Irished (The Invincibles Book 7)

by Heather Slade

  “I will be here when you get back, Paxon. Every time, I’ll be waiting for you.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Then I will treasure the gifts you’ve given me. I’ll remember your hands on my body and so much more than that. How it felt when you first held me and we danced. The look on your face when you told me how pretty I looked. The desire I see in your eyes right now. I’ll remember it all for the rest of my life.”

  When she put her hands on the hem of my shirt, I pulled it over my head. We slept on and off that way. Both of us naked from the waist up. When she turned her back to my front, I rested both hands on her breasts. Like her, I wanted to remember how it felt once I was gone.

  It felt as though only minutes had passed when the alarm on my phone signaled it was time for me to get ready to leave.

  “Is it okay if I stay here awhile?” she asked.

  How I wanted to ask her not to leave until I returned—to be waiting for me in the bed we shared.

  I wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and walked to the front door of the cabin with her by my side.

  “You mean so much to me. I hope you know that, Flynn.”

  “I more than know it, Paxon. I feel it.”

  “I feel it too.”

  She was on my mind during the flight to California, even while Decker and Gunner outlined each carefully planned step of the op during which we’d extract William “Xander” Harris from the black jail cottage where Decker was certain he was being kept.

  I thought about her as we walked into Doc’s Montecito home, just outside Santa Barbara, where we picked up tactical gear and the weapons that would be necessary to execute this phase of the mission that had been part of my life for so long that there were times I couldn’t remember what it had felt like before. Except when I was with Flynn. Then, I remembered.

  More, I longed for it to be over. Once it was, I had no idea what I’d do with my life other than spend as much of it with her as she’d let me.

  When we left for the airfield, Decker accompanied us. Instead of getting on the plane we’d be taking to Taiwan, he boarded a smaller aircraft that would transport him to Texas.

  “Godspeed,” he said, shaking each of our hands. I was last and he embraced me. “Let’s end this, Irish. Once and for all.”

  My eyes met Saint’s when right before he boarded, he gave me a head nod. While they’d said it was my decision, I made certain Doc was comfortable with the former MI6 agent accompanying him, Razor, Gunner, Lynx, and I on this side of the mission.

  Those remaining at Roaring Fork Ranch would be working with Money to develop a new offer for former Director Fisk in the hope that whatever information we couldn’t get out of Harris, we’d get from him.

  I slept as much as my brain would allow me during the thirteen-hour flight, knowing I would need to be well rested for what came after we landed.

  When I couldn’t sleep, I reviewed each step we were about to take as they were outlined. I looked up when Gunner sat beside me. It had changed since Decker initially talked about it. He and Gunner had modified the original plan to eliminate travel on land as much as possible.

  “We get in, we get out, and we bring everyone home with us. While this may be your first extraction, it isn’t the first time you’ve relied on your gut to get you through a mission.”

  “Copy that.”

  “I have a question for you.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “How badly do you want this fucker brought back alive?”

  “I can’t answer that. I’ve been weighing that question over and over in my own mind. Knowing what he’s been responsible for facilitating, it will be difficult for me not to kill him myself. What we need from him, though, if we can get him to give it to us, is crucial to us ending this—once and for all.”

  “Roger that. I’ll do my best not to get trigger-happy, but it ain’t gonna be easy.”

  42

  Irish

  With any op, we planned for success but were prepared for what to do when the worst happened. Even in the midst of it, I felt like I was outside my body, watching its execution being carried out by someone else.

  Once we were in the seaplane, I looked down at the East China Sea, mesmerized by the way the water ebbed and flowed, even so far from a shoreline.

  We landed in the river off Zhoushan, under the cover of the night sky, and loaded onto the boats that would take us from there, up the Yangtze to the Huangpu River. I looked out at the shoreline of the country that I’d seen for so long as the land of my enemy. I’d stopped seeing it as a place of homes and families. A place where generations of people lived and worked, from birth to death, most never believing an entire nation could be their enemy. Even their own.

  “He better fucking be here,” I heard Gunner mutter under his breath when the boat he and I were in came close enough to the shore that we could get out and execute the most important—and most dangerous—part of the entire mission.

  As we crept through the heavy forest and it came into view, the place where we believed Xander was being kept looked, as Decker predicted, like a simple cottage—except for the heavy bars covering the doors and windows that I could see through my night-vision goggles.

  As we approached, I used a hand-held Doppler radar device that would determine the number of people inside and whether there was any movement. According to what I saw on the screen, there were three and none were doing anything more than breathing.

  We rounded the house to where Decker had said we’d find a window leading into a crawl space just beneath an area adjacent to the room where the radar showed a single person.

  Gunner, known as the grand master of stealth, was tasked with extracting Harris while the rest of us provided cover both inside and out. Doc and Razor followed him in.

  From where Saint and I stood by the entry point, I heard two quick pfooots—the sound of guns equipped with silencers being fired. I looked at the radar device and saw that there was no movement from the two bodies that had been in the other area of the house.

  Seconds later, Gunner came out, carrying who I assumed was Harris in his arms.

  “Go, go, go,” I heard him shout through my earpiece as the rest of us scattered into the forest on our way to where Lynx waited with the boat.

  I could see the water’s edge when I heard shots being fired.

  “Keep going,” Saint shouted at me, spinning around with his gun drawn.

  “Fuck, no!” I shouted back. I could see the movement of two people in the forest and shot in their direction as I continued running backward toward the boat.

  “Bloody fucking hell!” I heard Saint yell right before I saw him go down.

  While still firing, I raced over and grabbed his arm. “Can you walk?”

  “Negative. Got hit in the leg.”

  I holstered my gun and picked him up using the fireman’s carry. “Cover us,” I shouted to Razor and Doc as I raced to the boat.

  “Leg wound,” I told Gunner when he helped me get Saint inside and seated so I could check the bleeding. It was minimal which meant the bullet hadn’t hit an artery.

  “Move out!” Razor shouted, jumping into the boat, behind Doc. Lynx went full throttle while the two men stood near at the aft, continuing to fire at those on the shore, picking them off one by one.

  “Change the departure location,” Gunner shouted at Razor.

  “Roger that.”

  I heard him contact the pilot of the seaplane and tell him to meet us at the mouth of the Yangtze River, which was seventy-five nautical miles closer than Zhoushan.

  I looked over at Gunner, who appeared to be checking Harris’ vitals. “Is he alive?”

  “Just barely.”

  “Jinyan’s death must’ve been leaked,” said Doc.

  Gunner shook his head. “Or the people guarding him hated the fucker as much as I do.”

  Doc, who was given his code name because he was a physician’s assistant, asked Gunner to move out of hi
s way. “We need him to stay alive at least long enough to interrogate him,” I heard him say under his breath.

  During the flight on the seaplane as well as the flight to the US on the K19 jet, Doc continued to monitor Harris’ condition after he removed the bullet from Saint’s leg and stitched him up.

  “How is he?” I asked when Saint came out of the stateroom, limping but otherwise appearing uninjured.

  “If you mean Harris, Doc said it would be touch and go. He’s got a saline IV going along with administering pain meds.”

  “Fuck the pain meds,” grumbled Gunner. “It’s one thing to keep the bastard alive. It’s another to keep him pain free.”

  “We need to talk about what the plan will be after we arrive back in the States,” I said when Doc stepped out of the stateroom.

  “Burns is setting that up now. We’ll keep Harris on the West Coast temporarily. Once we’ve accomplished our part of the interrogation, we’ll let Money take over.”

  Which meant that until we were finished, regardless of how long that might take, our return to the US had to remain classified. There would be no way for me to alert Flynn I was in the States, let alone try to see her.

  In the back of my mind, I knew this was a possibility. That didn’t do anything to assuage the disappointment I felt knowing I’d be a two-hour flight away from her and unable to communicate even by text.

  We established a base on the Central Coast of California after we arrived in the States. K19 kept a safe house in a place called Harmony, just south of a town called Cambria, where Razor and Gunner owned a duplex that sat on the bluffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

  We established a rotating schedule so there were a minimum of two people in Harmony with Harris at all times. When we weren’t, we’d take turns catching sleep while also monitoring the fallout from Xander’s extraction. As was typical with China, there was no chatter whatsoever about the man they’d recently announced to the world they’d granted asylum to.

  The fact that they’d made the announcement initially was, as Money had said, designed to let the US know they were open to negotiation for his release.

  Doc continued monitoring the man’s care. After remaining critical for several days, he finally announced that while Harris wasn’t completely out of danger, he was ready to downgrade him to serious.

  We were one step closer to beginning the interrogations we’d spent several days crafting. The single most important piece of information we needed to get out of Xander was how much of the Argead network remained functional. We all agreed it would be the thing he’d be least willing to give up.

  On our sixth day in California, I received a call from Burns Butler. “Hello, sir,” I answered.

  “Irish, I want you to know that my wife, Sorcha, has been pestering our oldest son endlessly about when you will be available for a visit to our ranch. Kade, knowing he is no match for his mother’s tenacity, has agreed to give you up for the afternoon tomorrow.”

  “I’m sorry to be the cause of trouble, sir.”

  “On the contrary. ’Tis Sorcha who is relentless in her pursuit of an audience with you. I’ll advise you to come on an empty stomach as she’ll prepare a feast in your honor that she will insist you gorge yourself on.”

  “Laird!” I heard a woman’s voice shout in the background.

  “Oh dear. I’ve been found out. Kade will brief you on your transport, and we very much look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

  As it happened, Doc and I were on duty together at the Harmony house when the call came in. I sheepishly went looking for him after it ended.

  “I’m sorry,” I began, but he raised his hand.

  “Please, I’m the one who should apologize. You have risen to the role of godlike-superhero status with my mother, and she will not let up until she’s had her audience with you.”

  “I didn’t do anything anyone else wouldn’t have done.”

  “As Gunner says far too often, bullshit.” Doc laughed, and so did I. “Listen, Irish, you did good. When someone says ‘thank you,’ say ‘you’re welcome.’”

  “Burns said you’d brief me on transportation tomorrow.”

  “Right. My brother Naughton will pick you up. I’ll text you the directions to the helipad. It’s right outside Cambria.”

  “Helipad?”

  “Like I said, just say ‘you’re welcome.’”

  43

  Flynn

  “Believe me, plane travel for normal people is nothing like this,” said Stella when we boarded the small plane.

  “Thank you for coming with me.”

  “Look at this,” she said, waving her arm. “Who wouldn’t have offered to accompany you.”

  “You have to be away from Buck, though.”

  “I’m only staying until you’re safely delivered, and then I’m turning right around and coming back.”

  I looked in the direction of the rear of the plane, where Ink sat. There was no question of whether I’d be safe. Terrified out of my wits about flying was a whole different story.

  44

  Irish

  Doc offered to give me a lift to the helipad, saying there was something he wanted to discuss with me.

  “You’d think the ranch was hours away. Honestly, I could’ve driven you there in less time than it will take the helicopter to land, you to get on board, and for it to take off again. And before you say anything, the wrath I’d face from my mother if I did that is what prevented me from suggesting it.”

  I looked out the window at the view of the Pacific Ocean. I hadn’t spent much time on the West Coast, but I certainly understood why Doc, Gunner, and Razor kept homes there.

  He pulled off the main road and drove down what looked more like a dirt path. He stopped by an open field and cut the engine.

  “Irish, I’m going to make you an offer you don’t have to accept. All I ask is that you hear me out before you make a decision one way or another.”

  I couldn’t help but think he was about to offer me a job. I was certainly willing to hear him out. Making a decision about anything to do with my future wasn’t something I was prepared to do.

  He turned his head to face me. “You’ve given up a quarter of your life to this mission. As someone who did the same for most of my life, not to one mission but to many, I want to share with you what it took me far too long to learn.”

  “Okay.”

  “Two things. First, you don’t have to do it all. You have a team around you—two, in fact—who are willing to step up. Second, there is a life outside of work waiting for you. It is worth running as fast as you can in that direction. Seize whatever happiness is offered to you. No excuses. No delays. No putting anything else first. Take it by the reins and hold on tight. It’s a helluva ride. Sometimes rough but always worth it.”

  “You mentioned you wanted me to wait until you were finished to make a decision.”

  “Right.” Doc rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Irish, I want you to walk away and let us finish this.” Before I could even open my mouth to respond, he put his hand on my arm. “You’re too close. Worse, you feel as though every death of every agent sits heavily on your shoulders. None of them do, Irish. Not a single one. This isn’t about the glory of finally ending the reign of terror of Argead and everyone associated with it. This is about it already being over. Let the cleaners come in and do their job. After that, let the judges ensure justice is served.”

  “You want me to walk away?”

  He shook his head. “The battle is won. I feel it in my bones the same as you do. Whatever we learn from Harris or even Fisk, won’t be much different than we already know it to be. There are three or four loose ends, but those are easily tied up. In fact, I’m pretty sure two already are. Lemme look.” He pulled out his phone and swiped the screen before handing it to me.

  The intelligence brief that appeared on the screen confirmed that Kim Ha-joon, secretary-general of Interpol, had been killed when the helicopter he was t
raveling in crashed upon takeoff.

  “Maybe now wasn’t the best time for me to show you that,” he said, pointing to where one was about to land not far from where we were parked.

  “You said there were two you believed were tied up.”

  “The second one is harder for me to confirm. However, I can tell you that Boris Antonov has a lot of explaining to do after the head of United Russia received compromising photos of his wife cavorting with his heir apparent.”

  I thought back to when Ali made reference to a brief she’d received predicting that Antonov would take over when his boss announced his retirement. I shook my head and wondered if the photos were even real. Either way, it didn’t matter.

  “That leaves Fisk and Harris. If I can talk Money into giving me ten minutes alone in a room with Fisk, I guarantee he’ll tell us everything we want to know.”

  “Maybe Cope’s father could help facilitate that.”

  “Maybe, or at least look the other way.”

  “I don’t know him well, but something tells me Money wouldn’t have the balls to take it up the chain of command, let alone deliver him to you without permission.”

  “I thought you knew,” said Doc, swiping his phone’s screen a second time. This time, he read what appeared to me. “In a press conference yesterday afternoon, on behalf of the president, Senator Henry Clay Copeland, chair of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence, announced the appointment of Kellen McTiernan as the next director of the Central Intelligence Agency.”

  “I have to admit I’m stunned.”

  “He’s a good man, Irish. Not like his recent predecessors.”