THE WARRIOR: DERRICK
Cover Six Security #4
Lisa B. Kamps
THE WARRIOR: DERRICK
Copyright © 2019 by Elizabeth Belbot Kamps
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the express written permission of the author.
Cover Six Security™ is a fictional security company, its name and logo created for the sole use of the author and covered under protection of trademark.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names, living or dead. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any individual, place, business, or event is purely coincidental.
Cover Design by Jay Aheer of Simply Defined Art
https://www.simplydefinedart.com/
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Other titles by this author
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Epilogue
The Rescuer: WOLF pre-order
PLAYING THE GAME preview
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Other titles by this author
Dedication
For Heather Roberts.
Thank you.
Other titles by this author:
COVER SIX SECURITY
Covered By A Kiss, A CSS Novella, Book 0
The Protector: MAC, Book 1
The Guardian: DARYL, Book 2
The Defender: RYDER, Book 3
The Warrior: DERRICK, Book 4
The Rescuer: WOLF, Book 5
The Savior: COLTER, Book 6
The Hero: ROMAN, Book 7
THE BALTIMORE BANNERS
Crossing the Line, Book 1
Game Over, Book 2
Blue Ribbon Summer, Book 3
Body Check, Book 4
Break Away, Book 5
Playmaker, A Baltimore Banners Intermission Novella
Delay of Game, Book 6
Shoot Out, Book 7
The Baltimore Banners: 1st Period Trilogy
Books 1-3 Boxed set
The Baltimore Banners: 2nd Period Trilogy
Books 4-6 Boxed set
On Thin Ice, Book 8
Coach's Challenge, A Baltimore Banners Intermission Novella
One-Timer, Book 9
Face Off, Book 10
First Shot At Love, A Baltimore Banners Short Story
Game Misconduct, Book 11
Fighting To Score, Book 12
Matching Penalties, Book 13
THE YORK BOMBERS
Playing The Game, Book 1
Playing To Win, Book 2
Playing For Keeps, Book 3
Playing It Up, Book 4
Playing It Safe, Book 5
The York Bombers Boxed Set 1
Books 1-3
Playing For Love, Book 6
Playing His Part, Book 7
Playing It Cool, Book 8
THE CHESAPEAKE BLADES
Winning Hard, Book 1
Loving Hard, Book 2
Playing Hard, Book 3
FIREHOUSE FOURTEEN
Once Burned, Book 1
Playing With Fire, Book 2
Breaking Protocol, Book 3
Into the Flames, Book 4
Second Alarm, Book 5
Feel The Burn, Book 6
Coming Soon
STAND-ALONE TITLES
Emeralds and Gold: A Treasury of Irish Short Stories (anthology)
Finding Dr. Right
Time To Heal
Dangerous Passion
Dangerous Heat
Illicit Affair
Coming Soon
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Prologue
Cold fear drenched her. Icy tendrils wrapped around her, seeping into her chest. Her lungs. Her brain.
Your time is coming to an end.
She stared at the words, paralyzed, unable to move or think or breathe. A minute passed, the sweeping of the second hand moving in slow motion, so slow that she was convinced time had simply stopped. Was this how it would end? With her body and mind paralyzed by fear until time simply stopped? Until she simply stopped?
Stopped thinking.
Stopped breathing.
Stopped living.
It was that last thought that finally snapped the frightening paralysis.
Living?
No, she hadn't been living, not for the last two years. Not even close. She'd separated herself from life as completely and thoroughly as possible, to the point that not even her neighbors would notice her disappearance. Why would they, when they didn't notice her? When they weren't even aware of her existence? As far as the world was concerned, Lidiya Stephenson simply didn't exist. She'd made sure of it, had carefully erased all signs of the woman she was. Of the woman she had been.
No one would notice her missing.
No one would notice if she simply stopped being.
No one...except for Chaos. Maybe even he wouldn't notice. They'd never met. Lidiya had no idea who he really was, if he was even really a he. They were nothing more than online acquaintances. Colleagues of a sort, in the loosest meaning possible. She'd helped him several times over the last eighteen months, had even spoken to him—but her voice had been disguised, as had his.
What did it say about her life that her closest friend was nothing more than a cyber ghost? A person she had never met and didn't really know?
What did it say about her situation now that she was actually considering placing her trust in that same person?
Yet she still hesitated, unable to look away from the message that had, only moments ago, destroyed the fragile existence she had created for herself.
Your time is coming to an end.
She didn't have a choice. There was nothing else she could do, no other options that she could see. She had known it might come to this, had thought she prepared for it. Had convinced herself she would do what was necessary when the time came. She needed to act, now. Needed to send the message that she hoped would bring Chaos into her shadowed life.
Lidiya laughed at the irony of the thought, the whispery sound brittle and desperate to her own ears.
Maybe the sound even carried a hint of insanity. Did she care? No, not when there was nobody else around to hear it.
Because she'd planned it that way. Because she had carefully constructed her world so she would become virtually invisible. It had been the safest thing to do, the only thing she could think to do.
And she had done her job well.
Too well.
Except she hadn't because he had found her. Somehow, someway, he had done the impossible and tracked her down. Maybe he didn't know her exact location yet—she had no doubt if he did, she wouldn't be here now, fighting off the clawing panic threatening to paralyze her once again. But it was only a matter of time.
She knew his secrets.
And she knew he would stop at nothing to make sure those secrets died with her.
Her hands hovered above the keyboard, her long fingers trembling with cold fear and the certainty that her carefully-constructed life was crumbling around her. The hesitation was still there, keeping her from sending the short message she so desperately needed to send.
Her instincts screamed that Chaos was the only person who could help her. That what little she knew of him proved that. Those same instincts had saved her more than once—but they weren't infallible. Her current situation was proof of that.
Could she bring herself to trust someone she had never met?
Did she really have a choice?
Lidiya closed her eyes and took a deep breath, felt a sense of detached calmness wash over her as she made a decision.
A decision that might very well end in her death.
Chapter One
"Are you fucking listening to me?"
Derrick "Chaos" Biggs dropped the gear bag from his shoulder, choked back a growl of impatient fury, and schooled his face into an expressionless mask. Only when he was certain that absolutely nothing showed on his face—or in his eyes—did he turn toward his boss.
And that was the problem: Derrick still wasn't accustomed to having a boss. Hell, he didn't do bosses, not unless you counted his stint in the Marines and that was a lifetime ago. He wasn't the same man—kid, really—that he'd been all those years ago. That kid had grown up, become a man forged in steel with an iron will and a streak of independence that would make the founding fathers proud.
Too damn bad that independence wasn't as highly prized now as it had been in his former occupation. Yeah, working for Cover Six Security was better for his sanity—not to mention his personal safety. Well, mostly, if you didn't count the time he'd been shot almost a year ago. The only time he'd been shot, come to think of it.
Whatever.
Working for CSS was still a damn sight better than his previous gig—if not for the little issue of all those damn rules his boss insisted on.
He sucked in a steadying breath, unclenched his jaw, and leveled a careful look at the boss in question: Daryl "Zeus" Anderson, one of the founders of CSS and essentially the man-in-charge.
"Yes, I heard you. And yes, I'm listening."
"But are you fucking comprehending?"
Damn, he should have seen that one coming. "Yeah, I'm fucking comprehending. You're pissed, I get it."
"Pissed has nothing to do with it. We work as a team, Chaos. You know that. You fucking agreed to it when I offered you this job."
"Yeah, got it. Team. No problem." He resettled the bag on his shoulder. "Anything else?"
Zeus ignored his attempt at dismissing the conversation—and the incident that prompted it. The man moved forward, getting up-close-and-personal and deliberately encroaching on his personal space. The man had balls, Derrick had to give him that much because if it had been anyone else, they'd already be flat on their back, unconscious—or worse.
"I'm not fucking around, Chaos. We only succeed as a team. I'm not putting anyone's safety at risk just so you can make the rules up as you go along."
The first frisson of anger danced along Derrick's spine. He clenched his fist around the strap of the gear bag then slowly relaxed his fingers. "Nobody was at risk. The target was acquired and brought back safely. The mission was a success."
"You didn't need to take the shot—"
"The hell I didn't."
"—and you sure as hell didn't need to use yourself as bait."
"Jesus. Is that what this is about? You're pissed because I took a calculated risk?"
"It was a risk that didn't need to be taken."
"Bullshit."
"You went against orders—"
"And met the objective without bloodshed."
"Yeah? What do you call the guy's brains splattered all over the fucking wall?"
"A warning." Derrick spit the word from between clenched teeth. Jesus fucking Christ, why the hell was Zeus so fucking pissed? Derrick had veered from the original game plan. So fucking what? He'd seen that things were getting ready to head downhill so he had assessed the options and picked the one that made the most sense—and he'd done it in the space of half of a second. There hadn't been time to raise his hand and ask the teacher for permission.
And he'd be damned if he was going to stand here and let Zeus ream him a new asshole because of it, especially not in front of the rest of the team. Yeah, they were all making like they were suddenly more interested in cleaning gear, but Derrick knew better. He felt them watching from the corner of their eyes, knew they were listening without being obvious about it.
Just like a bunch of cool kids who happened to be the teacher's pets.
Jesus.
Maybe that wasn't a fair assessment. Most of the team had butted heads with Zeus before, over one thing or another. And yeah, Derrick may have done his own fair share of eavesdropping when that happened. But damn, enough was enough already.
He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "I won't apologize for doing my job. Shit was getting ready to go sideways and you know it, so I did what I always do: improvise. Adapt. Overcome."
A choked laugh, quickly smothered, echoed somewhere behind Derrick. Mac, he thought, although the laughter could have come from Ninja as well. The edges of Zeus's mouth twitched and Derrick had the sudden impression that the other man was fighting a smile.
"Okay, Clint. Enough of that jarhead bullshit."
Derrick raised one brow in sarcastic humor. "I'm not the one who settled for second-best."
Zeus's lips twitched again but he refused to take the bait. He never did, even though it was a long-standing joke among everyone. Derrick was the lone Marine in a room full of soldiers, not counting Ox, who was a former Navy Seal. And Ox didn't count because he was just fucking crazy.
Daryl pointed one finger at him, not quite touching his chest. "No more warnings, Biggs. You bring one hell of a lot to this team, but I can't have you pulling this lone wolf stunt every damn time we go out in the field."
"It's not every time—"
"We're not discussing it anymore. You know how I feel. And mark my words: one of these days, you're going to realize that you need the team as much as the team needs you."
Derrick thought about arguing that point then just as quickly decided against it. Arguing would be nothing more than a waste of breath. Zeus knew his background but only in the vaguest sense. Derrick came from black ops, that world of deep shadows where trust was a weakness to be exploited, not a commodity to be valued. A world where nobody was who they claimed to be. A world that would suck the soul from your chest and leave behind a tortured shell of the person you thought you used to be.
No, it wasn't worth arguing. Zeus—and the rest of the men who comprised Cover Six Security—might think they knew about his old world.
But they didn't. They never would. Hell, he doubted if many of them would be able to survive it.
There were times when he doubted if he had managed to survive himself. There were still nights where he lay awake, afraid to close his eyes for fear of falling into the black abyss that stretched before him. He didn't have nightmares—he'd gone into that world with his eyes wide open and had long ago accepted the
things he'd done, had long ago accepted that who he was now was a far cry from the man he'd been when he first entered that world.
Nightmares were the least of his worries. What concerned him the most, what kept him up more nights than not, was the worry that he'd already lost his soul—his humanity—and just didn't know it yet.
Could Zeus see any of that in the depths of his eyes when their gazes locked? No. If he could, Derrick would have been tossed out the door months ago. The easiest thing to do was just agree with the man when he said Derrick would realize he needed the team as much as they needed him.
He didn't, but he wasn't going to argue about it, not anymore. He just offered Zeus a curt nod. "Yeah. Sure."
Zeus didn't believe him but he left it alone, probably just as tired of arguing about it as Derrick was. Or maybe he was just tired, period. Despite his nickname, Zeus was human, just like the rest of them. It had been a long two weeks in the field but they were home now. It was time to relax. Recover. Decompress.
For some of them, anyway.
Derrick watched Zeus walk away, no doubt to work on paperwork or whatever the fuck he had to do before heading home to his wife and step-daughter. Everyone else would be heading out, too, after cleaning up and checking their gear, making sure things were restocked and ready to go for the next op, whatever that might be.
Derrick stored his fresh gear in a locker then made his way through the secured door that separated the offices of CSS from the operations center. The front of the warehouse looked like any other business front—once you got through the confusing maze of hallways to the small lobby. Derrick didn't need to pass through the lobby to reach his office but he took the detour anyway, just as he always did.
The woman at the desk turned toward him, a bright smile on her face. She pushed to her feet, one hand resting protectively against her gently protruding stomach. Derrick ignored the scowling man hovering behind her and placed a quick kiss against her glowing cheek.
"How are my two girls doing?"
"I'm doing fine." TR MacGregor patted her rounded belly. "But this little guy has been doing cartwheels for the last thirty minutes. Must be the sudden infusion of testosterone around here."
The Warrior: DERRICK (Cover Six Security Book 4) Page 1