Impact Zone

by Cara Carnes

  “A talentless hack?”

  “No.” Fallon shook his head. “That wasn’t quite it.”

  “Weird. I don’t remember talking about him at all,” Rhea said. “But you tend to blow my mind a lot.”

  Fallon’s molten grin spread. “Let’s get this done. I’ve got way better things planned for you.”

  “Right.” Rhea returned her attention to Stan.

  But something bounced from Fallon’s hand and rolled underneath the chair.

  “Holy shit, okay. Vi, he’s got a crawler in Carlisle’s office.”

  “I’ll navigate the crawler. You two stay on the hack with Cord,” Mary ordered.

  None of what Rhea’d bantered back and forth with Fallon had been on script. None of what she’d said and done had been on point. Sure, she’d tried to project the tone, but she needed to get back to the talking points.

  Rattle his cage.

  “You’re in over your head, Stan. Believe it or not, I’m here to help you. I can convince those I work with to help you get above ground with the Russians. And the others.” The man’s gaze widened. She continued. “Mistakes like the ones you’ve made don’t go unnoticed, Stan. The Russians may know about what went down with Cuba and not care, but the others? You have no idea what they’re capable of.”

  Rhea was talking out of her ass. Vi and Mary suspected he was working with black-in-black ops groups—the kind no one in the alphabet soup admitted existed. Like The Collective.

  And the many others she’d worked with through the years.

  “You’re the one who has no idea,” he spat. Red mottled his face. “You know nothing.”

  “I know you got into bed with a pervy bastard who could only get it up for little girls he kept locked in his basement. I guess that shouldn’t surprise me, given your…” she dragged out the silence and peered at his crotch. “Issues.”

  Stan’s eyes widened.

  “Yeah, that was us, you idiot,” Rhea said. “You’ve been on our radar a long, long time. Way before Tucson. Way before Cuba. I’ve been patient, Stan. I’ve toed the line and convinced my group you weren’t a threat. But you crawled into bed with a deviant. That put you on a bigger radar, one where you’re a liability now. The kind of liability that disappears because the group I work with chews idiots like you up for a snack.”

  Someone on the com chuckled. Others followed.

  Rhea stepped forward until she invaded Stan’s personal space. She rose on her tip toes. “I’m only saying this once, Stan. There was a time when I gave a damn about you. I know now you were a waste of my time in every way, but I’m here because you used to care. Or pretended to. For that boy who’d listen to all my worries, hopes, and fears when I whispered them in the dark, I’m here with a warning.”

  Stan never truly listened to her worries, hopes, and fears. He never chased them away or battled them. He brushed them off and made her feel stupid for having them in the first place. She’d eventually given up sharing them. With him. With anyone.

  But for this op, she’d pretend. She’d channel naive Rhea and let the bastard think she didn’t know better.

  “Tap out,” she ordered. “Surrender now. Give us everything, and we’ll keep you breathing.”

  “You’re the one who should tap out, you and The Arsenal. You think you stayed off radar when you took out Hive and The Collective? You’ve made a lot of people nervous. Angry.” Stan laughed. “Hell, because of you, I’ve got more demand than I can supply.”

  “Keep talking. He’s sliding off the rails,” Jesse said.

  “Dumbass isn’t even trying to hide anything,” Zoey said.

  “The worm is in deep,” Vi said. “Cord, you’re clear to exit.”

  “Roger. I’ll plant a few of the Plan Bs before I go,” the man replied.

  “You. Are. A. Liability.” Rhea let the words loom a moment. “Open your eyes. You are nothing but a problem in an expensive suit. All they want is the formulas. The designs. They don’t need you. For anything. You’re on the radar now. Someone blew up your facility in Tucson. They aren’t going to like that. Anything on the radar becomes a problem—one that requires a permanent solution. You won’t like what they do next, Stan.”

  “Bitch.” He glared at Walters. “Get them both out of here!”

  “Last chance,” Fallon said. “We’ve been patient. Surrender and we’ll protect you.”

  “They don’t control me. No one controls me. You stupid, stupid bitch. I’m the God of this. I own everyone and everything! They answer to me!”

  “Sure. That’s why we’re fielding so many calls from those people you control.” Rhea patted his forearm. “Keep pretending if you want. One day very soon you’re going to have to wake up and handle the real world—the one where you’re nothing but a thieving prick.”

  “That’s it! A thieving prick.” Fallon snapped his finger and grinned. “Come on. Let’s go eat at that place you mentioned.”

  “You don’t want to make me angry, Rhea,” Stan said when she headed for the exit.

  “Don’t threaten me,” Rhea warned.

  “We stayed in touch, you know.”

  Rhea froze. Her pulse quickened. No. She squeezed her eyes shut as Fallon tensed beside her.

  “It’d be easy to make them pay for your misdeeds.”

  “They are safe, Rhea.” Mary’s voice filled the com. “Your entire family is under surveillance. We will send more operatives to help cover them, but they are protected. Do not let him get to you. Walk out right now.”

  But Mary and her friends couldn’t protect her from the vileness about to come from Stan. The malevolent look in his gaze froze her insides. She wished she could turn off the coms and drag Fallon out before the bastard finished.

  But she’d rattled his cage, and this was the fallout, the result no one on the coms could’ve predicted because she’d never shared what the bastard knew.

  “You aren’t touching them,” Rhea warned.

  “I see it now,” he commented. “I never understood why you’re the way you are. Everyone thinks you’re a goody two shoes, but we know the truth, don’t we? You’re more of a monster than I could ever be.”

  Rhea fisted her hands. An argument poised on her tongue, but she remained silent because the truth loomed in his words. “I’m not ashamed of the choices I made, Stan.”

  “That’s a lie, Rhea.” Stan tsked. “You never made the choice. That’s what made you who you are. It was taken from you. She was taken from you, ripped out of you. Is that why you turned her over without a fight? You escaped into your head, into your goddamned compounds, and threw her away like trash.”

  Fear clawed its way through her, but Mary’s words from before battled the terror. Rhianna was safe.

  “She’s beautiful, looks so much like you,” Stan commented. “So inquisitive. She should know about the bitch who spawned her.”

  A barely audible gasp filled the line. It was the only hint her best friends were present, listening as the bastard exposed her darkest shame, the regret that’d turned her into what she was today. He was right.

  What’d happened when she was sixteen shaped her, shifted her focus from saving people to something far darker. She’d made impulsive choices which had led her to death’s door. They’d danced, and she’d won—barely.

  “I couldn’t have done it, you know.” Stan shook his head. “You think I’m the monster, but we both know you’re worse. Did you blame her? Is that why you scraped off the only child you’ll ever be able to have?”

  “Get her out of there, Fallon,” Mary ordered.

  “You know nothing,” Rhea spat. Hands fisted at her sides, she honed the anger and betrayal.

  “I married, you know. Finally found a real woman who could give me a kid. I used to pity you, replacing what you couldn’t have with your stupid lab. It was never enough, though. Was it? No matter how dark your creations got, they couldn’t ever replace what was taken away.”

  Fallon hovered close, drew her int
o his heat, the strength he exuded. But she remained locked, ready to strike the bastard. He may have betrayed her by stealing her research and designs, but this…

  She’d shared her darkest shame with no one except him. She’d gotten through the aftermath, but she’d lost too much to see the beauty in medicine. Her father’s dream of her becoming a cardiac or neurological surgeon was dead—along with her ability to have children.

  Rhianna had deserved more than a broken teenage mother. Her parents’ suggestion had been a solution—one that’d given her a desperately needed reboot. One which gave her baby girl what she deserved.

  A part of her soul died long ago, and she’d foolishly entrusted the loss with Stan.

  “You shouldn’t hide the darkness in you, Rhea. It’s beautiful, magnificent. That’s your gift to the world. Embrace it.”

  “Last chance, Stan. Turn over the research and surrender while you still can.”

  “You’ve always been such a disappointment. To your dad. To me. To Mary and Vi and Bree. To everyone.” Stan shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m gonna do you a favor and bury you. You and your friends.”

  “Brick by brick.” Rhea fisted her hands. “I’m going to bury you and your empire. Brick by brick.”

  She turned and forced one foot in front of the other. Fallon fell in step beside her, hand at her hip. Each breath she dragged in smelled like him. The scent was almost enough to chase away the phantom stench of antiseptic.

  The hospital.

  She’d woken up disoriented. Confused.

  Complications thirty-four weeks into her pregnancy had necessitated emergency surgery. She’d hemorrhaged, which had resulted in a hysterectomy despite her young age. Sixteen. Although she could forget most days, navigate life despite the loss on others, she’d never fully accepted the fate dealt to her.

  The relief of being alive outweighed the anger, but the latter carved out her path in college. She turned her back on neurology and focused on death. At first, she’d wanted to cure people—prevent future little girls from losing what she’d lost.

  Cheating death wasn’t enough, though. No. She’d own it, carve it into her own creation.

  “We’re out,” Dallas said.

  Rhea listened as one operative after another confirmed their extraction. Everything went according to plan for the most part. Everyone had done precisely what they’d practiced, planned. Strategized.

  Except her.

  She’d walked in confident because of those around her, but she’d had no idea Stan had that level of evil within him. Of course he did. The bastard had created the most lethal weapon Rhea had ever seen—from her own designs. Of course he’d expose the secret she’d whispered in a moment of weakness, one she’d never shared with another soul.

  The wound she carried. The loss she breathed life into every day at The Arsenal when surrounded by the new life unfolding. TJ. DJ. Ariana. Jessie. Vi, Kamren, and likely Zoey would add to the swelling next generation.

  “Hang on. We’re almost there. Take a deep breath.”

  Rhea couldn’t breathe. Fallon’s arm tightened around her as the elevator closed. Crawled to the lower level. She embraced the numb, the quiet in her brain that always happened when she was overwhelmed. It’d been years since she’d pushed herself to the emotional edge—where reality became too real for her analytical mind to navigate.

  System failure.

  If she were a cyborg, she’d be rebooted, possibly decommissioned altogether for today’s failures. She should’ve shared the skeleton with her friends long ago, way before she’d trusted Stan.

  Millions of women couldn’t have children. She was one of many—a silent army marching through life, redirecting their hopes and dreams into new avenues. She no longer mourned what she couldn’t have, not really. Some days were harder than others, especially since so many around her were carving out their new paths as mothers.

  “Stay with me, Doc.”

  11

  “Fallon, do not take her to the van. Z has alternative transport on the third level, a red BMW. Get her out of the building and to that car,” Edge ordered, her voice firm but filled with concern.

  The Edge he’d once known never showed emotion during an op. The new woman she’d become at The Arsenal was a hybrid—one who embodied the lethal proficiency of The Edge persona while holding on to who she truly was. An amazing woman deeply in love with one hell of a man. A fierce, loving mom and best friend.

  He offered no comment because the security cronies had packed into the elevator along with them. Fallon took Rhea’s cold hand and squeezed. She remained tense, withdrawn, but moved wherever he directed with a gentle touch at her hip.

  “Your weapon.”

  “Keep it. You’ll need it if your boss doesn’t get smart quick,” Fallon said.

  Donovan exited from the rightmost door moments before Fallon and Rhea arrived at the center ones. Sanchez fell in step behind them. The perfectly synchronized exit affirmed what he’d already known—he had one hell of a team. Spade and Walker hadn’t been needed, but they would’ve done whatever was necessary to keep Doc safe.

  He took the stairs once they arrived at the bank’s parking garage. Thank fuck for Z. The woman had caches of vehicles, weapons, and any other supply needed in the field stashed all around the country. Not because The Arsenal had needed them. They’d been for the underground network she’d run alone—the one which kept trafficking victims and other innocent people safe.

  Now that The Arsenal ran the network, they had full access to its resources for ops. They’d come in handy on more than one occasion. Sure, every operative hired by the Masons was resourceful enough to make do with nothing, but when a beautiful woman was shivering and fighting like hell to keep her shit together, Fallon didn’t want to hot-wire a car or rely on public transportation.

  And Edge had been right. Rhea didn’t need to be around the others in his team. And Dallas’.

  “The van’s on the first floor,” Rhea argued. She faced the stairwell they’d just exited.

  “We’re taking a different car. We’re almost there.”

  “Around the corner to the right. Slot C twenty-seven,” Jesse said. “Key is beneath the front passenger side tire’s wheel well.”

  Fallon halted at the vehicle’s passenger side, snagged the keys, and depressed the unlock button. Lights flashed. He opened the door and guided Rhea into the vehicle. Seatbelt fastened, he shut the door and ran around to the driver’s seat.

  “Meet back up at the hangar,” Edge ordered. “We’ll add an hour to departure time. Get our girl sorted.”

  “On it.” Fallon reached over and removed Rhea’s com, but kept his active in case Edge needed to establish contact.

  Silence hadn’t ever been a problem between he and Doc. They were comfortable enough with one another to not let it be awkward. But the trembling woman beside him was in a hell he couldn’t understand.

  Fuck.

  Fallon was the last person who should deal with Rhea right now for many reasons, but he couldn’t imagine letting anyone else make this right. How the fuck did he make this right?

  What was this?

  He adjusted the heat in the car, opting to sweat rather than let Rhea shiver any longer. Was there a blanket in the trunk? Probably. Knowing Z, she had an entire Walmart stockpiled. But he wasn’t wasting time to pull over and check.

  “You did great back there.”

  “No. I didn’t.” She peered out the window at the passing city as he navigated his way toward the freeway.

  “Your family is safe.”

  “I know. Mary, Vi, and Zoey won’t let anything happen to them.” She looked at Fallon. “I should’ve told them. Mary. Vi. Bree. None of them knew. No one knew except him.”

  Fallon gripped the steering wheel, forcing his rage back. Listen.

  He had one task.

  Listen.

  “Dad had my entire life charted out. Harvard. Then Harvard Medical. Residency at Boston General. A
cardiac surgeon, just like him.” She laughed. “I was fifteen when I first said I didn’t want to be a heart surgeon. He said I could be a neurosurgeon instead.”

  Bastard.

  “I met Eddie that summer. We became friends, then more. I was so angry, tired of being controlled.” Tears pooled in her eyes.

  “Doc, my com’s still on,” he warned.

  “It’s okay. They need to know.” She looked away. “Dad was livid when he found out I was pregnant, but Mom talked him around. Said we’d work through it because that’s what we did. I thought everything was okay. I wouldn’t ever have the dream I wanted, but at least I wouldn’t have to live his.”

  “What was it?”

  “What was what?”

  “Your dream.”

  “Julliard.” She laughed. “I loved playing the cello, wanted to be in the New York Symphony.”

  Damn. Fallon’s gut twisted. Their affinity for music was deeper than he’d imagined. His own admission poised on his tongue, but he swallowed it back. The moment was about Rhea, not him.

  “I was six months into the pregnancy when the first complication arose,” she whispered.

  A gasp sounded through the com, but Fallon made no comment. He turned the vehicle right, then merged onto the congested freeway with no action plan. No firm destination. For now it didn’t matter. He’d head toward the airstrip two hours away and figure it out as they went.

  “I was homeschooled because I had to remain in bed the last trimester, but I was happy.” She smiled. Tears trekked down her cheeks. “Then one night I woke in a hospital. The stench. Disinfectant. It was so strong. I was so confused. I didn’t know what’d happened, I just knew something wasn’t right. Like… like I’d lost a part of me.”

  Fuck.

  He wished someone else was here to help her, give her the words she needed. He sure wasn’t the one to utter whatever soothing statements Rhea deserved.

  “Dad came in. He was so distraught, but then he was… like an automaton or something. Monotone. He told me there’d been a complication. They’d had to pull my baby girl early.”