Stealth Ops Series Box Set

by Brittney Sahin

  “Whatever he’s planning is about to go down soon,” Knox said. “Should we head to Cairo?”

  “Probably a waste of time. Whoever took the money is long gone,” Luke said. “Any idea where he got the money from?”

  “Not yet. I’ve gotta change some of the code and see if that helps.”

  “Owen. Liam. You guys work the CCTV feeds at the bank while Jessica handles the account,” Luke instructed.

  “Roger that.” Owen grabbed his laptop from his bag by the door.

  “Something feels off, though.” Asher couldn’t help but notice the slight tremble in her fingers when she’d spoken.

  God, had he thrown her off her game? Talk about timing.

  But would there ever be a right time for them?

  “Why do you say that?” Luke tucked his hands beneath his armpits and rocked back in his boots as he studied her.

  “The encryption is heavy. Military-grade heavy. Wherever this money came from—they sure as hell didn’t want to be found.” She looked up, her blue eyes touching upon Asher.

  His palm went to his chest in an attempt to calm the heavy beats of his heart.

  “Military? As in ours?” Knox approached the desk.

  “I-I don’t know.” She wet her lips. “I think I might need my lab back in New York to make progress.”

  “Well, we don’t need to be here or Cairo,” Luke said. “I’ll get us on the first flight back. Besides, with Echo heading to New York—”

  “We should be there, too,” Knox interrupted. “In case anything goes down.”

  “Agreed,” Asher said.

  “Why don’t you, uh, help pack up the other room and then check in with Echo to see if they know anything else,” Luke issued the command to Asher.

  It was a dismissal—they’d just checked in with Echo. But hell, maybe he needed to go, to clear his head.

  He quickly surveyed the team, and he knew they could tell something was up, especially Liam.

  Asher glanced at Jessica and saw her eyes back on the screen. So he forced his boots to move, to leave his team.

  Out in the hall, he tucked his fingertips into his palms and pressed his fists to the wall, trying to get a grip.

  I love her. Christ. He’d never thought that before, let alone said it.

  Why the hell did those words have to leave his mouth tonight, of all nights?

  God, he needed to get inside a cage. To lose himself in a fight.

  Killing Egon hadn’t made him feel better.

  He’d knocked the shit out of Egon for touching Jessica, for murdering Ara. The damage from the battery of hits to Egon’s face would never be seen, though, since he’d put a bullet in his forehead right after.

  He wasn’t sure how he’d tell Jessica, or the team, the truth about what had gone down earlier.

  That there’d been no hostage.

  He’d taken justice into his own hands and killed a man in cold blood.

  Guilt over his actions started to weigh down on him, and he rubbed at the dull ache in his chest, willing it to go away.

  What the hell have I done?

  Chapter Thirty

  “Better?” Owen smirked as he assessed her back in her element at their office in Manhattan.

  “I’m useless without my lab. It’s good to be back.” She tucked her black wig into her bottom drawer and fixed on a smile.

  They were alone while the rest of Bravo met up with Echo near the hotel in the Bronx.

  Had she really been wrong about Samir’s plans? Having the men from Detroit show up in New York felt too easy. Maybe she was so used to messy and complicated she couldn’t believe they had unturned every last stone.

  “It’s been a crazy twenty-four hours.” His brows drew inward.

  “A crazy few weeks . . .” Between the op and what had happened with Asher, she felt like her head was stuck inside a pinball machine.

  Asher’s words from the hotel yesterday kept rolling around in her mind, knocking the breath out of her.

  Yeah, I love her. I’ve tried not to. I’ve tried really fucking hard. Had he said those words in the heat of the moment? To prove a point to Luke? Or . . .?

  Owen dropped down behind her desk and opened his laptop as her cell began ringing.

  It was Grace. She was probably worried, but Jessica couldn’t tell her Egon was dead. Her team had “never been” in Austria.

  “Not going to answer that?”

  She put the call to voicemail and tried to ignore the twinge of guilt.

  Grace didn’t even know what had happened with Asher on Valentine’s Day. She couldn’t open up, not even to her best friend.

  “Does Samantha know you’re back?” she asked as he input his password into the laptop.

  “Yeah, of course. The woman would kill me if I didn’t call her the second the bird touched the ground.”

  Owen had someone. Her brother had someone. And she had Asher. Well, sort of. She was doing a damn good job at pushing him away.

  And now her brother knew everything. He’d barely spoken to her, aside from operational details, since he’d caught her and Asher kissing.

  He probably had no idea what to say, but she didn’t want him angry at Asher.

  Asher didn’t deserve anger from anyone. He was a good man, a better man than he gave himself credit for. A man worth fighting for—but was she capable of that fight? A fight with herself, apparently?

  “Let’s see if your program can get a name for the guy who emptied Samir’s bank account.”

  “What?” She circled the desk to view his screen. “You didn’t tell me you snagged an image.”

  “You were asleep on the flight, and I didn’t want to wake you. Besides, we couldn’t do anything until we got to the office, anyway.”

  “Owen.” She smacked the side of his arm with the back of her hand. “You should have woken me. Someone from Bravo—”

  “They agreed to let you sleep.” He shook his head. “You’re no good to us if you’re totally spent.”

  She cursed under her breath. “Fine. Show me what you have.”

  “I got three great angles of the prick.”

  When he showcased the images of the man on the screen, her heart catapulted into her throat, and she snatched the laptop from the desk to study it closer. “Shit.”

  “What? You know him?”

  “Yeah, I’d say.” She handed him back the laptop and briefly closed her eyes. “He’s a CIA field officer.”

  “You were given direct orders to back the fuck down.” Rutherford massaged his temples as he sat behind Luke’s desk as if it were his. “It was you who took out our assassin? You gift wrapped him for the Germans?”

  “Did you really expect us to stop?” Luke remained standing in front of the desk.

  Jessica took a seat alongside him. “When did you turn Samir into an asset for the CIA?”

  Rutherford stood, walked to the bar, and poured himself a Scotch. He raised the tumbler to his lips and faced them. “When Samir’s brother, Arif, died eight months ago, Samir was approached with the same offer he got.”

  Shit. She’d been afraid he’d say that. Her skin crawled, and her fingertips buried deeper into the leather arms of the chair. “The CIA recruited Samir’s brother to be an asset after the op in Aleppo?” She tsked. “The agency was so hell-bent on making sure I wouldn’t help Ara and the others, and then . . .”

  “What’d you give him in exchange for being an asset?” Luke asked.

  “Money. Training. The usual.” He polished off the rest of his drink and set the empty glass atop Luke’s desk before perching a hip against it.

  “Didn’t you learn anything from what happened with bin Laden?” Luke snapped.

  “Samir lost his brother,” Jessica said. “His state of mind would be too volatile for him to honestly consider the same position you gave his brother. How could you not see that it’d be a risky move? If he found out his brother had died because he’d been helping the CIA—”

 
; “Assad killed Arif,” Rutherford interjected.

  “Yeah, and it was probably because Assad found out he was an informant for you,” she responded.

  “Samir’s brother was an invaluable asset. And he didn’t help us for money. He just wanted Assad gone. When ISIS dug their claws into Syria, he also helped provide us with intel that brought down multiple HVTs.”

  “And so you thought Samir would follow suit?” She pressed her hands to her thighs, fighting the tremble in her legs. “You were clearly wrong.”

  Rutherford was quiet for a moment, his pupils constricting. “Everything was fine until a few months ago.”

  “What happened?” But did she want to hear the truth?

  “Samir approached us with an idea.”

  “Let me guess.” Luke’s voice was so low the hairs on her neck stood. “Take control of his uncle’s old group. There was a power vacuum at the time. Since the group’s against both Assad and ISIS, why not have a man on the inside?”

  Rutherford’s chest slowly rose and fell, and a visible redness advanced up his neck.

  “You guys taught him how to code so he could communicate intel, and then you armed and funded a loose cannon.” She shook her head. “And then he went and disappeared on you. Is that why you protected the girls in Berlin—worried he’d hurt them . . . or were you using them to try and draw out Samir?”

  Rutherford loosened his tie and eyed his watch. “It’s over, Miss Scott.” The use of her last name right now felt almost condescending. “He’s not going to win, so there’s no point in further discussing this.”

  “How do you know for certain?” Luke braced his palms against the desk.

  “We emptied his accounts and took into custody the arms dealer Samir had been working with.”

  “How’d you find who he was working with?”

  He coughed into a closed fist. “Actually, we owe your team for that, I suppose. The arms dealer was on the list of names you retrieved from that laptop in France last month. We’d been tracking him when we discovered he was working with Samir.”

  “What were they planning?” she asked.

  “A chemical attack in New York. Subway station. Something about wanting to hurt Americans the same way we let Assad hurt Syrians.”

  “We?” Luke lifted his hand from the desk.

  “He blames us for Assad still being in power.” Rutherford stroked his graying beard.

  “I don’t think he would’ve gone through with that,” she said, needing to believe her words.

  “The point is—it’s over,” Rutherford began. “You didn’t need to involve yourselves in this situation. We would’ve gotten the assassin, too.”

  “Samir is still out there, though. And the men from Detroit, the ones he’s been working with, are in our city right now.” Jessica gripped the back of her neck.

  “Officers are about to pick those men up for questioning. I’m sure your buddies, who are also tailing them, will be calling you soon,” Rutherford announced. “And as for Samir, he should be getting off a plane at JFK as we speak. Homeland is waiting at the gates.”

  “That’s why you were already in New York when we called.” She tensed. “I don’t believe it, though.” Her arms went limp at her sides, and she observed her brother as he looked back to find her eyes. The same concern in his gaze.

  “Well, it’s true. Samir took a flight out of Egypt under one of the aliases his arms dealer provided him. We have him on camera boarding the plane.”

  “But you emptied his accounts, and he probably figured out you took his guy into custody, which means he wouldn’t be stupid enough to fly with that passport.” She glanced heavenward in thought.

  “He’s twenty. Not Einstein,” Rutherford sputtered.

  “Smart enough to pull the wool over your eyes and mastermind all of this.” She took a breath. “What about his mom?” She looked back at him. “Samir wouldn’t leave his mom behind. And since she’s not in Syria, which you know because you had a DEVGRU team go—”

  “If she has anything to do with this, we’ll find her.” Rutherford moved to stand directly in front of Luke and Jessica. “I like you two, but orders are orders. And you were instructed to back off this case.”

  “Yeah, because you had to protect your ass.” Luke shook his head. “Your mistake almost got my sister blown up. And now an innocent woman is dead. How about a fucking apology?”

  She grabbed hold of his bicep, urging him to back down. “Luke.” She didn’t want him throwing away his life’s work because of her.

  “You trusted Ara,” Rutherford said to her. “That was your mistake.”

  When the director backed up a step, Luke relaxed his shoulders, and she released her grip on his arm.

  “Let’s hope it’s Samir who gets off that plane,” Luke began, “because if it’s not, any deaths will be on your hands.”

  Rutherford’s phone began ringing a split second later. “This should be Homeland now.”

  She crossed her arms and waited as he answered, but when he turned his back and lowered his head, her stomach dropped.

  “Check again. The flight manifest says he was on that plane.” He paused to take a raspy breath. “Find him!” He ended the call and slowly faced them.

  Jessica glimpsed Luke out of the corner of her eye before directing her focus back on Rutherford. “Are you ready to admit you need us now?”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “Why the hell is he so stubborn?” Jessica looked at her brother as he sat on the edge of her desk with folded arms.

  “You know Rutherford hates admitting when he’s wrong. Plus, the Feds have more resources than us, especially on American soil.”

  “And their resources led them on a goose chase.” She blew out a flustered breath and focused on her computer screen again.

  “Samir’s brother may not have been his trigger point. He’s been in Syria witnessing atrocities for a while. But the CIA inadvertently gave him the nudge he needed for revenge.”

  “You thinking Samir didn’t, uh, kill Ara because he wanted to gain control of the group?” She grabbed her black-rimmed glasses off her desk, realizing her eyes were beyond tired.

  “He did it to ensure support from Yasser’s old allies. Like the enforcer. The men in Detroit.”

  She leaned back in her leather desk chair. “He needed to build a team to enact his plans for revenge.” Revenge . . . a strong enough lure to pull Samir to the dark side.

  Luke pinched the bridge of his nose. “And those five men offered themselves as sacrifices to distract the FBI from whatever Samir has been planning.”

  “Which means there has to be another player out there helping Samir. And I’m guessing one of those men knows who it is. But they’ll never tell. They’ve been waiting years for a moment like this to come along.”

  The anger and hatred for America, bubbling beneath the surface. Ready to explode.

  “Samir improvised when he lost his money and realized he’d have to get help from someone other than his team in Detroit.”

  “Which is when he was smart enough to throw the Feds off by copying his uncle’s old form of communication,” she noted. “But we’re still looking for a rush job, and damn it, those are always the messiest.”

  She leaned forward and paused the terminal footage from Cairo on her screen when she spotted someone who looked like Samir. She zoomed in closer. “It’s him.” She’d recognize him anywhere after having seen his face in Berlin. “He even made sure to glance right at the camera as he handed over his ticket.”

  “He wanted the Feds focused on New York, but no way is he still in Egypt.”

  “Agreed.” She rubbed her eyes beneath her glasses. They’d been going at this nonstop. Her only rest had been on the plane. “It’s a big airport. Lots of people coming and going. A needle in a haystack. But I’ll try to find him.”

  “You think his mom was in Cairo and flew with him out of there?”

  “Maybe. I’ll pull a photo from her pas
sport and try to get a match in the system since I’m sure she used a different name to travel this time.”

  He nodded. “My money is on her. Wherever she is, he’ll be there, too.”

  “The problem is, I think they could already be Stateside.”

  He stood, cracking his neck. “We’ll find them. I’ll have the team focus on locating this other contact Samir must have Stateside.” He started for the door.

  “How far are Bravo and Echo from the office?”

  “Five minutes.” He shifted to face her from the doorway and braced a hand against the interior doorframe. “Jessica, um . . .” His brows knitted. “Are you doing okay?”

  Oh, God. This wasn’t the conversation she wanted to have right now. There was a possible attack about to go down, and the last thing she needed was Luke worrying about her instead of the mission—a mission they still weren’t tasked to be part of, but to hell with that stopping them.

  “I just want to find Samir and stop him.”

  “Yeah, okay. Me, too.” He scratched at the back of his head. “After this is all over, we can talk.”

  “Mm-hm.” She stared back at her screen.

  “And, Jessica?”

  “Yeah?” She forced her eyes to his.

  “You know I love you. Right?”

  “I, uh . . .” She swallowed, pressed her lips together, and slowly nodded.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Right under our nose,” Asher said with a shake of the head. “Jessica was right.”

  “She’s always right.” Owen and Liam crossed the office to look at Asher’s laptop.

  “This guy,” Asher said, pointing to his screen, “has a friend living in Arlington. He communicates regularly with her, and so it wouldn’t have triggered any alarms when Echo was watching them in Detroit.”

  “Did he use the same code as Samir’s uncle?” Owen asked.

  Asher nodded. “Yeah. He asked for a list of supplies. No time, date, or location, though.”