If the admiral was pulling them into a briefing along with Marco, this had to be about Ethan. And not just a debrief.
The shit storm wasn’t over.
The office door opened and another batch of people left the admiral’s office.
The woman manning the desk like some kind of stapler wielding guard glanced up. She had a fierceness about her that made Grant think of Merida. They were clearly cut from the same cloth. “You may go in now.”
“Come on.” Marco nodded at the door.
Grant brought up the rear, not looking forward to this chat. He wanted nothing more than to take his team home and look after them. Somehow he didn’t think that was going to happen for a while.
The admiral’s office was a large room with wood-paneled walls, rich blue carpet and dominated by stately furniture.
Much like the old man behind it all.
Admiral Crawford was a dignified gentleman in his senior years, though his smooth, black skin belied his true age. It was his silvering, short trimmed hair that betrayed him. He stood when they entered, rising to well over six feet and dressed just as sharp as if he expected a full inspection in slacks, a button down, tie and vest.
“Anderson, Nguyen, glad to have you back in one piece.” Crawford gestured to the round, six seater meeting table at the other end of the room. “Have a seat, please?”
The four of them settled at the table, Grant and Melody on one side, Marco and Crawford on the other.
“There’s not time for small talk.” Crawford braced his elbows on the arm rests and looked from Grant to Melody in turn. “We need to discuss Ibiza and how this relates to the Ethan Turner situation.”
Grant nodded and put his knotted up stomach out of mind. “Brenden confirmed that the man we saw on Ibiza was the same one who kept tabs on us while in Lebanon. It might help to talk to him or Vaughn if you want more details?”
“We will.” Crawford nodded.
“We have kept the circle of who knows about Ethan small since we recovered him.” Marco set his phone on the table and leaned forward. “What we need now is outside perspective on Ethan and his situation.”
“Okay,” Grant said slowly.
Marco stared at him. “Ethan is just as aggressive and uninclined to communicate with us as when your team brought him home.”
“He was brainwashed,” Melody said. Not a question.
“Thoroughly.” Marco glanced at her. “We’d hoped when we brought him back that if he were introduced to familiar surroundings and we let whatever drugs, he’d been given work their way out of his system he’d come down from all that. Seeing familiar faces, his family might bring it all back, but...”
“Ethan’s disposition and condition remain the same,” Crawford said.
“You think whatever they did to him is permanent?” Grant asked.
“That’s what it appears to be,” Marco said slowly.
Melody leaned across the table. “What about your friend?”
Marco shook his head. “He stopped responding to my messages the next day. Chances are whatever dust storm this caused created problems for him and he’s gone underground or simply wants nothing more to do with me. He’s more than repaid his debt to me.”
“Where’s Ethan now? Didn’t he have a family?” Grant asked.
Marco nodded. “Yeah, his wife remarried about six months after Ethan was ruled dead. Their son is in high school now. They don’t know Ethan’s alive. We haven’t informed them because...”
“You don’t want to put that family through an experience like that,” Melody said.
“Yeah.” Marco grimaced. “We took him to his house not long after. He was renting it from Crawford so it’s still about the same as it was when Ethan lived there. Nothing.”
“Where are you keeping him? He isn’t here, is he?” Melody asked.
“No,” Crawford said quickly. “There’s a private medical facility that we’ve contracted with to help us with Ethan’s care.”
Red flags waved in Grant’s vision. “Whoever these people are. they want Ethan back. They’re willing to have a gunfight on a public street to make that happen. Tell me this facility has security? Real security?”
Marco shrugged. “Not much. Couple rent-a-cops.”
“That’s not going to cut it.” Grant focused on Crawford. “Sir? These people wanted to trade for Ethan. That’s why they went after us, to force a swap. If they find out where Ethan’s being held, they’ll break him out and Ethan will go with them willingly.”
Crawford frowned. “We have a contingency plan, but that means moving him.”
“We should do that,” Grant said.
“Do we really think intelligence agents from Lebanon are going to come here?” Marco glanced from one man to the other.
“They made him like this. He’s clearly worth a lot of money to them and think what one guy like Ethan could do?” Grant shook his head. “Whatever we do, they can’t get Ethan again.”
Marco looked pointedly at Crawford.
Admiral Crawford leaned back, his lips twisting into a grimace. “I don’t like the idea of moving Ethan. There’s too many moving parts. Keeping him sedated is a constant guessing game of, will it or won’t it work? Not to mention we’re most vulnerable during transport.”
“He can’t come here,” Melody said. “The Lebanese know who we are. Let’s face it, they’ve most likely been following us. They definitely have to know where we have offices.”
Grant wasn’t fond of that idea. He agreed with Melody though. The Lebanese had been watching them. Did that surveillance extend to their homes? Their off hours? How long had this been going on?
“We have been in talks with another facility, more secure,” Admiral Crawford said slowly, his lips curling around the words with distaste. “There’s no good solution, but leaving Ethan where he is... No, you’re right. We’re risking innocent people’s lives by dangling him out there. It’s only a matter of time until these people find him.”
“It’s not worth discussing a set-up?” Marco asked.
Crawford shook his head. “No, too dangerous.”
Grant propped his elbows on the table and glanced around at them. “We haven’t even mentioned the fact that we don’t want the Lebanese to have Ethan back because he’s a one-man army. I know when we brought him back this was a celebration about finding our guy. But if what you say is right and he doesn’t remember who he is, this is just as much about keeping a weapon out of the hands of people who might use him against us, our people, our country, not to mention the situation in Syria and how Lebanon has a vested interest there.”
It was easy to think of this as an isolated, personal problem, but the reality was that Ethan had nearly taken out their entire team. If it wasn’t for quick-thinking and luck, he could have demolished them all and this whole conversation wouldn’t be happening because Grant, Melody and everyone else would be dead.
They weren’t just talking about one man’s freedom. They were talking about the lives of hundreds or thousands of potential victims should Ethan be unleashed like the weapon he was.
SUNDAY. SAFE HOUSE, Chicago, Illinois.
Liman wished he didn’t need to be this prepared, but he was glad he’d thought ahead. He didn’t want to think about the money they’d spent setting up surveillance, but it was going to pay off now.
Initially he’d secured this site to watch the main Aegis Group location, search for Elio and serve as a staging point if his plan to swap prisoners had worked. It was close enough and yet far away that he was reasonably confident no one had noticed them yet. Unfortunately, his team had next to no answers for him either.
In all these months, they hadn’t heard a hint of a rumor about Elio. Their man still eluded them to the point that Liman almost wondered if they knew where Elio was at all?
Liman glanced across the suite at his unassuming assistant.
That was his other problem, the silent threat.
Khaled was not his man
. Liman had walked into his office a few weeks ago to find Khaled was now assigned to him. Khaled didn’t owe Liman any loyalty. He couldn’t trust Khaled.
In fact, the only thing Liman could know for certain was that Khaled was passing along regular reports about Liman’s failure to those higher up.
The cost of recovering Elio was growing. There was no doubt that Elio was an invaluable resource. There was no possibility for another like him, not since the science used to enhance him had been taken away as quickly as it had been given. But Liman hadn’t been involved with that. No, Elio and the other volunteers for the stim program were Liman’s focus.
He wasn’t naïve enough to think a loss on this scale would be so easily forgiven if he had nothing to show for it. Each of his plans had been turned upside down since they began this campaign to bring Elio back into the fold.
It was time for Liman to think about himself. If this went sideways and there was no way to recover, what were his options? Did he have a chance of reaching his stash and fading away into obscurity?
SUNDAY. AEGIS GROUP Headquarters, Chicago, Illinois.
Melody felt better for having clothes that actually fit her. Merida had totally looked out for her and sent a delivery with the works including everything from jeans to a bra. There hadn’t been any face wash or her favorite pajamas. Those were things Merida didn’t know about her. But that’s what Melody had Grant for.
The grass swished around her feet as she strolled across the lawn behind the main buildings. Trainees and teams used the area to work out first thing in the morning and in the afternoons it was blocked off to use for training purposes. But for this window, it was just her, her thoughts, the crisp air and a couple birds overhead.
Well, almost.
“I always think it’s strange how we call this the Chicago office, but the Chicago suburbs are half an hour away.”
Melody turned her head and watched Grant walk toward her. She’d been wondering when he’d find her again. It hadn’t taken that long.
“It is a bit misleading, isn’t it?” She slid her hands into the pockets of her light jacket and waited for him to reach her.
He nodded. “A bit.”
“How is Vaughn?” Melody had intended to go with Grant to check on the unruly patient, but seeing as Vaughn was just getting out of the shower she’d opted to pay him a visit later. There wasn’t a lot of the guys she hadn’t seen. Close quarters on some jobs made it hard to preserve any sense of decency, but there were limits.
“Causing hell. It’s Riley I’m worried about.” Grant’s face creased with concern.
This was one of the things Melody liked about Grant. He took the well-being of their team personally. The guys didn’t talk about it, but any time they were sick or hurt, Grant always offered to lend a hand. In her case, he just showed up. When she’d taken time off to have her botched boob job fixed, she’d wanted him there with her. Then there was the long recovery period following Beirut and the gunshot wounds she’d gotten courtesy of Ethan. Grant had practically slept on her floor for fear of jostling her.
For all that he appeared gruff, he had a good heart.
“He’s torn something, but just keeps saying it needs ice and a few days off.” Grant shook his head. “Idiot’s going to hurt himself even more.”
“I could call Erin? I think she’s at his parent’s place. It wouldn’t be a long flight for her to get here. She’d manage him.”
“Manage him?” Grant chuckled and his eyes took on a new light. “Is that what you do with me?”
“Why do you think I was hired?” She quirked a brow at him.
Grant outright laughed. The way it transformed his face stole her breath. He was such a serious man. He didn’t laugh near enough.
Even a year ago that crack would have gotten a scowl and a sharp word. They’d have fought a bit about it before finally moving on. His laugh was a marker of growth.
She really hadn’t given him enough credit.
He edged closer. “Keeping me in line is a full-time job.”
“I’m afraid it is, but that’s why they pay me the big bucks.” She sighed heavily and did her best to not smile.
“I guess I’m lucky you’re good at your job?”
“Very lucky.”
“You should get a raise or something.”
“I’ll take one. Going to put in a good word for me?”
“Always.”
Grant was now standing very close. They weren’t touching, but they could be. If she swayed toward him even a little.
She couldn’t count the number of times he’d stayed over and she’d woken up sharing a bed with him, but last night and this morning were just different. It could be because the twin sized bed meant they were sandwiched together, but she hadn’t minded. Waking up, looking at him, she’d felt peace, happiness, and other things that boiled down to love.
Did he realize how much of a goner she was?
If he was serious, if he changed how he approached their relationship even a little, if he showed her more surprise paper bags with her favorites in them, he’d win her heart forever.
Would that be enough? Could she be happy?
Her heart said yes. Her brain just didn’t know.
“I was thinking that when we get back, what if you came to my place?” The laughter was gone and in his eyes was something else. “I was thinking we could do something that’s not watching TV.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Any ideas?” He tried to smile and failed. “This has been hard between us and the guys. I just think a quiet night at home doing something would be nice.”
“Yeah, okay.” If he was going to make an effort, so could she. “There’s a farmer’s market on Saturdays I like to go to. Maybe next weekend you come to my place and I cook you something different?”
“As long as the food doesn’t move, I’ll try it.”
She chuckled. “It’ll be cooked, I swear.”
Two dates, no TV, new things. It was a good start.
“I’d really like to kiss you right now, but I can’t.” He sighed.
Melody inwardly preened, but she wasn’t ready to break their rule about private and personal. “I like knowing you think about me. You compartmentalize so well sometimes I wonder if you switch that part of yourself off.”
“Me?” His brows rose then he shook his head. “I’m the one who compartmentalizes? Have you looked in a mirror? You have got to have one of the best poker faces I’ve ever seen.”
“Do I?” She chuckled. “I never turned that in when I stopped being a cop.”
“They issue poker faces?”
“They did to my class. Special issue.”
Grant reached out and grasped the edges of her jacket, tugging her just that much closer to him. “Things are going to be very different after we get home.”
God, she wanted them to be different.
She tilted her chin up then decided, what the hell?
Melody lifted up on tip-toe and pressed a soft, brief kiss to his lips.
So what if anyone saw?
Maybe they needed to be more open about things, stop compartmentalizing, start being more honest.
“I’m looking forward to that,” she said.
“One thing has to happen first.” His smile faded. “I asked to be part of the team moving Ethan. Omega Team just left on a time sensitive job so it’s going to be a whole batch of fresh meat guys, me, Nolan and Brenden.”
She laid her hand on his chest so she could feel his heart pulsing under her touch. “And me. You aren’t the only one who needs to see this through till the end.”
Because when she got home, she had plans and she didn’t want Grant distracted by an unfinished job.
14.
Sunday. Private Medical Research Facility, Chicago, Illinois.
The white and beige hall stretched out ahead of Grant as he followed behind Admiral Crawford to where Ethan Turner had taken up residence, albeit against his wi
ll. Grant hadn’t seen much of the facility, but seriously doubted their ability to protect Ethan. A trained team would bust in and mow through the staff with next to no problems. There were too many points of entry. Not enough reinforced doors. Too much glass. It was all round a bad location.
Moving Ethan was the right call.
“Here he is.” Admiral Crawford gestured at the last door on their left.
He led the way into the small room preceding Ethan’s holding cell. Two techs were monitoring devices while through the window a familiar man sat slumped forward over his meal. An IV bag was positioned next to him, feeding liquids and hopefully sedatives into him.
“How did you knock him out?” Melody asked.
Grant grimaced. “Drug his food?”
“No. A method of sedation only works once before Ethan figures out how to avoid it. This time they pumped gas into the room to knock him out.” Crawford turned to look at Grant. Crawford’s expression was pained, troubled. “I don’t like doing this to him. What alternatives do we have? If we let him go, we don’t know what he’ll do, hurt or kill. If we turn him over to the government, will they do any better for him?”
Crawford glanced at the sleeping body of Grant, so much pain on his face.
It had only taken Grant one meeting with Crawford to know he was the kind of leader Grant wanted to be someday. What Crawford said, he meant. Ethan’s predicament really mattered to him.
“We aren’t judging you, sir,” Grant said into the silence.
Melody took a step closer to the door. “If I were in Ethan’s shoes, if that were me, I’d hope you’d do the same for me.”
“You’re still willing to ride with him?” Crawford asked Melody.
“Yes,” she said without hesitation.
Grant restrained himself from offering his opinion about that. Ethan would be restrained and drugged, but according to Marco it was a constant guessing game of what would keep Ethan under. The man’s biology was no longer natural. Drugs didn’t work on him as they should.
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