Finding the Fight: A Stealth Ops Novel

by Sahin, Brittney

  “You’re already on the approved visitor list,” the guard said when he entered the building.

  He’d nearly expected to be turned away, assuming he’d need preapproval to come, but apparently, his father had hoped he’d show some day.

  A flicker of pain grew in his chest, and he rubbed at his pec muscles while he filled out the paperwork before turning it in with his ID.

  After fifteen minutes of waiting, he was escorted with nineteen other people through two security checks, before entering an expansive room filled with rows of chairs. Vending machines took up one of the walls.

  It wasn’t what he’d expected, but then again, the movies weren’t always the best at depicting reality with respect to his own line of work.

  “Over there.” A guard pointed to a blue chair, the uncomfortable kind he remembered from grade school. “He’ll be out soon.”

  He anxiously rubbed his hands up and down his denim-clad thighs as he scanned the faces of the other visitors waiting in the room.

  When two guards opened a door near the security desk, his heart damn near exploded, as if he’d been hit with a bullet. Twenty men, all dressed in khaki from head to toe, entered the room.

  He slowly stood at the sight of his father at the back of the group. His black hair had turned silver. His once tan skin was now weathered with age.

  As he moved closer, his deep-set eyes thinned.

  “Son,” he mouthed on approach, and Asher sat back down, not able to hug him or even shake his hand.

  His dad slowly occupied the seat across from him, but Asher couldn’t bring himself to look into his eyes.

  Twenty fucking years—gone.

  And he wasn’t sure who to blame.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He leaned forward and pressed his elbows to his thighs, his fingertips rubbing at his forehead.

  “Is Sarah okay? Your mom?”

  “No.” His spine went erect as he found his father’s eyes. “But I’m betting you know what happened. No way does Angelo Moretti die and you not hear about it.” The muscles in his arms tensed, along with his jaw.

  His father’s aged hands went to his thighs, and he gripped his khaki-covered legs. “Yeah, and I know the son of a bitch almost killed your sister. Hell, she may have been the original target.”

  His heartbeat escalated, and he edged to the end of the chair, on the verge of standing. “What do you mean? Who did this?”

  “It’s being taken care of; you don’t need to get yourself involved.” His dad crossed his ankle over his knee and observed Asher.

  Asher looked around the room as it became more crowded, buzzing with conversation. No one was close enough to them for now, though. “What are you talking about?”

  “Angelo gave up the life.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he quickly replied, anxious to hear the things he didn’t know.

  “Not everyone was happy about that. When Angelo went legit, he began to draw the attention of more people. His fight club became more popular. Hell, word was the UFC was taking notice.” He stroked his graying beard. “An Irish thug took a hit on his business because of it, and he blamed Angelo for stealing his crowd.”

  “Zander Jameson?”

  His dad’s eyes widened. How was it possible his father knew so much while being locked up? Then again, he interacted with criminals on a daily basis through the revolving door of the prison. “So, you’ve heard of him.”

  “He was arguing with Angelo at a club on . . .” He couldn’t get himself to utter the word without taking a damn pause. “Valentine’s Day.”

  His father’s brows drew inward, and he sat farther back in the blue chair, shifting uncomfortably. “Angelo told his father Zander had threatened to hurt Sarah.”

  Fuck. “Why didn’t he stop seeing her, then? Why the hell didn’t he protect her?” His veins burned, anger reigniting inside him.

  “You know the Morettis. They don’t back down from a fight.” He shook his head. “The Jamesons are done. You can count on that.”

  “Angelo’s dad ordered a hit?” This was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? To have the man responsible pay? But . . .

  “Let’s talk about you.” He cocked his head. “My boy’s a Navy SEAL. Did your mother tell you how proud of you I am?”

  He bit down on his back teeth. “Let’s maybe not talk about that in a room full of criminals,” he seethed, catching his eyes.

  “Even criminals are thankful for the military.”

  “Sure,” he grumbled and roped a hand around the back of his neck, an edginess buzzing up his spine.

  “I guess it’s a good thing your mom met Bill, or maybe you’d be right where Angelo is now.” He paused. “Of course, what you do is probably not all that safe, but if you’re going to go out of this world, I couldn’t think of a better way.”

  “What?” Who the hell are you? He wanted to stand, to pace—but he figured the guards wouldn’t be in favor of that, so he kept his boots grounded to the floor.

  Asher closed his eyes, unable to view his dad. Worried he’d see a reflection of himself in those brown eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Son. I’m sorry I screwed up so bad.”

  “I shouldn’t be here.” But . . . he remained sitting.

  “I’m glad you are, though.”

  He gulped and took a breath to calm his nerves. “I wanted to kill whoever hurt Sarah, who killed Angelo.” He forced his eyes onto his dad, needing to know if he was, in fact, the same man as him. It was the other reason why he’d come, but he hadn’t known that until this moment. “I’ve lost count of how many people I’ve killed over the years.” His stomach knotted at his words. “So, I think I would’ve done it, but—”

  “Nobody fucks with family,” his dad interrupted. “But you’re not me. You’re not Angelo’s dad. So, no, Son, you wouldn’t have done it.”

  Asher shifted so his back touched the seat now, and he crossed his arms. “I am capable of . . .” He didn’t know if he could voice the truth aloud, though. “I did something else.” He swallowed. “I killed someone without orders.” The surrounding chatter absorbed his words.

  “I’m guessing that person hurt someone you care about? Someone you love, maybe?”

  What’d his father know about love? “Maybe I should go.”

  “Please,” he said while holding a palm in the air, “don’t.”

  Asher rubbed at his beard, trying to make sense of the fact he was truly sitting across from a man he’d written off twenty years ago.

  Jessica. His mind blew to images of her, to the woman who’d been like a reset button in his life, bringing new meaning to everything.

  She’d forgiven Samir. Forgiven him for Egon. Could he forgive his father?

  “Call off the hit.” His words—his request—took him by surprise.

  “What?” His dad’s head jerked back.

  “I’ll make sure Zander ends up behind bars. You can count on that.”

  “That won’t be enough for Moretti. You know that. Zander could end up back on the streets like he did last time he was arrested.”

  Asher rolled his shoulders back. “Or he could end up in here. With you. With Mr. Moretti.”

  “So, you are okay with him dying?” He lifted a brow.

  “It’s not up to me. It’s up to the courts,” he said, knowing deep in his gut he’d made a mistake back in Austria by taking Egon’s life. And it was a mistake he wasn’t entirely sure he could come back from, even with Jessica’s forgiveness.

  “I guess . . . we’ll see if justice prevails then,” his dad slowly said.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Asher blocked an uppercut and ducked out of the way of a follow-up punch. He shifted on the balls of his feet, but when his eyes landed on Luke heading his way, he took a kick to the jaw at the loss of focus.

  “Talk about timing.” Luke draped his arms over the rope of the fighting ring. “Sorry about that.”

  Asher shook it off and looked at the fig
hter in the ring. “Give me five.” He grabbed a water bottle and sucked it down before approaching Luke. “How’d you find me? My phone is off.”

  “This is the closest fighting gym to your hotel.”

  “I switched hotels,” he grumbled back.

  “Yeah, you could’ve given us the heads-up before we banged on the door this morning and scared the hell out of an old man.” Luke climbed over the rope to step inside.

  “Why are you here?”

  “The funeral is tomorrow, and you’ve been off the grid ever since Zander was arrested five days ago.” Luke eyed him steadily.

  “For a reason.” He shook out his arms, trying to loosen the tension inside of him.

  Zander and his crew were behind bars, thanks to the evidence Jessica and his team had anonymously offered the police. Ironclad case. No technicalities this time. But he didn’t feel better. And he wasn’t ready to have round two of a conversation with Jessica yet.

  “The team’s worried about you,” Luke said. “Your mom. Sister.”

  His words had Asher dropping his gaze to the padded floor.

  “How is getting beaten up going to solve your problems?” he asked. “Because, based on your face, you’ve been letting someone hit you.” He stripped off his jacket and tossed it to the side. “If you want someone to fight, you can fight me instead.”

  Asher nearly laughed. “I’m not fighting you.”

  “Why not? You think I can’t handle you?”

  “You can hold your own,” he said with a sigh. “But—”

  “But what?” Luke positioned himself in front of him with raised fists. “We throw down all the time. And we’ll keep doing it if it helps.”

  “Not gonna happen.” His shoulder blades pinched together, and he turned his back on him. “Go home.”

  “Not leaving here without you.”

  He motioned for the fighter waiting in the wings. “I need time.”

  “You need to grieve, but maybe you shouldn’t do it like this.” Luke wouldn’t back down, damn it.

  The fighter outside the ring did, unfortunately. He turned and walked away.

  This wasn’t what he needed right now. No, all he wanted was to hit something. To be hit. “I don’t know if I can be on the team anymore. Maybe I should never have been on it to begin with. You should’ve let my superiors can my ass three and a half years ago.” A bitter anger barked up his spine.

  “No.” Luke shook his head. “You’re Bravo. One of us.”

  Asher swallowed. “I broke orders in Austria,” he unleashed the truth. “I took the kill shot. There was no hostage.”

  He waited for Luke to process the news, but there was no change in his eyes, or in the way he stood. He didn’t look the least bit surprised, actually.

  “How’d you know? Jessica told you?” He locked his arms across his damp chest.

  Luke pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, she didn’t tell me.”

  “Then, how?” His mind raced as he digested the fact Luke had known the truth and had never said anything to him about it.

  “Because when I did a sweep of the area where you killed him, I found a camera we hadn’t accounted for. I scrubbed the footage to hide the evidence,” he said in a low voice when he met his eyes.

  A tightness stretched across his chest. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “What was there to say?” he asked. “I probably would’ve done the same thing. The man was an assassin who tortured my sister.” He paused for a moment. “Egon had thirty-seven confirmed kills before you took him out. And you want to know how many kids died when he covered a kill with one of his explosions in Hong Kong last year?”

  Asher held up his hand, not able to hear more.

  “Egon belongs in a place worse than hell,” Luke rasped.

  Asher hung his head. “Doesn’t change the fact you once said we don’t take justice into our own hands.”

  And he’d been on the verge of doing it again with Angelo’s killer had Jessica not talked him off the cliff.

  “Shit changes when it comes to one of our own.”

  Asher’s shoulders flared backward at his words.

  “You used to stay so far on the right side of the line you could barely even see it. And now, you’re saying it’s okay I did what I did?”

  “I told you when you joined the team that every once in a while I need someone to remind me what’s right isn’t always protocol. Austria’s one of those times.”

  “I don’t believe you would’ve killed Egon.” The muscles in his body grew more rigid. “You’re a better man than me.”

  “Yeah? If that were true, why would I be okay with you being with my sister?”

  His words practically nailed him to the floor, and he rubbed a hand over his jaw.

  “I want her to be happy, and apparently, you make her happy.” Luke gripped the back of his neck and closed his eyes for a brief second. “After the funeral, take some time to clear your head. Get away for a while.”

  “What makes you think I’ll come back?”

  “Because you love her, remember? And I know you’d never hurt her.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Bravo and Echo were there. They hadn’t even known Angelo, but they’d come. They’d shown up at the funeral, and now they were at the reception.

  Jessica hadn’t said a word to him since she’d appeared in her black dress and heels. Her eyes would meet his for a fleeting moment over the past few hours and then drift away.

  That was on him, though.

  He’d been avoiding her all week.

  But right now, he could feel her eyes on his back as he sucked down a drink, nodding at something a buddy was saying to him, even though he was in a total daze.

  He’d considered going to some of the old haunts this past week, but he couldn’t bring himself to walk down memory fucking lane to remember the days before he’d left for the Navy.

  “You’ve been fighting again?” Sarah’s arm was still in a sling, and it had his jaw clenching at the sight.

  His friend parted ways with him now, and Asher lowered his tumbler from his lips and cocked his head, giving his sister his full attention. “What gave you that idea?”

  She reached for his cheek with her good arm, and her fingers lightly feathered over his bruises. “The fight club’s been closed down; so, where have you been going?”

  Once she dropped her hand to her side, he finished his drink. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything. His thoughts were still cloudy.

  “Angelo changed, Asher. I know you didn’t believe him.” Her lashes swept down as she gathered a breath.

  “I know.”

  She peered back at him. “Dad said you visited. That meant a lot to him.”

  He’d learned his mom still visited his old man, but was his sister really in contact with him as well?

  “Yeah, we, uh, talk.” She finished her wine and rolled her lips inward before finally speaking. “After college, we reconnected. I decided to visit him on a whim, and then it turned into a regular monthly thing.”

  “Monthly?” His hand snaked up to the back of his neck, and he squeezed as tension shot through him. “Why?”

  “Bill’s great and all, but Dad’s Dad. You know?”

  “No, I don’t know. He’s a murd—” He cut himself off, realizing the hypocrisy of his choice of words. Wasn’t he technically a killer, too? Shit. “And Mom visits, too, huh?”

  She glanced toward their mother; she was talking to Angelo’s sister, who’d come down from Boston for the funeral. “She visits once or twice a year. Always has.”

  He looked down at the floor, his mind racing. “Does Bill know?”

  “Of course.” She reached for his arm, and he looked into his sister’s big brown eyes. “Dad may have killed someone, but he promises it was an accident, and I’m choosing to believe him.”

  Her words had him stepping back and out of her reach.

  More forgiveness. It was going around, apparen
tly.

  “But let’s not think about that right now. Today is about Angelo.” Her eyes began to well. “And you were right about one thing in regard to him. You warned me. You said he’d hurt me.” Her voice cracked. “Falling in love is painful, and so, I guess if you never do it, you can’t get hurt.”

  “That’s not what I meant, but—”

  “I’m done, you know? Everyone I ever care about leaves. Dad. You. Greg.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “Now, Angelo.”

  “Don’t talk like that.” He set his glass down on the bar top table near him.

  What was he supposed to say right now? Something insightful? Hopeful? He was too messed up to think straight himself, let alone offer words of wisdom.

  “I’m so sorry,” he managed and pulled her in for a hug. He held her tight against him as she cried, but his eyes landed on Jessica’s as she now stood with his mom, ten feet away.

  The beats of his heart seemed to slow as he observed her, everything inside of him tensing as he eyed the woman he loved.

  His sister was right. Falling in love was hard. And it did hurt.

  But he also didn’t know if he could handle the alternative—a life without it.

  A few minutes later, he pulled away from his sister and found Sarah’s eyes. “I’m going to be a better brother. I promise.”

  She forced a smile to her lips, but before she could respond, a friend placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her in for a hug.

  Asher strode across the room to Jessica.

  “Can we talk?” he asked her.

  “Um.” She blinked. “Yeah.” She looked at his mom. “Excuse me.”

  He grabbed her coat by the door and offered it to her before they stepped out onto the street.

  “Are you okay?” She tightened the belt of her coat and observed him.

  “I will be.” He brushed his hands down his face. “But I need to get away, to take some time to process everything that’s happened.”

  Her breath floated into the cool air. “Okay.” But there was hesitation in her eyes.

  Without thinking, he closed the small gap between them and took hold of her face between his palms the way she had back at the office last week when she talked him off the ledge.