  “Based on what?”