Delta Force: Cannon: Wayward Souls

by Norris, Kris

  He pulled back the covers and rolled off the bed. A pair of sweats and some socks, and he was heading out of the room, down the hallway. Six met him in the main area, coffee mug extended. Cannon shook his head, took the offering then arched a brow.

  Six sighed. “Balcony. Said something about needing some air. Colt’s keeping watch from outside, just in case.”

  “Thanks. The threat should be over, but…”

  But they weren’t taking chances. Not until the Macmillan empire had crumbled and the bastards behind the attempts on her life were incarcerated. Or, at least, put into Wit Sec. As much as Cannon hated the idea, he knew it was a possibility. Which was what he suspected was keeping Jericho from some much-needed sleep.

  He took a swig of the coffee as he padded across the floor, slipping out through the set of French doors. She was leaning against the railing, mug in one hand, gaze focused on the horizon. The moon was still low, lighting up the water off in the distance. They’d gone directly to her apartment. Grabbed her stuff—less than he’d expected. But she’d assured him she had everything that mattered. Then, they’d come home.

  Their home. And he’d see it stayed that way. Permanently.

  She cocked her head his way when he shuffled in behind her, leaning into him when he palmed her waist. “It’s pretty.”

  He nuzzled her neck, smiling at the bead of bumps that spread across her skin. “Not nearly as beautiful as you. Trouble sleeping?”

  She shrugged.

  “You could have woken me. Bet I could find a way to tire you out.”

  Her cheeks flamed, the blush spreading down her neck. “How can you have any stamina left after that marathon session?”

  “Easy. All I have to do is look at you.”

  “Charmer. And it’s not that I’m not interested. It’s just…”

  She sighed, the sad sound making his chest tighten. Hurt. Right over that heart she’d resurrected. The one that belonged to her.

  He slid his hands together, holding her tight. “Thinking about Dave?”

  Another sigh. Another tug on his heart.

  “It’s not your fault, you know. He chose his path. And, frankly, he didn’t get nearly what he deserved.”

  “Killing him wouldn’t have changed anything.”

  “He hurt you. That, alone, would have justified retaliation.”

  She laughed, looking back at him. “As sweet as that is, in a Neanderthal sort of way, you can’t go around killing everyone who takes a shot at me. You’d never do anything else.”

  “Can’t help it. That’s just who I am, but…” He leaned in closer. Brushed his lips against her ear. “I’ll try to tame it a bit. For you.”

  Jericho eased forward just enough to turn in his arms. Wrap hers around his neck. “I don’t want you to change. Not even a little.”

  “Good, because as much as I claim I’ll try, I’m not sure this junkyard dog can learn that kind of new trick.” He touched his nose to hers. “So, what’s this really about, then?”

  “What makes you think there’s something else?”

  “Sweetheart. I’ve been trained in interrogation techniques. I know when someone’s not telling me the whole truth. Besides, you have a tell.”

  She blinked then palmed his chest, gave him a shove, not that it did anything. “I have a tell?”

  He shrugged.

  “What? What’s my tell?”

  “If I tell you that, you’ll try to change it.”

  “Cannon…”

  “Just, talk to me. That’s what partners are for, right?”

  She stiffened, some of the color draining from her face.

  Fuck. “This is about getting a new partner when you go back, isn’t it?”

  Green eyes looked up at him. Glassy. Wide. Before she nodded. “How am I supposed to trust anyone after this? I mean, I’ll probably end up working with a number of people, but there’s always a pairing that seems to stick. How can I be sure this doesn’t happen, again?”

  The waver in her voice. The slight hesitation when she’d talked. He’d been wrong. Or, more accurately, he hadn’t looked at the bigger picture. The one that encompassed more than just a new partner. That involved believing in what she was doing. In herself.

  He lifted one hand—cupped her chin. “This isn’t just about a new partner. You’re questioning if you still believe in the Marshal Service. If you even want to go back.”

  He hadn’t posed it as a question. Didn’t need to because the answer was in her eyes. In the way she inhaled, holding it before pushing it out. Hard. As if she needed to stem the restlessness he sensed in her.

  She toed the floor, taking a few deep breaths before looking up at him. Eyes glassy. “How did you know it was time to move on? That you were ready?”

  Cannon sighed. They hadn’t talked too much about his time in the service. Jericho knew a lot of what he’d done was classified and refrained from asking. Anything else had been fairly trivial. A crumb here or there. Lots of words that didn’t really equate to any kind of story or information. But, now, he needed to share more.

  Fuck, she deserved to know everything. All the demons hiding inside him. And it wasn’t as if she didn’t have a decent security level. He could give her some details without breaking any kind of security agreements.

  Jericho’s shoulders drooped. “Sorry. Guess you can’t really talk about it.”

  “It was after my last mission.” He smiled when her eyes widened.

  She touched his hand. “Cannon. You don’t have to—”

  “I want to. Long overdue, actually. Anyway, I’d been undercover for nearly two years. Hated it. Not having my team with me. My guys. But, I’d sucked it up. Had finally infiltrated an Islamic cell we thought was heading a major upcoming terrorist attack. They were camped out in this remote compound north of Jalalabad. Nasty place. Nothing but dirt and sand. The men were animals. Abusing the women and children. Sickened me. Had me questioning my motivations every damn day.

  “But I kept trying to see the bigger picture. Made sure I only did what I absolutely had to in order to maintain my cover. Some of that shit…” He sighed. “It still haunts me. Then, finally, their head guy showed up—laid their plans out at my feet. I had everything I needed to bring them down. All that was left was to see they made it to the rendezvous site, where my Delta team would be waiting.”

  He took another breath, feeling some of the horror slowly fade—healed by the love in her eyes. The way she held his hand.

  He paused to tuck some of her hair behind one ear. “HQ wanted the bastards alive. To interrogate. Figure out where they were getting their supplies. But, just before we were scheduled to leave, they brought in a SEAL one of their patrols had captured. Poor bastard had gotten caught in a crossfire. Been separated from his squad. Had dragged his ass twenty miles over hostile terrain. Bleeding. Broken leg. Dislocated shoulder. The guy was so fucking hardcore, I just stood there, staring. That’s when the mother fucker I’d spent all that time waiting for decided to make an example of the soldier. Wanted to kill him while filming it. Televising it.”

  He swallowed, nearly gagging as the images and smells filled his head. Fuck, he could picture it all clearly. The pure evil in the bastard’s eyes.

  Jericho gave his hand a squeeze. “You stopped them, didn’t you?”

  “That’s a bit of an understatement. Truth is, I snapped. Killed all six men in that room with my bare hands, then went after the others. There were twelve dead by the time I was done. Not exactly what HQ had wanted, but they still got their intel. Enough of a trail to keep searching. Needless to say, I was pulled out and sent on mandatory leave for a few of weeks. Was told to decompress and get my head on straight.”

  He chuckled. “Ended up in Seattle. I don’t even know why, really. But then, Rigs called. Addison was in danger. They needed intel. Backup. Seemed pretty benign until I walked into Ice’s place. She freaked. Said I smelled like death. Had this vibe around me.”

  He shook hi
s head. “That got me thinking. Questioning my motivations all over, again. After working that case with the guys, I realized that’s what I’d been missing during my last mission. Being part of a team. Having men rely on you—a reason to keep fighting. When I returned, I was informed I’d be going back in. Another undercover assignment. Alone. And that’s when I knew. That, if I took the job—buried myself in all that ugliness, again—I’d never dig myself out. Have anything left of…me. Resigned on the spot and haven’t looked back since.”

  He didn’t add that he might have gone back. Might have caved if he hadn’t met her. Found a new mission to focus on. A new teammate who meant more to him than he’d ever imagined.

  Jericho smoothed her hand up to his face. “I’m glad you got out. Found yourself, again. Found me.”

  “Best damn decision I ever made. Now, back to yours. You know I’ll support whatever you choose, right?”

  “I know.”

  “Good. Having said that, I think you need to go back. Not because you have something to prove, but because you still believe in justice. In what being a Deputy Marshal stands for.”

  She blew out a raspy breath. “How can you be so sure when I’m not?”

  “Because, if you were done, if you’d truly lost your faith, you would have killed Dave. Or, at least, let me. But you took him in, knowing he’d get that Wit Sec deal he wanted. That bringing down a drug empire outweighed getting your own form of justice.” He reached down—brushed his finger along her jaw. “That, sweetheart, is what marshals do. And you’re one of the best.”

  Cannon dropped a quick kiss on her pretty lips. “Besides, you’re the only one who makes Art’s job interesting. He’ll lose his shit if you leave.”

  Jericho snorted. “Right.”

  He dragged her closer, pressing his body against hers. “But know this… I will personally be vetting every damn person he pairs you up with. And I’ll be tagging along on any prison transfers or high-stakes felon arrests for a while. Best make peace with that, now.”

  “Glad to see you’re taming those overprotective tendencies.”

  “You can take the man out of the military, sweetheart…”

  “But not the military out of the man. Yeah, I’m seeing that. Fine, you can tag along. Just…try to behave and not scare everyone I have to work with.”

  “I’ll see if I can tone that death vibe down a notch.”

  “That’s my guy.”

  “Hell yeah, I am. Better?”

  “I guess that depends?”

  “On what?”

  She smiled, nipped at his bottom lip. “On whether you can hold true to your promise. You said you had a way to tire me out.”

  “Oh, sweetheart. I know a lot of ways to tire you out.”

  “Then, why are we still standing here, soldier? Or are all those muscles just for show?”

  Cannon shook his head in mock indignation, scooping her up into his arms. “Talk like that isn’t going to get you a gentle loving.”

  “Gentle’s overrated. It’s the loving that matters. And I do. Love you.”

  “Love you more. Now, save your breath. You’re gonna need it.”

  Excerpt ~ Delta Force: Colt

  Five years ago, Paris...

  “Okay, Sievers, out with it.”

  Damn. Busted.

  Brett Sievers, or Colt to his buddies, his brothers, looked up from his beer, sighing when the rest of his teammates pulled up chairs and gathered at his table. The one he’d picked in order to isolate himself. So this kind of brotherly intervention wouldn’t happen.

  One night to himself. That’s all he’d needed. Time to process the letter—to deal with the resulting pain. The loss—without being on display. Or having to muster up a fake form of enthusiasm he couldn’t feel. Because the guys would know. Would be able to tell something was wrong. Which had meant ditching them until he could convincingly lie his way out. And god knew he could sell a lie with the best of them. Just, not tonight.

  But, they’d all used their damn Delta skills and scoped him out, regardless. And before he’d done more than order a beer.

  Brett had thought he’d done a damn good job of hiding. Going to a bar that was definitely not his taste. Loud techno music, flashing disco lights, and more bodies grinding on the dance floor than was probably allowed—it represented everything he hated about furloughs. And the last place he thought his squad would hunt him down.

  Or course, Six and Cannon were among the men. Bastards were damn good trackers, even in an urban environment. And they knew Brett, too well. Had spent five years watching each other’s backs. There wasn’t a piece of him he hadn’t bared at some point—a secret he’d been able to keep. Not that they were any different.

  Quieter, maybe. A bit better at pushing the really bad shit down. But, he’d have hunted their asses out if their positions had been reversed. Which might account for the lack of surprise in his gut at them appearing out of the crowd.

  And that wasn’t even taking into account what Six could do. Hell, knowing the man, he’d read Brett’s mind or something equally creepy. There was a reason everyone called the man Six—Brett wasn’t even sure he remembered Six’s actual name. Casey something, he thought. Six had this way about him—sensed things a moment or two before everyone else. As if he knew shit was about to go sideways. Just this morning, he’d grabbed Brett and shoved him out of the way before one of the tent poles they’d been dismantling fell exactly where Brett would have been standing. What would have been at best, a nasty concussion. At worst, it could have killed him.

  The unit had given up trying to figure the guy out. If he had some kind of extrasensory perception thing going, or just super heightened senses. It didn’t matter if it saved their asses. He could be an alien, and it wouldn’t change anything. Not when he’d single-handedly kept them all from seeing an early grave. Which meant, he’d probably just done some kind of Jedi mind trick, or that Vulcan meld thing and sourced out exactly where Brett had ventured.

  He took a long pull of his beer, giving the men a shrug. “Not sure what you’re talking about. Just wanted a beer.”

  A snort from Ethan Vale, known as Phoenix. He was the newest member—still a bit green around the edges. But the guy was a hell of a sniper. Better than anyone Brett had worked with, yet, including his other Delta brothers. And Phoenix was fearless. Beyond normal in that department, as if he hadn’t simply made peace with the fact he could die on any given mission, but halfway wanted to. It bordered on reckless—freaking creepy, if Colt was honest—but Phoenix got the job done. Kept his brothers safe, in the process.

  Phoenix made direct eye contact. “Please. First, you were late for our run this morning. Then, you disappeared while we were breaking camp—right after Six saved you from getting cold-cocked. And if that wasn’t enough, Cannon had to tackle your ass when that tango appeared on the side of the road and damn near blew your head off. Not to mention, you ditched us the minute we got sent on mandatory decompress.” He glanced around at the gathering of men as he laid his arms along the back of the chair facing the table. “So, out with it.”

  Another pull. Then, another. Not that it helped. A dozen pints wouldn’t be enough to drown his heart. The one still bleeding out. Fuck women.

  Six sighed. “I think maybe we were wrong, guys. Let’s give Colt some space.”

  “We weren’t wrong, Six, we—”

  “You heard the man.” Cannon, this time. “Clear out. We’ll meet for breakfast at the hotel restaurant at oh eight hundred. I suggest everyone get their run in before that.”

  Phoenix grunted but stood, twisting the chair the right way ‘round then heading off with the rest. Six gave Brett’s shoulder a pat then tagged along behind the rest of the men, quickly disappearing into the crowd. Only Cannon stayed at the edge of the table, one hand on the top, the other shoved into his pocket.

  He waited until Brett looked up at him. “I don’t need to have Six’s radar to guess that this involves Ellis.”


  Brett focused on the table. If he said her name…

  Cannon blew out a rough breath. “How’d she do it?”

  “Sent a letter out with Hammond’s squad.” Though, letter was pushing it. Several lines of accusations and blame. Of how he’d never measured up—never would. And signed with her full name, not the short form he’d given her. The fucking cherry on top of the shit sundae. He tipped his beer toward Cannon. “Real classy.”

  “I’m sorry, man. I know she was special.”

  Special. That was a fucking understatement. “Me, too, I thought…”

  He’d thought that they were serious. That the two years they’d been fighting to make them work—to not let the distance or the job destroy their relationship—had meant something. Hell, they’d talked about retiring. About moving in together. Even starting a family. She’d been so happy, planning on meeting him this week in Paris. Mapping out how they’d orchestrate leaving the service when the time came. It would kill a part of him to abandon his brothers, his team, but damn it, Ellis was worth it. Was his fucking future. His world. Everything had been fine, then…a Dear John letter to end all letters.

  He’d have said it stung, but that didn’t come close to how he felt. Burned. Hollowed out. Left to rot in the sun—those were a better description. Only, maybe, all of them, together.

  Cannon nodded, tapping the table with one finger. “She say why?”

  “Just the usual.”

  A grunt. As if the realization had hurt the other man. “She found out who your father is.”

  It hadn’t been a question, not that it surprised Brett. “They all do in time, Cannon. You can’t run from your past forever. Not when it’s in your blood.”

  “Colt…Brett—”

  “Don’t. I know the score. What my old man did—I hate the bastard, would love nothing more than to cap his ass, and I’m his son. His damn blood. I’m just tired of never being good enough. Of never getting out from under his shadow. It’s like my damn DNA is stained. And it taints whatever I touch. Ruins it.”