No Way in Hell: A Steel Corp/Trident Security Crossover Novel (Steel Corps/Trident Security Book 2)

by Samantha A. Cole

  The meeting with the leaders of the New Order had gone as he’d hoped—he was promoted to major and now knew the targets in the US and the date for D-day. But there was still information missing. The allied agencies had discovered the marks for Germany and the UK, but still had no idea what the targets were for France. Until they found out, the raids on the New Order were on hold.

  His muscles rippled as sweat coated his skin. He was hitting the bag so hard, several of his knuckles had split open, but he ignored the pain and blood. Instead, he tried to formulate a plan. At the meeting, while Wexler hadn’t named the targets in the other countries, there had been a manila folder for each sitting on his desk. But the only one Carter had been allowed to see was the one for the US. France was the one they needed the most information on. Interpol and the French authorities had failed to get someone far enough into the organization to find out where the main compound was. As a result, only one target was confirmed so far—the one an agent at a sub-site had been privy to.

  The stadiums they were hitting this Sunday here in the states were Lambeau Field, home to the Green Bay Packers in Wisconsin, US Bank Stadium where the Minnesota Vikings played, and the Chicago Bear’s Soldier Field. Total seating capacity of approximately 210,000 fans. That didn’t include the employees of each stadium, security, the six teams playing against each other, and their training and management staff. Several bombs, bigger than the one used in the Oklahoma City and loaded with shrapnel, could kill thousands of people in each stadium. Then add in Wexler’s minions picking off those running for safety with assault rifles, the loss of life in one day would be far greater than anything the United States had ever seen or feared.

  He’d grit his teeth as Wexler, Strauss, Robisch, and two other radical assholes explained how they’d been gathering security and stadium employee uniforms for almost a year now so those planting the bombs would easily fit in. Security badges had been obtained by people already planted on several jobs at the targeted locations. Two dozen box trucks had been painted to match the stadiums’ delivery vehicles for food and supplies. Radio frequencies for the security and police units in each area had been programed into receivers. Those would all be rendered useless, though, minutes before the attacks. Men had been assigned to blow up the nearby communications towers so the first responders wouldn’t be able to contact their dispatchers or each other. Wexler had thought of fucking everything, and didn’t give one Goddamn fuck that he was about to slaughter thousands of innocent men, women, and children. All he wanted to do was play God—or Hitler, the jury was still out on that one.

  A few jabs and punches landed on the hard, brown leather, and another knuckle split open. The door to the gym swung open and several men wandered in, heading straight to the weight bench after saluting Carter. The assholes had no idea you didn’t salute an officer indoors unless you were reporting to him for a meeting, which they weren’t. Carter was also out of uniform, so the salutes were inappropriate, but Wexler had a superiority complex and required all subordinates to salute the officers no matter what. It was just one more thing that annoyed the crap out of Carter, Mic, and Phillips.

  One last punch and Carter let his bloody hands drop. Grabbing a nearby towel, he wiped the sweat from his torso, downed a bottle of water, and then picked up his discarded shirt. Mic should be back from the trip into town soon, and he needed to fill her in. Then they had to wait for an opportunity to get into Wexler’s office to find out where the France New Order contingent was located and what targets they would be hitting this Sunday. God help the people of France if Carter and Mic failed.

  9

  “Hey, sweetheart, have a good trip to town?” Carter slung his big arm over my shoulder and guided me toward the munitions barn. It wasn’t unusual for him to take me along on his routine checks of the buildings where the New Order’s weapons and bomb making materials were kept, as it was part of his duties as lieutenant. We stopped at a big, red barn and he inspected the lock.

  “Just grand.” Glancing around to make sure we were alone, I leaned my back against the building and filled him in, adding, “Brody was a master. He averted the beating that poor woman was facing while still preserving both of our covers.”

  He rested his shoulder against the door, facing me. “He’s a professional, that’s for sure.”

  His voice was low, his tone unlike anything I’d heard from him up until now. Something was off about him. While it was doubtful anyone else would notice anything different about the man, the tension rolling off him had the hair on the back of my neck standing up.

  “What’s going on? Normally you’d take this golden opportunity to be sucking face or something, you know, to preserve our cover.” I poked him in the chest, trying for levity. He gripped my fingers, squeezing them and grinding my knuckles together. “Carter, ease up.” I tugged on my hand. Noticing his bloody knuckles, I raised my eyebrow in question. He shrugged in response and didn’t comment.

  “Sorry, pet. I didn’t mean that.” Kissing my fingertips in apology, he began to tell me about his meeting with Wexler. The dull ache in my hands forgotten, my blood turned to ice, and I think my heart stuttered in fear. The New Order had the power to kill hundreds of thousands of people. “We have to stop them. Whatever it takes.”

  My body thrummed with energy and the desire to go take care of this now. Between Phillips, Carter, and I we could eighty-six all the leaders in minutes. But I knew we had to wait, no matter how much I hated it. “That goes without saying.” I rolled my eyes, trying to ward off the sick feeling in my belly. “So, when can I gut this bastard? After today, I’ve about had it with these fuckwads.”

  Carter ran his thumb over his busted knuckles, smearing a drop of blood across his hand. “All in good time. We need to know the other targets in France.”

  “Or, how about this for a plan, sparky—I can waterboard him until he spills his guts and if that doesn’t work there are always more creative options.”

  His mouth ticked up into a slight grin. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary, my bloodthirsty beauty. Everything we need is in those files—just need to get them.”

  “Okay, then, but I’m keeping it in reserve just in case.”

  “You know, you’ve come a long way from the corporal answering the phone when I needed info.” Stepping closer, Carter turned and helped me hold up the wall with his back. The long line of his body brushed mine from shoulder to hip. I ignored the tingling awareness his proximity raised. Now was not the time for my girly parts to be up and about.

  “Speaking of, why did you do it?” Tucking my hands into my armpits to keep them warm, I hunched my shoulders and waited for his response.

  “Do what?” His voice was low and smooth. Guarded.

  “Don’t be coy, it doesn’t look good on you.”

  He shrugged. Like mine, his gaze was on our surroundings, making sure we were still alone. “Back in Iraq, I just had a gut feeling about you. I’m sure you figured out I was the one who recommended you for interrogation training. But I don’t know that I would have if I’d known then what I know now.”

  My back stiffened in response. Anxiety sped my heart as uncertainty gripped me. Was he talking about what I thought he was? “Explain that. Pretend I’m dumb.”

  A snort escaped him. “That’s impossible. Your intelligence is one of things I find most attractive about you. Among other things . . .” He ran the back of a bloodied knuckle across my breast; my black shirt not showing any transfer of deep red.

  Knocking his hand away, I glared at him. “That’s not going to work, Sir. Explain yourself. What is it you think you know?”

  His chest rumbled with laughter before his eyes met mine. “Damn. ‘Sir’ sounds so odd, yet delicious, coming from your pretty mouth, Mistress Bea.” My continued stare had him sobering again. “Okay. You want to hear it? You have PTSD. Or some form of it.”

  It was not a question nor was it meant to be. “What makes you think that?”

  “Now wh
o’s being coy? Hmm?” Moving to stand in front of me, he braced his forearms on the wall on either side of my head, trapping me within. “Phillips told me about you nearly killing him in the drive-thru.”

  Cursing under my breath, I met his gaze head on. I didn’t find the judgement I expected. Instead, all I saw was compassion and understanding, mixed with a little bit of worry. “That’s super awesome of Phillips to tell you. I’ll have to have a discussion with him later. But what’s your point here?”

  “Don’t take this out on Phillips, he’s just looking out for you. I told him I’d find a way to talk to you without spilling that he told me. I blew that. Be pissed at me if you have to be mad at someone.” With a heavy sigh, he continued. “He told me you said you’ve been like that since before Iraq.”

  “Is this necessary?”

  I tried pushing him away, but it was like trying to move a Sherman tank—impossible, unless he allowed it. Carter had a way of looking through me and seeing the truth beneath the bullshit and ego. I didn’t want to talk about this and he knew it; not that he cared. He saw some reason or need to hear this story and wouldn’t give up until I told him. Instead of pliers and torches, he was torturing me with kindness—the bastard.

  “Yes. If there’s anyone in this fucked up excuse of a world who can understand fear in the pit of their gut at the sound of footsteps, it’s me. You’re not the only one who came out of their childhood broken.”

  “If you know already, then why are you asking?” My voice trembled, and I hated it.

  “I don’t know much, beyond the little your recruiter told me. He put your father in the hospital, if I remember correctly.”

  “Yes, and I paid for it,” I spat while my gaze flicked to stare over his shoulder. I didn’t want him to see what I kept hidden in my soul. “He found me later; not long before I left for Iraq. There was more than one reason for me to join Steel. It was my chance to die; to be safe from him for good.”

  Carter’s face turned red with rage. “He hurt you again?” Growling, he gripped my shoulders, forcing me to look up at him.

  “More like threatened. But it’s fine. I’m ‘dead’ now, so it doesn’t matter. I’m beyond his reach. Calm your titties, Mr. Dom. I’m not a little girl hiding in her closet anymore—I can take care of myself.”

  Barking a laugh, he cupped my cheeks gently in his palms and closed what little distance there was between us. “If we weren’t on a mission, in the lifestyle or not, you’d be over my knee for that.” Without warning, his mouth descended and met my own. Smiling into the kiss, I nibbled his lips and swiped my tongue against his. He groaned, but I could feel him holding back—just as I was. While it was a nice distraction, we wouldn’t go any further than this sweet kiss.

  Drawing back, the laughter melted from his face like wax. “Seriously, can you handle this? Do you get flashbacks often? How’s your sleep?”

  I rolled my eyes. The tender moment disappeared, pushed aside by yet more aggravation. “Dude, look, Phillips startled me. Woke me up from a nightmare and I didn’t know where I was. I have bad dreams and don’t like people jerking me awake. I’m sure you don’t either. I’ve got it under control, and if you don’t believe me . . . well . . . too fucking bad. Suck it up, buttercup. You say you know me so well, then prove it. Have some faith in me and my abilities. We all have demons from our pasts, Mr. T. Carter, and I’ll keep on handling mine just fine. The day my issues start to interfere with my missions is the day I’m out of Steel. Got it?” I dug my finger into his chest, pushing and forcing him back. The second I had enough space, I shoved him aside with my shoulder and stalked away.

  It had been two days since “Major” Carter and I’d had our heart to heart—that title grated on him as much as it did me. We’d kept our heads down and waited for our chance to get into Wexler’s office. The New Order’s leader was guarded at all times, his entourage never far behind him, and spent much of his time in the main house.

  Phillips and I were doing a run around the perimeter of the expansive property with the other good little Nazis. I struggled to keep pace with him, but we had established a rhythm over the course of our training at the Steel compound. He slowed slightly and I sped up—we were several yards ahead of the rest of them.

  “This fucker isn’t making it easy on us.” I spoke between breaths.

  “What? Did you think we’d be baking cookies and drinking tea? It’s not supposed to be easy, Mic,” Phillips growled back.

  “Dude, really? You know what I mean. I’m ready for this to be over. I’m sick of sleeping with Carter.”

  “Oh, how you wound me, sweetheart.” Out of nowhere, Carter appeared, running at my side. Rolling my eyes, I tried to ignore him. “But don’t worry about our deadline. We’re going to have our opportunity this afternoon at 1400. Everyone will be training on the firing range or obstacle course while Wexler is headed into town to put his wife and kids on a bus to her mother’s—he doesn’t want them around when this all goes down. Mic, you need to be the badass brat I love so much, and I’ll haul you off to be punished. This side of the compound will be empty.” His gaze flitted toward the main house we were currently passing. Wexler and Strauss were standing on the porch watching us flunkies run by. “You’ll need to keep watch while I bust in and grab the files so we can get them to Ian and Liam.” For the past few days, the former SEAL had one of his men stationed not far from the compound waiting for the intel to be dropped off. The team rotated through the detail in shifts, so who was currently out there, I didn’t know, but it didn’t matter—whoever it was would be right where we knew to find them, completely concealed from anyone else’s view within the woods.

  “Of fucking course, any opportunity to punish me does it for you. I’ll meet you there. Right now, I have breakfast duty. This time I might drown Brittany in the dirty dish washer. If that filthy twat runs into me one more time I’m going to strangle her with her own fucking extensions.”

  “Where will I be?” Phillips asked.

  “With the others at the firing range,” Carter responded. “If all three of us left the training it would be suspicious.”

  “True.”

  Nudging Phillips to the side, I jogged around a mud puddle. A quick glance over my shoulder told me everyone else was still out of earshot. “Gee, I’m so glad you asked my opinion on this. What if I think your plan is shitty, Carter?”

  “Then too bad,” he retorted. “This is what we’ve got. Suck it up, buttercup.”

  “Better than sucking you, jackass.”

  Sprinting off, I caught Phillips’s response. “She needs sleep. Will you leave her the hell alone for one night, dude?”

  Carter’s rumbling laughter backdropped the pounding of my boots on the dirt. Shaking my head, I ran toward our cabin to take a shower—alone. This mission may be my first covert op, but it was not my first time in the shit. Most firefights lasted less than thirty minutes, for spec ops, it can be upwards of an hour. It seems I was making a career of taking forever to kill my targets. Two days of fighting in Iraq, and now we’ve been here for weeks. Doubt ate at me like a cancer, but just like that disease, I had to exorcise it. Self-doubt would get me killed quicker than anything else. Any second of weakness would be preyed upon by these people. The pressure to succeed was immense, as if I was deep-sea diving without a submersible. My very bones might just crack under the weight of this operation.

  With no choice, I choked down my fear. I let the stress settle onto my shoulders and held that shit up. One more day and we’d be out of this mess. I couldn’t afford to slip up now. I didn’t care overmuch for my own life, but the lives of hundreds of thousands were depending on us and our team. I needed to erase failure from my vocabulary.

  A few hours later, I was at my corner of the firing range, squashing the urge to shoot everyone around me. I caught Carter’s eye, making sure he was ready for the fireworks. Sneering at the skinhead next to me, who’s name I hadn’t bothered to learn, I let my pent up anger fly—f
or once, not having to act or pretend.

  “Is that the best you can do, asshole?” I pointed at his target with a shitty grouping. Half his rounds were five-inches or more off center. “My grandmother could shoot better than that. How do you expect to defend the Order with fucking piss-poor marksmanship?”

  Stalking over, he jerked on my arm and shook me. Grabbing his thumb, I twisted it up and back, forcing a groan of pain from him.

  “Mikayla!” Carter shouted, stomping toward me. “It’s not your fucking place to talk to my men like that.”

  I sneered, curling my lip in genuine disgust, while applying more pressure to the bastard’s hand. “Men? You mean girls, right? I have a bigger dick than this fucktard.”

  “Can the fucking attitude before I do it for you.” He reprimanded me loud enough for everyone around us to hear and grabbed my upper arm, forcing me to release the man, his face an ugly shade of red.

  “Let go of me, you fucking animal!” I jerked hard, slipping his hold. Before I could turn around, he’d seized me again.

  “You’ll show me some fucking respect.” His face was inches from mine; if I didn’t know better I’d think he was pissed for real. Carter was quite the actor. He’d missed his calling for the silver screen. It would have been much more glamorous than blood, torture, and government secrets. But then again, James Bond always seemed to be having fun. And he always got the girl.

  “Or what?” I retorted. “What exactly is your candy ass going to do about it? You know, you may be a god in bed, but I’m getting really sick of your shit.”

  “Likewise.” Growling, he dragged me behind him as I stumbled for real. “You’re going to learn some fucking respect if I have to beat it into you.”

  As he pulled me along, there were calls from his men. “Show the bitch who’s boss, Major!” “If you need help, I can give it to her good!” There were a bunch of other remarks, whistles, and offers to put me in my place. Brittany was standing among the soldiers, wiping her sweaty face with a towel and smirking. She didn’t bother to try and disguise her pleasure in what she thought was my coming pain. Carter ignored all of them.