Finding the Fight: A Stealth Ops Novel
Page 6
Knox smiled and shook her hand. “Yeah, I’m Charlie, but you can call me Knox.”
“And I’m Liam.” He took her hand next and flipped it over to kiss the top. “Pleasure to meet you, darlin’.”
“Don’t even think about it,” Asher hissed.
Liam held his hands in the air with a knowing smile.
“You guys can go on in. I need a minute with Sarah.” He waited for the door to close as he gathered his thoughts, his heart pounding wildly, his lungs burning. “If Mom doesn’t know about Angelo, why does she think you and I need an ‘intervention’?”
“Because I told her we were in a fight, but I didn’t tell her why.” Her dark eyes pinned to his, defiance glinting in her irises.
He’d missed so much of her life. Even though they’d stayed in touch through emails and texts, maybe he’d been a shit brother. Maybe what she’d said to him last night had been right. He’d turned his back—not just on his past, but on her.
“After you left, Angelo told me what happened back in the day.” Her eyes lowered to the floor as if she couldn’t stand to meet his gaze. “He told me he was the one who’d assaulted that guy, but you took the fall and ended up in jail.” Her fingers swept to her collarbone. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“Would it have mattered?”
Her eyes jerked up to find his. “Yes. Maybe I wouldn’t have blamed you for leaving. I wouldn’t have been so pissed at you for disappearing not too long after Dad . . .” She dropped her words, her throat catching with emotion. “You’re happy doing what you do?”
He wrapped a hand around the nape of his neck and eyed his sister, trying to understand he was now looking at a woman instead of a kid. “Yeah. I’m doing what I was meant to do.”
She gave a light nod. “Then you should know I’m finally happy, too. Angelo makes me happy. Despite his faults, I finally feel like I can be me.” She paused for a moment. “You don’t have to like it, but it won’t change the fact I want to be with him.”
“You don’t know him like I do.”
She took a small step back. “I know him a lot better than you do. And people do change.”
“He’s a criminal, Sarah,” he said as steadily as possible. “He’ll hurt you in one way or another. I promise.”
“Fortunately for me, it’s not for you to decide.” She turned and opened the door, and he caught her arm.
“Please. Think about this.”
“I already have. I’m sorry.” She disappeared inside, leaving him in the hall with his thoughts.
He dragged his hands down his face, and a frustrated groan left his mouth before joining everyone in the dining room.
His mom wiped her hands on her apron. “There’s my boy.” She reached up to squeeze both his cheeks before planting a kiss on the left, and then the right.
“Mama,” he said, a touch of embarrassment lacing his tone.
“I’m thrilled you’ve finally brought some friends.” She shifted her focus to the long, oval table lit with candlesticks in the purposefully dim room.
Ambiance. His mother had a thing about setting the mood for every one of her meals.
“Turn that thing off!” she called out to Bill in the other room.
Asher entered the living room and found Bill watching the news.
“Hey, Asher.” He rose from his leather armchair, but Asher couldn’t reply.
His stomach dropped at the sight on the TV, the headline: Berlin Under Attack. His heart stammered, yet his pulse raced. “What’s going on?” He grabbed the remote off the coffee table and turned up the volume.
“There was a shooting followed by an explosion in Berlin a few hours ago.”
“Fuck. The Brandenburg Gate.” Asher reached into his pocket for his phone and dialed Jessica. Pick up, damn it. Her line went straight to voicemail.
He called again. Nothing.
“Someone filmed everything on their phone before the blast. Looks like a woman and officer were shot by a lone gunman. Then the guy dropped a bag and dragged another woman away with him, just before the explosion.”
Asher slowly lowered his phone to his side as his booted feet strode toward the screen. The footage wasn’t great, but it was a blonde with the gunman . . . a blonde with the same build as Jessica.
Her face wasn’t visible, but . . .
“Liam! Knox!” Their names roared from his lips. “There’s been an incident in Berlin.” He checked the time on his phone when he’d sent his text earlier to Jessica and compared it to the report on the news. “I can’t get ahold of Jessica, and—”
Liam entered the room and caught sight of the TV. “I’m sure she’s fine.”
Asher faced him and held his phone in the air. “Have you ever known Jessica not to answer a call from us?” His muscles bunched tight as bands of tension grabbed hold of him—everything inside of him in gridlock. “What if she was the woman taken?” He pivoted back toward the screen and observed the footage play over and over again.
“Let’s get to the office and make some calls,” Knox said. “I’m sure it’s not her, but we’ll all feel better when we know for sure.”
Asher’s phone rang. “It’s Luke,” he said, numbness hijacking his body.
“What’s wrong?” His mom, removing her apron, entered the room alongside Sarah.
“I, uh, have to take this call.” He brought the phone to his ear.
“Director Rutherford needs to talk to us over a secure feed,” Luke cut straight to the point. “Can you meet me at the office?”
“This is about Jessica, isn’t it?” Asher asked, his voice low and barely audible.
There was a moment of silence. “What do you mean? What about Jessica?”
Shit. “You haven’t seen the news?”
“No.” More silence. “What the hell aren’t you telling me?”
Asher hung his head and squeezed his eyes closed, not sure how he’d level Luke with the news.
Jessica was their person. Their go-to. Their rock.
Athena, Aphrodite, and Hera all rolled into one amazing woman. A woman none of them could live without.
“There was a shooting. And an explosion. In Berlin.” Vivid scenarios percolated in his mind, one worse than the other. “Someone was taken. It may have been Jessica.” He heard his words—his fragmented thoughts. He’d be broken until he heard Jessica was okay.
“No,” Luke whispered over the line. “No,” he said again, and the line disconnected.
Asher knew exactly what Luke was going to do. Look for answers. He needed someone to tell him Asher was wrong.
But deep in his gut, Asher knew. Jessica was in trouble.
Chapter Six
Water poured over the cloth covering Jessica’s face as she laid atop the bed.
She couldn’t take a breath.
When the man removed the fabric from her face and jerked her into a seated position, she lifted her chin and gasped while glaring at him.
When she’d joined the CIA over thirteen years ago, she’d been subjected to different forms of torture to see whether she could withstand it without giving up intel.
She could handle almost anything. She’d been reminding herself this for the last few hours, at least.
The Farm had beaten the weakness out of her, and by the time she’d become an officer, she’d been hardened into someone she’d barely recognized. She’d become a block of ice the agency had shaped into what they wanted.
Her captor’s eyes thinned beneath his mask. He shoved her flat onto the bed again in the vine-covered and graffiti-walled room. From what she could gather, she was in an old hospital probably dating back to the days of the Nazis and eugenics.
More water splashed over the cloth, creating the sensation of drowning.
She tried to go back to her training in her head, to stay focused and not give in to him . . . but her thoughts drifted to the past.
Don’t you think we should help Ara and the others? Jessica had asked Asher. Her body
had been sweaty and pressed tight against his on the small bed in the barracks.
You’re asking me? I don’t usually deal with the aftermath of what I do. I just get the job done and then—
Move on? Hadn’t she always moved on, too, though?
Her thoughts scattered. Breaking into fragments as she regained her focus and made her way back to the moment. A moment she didn’t want to be in.
Ara.
And, oh . . . the water.
She was growing dizzy.
Stay strong, she commanded herself as her captor jerked her upright, freeing her of the cloth.
She sucked in slow and deliberate breaths, so she didn’t become more light-headed.
He set down the empty jug and tossed the cloth onto a medical rolling table.
He had two portable heaters on the right and left sides of her bed. It was clear he planned on keeping her there for a while, and he didn’t want her to die from the cold since the room lacked central heating.
“Who do you work for?”
She refused to give him anything, not even her tears. No, she’d save crying for when she made it out of there.
He turned his back to her when she remained quiet, and she checked her shackled hands before sweeping her focus to her roped feet. Maybe she could escape? She wasn’t attached to the bed, so if she could knock him out somehow?
“Your passport says you’re Stephanie Patterson.” He thumbed through the pages of her alias. “But we both know that’s not your real name. The girls call you Stephanie, though.”
He was trying to bait her. To scare her into giving up information by bringing up the girls. But this man had no idea whom he was dealing with.
“Fuck you.” It was the first time she’d spoken.
He faced her again. “There you are.” His accent was German. Austrian German, maybe.
She cataloged the few details about him, in case—
“What do you do for work?” he asked, interrupting her thoughts.
She remained quiet.
He set her passport down. “You helped Ara become Nahla. You smuggled her to Berlin. Why?”
Nahla, in Arabic, meant drink of water, and now . . .
He turned to grab another water jug from the line of ten on the dirty concrete floor.
He’d given her too much recovery time. A dumb idea on his part.
She shifted off the bed and, as he turned to face her, flung the weight of her arms at the jug, knocking it from his grasp, splashing water everywhere.
“You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?”
She attempted to shuffle in the direction of a black duffel bag—it had to house his guns. If only she could—
He knocked her to the ground.
Her cheek smashed into the concrete, and he pressed the heel of his hand to her face against the grimy floor.
His knee went to her back. She was forced to take the brunt of his weight with her cuffs beneath her, digging into her stomach.
“I don’t normally deal with the living.” His hot breath, even through the mask, had her skin crawling and her eyes sealing tight.
He shifted off her a few seconds later and dragged her to her feet, jerking her around to face him.
With open eyes, she managed not to blink as his fist came straight at her face, knocking her momentarily back to the past.
Again! her instructor had shouted during her training at the Farm. If you get hit, suck it up and take it like a man. Don’t let them sense weakness.
What if I can’t? What if he’s too strong? Jessica had scrambled to her feet and lifted her fists on the boxing mat.
Your only weakness right now is in here, he’d said while tapping at his skull. If he can’t get in here, he can’t get to you anywhere.
Jessica took another punch from her captor—this time to her left cheek.
She raised her cuffed hands to deflect his next punch, but he forced her arms down and elbowed her in the face.
“CIA? FBI? Who else knows about Ara?”
This time, a hard punch to the stomach had her stumbling back, losing her footing. Her tailbone slammed hard against the concrete.
She tipped her chin to the ceiling and closed her eyes, trying to remember the rest of her training.
Stick to the cover. Speak to the story. Be the alias. Live and breathe it.
She’d forgotten. Failed.
She’d acted too strong. Too tough.
But maybe it didn’t matter. He somehow knew of her connection to Ara.
“Who do you work for?” He grabbed the cuffs and yanked on them, forcing her upright again, the metal scraping against her flesh. “Who are you?”
“I’m somebody who will make you pay for what you did to her,” she said through gritted teeth, trying not to lose the fight inside of her.
He cocked his head, wrapped a hand around her throat, and squeezed.
She lifted her arms between them to clutch at his wrist, trying not to resist too much to save her energy and breath.
“Tell me what you know, or I will kill you, just as I killed her.”
You’ll kill me anyway.
“Are you willing to let the girls die, too?”
His fingertips dug harder, and she could feel the rise of her pulse fighting for life in her neck.
For the second time that night, everything went black.
Chapter Seven
“There’s no easy way to put this.” CIA Director Rutherford’s face filled the screen on the wall in the conference room.
Luke, Knox, Liam, and Asher stood at attention, waiting for news they knew would come and didn’t want to hear.
“At seven p.m. in Berlin, a lone shooter took out two people and abducted a third just before plastic explosives were detonated. The BND phoned an hour ago to let us know they got a positive match on the woman taken.” There was a pause as his light-blue eyes narrowed. “Stephanie Patterson.”
“No,” Asher said between barely parted lips.
“Jessica’s alias,” Luke whispered.
The director leaned back in his desk chair. “The Germans don’t seem to know Jessica’s true identity, and they wouldn’t divulge the name of the female victim gunned down who’d been with Jessica at the time. I’m guessing they haven’t yet ID’d the victim, given the site of the blast was ten feet away from the body.”
“Her phone must’ve been destroyed in the blast, which is why I couldn’t track her location,” Luke said in a low voice.
Asher glanced at Luke, the color in the man’s face deepening to a reddish hue, anger slicing through him.
“What else do we know?” Knox spoke up since it was clear Luke was in shock.
Asher couldn’t get his lips to move either, though. He turned his back to the screen and stormed over to the conference table and braced himself against it with balled hands.
His thoughts began to derail.
A loss of focus had him remembering . . .
You’d look good sprawled naked across this table. The words had accidentally slipped out a few months after Asher had first begun working with Jessica.
Her face had heated. Those walls of ice melted, but only for a moment, as her long lashes batted a few times. You promised not to even think about me naked.
In my defense, I spoke the words instead of thinking them. He winked and circumvented the table to get closer to her.
Her arms folded, which only accentuated her breasts in her silky white blouse. Defense 101.
Luke is on his way in here, she rushed out. Are you in the mood for an ass-kicking?
He won’t—
What makes you think I was talking about him? She arched a brow, and her confidence and attitude had his dick stirring in his pants. You can’t have me again, she said a moment later, but her eyes lowered to his jeans.
He didn’t think she’d even realized she’d swept her luscious red lip between her white teeth, a signal she still wanted him as much as he wanted her.
Now, she was gone.
His team faced him. Eyes wide and waiting for more.
“Every time Jessica goes to Berlin, she sees Nahla Assi.” Asher’s spine straightened, and he rubbed his hands down his jaw before blowing out a breath. “Formerly known as Ara Hadeed, the niece to Yasser Hadeed. Hadeed was the former leader of the al-Nusra Front.”
The director’s eyes connected with Asher’s. When he didn’t say anything else, Rutherford looked to Luke for more information.
But Luke wouldn’t have the answers. He didn’t know the truth.
“Jessica was under strict orders to abstain from any contact with her,” Rutherford said. “What the hell aren’t you telling me?”
Liam and Knox glanced Asher’s way, concern flickering across their faces. He couldn’t get himself to find Luke’s eyes, to risk the look of betrayal he’d find there.
So he glanced skyward for a moment, trying to corral his thoughts. “The CIA may have turned its back on Ara Hadeed and those girls, but Jessica didn’t.” He couldn’t say more because they didn’t have time to waste. “We need to focus on getting her back.”
“There’s no way I’m going to sit around and let the BND or BKA handle this, not with Jessica’s life on the line,” Luke rasped.
The director shook his head. “This isn’t your fight. I’m sorry. The president is turning this over to German officials and the CIA.”
“What?” Asher stalked closer to the screen. “No damn way. She’s one of us. We can’t—”
“First of all,” he began, cutting Asher off, “you know the rules about what happens if one of you are captured.” He loosened the tie around his neck. “And second of all, Jessica should never have been in contact with Ara Hadeed.” Air filled his cheeks for a moment. A battle between being worried and pissed flared in his eyes. “Stand down. That’s a direct order.”