by Norris, Kris
“You ever work with him?”
“You could say that. He’s the son of a bitch who recruited me for the Joint Special Operations Group. Guy’s a piece of work, and the reason a few of my fellow colleagues are dead.” He sighed. “Another’s lucky to be alive.”
Six closed his eyes against the stab of pain, regret—Crow’s, not his. A woman’s face flickering in the darkness. He glanced over at his former teammate. His damn brother. “Shit, I’m sorry, Crow.”
“Made me realize how much we’d all come to depend on that sixth sense of yours. Even if it is creepy as hell.”
“What’s creepy is you becoming a spook. I gotta say, you never seemed like a CIA kind of guy.”
“Wasn’t my first choice, but after everything went for shit a few months back… Let’s just say I didn’t see how I had many options.”
“Sounds like you and Ellis have a lot in common. Though, I thought you’d stay on as unit leader once Cannon retired. You had those two years of experience while he was undercover. Seemed like a good fit for the time I was there.”
Crow sighed, accepting the beer Kam offered as she brought them all a bottle. “I was considering it. Then, you and Colt retired, too, and about two months later, Phoenix got sent up to recon.”
Six whistled. “The kid always did have great hands.”
“Best fucking sniper I’ve ever seen. He’s borderline inhuman. So, before I knew it, it was a brand new squad. And I was feeling the mileage. Then, McCormick shows up. Has a folder full of intel on these rogue CIA units. Bunch of ex-NCS guys. Said he wanted me to head a joint squad comprised of NSA, DIA, and this other CIA officer. Our mandate was to track those NCS bastards down—bring them in.” He snorted. “Guess I never really did forget Somalia, so…I thought, what the hell. Looking back, I was searching for a new purpose. A new mission. And for while it lasted, damn, it was one hell of a ride.”
“Something tells me it didn’t end that well.”
“Did I mention that the other CIA guy turned out to be a double agent? That McCormick was really the one running the rogue squads? Mine being one of them? And the people we were tracking down? They were sources that could either out him, or he could profit off of. So, yeah, didn’t end that great. Though, I owe you and the guys a thank you. Getting McCormick arrested… Let’s just say the fallout from that ended a rather ugly incarceration in one of his black ops sites when my team got ahold of the wrong person. Or should I say, the right person.”
Crow placed his beer on the coffee table—thumbed the lip. “Anyway, I have a really bad feeling that all of this is connected. Ellis. Me. Now, you, Kam. No way it’s one big coincidence.”
Six matched his buddy’s movement forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “I don’t suppose the name of that double agent was Ian Slader?”
Crow’s lips pursed tight, his fingers fisting the bottle. “How…” He pushed to his feet, eyes narrowed as he alternated his gaze between Six and Kam. “If you know anything…”
“Crow, I…”
Six got a flash of Crow moving before the man dove over the coffee table, catching Six square in the chest. Six had just enough of a warning to shift his weight—angle it so they fell back on the sofa instead of the floor. Gave him a chance to roll with the motion—send Crow tumbling over the armrest.
It barely slowed Crow down. He bounced to his feet, grabbing Six as he spun off the couch, his hand fisted around Six’s shirt. They stumbled backward, narrowly missing Kam as she scrambled out the way, before Crow slammed Six against the wall.
The other man leaned in close, eyes level with Six’s. Crow had about fifteen pounds and an inch on Six, but they were evenly matched when it came to fighting. Add in Six’s time leaks, and he had a slight advantage. Which Crow knew but wasn’t allowing to deter him. Six spared Gibson a quick glance, but the guy seemed content to watch, a smirk shaping his mouth. Arms crossed over his chest. Seemed the guy had sensed it wasn’t a real fight. That Six wasn’t in any danger. That, or Gib just didn’t give a fuck, which was probably closer to the truth.
Rough pants raked across Six’s jaw, Crow’s lips snarled back. “I swear to god if you know anything about that asshole, you’d best tell me, now. Brother or not, I’ll kick your ass until you do.”
“You never could beat me in a fair fight, buddy.”
“Then, I’ll cheat.” Crow shut his eyes as he clenched his jaw. “I’m going to kill that son of a bitch if it’s the last fucking thing I do.”
“And I’ll help—see you live through it. But…this would be a lot easier if you let go of me. Kam’s got you centered in her sights, bro, and she’s one hell of a shot.”
Crow frowned then glanced over his shoulder. Kam had a pistol leveled at his torso, hammer cocked. Finger inside the guard, resting against the trigger.
Crow snorted. “Since when do MI soldiers look that comfortable with a gun?”
Kam grinned. “Since my father was a cop. I was shooting targets in kindergarten. Now, I believe my…husband asked you to release him.”
Crow blinked, then broke into a fit of laughter, letting Six’s shirt slide through his hand. He doubled over, resting his ass against the wall as tears streaked down his face. “Husband. Fuck, that’s the best damn thing I’ve heard in a long time.” He made a point of wiping at the drops. “What I wouldn’t have given to see your faces—before and after. Didn’t you say something about a video? I’m gonna need a copy.”
Six arched a brow. “We done? Or should I call Ice so he can patch us up after we go a few rounds?”
Crow’s smile faded, the muscles in his shoulders tensing. He glanced at Kam and Gibson, then back to Six. “Sorry, man. Just hearing that asshole’s name triggers me. Makes me see red, and I tend to strike out. React on sheer instinct. What that bastard did…”
“I haven’t exactly been the epitome of control lately, either. So, you’re forgiven.” Six glanced at Gib. “And thanks for stepping in, Gibson. Your support is truly touching.”
Gib snorted, still focused on the street. “When it’s a real fight, I’ll find time to give a shit. That was just a couple of blokes blowing off steam. Though, it’s looks like your shoulder’s fully healed. Glad to see Coen hasn’t lost his touch.”
“Good to know you two share the same bedside manner.” Six looked at Crow. “And, trust me, if I knew where Slader was, I wouldn’t have sent the damn SOS. All we know is that he was a plant in one of the unit’s that took Kam on reconnaissance missions. Was the only other survivor in the IED attack on her truck.”
Crow studied her. “I’d heard about that. Took some brass balls to avoid capture—drag your teammate along.”
Kam placed the pistol on the table, reclaiming her seat. “If I’d known he was CIA, I might have left him there.”
“I wish you had, but…”
Crow rolled his shoulders, took a deep breath then returned to the couch. He downed a few swigs of his beer, meeting Six’s gaze when Six moved in beside Kam—resisted pulling her against him. Kissing her as a thank you for having his back. For easing the tension, though, fuck… He’d liked the way the word husband had rolled off her tongue far too much. Halfway wanted to hear her refer to him that way, again. Maybe have her scream it as she shattered in his arms—hot and wet all over him.
Which was not the line of thinking he should be focusing on. Not if they wanted to get answers. And he had a feeling Crow knew more than he realized. That his buddy was right and everything was connected.
Crow alternated his focus between them, looking as if he was trying to puzzle them out. “So, you think Slader is the guy who tried to have Kam abducted?”
“We don’t really have any concrete answers, yet. But I’ve seen enough hired mercenaries to know those men were acting on orders. And I heard the word safehouse. Thumb drive. A few other words I can’t be sure of.” Six sighed. “My Dari isn’t as good as it used to be, and I was still slightly hazy.”
Kam sighed. “I don’t even remem
ber being abducted, so…” She looked up at him. “If you hadn’t come around—taken on all those guys by yourself—dragging my ass to boot…”
Damn. Tears. Pooling in her eyes, muting the beautiful green color. And he couldn’t stop from wrapping his arms around her—pulling her against his chest. He didn’t care that Gibson and Crow were watching. What they thought. Six’s only concern was keeping those tears at bay. Giving her a shoulder if she did end up crying.
A snuffle, then a slow, shaky breath.
Six tightened his hold as he glanced over at Crow, but the man was focusing on his beer bottle. Trying to give them a semblance of privacy. And fuck if it didn’t make Six want to know more about the woman he’d seen flash in his head. The one Crow couldn’t get his mind off of. Though, the way Six’s “gift” worked, it suggested the pair were far from over—that Crow would be seeing her again. Soon. Which might not bode well when Six had a bad feeling she was some of the collateral damage his buddy had mentioned. Who’d suffered when the op had gone sideways.
And all because of Roger McCormick.
Sure, this Ian Slader guy might be running the show from this side of the prison bars—if McCormick was even locked up—but McCormick was the guy pulling the strings. Making everyone dance. The bastard needed to be put down. Permanently.
Kam eased back, leaning her head on his shoulder. Six didn’t try to make her look up at him, aware she needed a moment to pull herself together. Rebuild the suit of armor she’d been carrying around for as long as she’d been part of their team. Since that fateful day in the desert, Six suspected.
Crow cleared his throat, giving them an apologetic smile. “You sure you heard those two words, Six? Specifically?”
“I was a bit preoccupied with not getting us both killed, but yeah…they were the only two that stood out.”
“Well, that’s…disconcerting. That last mission—the one that went sideways…”
“That made Ian Slader a dead man walking courtesy of you? What about it?”
“It involved safehouses and thumb drives. That’s when Slader decided to kill most of my team, leave another for dead, all because of the asset we’d just apprehended.” Crow tapped his phone, scrolled through a few screens before holding it up. “This man. I don’t suppose he looks familiar, Kam?”
Kam frowned, leaning in close. She tilted her head to the side before inhaling sharply, the color draining from her face as she stared at the photo, her mouth slightly opened.
Six gave her a squeeze. “Kam? Sweetheart, are you okay?”
She pointed at the phone, her hand shaking. “That’s him.”
“Who?”
“The man I went hunting for. The day the truck exploded. He was the reason we were there.”
Chapter Twelve
Kam stared at the man’s face, heart pounding. Her pulse strumming inside her head. Just looking at that photo had gunfire echoing around her. The loft slowly fading into the smoking remains of the truck. Those black wheels endlessly turning. The stench of burnt flesh and propellant. Of blood and death and fear. The scratch of sand and rock raining down on her skin from above—that hand lying lifeless in her lap.
Fingers snapped in front of her face, but they didn’t erase the images. The smells making her stomach roil. The icy slide of panic beading her skin. Was someone talking? Calling her name? It sounded distant. Like the pounding of feet had been. Only those were getting closer, each footstep slowly counting down to when it would all end.
When she’d die.
Arms around her torso, lifting her. Shifting her sideways. She skimmed over muscled thighs, settling between them as hands smoothed up her ribs, tugging her into a firm embrace.
Soft lips brushed across her neck, stopping at her ear. “Breathe, Kam. Try to match mine.”
Six. Holding her. His chest pressing against her back. Expanding outwards, pausing, then slowly easing. A steady ebb and flow until she was matching the rhythm—the images gradually fading. It took a while before the scenery switched—the loft finally emerging through the dust and sand. The scent of death replaced by the strong aroma of coffee and the mixture of cottonwood and citrus. Of Six.
She closed her eyes, sinking against him. Allowing him to brace her weight. God, she was tired. Tired of pretending a part of her hadn’t died that day. That she’d gotten over it. That she wasn’t scared that, deep down, she was still that soldier hiking through the desert. Alone. Afraid. That no amount of training would ever be enough.
That she’d never be enough.
A kiss. Barely a peck against her neck, but it grounded her. Eased the tight clench of her muscles. Six kept his arms around her, his fingers drawing small circles across her torso. She let her head fall against the crock of his shoulder, eyes still squeezed shut.
He hummed against her ear, dropping another chaste kiss on the lobe. “Better, but it’s still a bit too shallow. Deepen each inhale. Hold it… Good, now out. Again.”
Kam followed his instructions, as if she’d suddenly forgotten how to freaking breathe on her own. That thirty years of managing it without thinking had just vanished. And if it weren’t for Six’s steady voice, she’d pass out from lack of oxygen.
Six kept coaching her, kept holding her tight, until her body stopped trembling, her lungs finally working on their own. He brushed his lips across her neck, smiling at her sharp inhale. Damn, even barely coherent she reacted to him.
“That’s my girl. Now, drink this.”
She blinked open her eyes, accepting the glass he placed in her hands. They still shook, but she managed to get the cup to her mouth—take a gulp without dropping it. Until the fiery liquid hit her throat, and she damn near choked.
She glanced back at Six as he stopped the glass from falling from her grasp. “What is this?”
“Bourbon.”
“You sure it’s not paint thinner, because…damn. I think it just seared the lining of my throat.”
“Trust me. You needed it. Better?”
She groaned, collapsing against him, again. “Depends on your definition. Sure, I can breathe, now, but losing it like that…”
Crow snorted as he took a seat. He’d obviously gotten the bourbon—handed it to Six. “You were here five minutes ago when I attacked Six—a man I consider my brother—for merely saying Slader’s name, right? That was you pointing a pistol at my ass?” He shook his head. “We’ve all got demons, Kam. They’re bound to be bastards and show up when we least want them to.”
“Technically, I was aiming at your chest.”
Crow chuckled. “So, you were. Now, do you think you can talk about this, or would you rather I figure it out with Six?”
She straightened, wishing she felt strong enough to shift over—isolate herself. But just the thought of losing the physical tether to Six dimmed the edges of her vision. Threatened to throw her back into that day. That moment.
Instead, she gave Crow a small smile. “I can talk about it. It just caught me off-guard. Seeing that man’s face.”
“Why don’t you go through what happened that day—before the IED. Explain why you were hunting him.”
She nodded. Though the information was classified, both Six and Crow had been Delta at the time. And she knew Gibson Miller was supposedly British Special Forces—SRR if the rumors were correct. Britain’s Special Reconnaissance Regiment. Hardcore. The guys they sent in when their MI6 operatives needed backup. Though, the way he’d moved when she’d been around him all those months ago—how his gaze took in everything, not to mention snippets she’d heard when he’d been talking to his buddy, Coen—she had a strong feeling the guy was more than that. That he’d moved on from the SRR and joined their MI6 branch. And she doubted he’d ever required backup.
But if they were going to work together—figure out who was after her and why—they needed to share information. Not keep everyone in the dark.
She swallowed, coughed a bit, then released a slow breath. “You mentioned about all of this starting
with that screwed-up mission in Somalia. So, I assume you know about Ellis. How she was recruited by McCormick. Just like you.”
Crow huffed. “Let’s just say I did a lot of digging once I got liberated from that black ops site. So, yeah. I know the details.”
“That mission…” She sighed. “I was the one who’d hacked the CIA computer at the base. Who told Ellis there was nothing on the books. When everything went sideways… I’m so sorry, Crow. I should have dug deeper. Found a way to hack into their actual database—”
“Wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t a sanctioned mission. No way you could have known. Not back then.”
“Still, after that, I decided it would be prudent to keep a watchful eye on our apparent partners. I’ll be honest. Nothing really came up until a couple of months before that recon trip. I intercepted some…unusual communications. Chatter that suggested someone inside the CIA was trying to get their hands on a Judas list.”
Crow glanced at Six then back to her. “Judas list? As in CIA operatives who’d sold out their own country?”
“That’s what I thought, at first. But, the more information I accumulated, the more it didn’t add up. In fact, everything pointed toward the list being a record of all of our undercover agents. And not just CIA. Military. NSA. Interpol. MI6. Exactly the kind of file our enemies would kill to acquire.”
“You went to your superiors, right?”
“I tried, but…let’s just say my evidence wasn’t all that convincing. It was more in what wasn’t said that had tipped me off. I argued, got told to return when I had something they could actually act on, but then Sergeant Major Taylor—he was one of the recon units’ leaders—heard me pleading my case. Corralled me outside. Asked if I could set up a meeting with this mystery person. That he would get permission to do a reconnaissance mission to the meeting place. That he’d have my back. Obviously, I jumped at the chance. Managed to send out an encrypted message—arranged a meeting in that out-of-the-way town.”