DARC Ops: The Complete Series

by Jamie Garrett

  And then Tucker’s far-away cry. “Matt!”

  Matthias rolled over and tried looking back to where the sound was coming from. He could see the hotel, the wrought-iron balcony. And on one of the balconies, the sniper. His sniper. His brethren, Tucker.

  “Tucker!” he cried. “I’m down!”

  “I know! Stay down!”

  He had mistaken Tucker for his shooter.

  “Matt, one threat down! One threat neutralized!”

  And Tucker, God Bless him, had shot his shooter.

  He had made it up to him.

  “I’m calling a medivac!”

  Matthias was glad to hear the words. He was glad to be alive.

  When he pulled himself up again to take inventory of the damage, his phone rang. It was still in his hands. He looked at the screen and then answered it as fast as he could.

  “Laurel?”

  “Matt, oh, my God.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Are you?”

  “I think so.”

  She took a deep breath. “I’m so glad. I heard gunshots.” Her voice sounded so much better now. Calmer, only a small trace of fear. Matthias was so glad to hear it.

  “I’m fine. What the hell happened with Caitlyn?”

  “I got her gun.”

  “Is she still there?”

  “Don’t worry. Tucker’s coming back soon.”

  “Jesus Christ.” Sirens were loud now, approaching from all directions. “Jesus Christ, Laurel. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I just wanted to call, because, I realized I never thanked you for that gift.”

  Matthias laughed.

  “Put me on video chat,” she urged.

  “Right now?”

  “I want to make sure you’re okay.”

  It was an absurd request. Here he was bleeding, waiting for an ambulance.

  “Laurel, focus on Caitlyn. Don’t get distracted.”

  “Just real quick.”

  He thought for a moment, and then agreed. Why not make her happy? All he had to do was not show his legs on camera.

  When her beautifully frazzled face flashed on the screen, he was glad he’d agreed to her request.

  “Matt,” she said. “Your hands. They’re still.”

  39

  Laurel

  It was the first time Mama had ever flown anywhere and so Laurel had expected her to be nervous. It was a huge shakeup from her daily routine, her quiet world of cats. But as sick as Mama was, she was glowing with excitement all through the trip. She was visiting the nation’s capital as well as one of its premier hospitals, Lambert Memorial. She was meeting all of these wonderful people who had been so helpful to her and Laurel, the DARC Ops crew. She had never heard about them before, but they were like old friends from the moment she laid eyes on them.

  “So when do I get to meet him? Matt. He’s their leader, right?”

  Laurel giggled. “No, Mama, that’s Jackson.”

  Mama took a sip of cranberry juice and then placed the paper cup on the tray that hung across her bed. “Jackson’s the leader? So who’s Matt?”

  “My friend.”

  Mama snorted a laugh. “Bless your heart.”

  “What?”

  “Me and your Daddy was friends once, too.”

  Laurel stared at her hard.

  “Don’t make eyes at me,” Mama said, her head cocked to the side.

  They had just arrived at the hospital and Mama seemed more excited than usual. She had more energy than Laurel could remember.

  “Gee, Mama, you must be feeling better.”

  “Oh, I’m fine.”

  “You being so sassy and all. You sure you even need this surgery?”

  Mama’s smile faded a little. “Oh, I need this. Yes, Honey, I need it bad.”

  Laurel had been sitting at the bedside, trying not to obsess with her phone, trying not to check for his text every twenty seconds. She had just gone down to grab some tea and snacks for lunch, and still no sign of him anywhere. He’d said that he wanted to be the first to greet them once they arrived at the hospital.

  “You sure you don’t need anything else?” Laurel asked.

  “Oh, no. No, I think I’ll just lay here and rest.”

  Laurel could use the rest, too. It had only been a week since the shootout in New Orleans. In the days immediately after, she was tied up with the FBI, giving testimony and then waiting bedside with a recovering Matthias. Although he’d been shot several times, the doctors all thought he’d make a good recovery. Matthias thought so, too. He was in good spirits. “I’m a pro at this now,” he said. Laurel wished he’d be a pro at something else. She never knew anyone who’d been shot before. Not even shot once. And here was Matthias, his body riddled with scars. It amazed her how tough he was.

  The guy was a badass. That’s all there was to it.

  And it kinda turned her on.

  Which made keeping her hands off him all the more difficult. Through the frenzy of her week, in and out of hospitals and government buildings, there remained absolutely no time or privacy for her and Matthias while they were still in New Orleans. A far cry from their little love-nest motel outside Montgomery. No real intimacy for a week. Goddamn, it was killing her.

  But at least she wasn’t the only one. They shared that little misery, too, along with the frustrations of being at the center of the investigations. There was one misery, however, that they’d seemed lucky enough to evade. Both of them, having each other, having their bond, made it easy to deal with the psychological trauma of what had happened. She was worried about Matthias the most, with his history with PTSD. But he’d just smiled and joked his way through it all.

  He was so damned tough.

  “Laurel? I might even just try to sleep.”

  “Oh?”

  “I mean, if you’re wanting to go take a look around for him.”

  “No, Mama, I’ll wait. I’ll stay here.”

  Mama pointed to the vacant bed next to hers. “No one’s using that one if you wanna—”

  Laurel laughed. “It’s okay. The chair’s fine.” She settled into her uncomfortable chair, about the recheck her phone, when she heard the sound of rubber rolling over tile. It was a wheelchair. It was Matthias.

  Grinning, he pushed the wheels of his chair through the doorway. “Welcome to Washington.”

  “Matt, oh my God.” She felt her face flush with happiness. She stood up. “Let me help you in.”

  “No, no. I got it.”

  “Mama, this is Matt.”

  “Ohhh,” Mama said.

  Matthias pulled up to her bedside, politely shaking the woman’s hand. “How do you do?”

  “Just fine, thank you.” Mama’s face was glowing, too.

  “Mama, this is the man who’s been saving my life lately.” Laurel laughed, but it was true.

  “Thank you, Matt,” she said. “Thank you so much for . . . for everything. I can’t even begin to—”

  He waved his hands at her and said, “No, no. It’s just part of the job.”

  Mama shook her head. “Laurel here got you involved in some real trouble, didn’t she?”

  “It’s true,” Laurel said. “I did.”

  “Well,” Matthias said. “I came all the way down from Washington to spy on her, so I guess I was asking for it.”

  “Yep,” Mama said. “That’s it right there. She’s trouble, that one. Always trouble.”

  “Mama . . .”

  Matthias had begun rolling around the bed and over to Laurel’s chair. “How do you like my new wheels?”

  “I like the old ones better,” Laurel said. “The Harley. What happened to it?”

  “Jackson rode it back up to Washington.”

  “Ah,” Mama said. “So that’s what’s taking him so long.”

  Matthias chuckled. “He’ll be here this afternoon. I got here early.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Laurel said. “I’ve bee
n waiting forever.”

  He was wheeling right up to her, smiling, looking oddly hot with all of his bandages. He was wearing a shirt with short sleeves and whenever he moved the chair, Laurel was given a nice little show from his arms’ muscles. His triceps looked particularly yummy, flexed and bulging one last time before he came to a stop next to her chair. God, she so badly wanted to kiss him. She wanted to do so many things . . . But a kiss, though. Could she do that at least in front of Mama?

  Matthias looked hungry, too. But he played nice, smiling, and then looking back over to the bed. “I’m really glad you girls got in just fine. We’ll take really good care of you here.”

  “Well, aren’t you gonna kiss him, Laurel? This man is an angel.”

  “Mama.”

  Matthias just laughed.

  After some small talk, and Mama thanking him yet again—and then declaring she’d like to take a nap—Laurel and Matthias finally found some semi-alone time in the hallway. He’d begrudgingly agreed to let her push him, and they strolled casually, directionless, happy.

  “Mama’s so happy,” Laurel said, looking down at the top of his head.

  “I can tell.”

  “And she seems so . . . energetic. God, if we can just wipe out this cancer . . .”

  “We will.”

  She reached over to touch his shoulder, squeezing him firmly, but then it became too hard to push his weight with one hand. She returned both hands to the chair and then picked up her pace. There was a corner just ahead. Maybe beyond it was some privacy . . .

  “I really missed you,” Matthias said.

  “I missed you so much. And, it’s crazy, but when you left, I almost started to feel scared again.”

  “Scared? Really?”

  “Well, not scared, but . . .”

  “It’s okay to be scared, Laurel.”

  “Yeah . . .”

  “You’ve been through some shit.”

  “I guess now I know what it’s like.”

  He turned his head back, looking over his shoulder, looking at her. “You were amazing. You were so fucking brave.”

  She smiled.

  “Brave’s not even the word. You were, like, a pro. You handled it like a DARC Ops guy.”

  She laughed. “Maybe I can join the team. I can be your stun-gun expert.”

  “You’re a fucking badass, Laurel.” He turned his head back around. “You’re a fighter. Even before Caitlyn.”

  Laurel pushed him a little more, and then finally built up the courage to ask about her. Caitlyn had been on her mind the whole day. The whole week. What an insane week . . .

  “You don’t have to worry about her,” Matthias said. “She’s hundreds of miles away.”

  “Still in Atlanta?”

  “Yeah, but behind bars.”

  “The other guys, too?”

  “Nah, they’re still in Louisiana.”

  “Behind bars?”

  He chuckled. “What do you think?”

  “I think I should move up north.”

  His head twitched to the side. “Really?”

  “Thinkin’ about it.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Here?” There was an excitement in his voice.

  She thought for a moment.

  He looked back at her again, a big smile crossing over his face.

  “I think so,” she said. “I mean, only if . . . Only if, you know . . .”

  “Only if you can move in with me?”

  She laughed.

  “Can you?”

  “Well, I mean, I’ve got to see about a job and everything.”

  “Can you please?” His smile broadened.

  Laurel stopped the chair, leaned her head down to his, and kissed him deeply on the lips. More than just a little peck. More than what a decent woman would do in public, or in a busy hospital. She just didn’t care anymore. Her tongue slid against his, her lips sucking his. And when she finally broke away, he looked at her with a curious expression.

  “What? What is it?”

  “Maybe I was serious about working for DARC Ops. Could you handle that?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, laughing. “Stun-gun expert? I feel like I’d be walking on eggshells around you.”

  “That’s right.” She reached down and messed up his hair. “Gotta keep you in line somehow.”

  He tried to straighten his hair out with a few meager flicks of his fingers. But then just gave up.

  Laurel continued pushing his chair and said, “On a serious note though, after this surgery, Mama’s probably gonna want us to get married.”

  Matthias laughed and said, “A serious note? Really?”

  “Yeah, really.”

  “Damn, you’re moving fast. Talking about moving up here, joining DARC, and then—”

  “Yeah, well, I could go faster.”

  “What do you mean?” Matthias asked it with a hint of anxiousness in his voice. She was really getting to his head. She loved it.

  “I mean, this.” She started pushing the chair faster and faster, getting low behind it to get more leverage, using her leg muscles to push his heavy weight as hard as she could.

  He was laughing like a kid, saying her name, and then saying nervously, “Alright, alright, alright. Slow down.”

  She’d built up a pretty good rate of speed. It surprised her.

  “Laurel, it’s gonna be hard to stop this thing!”

  She was laughing, too, hysterically.

  “Laurel!”

  “Okay, fine.” She leaned back with her weight in an attempt to slow down. Up ahead in the hall were two men in long white coats. They were looking her way and they didn’t seem as pleased.

  “Jesus Christ, Laurel.”

  He was right. It was almost frighteningly difficult to stop once she’d built up the momentum. But finally, it happened. Finally they were moving slow. And then Matthias said, “Wait, stop.”

  “Huh?”

  “Stop.” He sounded very serious now.

  She stopped and tried catching her breath from the drag race. “Sorry,” she said. “I don’t know why I did that.”

  “No,” Matthias said. “It’s not that.” He was looking around the hall, and then looking forward, his gaze locked on the wall.

  “What is it?

  He was looking at something there. A plaque.

  “Matthias?” She held onto his shoulder again.

  He was still looking. She stepped forward, reading it out loud softly to herself. “Honoring the victims of the events of August 30, 2016 at Lambert Memorial Hospital. . . the shooting taking the lives of . . . and injuring civilians and law enforcement officers . . . thanking those who saved many lives of our patients and staff…we shall never forget.”

  She turned back to him. Matthias’ face was calm, peaceful. Whatever it was, it wasn’t bothering him. Not anymore. She spoke, almost whispering. “What is it?”

  He was silent for a long while, before turned his head back to her. He was smiling. “Nothing. Nothing at all. I’m good.” He took her hand, dragging her down for a kiss, before speaking again. “Everything’s perfect.”

  Thank you so much for reading Laurel and Matthias’ story. Sam Hyde wants to stay with Clara Mills forever. The only problem? An attack from a terrorist threat that no one else believes even exists. Can he save the city, and his new family? Click here to find out.

  Dark Threat

  1

  Sam

  Sam sat on an old double-sided bench, taking in the dusk scenery of New Orleans’ French Quarter. The old-world architecture, blocks of fern-lined balconies, the impromptu brass bands. Amazing food on every corner. Beignets . . . He didn’t want to leave any of it.

  He was further convinced while talking to his boss, Jackson, who was probably sitting in a stuffy office a thousand miles away. Sam could hear the stress of the Capitol and all its high-intensity vibrations in Jackson’s voice, even through the phone’s choppy digital sig
nal. Washington D.C.—more radioactive than the phone call, was the epicenter of all of it. A convergence of incestuous politics and foreign intrigue. Crooks, lobbyists, hackers. Sam was getting sick of it.

  “So when are you coming back to D.C.?”

  He was especially sick of his other job, a psychology professorship at George Washington University. He’d had a short break from it, traveling through the south and ultimately ending up and working in New Orleans. But as the job was wrapping up, so were his excuses to stay. He’d have to return.

  How the hell could he get out of it? Even for just a little while longer. Maybe he could hire a teaching assistant to babysit his students? He could buy some time that way. But for how long? God, would he ever want to go back to D.C.?

  “I’m still wrapping things up here,” Sam said, rising from his bench and taking a few aimless steps toward a cluster of pigeons. He had to move and get the blood flowing for this one. He had to think.

  “Aren’t things pretty well wrapped up?” Jackson asked.

  “Yes and no. I’m trying to get access to the surviving bikers. I’ve talked to some contacts with the police here and they think I might be able to get an interview.”

  “An interview?”

  “An interrogation, really,” Sam said. “I want to talk to them face to face, read their expressions, their body language. I’m actually surprised no one asked me to do that already.”

  “Do they even know who you are?”

  Sam chuckled. “They do now.”

  “A local expert, huh?” There was a hint of snarkiness in Jackson’s voice.

  “Yeah,” Sam said, as the pigeons scrambled away from his feet and finally took off flying. “Well, not local for long.”

  “And I’ve got to ask, what the hell is the point in an interview?”

  “An interrogation. I want to see how far this goes up the chain.”

  “We know how far,” Jackson said. “It goes to the DA.”

  “I’m talking about the in-between,” Sam said. His mind was already off and running. How many different personalities and cogs must come between an outlaw bikers club and the District Attorney of Atlanta? There had to be many more involved that had yet to be officially implicated. He could work his way back to D.C. that way, slowly, moving up the chain in reverse order than Matthias and Laurel, tying up the loose ends from New Orleans to D.C. by way of Atlanta. It was necessary. It wasn’t just a stall tactic.