The Marked Star

by Vicki Hinze

  Within two months of leaving the military, the Shadow Watchers had their private security consulting firm, known simply as PSC, up and running. Within four months, they had landed a created-for-them slot on Omega One’s anti-terrorism task force unit’s payroll. Officially, the team at PSC was classified as subject-matter experts. Consultants. Unofficially, they did what the officials couldn’t do politically or legally to accomplish critical essential missions. Their only direct contact? Omega One.

  The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

  The church began to empty.

  Nick walked down the aisle and out of the nave, through the vestibule, then outside. Squinting against the glaring sun, he continued halfway around the corner of the building. Seeing no one else within earshot, he stopped and then answered the phone. “This is Nick.”

  “Hey. Wedding over?”

  Nick checked his voice recognition app and saw the verification link. Omega One. Secure and good to go, he answered. “Just.” He watched the grounds with his back to the building; first left, then right, then above.

  “Give the groom our congratulations.”

  “Will do,” Nick said, stuffing a hand in the pocket of his slacks. “What’s up?”

  “I need a favor.”

  That was code for I’ve got an assignment for you. “If I can, I will.”

  “Great, because it’s on its way to you now.”

  “I’m not at my comput—“

  “It’s not an email, it’s a package,” Omega One said. “I need for you to accept delivery and hold onto it for me.”

  Omega One couldn’t accept delivery. That meant this matter was CIA-related. It couldn’t act on U.S. soil so Omega One was subcontracting the Shadow Watchers to handle the package. “When will it arrive?”

  “Imminently.”

  “Where?”

  “Where you’ll be in half an hour.”

  Obscure. Oh, yeah. Definitely CIA-related. “No problem,” Nick said, expecting it’d be anything but. “How long will I be holding it?”

  “Indefinitely.”

  Great. An indefinite assignment babysitting. Be still my heart. “Got it.”

  “You personally, Nick. Eyes on at all times.”

  His worry meter fired up and he dropped the silent sarcasm. “All right.” Omega One rarely told any of the Shadow Watchers how to do their jobs, and he’d always been just as happy with any of them as with any one of them specifically. That he’d singled out Nick likely meant not only would evasion be necessary but high-tech evasion with deep search and scanning capabilities. “I understand.” Unfortunately, he did. “Is the package being retained agreeable to all parties?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Great. The package had no idea who had him or her, or why—yet. He should ask the reason but he didn’t want to know. Briefed, he could be put on the spot to explain. Without being briefed, he honestly had no knowledge. That, however, left one question he had to ask for mission security. “Will someone be seeking it?”

  “That’s a distinct possibility.”

  “Anyone I know?”

  “Oh, yeah. The usual suspects.”

  NINA. The team’s arch-enemy, Nihilists in Anarchy. Nick’s skin crawled. He knew that tone, and Omega One knew Nick would know it. “Do we know why?”

  “That’s a little murky at the moment. We have conflicting reports.”

  Nick stared down at the freshly mowed grass. Just how much trouble was barreling his way on this? “Chatter?”

  “Extensive and discreet,” Omega One said. “The Marked Star.”

  NINA had tagged the package the Marked Star. Why?

  Footfalls sounded and Nick looked up to see Joe and Sam approaching him. One glance at his face and their expressions tensed. He held up a wait-a-second finger to delay questions.

  “Update—“ Nick started.

  “As soon as I have verified information, I’ll be in touch.”

  “Got it.” Now keyed up and tense, Nick disconnected the call and looked at his partners.

  “What’s up?” Sam asked, loosening the tie he hated but wore today to please Lisa. The Alabama redneck was far more at home and comfortable in sawed-off sleeved shirts, jeans, and flip-flops.

  Nick visually scanned the perimeter, the roof, and then dropped his voice. “Inbound package. Half an hour, at the reception.”

  “Wedding present?” Joe asked, clearly wishing.

  Nick resisted the urge to roll his eyes back in his head. “Human. A NINA target.”

  “Oh, man.” Sam groused and stared at the brick wall. “Can’t those jerks give us at least a little break?”

  “It’s not their nature,” Joe said. “Scorpions sting because that’s what scorpions do, bro.” He looked back to Nick. “So why isn’t One taking delivery himself?”

  “He couldn’t.” Nick sent Joe a loaded look.

  “CIA.” Joe worried his lip with his thumb. “So what are we supposed to do with it?”

  “Hold it indefinitely,” Nick said. “Not us, me. Eyes on all the time.”

  “This is bad, buddy. Really bad.” Sam reached for his missing ball cap to tug its brim down over his eyes. He unconsciously slid into that tell whenever he wanted to shield his reaction to something. Nick had tried to break him of the habit but hadn’t had any more luck with the tell than everyone’d had with breaking Sam from cursing.

  “Is One trying to prevent an interdiction, or what?” Sam asked.

  “That’d be my guess.” Joe slid his sunglasses onto his nose and watched the empty street.

  “It was mine, too.” Nick motioned for them to walk toward the parking lot. “But we’re speculating. He didn’t disclose his motives.”

  “Does the package know?”

  “I’m not sure. One was vague, but I don’t think so.” Nick looked from Joe to Sam and frowned. “Extensive chatter. Conflicting reports.”

  “Early on in the operation, then.” Joe unwrapped a slice of chewing gum and popped it into his mouth. It’d been a couple years now, but he seemed as addicted to gum chewing as he had been to the cigarettes that had him chewing gum to quit. How did he make even chewing gum look cool?

  Sam sniffed. “Early on or an op that went south coming out of the gate.”

  “What else do you know?” Looking at Nick, Joe stepped from the grass to the concrete sidewalk.

  “They’ve dubbed the package the Marked Star.”

  “Star?” Sam asked, clearly baffled. “That’s a weird one.”

  Nick nodded. It was a weird moniker for NINA to hang on a mission. The strangest Nick had heard in a decade.

  “Why?” Joe called the question they all wanted answered.

  “No idea,” Nick admitted, though it grated at him. He hated not knowing details of every mission up front. All of them. “Maybe the package is known in their circle?”

  He’d meant NINA’s circle, and the stern mask that dropped over Sam’s face proved he’d picked up on it. “Or ours.”

  Joe’s gaze landed on Beth and softened. She stood waiting patiently for him beside the open door of her SUV. “One’s sure being mysterious.”

  “Not in the least.” Nick spoke softly, knowing the information he was about to disclose would shock them as much as it had him. “He’s waiting for authorization to brief us to come down the chain from on high.”

  “What?” Joe went deadpan. “You’re kidding me.”

  “We have clearances up the wazoo,” Sam insisted. “All the way to Pennsylvania Avenue.”

  Nick absorbed their surprise. He’d been kicked back on his heels about that, too. When it settled, he went on. “We do. Which tells us, this is different.”

  “Different how?”

  The question frustrated Nick. He frowned at Sam. “I don’t know…yet.”

  “Informant?” Joe suggested.

  “Double agent?” Sam speculated aloud.

  “Omega One could handle either of those.”

  “Enemy
combatant?” Joe stopped moving.

  Sam automatically did, too, and then so did Nick. “Being delivered to us on US soil? Uh, no. We’d be on our way to a ship in international waters somewhere obscure.”

  “Then what do you think it is, bro?” Joe asked Nick.

  “Best guess?” When Joe nodded, Nick added, “A high-value target.” Made sense with NINA’s strange mission name, The Marked Star. Surely being marked made the person a target. “Probably interdicted outside our borders. And naturally, NINA wants the person badly.”

  “No doubt, buddy.” Sam stared off in the distance, clearly thinking what they all were. In any language, this assignment spelled big trouble.

  “Not a word to Mark.” Joe lifted a finger. “He’ll postpone his honeymoon, and Lisa will be disappointed and ticked to the nines.”

  She would be, but she’d never say a word. When she’d needed the team, it had been there. She hadn’t forgotten it, and after being sold into human-trafficking twice and being spared twice because of the team’s efforts, she wasn’t likely to ever forget it. “Agreed.”

  “See you at the reception.” Joe walked away, joined Beth and got into her SUV.

  Nick glanced at his watch. “We’d better hustle. One said thirty minutes. If we move, we’ll just make it.”

  Sam elbowed Nick and snagged his keys. “Better let me drive, then.”

  “Right.” Sam’s notoriety as a lead-footed speed-demon had been earned. He’d shave eight minutes off the trip. Nick moved around the front-end and got in on the passenger’s side, preparing himself for dealing with an uncooperative package.

  Indefinitely.

  He fell back on the phrase the team had always used to summon that last ounce of strength and courage to make the impossible not only possible but reality. That something you summon when you’re spent and have nothing left to give but need more to get the job done. Those words that signal you’ve maxed out but won’t quit—you’ll never quit.

  Think steel.

  Nora stood watch at the Country Club’s entrance. The silver-haired senior village mother wore a pink floral dress and clearly had been waiting for Nick and Sam. When they walked in for the wedding reception, she squinted at them, straining to see clearly, and smiled. Her dark red lipstick stained her teeth, and she smelled like violets.

  Nick had always had a fondness for violets, and for nearly bat-blind women who adopted and nurtured every stray. “You and Annie did a nice job on the wedding, Nora.” They were the village’s official wedding planners.

  “Annie done most of it,” she said about Lisa’s mother in a brisk no-nonsense way, then dropped her voice low. “There’s a package waiting for you in Receiving, my boy. It’s pretty big and, I’m guessing, you’re expecting it.” She sent him a pointed look. “I didn’t mention it to Mark.”

  Her vision might be sorry but her mind was as sharp as minds get. “Thanks.” He looked around, saw only tall columns, marble floors, hallways and French doors. “Where’s Receiving?”

  “Down at the end of the left hall.” She held his gaze, her own steady. “Figured it was important, coming to you here. I got Jeff keeping an eye on it.”

  Detective Jeff Meyer. Known and trusted by the Shadow Watchers. Astute, as always. “Thanks, Nora.”

  She plucked a thread from the lapel of his navy suit then nodded to Sam. “I’ll be saving you some crab cakes.” They were Sam’s favorites. “Repayment for wearing the tie for Lisa today and leaving your cap in your truck.”

  “Thanks, Nora.” Sam planted a loud kiss on her leathery cheek. “You’re the best.”

  “High time you noticed, I’m saying.” She harrumphed, but delight danced in her eyes. “Get going now. I got things to do besides running interference for you boys. And don’t be lingering overly long.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Everyone in the village loved Nora. Everyone protected her, and she made no bones about loving her boys. Namely, Mark, Tim, Joe, Nick and Sam. Mark had brought them to Seagrove Village nearly five years ago and Nora had opened her heart to the whole team and taken them in. Because she’d claimed them, the entire village accepted them as its own. So far, Nora hadn’t faltered once in her support.

  Nick hadn’t known what to do with her steadfastness then. He still didn’t know how to process it, but at some point in time surely it would fade. She couldn’t really care what happened to any of them. Until then, he accepted her devotion. He didn’t count on it, but he appreciated it. She was the first woman in his life who cared whether or not he ate or lived or died. Nick owed her for that. They all did.

  Beside Sam, Nick made his way down the left hallway to Receiving. A discreet brass sign attached to the wall beside a wide door winked in the harsh light cast down from the overhead fluorescents. Nick turned the knob and opened the door.

  Tim and Joe stood next to a stack of boxes beside a serious-looking Jeff Meyer.

  Relief that didn’t begin to touch the tension in Jeff washed across his face. “Nick, you made it.”

  “Yeah, sorry. Nora needed a brief word.” Nobody challenged Nora unless it was for her own safety.

  “Do we need a sniffer on this box?” Jeff stepped back, revealed a single wardrobe box on the floor. Much larger than the other boxes, it stood out like a sore thumb, and it wasn’t the color of normal cardboard, it was white.

  Tense, worried, and wary. No doubt Jeff was recalling his being late for the Talbots’ wedding last year and walking in on a NINA chemical attack. Fortunately, they’d only suffered one fatality. “Not necessary. Sam’s here, and his nose is as good as any dog’s that I’ve ever seen. Thanks for keeping watch on it.”

  “No problem.” He lifted a finger, motioned between himself and the door. “Do you want me to stay or go?”

  “Go, by all means.” Nick bobbed his head. “Sara’s probably waiting for a dance.”

  “Whew.” Jeff headed toward the door. “I was worried this was going to be another…rough wedding.”

  “No need to worry,” Tim assured Jeff. “Totally routine.”

  “Dang right,” Sam said, earning himself a glare from everyone else.

  Nora took exception to dang or any other cussing and was determined Sam break the habit. He’d cuss, and she’d spike his iced-tea with jalapeño pepper juice. Nick figured Sam had consumed at least a couple gallons of the stuff. Hardheaded.

  Jeff missed the tension and departed, then shut the door behind him.

  “Sorry.” Sam shrugged.

  “Never validate,” Nick told Sam. “You validate, you plant doubt.”

  “I know. I know.”

  Nick rolled his gaze. “Go secure the door, will you?” Nick staved off issuing another rebuke and glanced at Joe. “He’s dead from the neck up.”

  “Sometimes we all are,” Joe said, playing the diplomat. “You know as well as I do Sam’s brilliant. He’s just developed a thing for jalapeño pepper juice in his iced-tea. Some like lemon. He likes the juice.” Joe lifted his hands. “You know I’m right. That’s the only reasonable explanation for his refusing to remember to clean up his language here.”

  “Obviously, the juice isn’t working,” Nick said. “We need something hotter.” He bent to check the box. Rocked it, testing its weight. Definitely someone inside. He nodded to the others then backed off and pulled his weapon. He motioned Tim to the left. Joe slid to the right. “Go, Sam.”

  Sam opened the box.

  A woman sprung up swinging and landed a right hook on Sam’s jaw. She screamed a string of curses on his head and fought as if her life depended on winning.

  “Stop that right now!” Nick shouted.

  She stilled, shoved her long hair back from her face, straightened up and stared at him. “Nick?”

  Tiny, thin, reddish blonde hair and pale skin with angular features that shouldn’t combine to leave a man breathless but did. It’d been a while, but he recognized and reacted to her immediately. “Elle?”

  Chapter Three

  Four years h
ad passed since he had seen her, and the changes in her were stark. Eighteen to twenty-two made a lot of difference in the woman. Her features looked fuller, more honed. Elle always had been a small package of dynamite, but now that fire inside her burned clearly in her eyes and she wore her confidence on the outside. It looked great on her. “What are you doing here?” Nick still couldn’t believe his eyes. She was Omega One’s package?

  Elle burst into tears and either hadn’t noticed the three guns leveled on her chest or she didn’t care. She ran to Nick, slammed against him, wrapped her arms around his waist and held on, babbling bits and pieces of something only she could decipher. He couldn’t make out a thing.

  Over the top of her head, Nick looked at the guys. They were baffled, curious, and silently speculating.

  In their shoes, he would be, too. “Elle Bostwick,” he said, then knowing her name wouldn’t mean a thing to them, he added, “Daughter of Glen and Daris Howell at AAN.” They caught the connection to one of their clients, American Armory Network, and Nick’s shoulder shrug. He had no idea why NINA would be after Elle. Her dad? Yes. But Elle? That NINA was after her put knots in Nick’s stomach. “Elle, sh. Wait a second, okay? You can tell me whatever you want, but just wait a second.”

  “She’s the Elle Bostwick.“ Tim frowned.

  Nick nodded.

  “Who is the Elle Bostwick?” Sam asked Joe.

  “Singer,” Joe said. “A big star.”

  The Marked Star suddenly made sense.

  “Never heard of her.” Sam admitted. “Sorry, Elle. No offense, but I only do Country.”

  That reality bite snapped Elle out of her fear and her confusion. She looked at Nick for an explanation.

  “Sam’s our resident Alabama redneck,” he said. “If it isn’t Country music, he’s not listening to it.”

  She nodded. “Devoted fans are a treasure. They don’t get more devoted than to Country.” She stilled, then swatted at Nick’s shoulder. “I should blister your ears—and I might in a minute. I can’t believe you did this to me.”