by Kris Norris
She broke eye contact, staring at the table for nearly a minute before sighing—pushing to her feet then pacing away. She couldn’t do this sitting down. Feeling trapped. Not with the weight of their gazes focused on her. Adding to the heavy load she already carried on her shoulders. Maybe not the world, but, damn, it felt like it.
Ellis braced her ass against the wall, looking back over at the men. “I got ambitious. Crossed a line I couldn’t uncross. Found myself with very few options.”
Hank snorted. “And I thought you were cryptic before you became a spook. How about you try, again? Only, speak English, this time.”
“I’m not sure what you want from me.”
“The truth.”
“That won’t change, anything.”
“Or, maybe, you’re afraid it will.”
Shit. Were they all that freaking insightful? Because Hank was right. It was bad enough she’d broken down—admitted to Brett she’d been waiting for him to rescue her. Like the proverbial damsel in distress. If his team realized her untimely recruitment had been wrought from her wanting to keep Alpha squad safe—keep them safe—that she’d gone digging on their behalf…
Yeah, things would turn cold. Ugly.
Cannon sighed, nodding at Hank, then standing. “Whether we’ll like what you have to say or not, we need to know.”
“You guys keep saying that, and I keep thinking that ignorance is bliss.” She blew out an exasperated breath. Better to just spit it out. Get it over with. Maybe, then, they’d let her leave. Finish the job she’d started five years, ago—keeping them all alive. “Remember Somalia?”
Cannon winced, looked around at his buddies, then hissed out his breath. “That one was hard to forget. They sent both assault teams in, half of which ended up bringing home some lead. All compliments of the National Clandestine Service and their jacked-up SOG team.” He narrowed his eyes. Studied her. “You did intel for us on that one. Was the last time we worked together, if memory serves?”
“Intel. Except for the part where I didn’t know the damn CIA would send in one of their special operations teams. That they’d intentionally put all of you at risk—have Alpha be a distraction—take all the heavy fire—so they could grab their damn asset. You might as well have gone in blind for all my resources helped you.”
“That wasn’t your fault, honey.”
“The hell it wasn’t, Cannon.” She straightened, punched one fist against her thigh. “I had one job. Ensure yours and Priest’s teams knew what they were getting into. Were ready for all the damn variables that inevitably work their way into an op. Knowing I’d sent you in with your damn hands tied behind your backs…”
She shook her head, toeing the floor. “I wanted answers. Called in more than a few favors I had owed to me. Discovered that there hadn’t been any sanctioned NCS operations on the board that night. Which raised the question… Whose orders were they following?”
Cannon closed his eyes, breathing in what looked like an effort to calm himself. Not that it helped. Red rose along his cheeks, every muscle in his body tensing. “Fuck. You went digging, didn’t you?”
“I wasn’t going to let that happen, again. Couldn’t. You weren’t some token team to me. Surely, you knew that?”
“But we’re talking about the CIA. Damn it, Ellis! You had to know nothing good was going to come from peeking behind that curtain.”
“I wanted to take down whatever scam they were running. Burn it. I got a tip that the man I was looking for was one Roger McCormick. Ex-Special Forces—Green Berets. He’d been a CIA SOG leader and was the current director of one of covert units inside SAD. I was led to believe he was the answer to all my questions.
“So, yeah…I went deep. Began with his childhood and moved forward. High school. Military career. I unsealed his records, got into his financials—picked him apart piece-by-piece until I was able to hack his NCS clearance.”
She snorted. “Asshole used his security number from his Green Berets’ file as his passcode. Amateur. Found myself neck deep in covert ops. Men who were designated NCS but weren’t anywhere anyone could ever find them. Turned out, McCormick had his very own black ops division within his black ops division. A damn needle in a stack of needles.”
Cannon scrubbed his hand down his face. “You hacked a director of the CIA’s clandestine unit? Were you freaking high? Had a death wish?”
“What I had was an obligation. To the men who put their lives in my hands. You think I didn’t hear what everyone said about MI soldiers? The names they called us? Each branch had a different one. Greenhorn. Boot. Cannon fodder. But I never let it get to me because I knew I was saving lives. That every kernel of truth I uncovered would stop one of you from eating a bullet. I might not have gone outside the wire—had an impressive kill number. But I could live up to your example. I could make a difference.”
Breathing shouldn’t be as hard as it was. Standing there. Trying to make her lungs work, while facing all those stoic faces. But she pushed on, halfway hoping she’d just pass out. End the torture. “It was about a month after that raid. I’d encrypted all the information I’d gathered. Was on my way to hand it over to CID. Hoping the Criminal Investigation Division would take it all the way to the top. See justice served, or at least, garner enough exposure McCormick would be crippled. Outed to his own damn agency.”
“Something tells me you didn’t make it.”
“Got jumped outside my tent. Woke up a couple of days later in some black ops site. McCormick staring across the table at me. Bastard wasn’t even fazed. Said he didn’t usually recruit soldiers who hadn’t proven they were battle-worthy. Warriors. Guys like you. But for me, he’d make an exception. Put my ‘intelligence-gathering skills’ to good use. That anyone who could get to him the way I had was worth hiring. Of course, turning him down wasn’t really an option.”
Hank pounded his fist on the table, surging to his feet. “How long did they hold you?”
“About a month. After that… It seemed pointless to keep resisting. They’d systematically erased my life. And I’m not too proud to say becoming a field agent seemed a much better prospect than dying chained to a wall in a country I couldn’t even pronounce.”
Cannon made a strangled groaning sound, pinning her with his gaze. “You didn’t write that letter to Colt, did you?”
A twitch of her lips. That’s all she could muster. “No.”
“Wait.” It was Kameron. Rising to her feet. Skin blanched white. Lips nothing more than a thin line slashed across her face. “Those emails you sent. The texts. That… Oh my god, that wasn’t you?”
Pain. Deep in her chest. Billowing up until Ellis wasn’t sure how she remained on her feet. Standing there, watching Kameron work her way toward hyperventilating hit Ellis hard. There was something different about the woman. Ellis couldn’t place it, but Kam seemed harder. Rougher. None of her smiles ever truly reaching her eyes. As if the light Ellis had admired in them had burned out.
Something had happened to Kam. The life-altering kind of bad. An event Ellis might have been able to help Kam through if she’d still been part of her life. But Ellis couldn’t alter the past. Erase what McCormick had done the way he’d erased her life. All she could do, now, was put the walls she’d erected back in place. The ones Brett had crumbled in the bathroom with one kiss.
She steeled her resolve, focusing on Kameron. “That was McCormick.”
“But…how is that possible? How did he know I’d helped gather that intel with you? That I was the one who had discretely checked the CIA’s database? Assured you Cannon and Priest’s team would be clear? Alone?”
“I—”
“All this time. You didn’t blame me?”
Ellis frowned. “Blame you for what?”
“For nearly getting Colt’s team killed. Getting Crow shot. Christ, the guy had to be revived several times on the way to the hospital. Was out for over a month.”
“Why would I blame you when I was the one who�
�d given the briefing? Who’d let them all down? All you did was try to help.”
“But, the emails, the texts. You were so angry. Said you never wanted to see me, again, I thought that’s why you transferred. Why…”
Shit. It had been worse than Ellis had imagined. Got her wondering if her boss had kept tabs on Kameron, too. Damn, Ellis hoped he hadn’t, not that it was the time or place to delve into that scenario. “Kameron…”
“Why didn’t you contact me? I would have helped you. Would have done…something to get you out.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. But part of the agreement was staying gone. And honestly, it was safer for everyone if I did just that. If McCormick had discovered I was talking to you, that we were planning a coup… He would have had you killed. I couldn’t risk it.”
“But…” Kam swallowed. Hard. She looked at the others then sank into the chair. Silent. Defeated.
Cannon sighed. “I don’t even know what to say, Ellis. I…” He looked at Jericho. Seemed to draw strength from her smile. The way she placed one of her hands over his. Squeezed. “So, I guess we know everything except why this asshole is after you? Any ideas on that?”
He was switching gears. Speeding away from the past—the mistakes they couldn’t change—and driving headlong into the present. Into her problem. Which made sense. Men were fixers. Needed to feel as if they had some kind of control over the outcome. Which suited Ellis because it hurt staring at them. Watching them piece it all together. How they’d all just let her fade.
She focused on the question, on everything but the feeling that she’d stepped even farther outside their inner circle. That she’d broken their most sacred bond without giving them a chance to hold true to it by blindsiding them with the truth.
She ran her hands along her pants, but it didn’t help. Didn’t erase the clammy feeling on her skin, stem the tremors shaking her fingers. “I wish I knew, but I don’t. They kept asking about guidance systems. Who else knew about them. Where the evidence was I’d been collecting. I didn’t understand what they meant. I never discussed my missions with anyone. I reported only to McCormick, and, unless I was partnered with a SOG team, I worked alone. I knew enough shit from my own ops to put a target on my back, so I didn’t go looking for more. Besides, if McCormick wanted me dead, all he had to do was out me on a mission. I knew it was a risk, and I’d made peace with it.”
“Not, anymore.” Brett. His voice loud. Harsh. Until then, he hadn’t said a word. Just that one huff. Had sat there watching the entire exchange. Following her every move.
He stood, made his way over to her. “I already told you. No more running. No more hiding. No accepting that he’s won, or sacrificing yourself for the greater good. The man’s a monster. A threat. And he’ll be put down like one.”
“Colt’s right.” Hank crossed his arms over his chest. “All you have to do is trust us.”
She snorted before she realized the kind of impact it would have. How they’d perceive it.
The room fell silent. Not a whisper of breath, a damn rustle of fabric. Nothing. As if she’d stopped time. Held them all suspended.
Then, it rushed back. Harsh pants. Creaking chairs. A restless foot tapping on the floor. The sounds gathered strength, bounced back on themselves until she thought she’d crumble under the strain.
Cannon cleared his throat, and it was all gone. Cut off as he met her gaze, his copper eyes narrowed. Lethal.
She cursed, tried to think of something to say, anything to ease the tension. Stop it from suffocating her. “Cannon, I… I didn’t mean to imply—”
“No, you’re right.” He skipped his gaze among the other men, pausing to look at each set of eyes. “We don’t deserve your trust. We let you down. Left you behind when we’d sworn we’d never leave a brother behind. Ever.”
Damn, this was getting too serious. Too close to her reliving it all, again. The pain. The total feeling of abandonment. It had been years, ago. Surely, she could just let it fade, now that she knew the truth—how it had looked from Brett’s point of view. “I wasn’t part of your team. You really didn’t owe me anything,”
“Bullshit. You were the woman one my best friends, my damn brother, was planning on spending the rest of his life with. That made you one of us. Just like it makes everyone at this table one of us. You think we didn’t know how serious you two were? That you’d talked about leaving the service, the Teams? Starting fresh. Actually having a fucking life? Maybe that’s why we didn’t question it.” Cannon tapped his chest. “Why I didn’t question it. Maybe I was so afraid of losing Colt to you, I was willing to sacrifice you in the process. That you dumping him benefitted me because I got to keep him.”
He shook his head. “That damn letter never made sense to me. But then, I never really understood women.” He glanced at Jericho. Smiled. “Still don’t. But we knew it didn’t feel right. And I’m ashamed to admit that if it had been Colt who’d suddenly vanished with nothing more than a note, we would have scoured the damn Earth to find him. Gotten to the bottom of it. Instead, we defaulted to what was easy. What we were good at—shoving it all down. Choosing not to feel.”
He rounded the table, moved in beside Colt. “I’m sorry, Ellis. You deserved better. But for what it’s worth, we never make the same mistake twice. And there’s no limit to how far we’ll take this, if you’ll let us. Give us another chance. We’ll figure it out, or we’ll all die trying because that’s the only way McCormick will get to you. Through us. All of us.”
She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t find her voice. There was no air in the room. Nothing but those copper eyes, Brett’s blue ones, staring at her. Waiting.
Cannon sighed, clapped Brett on the back, then headed back to the table. All but fell onto the chair. “You don’t have to answer that, now. You look exhausted. And I can’t imagine that run helped your side, any. Ice is gonna freak when he gets back with Six if you pass out on him. We could all use some rest. Pick this up fresh, tomorrow.”
“Cannon—”
How was she supposed to answer? They weren’t the only ones who’d pushed everything down. Locked it away with the intentions of never opening it, again. To have it all resurface…
She felt raw. As if she’d scraped a knife along her skin. And now, she was left standing there, slowing bleeding out.
Brett moved in front of her—blocked out the rest of the room. His team. His brothers. He stared at her, blue eyes searching, looking slightly undecided before firming his jaw then reaching up and brushing his thumb along her jaw. “Cannon’s right, El. You need to get some rest.”
She grabbed his wrist, torn between pulling his hand away and holding it steady—pressing into his touch. She didn’t want it to be like this. A giant gap between them. Raging waters below. Because they needed to work as a team. The way they always had. And she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want—crave—to be part of it. To belong. Even if only for now.
She closed her eyes, took a few deep breaths, then stepped into him. Letting her head fall against his shoulder, her body lean into his. He inhaled sharply then shifted. Wrapped his arms around her back, cupped her neck and waist, and just held on. Firm. Like an unbreakable force between her and everything else.
She wasn’t sure how long they stood there. What his team was thinking. Didn’t really care, because she needed him to know she trusted them. That she’d put her life in their hands. Do everything within her power not to let them down.
But more than that, she wanted Brett to hold her. Not because she was going to topple over. Or because he was trying to shield her from bullets and flashbangs. Just for the sheer pleasure of it. His heart beating beneath her cheek, his fingers pressing into her skin. She wanted to breathe in his scent—the hint of citrus from Cannon’s sweatshirt mixing in with Brett’s usual aroma, but still uniquely him. Brave. Safe.
Brett smiled when she finally eased back, sliding his fingers through her hair. Holding it away from her face. “It’s going to be okay
.”
“Right. We only have a covert unit of the CIA after us. No big deal.”
“Bastard doesn’t know what he’s up against. Who he’s up against. He might have gotten the jump on us. Caught us before we really knew the stakes. But that won’t happen, again. Like Cannon said. We don’t repeat our failures.”
“Hoo-yah, right?”
He laughed, slowly releasing his hold. Moving back. “Damn straight. Now, about resting…”
“Soon. But if you’re really all still in…”
Groans from behind Brett, followed by, “Fuck yeah,” said in unison.
“Then, it’s time to go on the offensive.”
She shifted in order to see the men and women sitting at the table. Brett’s crew. Now, hers. She still thought they were all crazy, but she needed crazy. A shit ton of it if they had any hope of coming out of this alive.
Ellis addressed the group as a whole. “I need to go back to that warehouse where they were holding me. I assume Cannon sent some of you to backtrack my trail. Follow the blood.”
Midnight nodded. “I went with Six and Rigs. I can take you or show you on the map. There wasn’t much there that seemed important. What are you looking for?”
She tried not to flinch at Six’s name. He was going to pull through. Ice had told them that much. And staying locked in the guilt would only get others hurt.
“Don’t know, yet. But I will when I see it. And thank you. I also want all of you to go through the files I have on my last mission. I can only assume it’s those guiding systems the prick was asking about. Maybe you’ll see something I’m missing.”
Cannon snorted. Leaned forward onto his elbows. “Files? What files?”
“The ones I compiled for all my ops.”
“I thought you said you didn’t have any evidence.”
“I don’t. Not in the conventional sense. I haven’t tapped McCormick’s phone or followed him around. Gathered intel on other missions. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t keep encrypted files of everything I’ve done since the beginning, including those original files. But using those against him implicates me just as much, so either I’ve missed something or they think I have something else.”
