DARC Ops: The Complete Series

by Jamie Garrett

  She nodded.

  “But right now we’ve got some work to do.”

  “Yeah.” She was wearing a robe and looking as tired as ever.

  “At least I do. Before we can leave, we have to—”

  “You mean, leave Africa?”

  “Yeah. Tonight. But before that, we have to head to Pretoria and deal with some bureaucracy. And then we have to secure the shipment, and then . . .” He sighed, the long to-do list leaving him increasingly exacerbated.

  “Sounds like you could use my help.” Her smile returned to her face. Tucker was glad to see it. He was worried it had been tarnished somehow.

  “I’m not just good at running away from things,” she said.

  “I know.”

  “Or surviving.”

  “I know. You can thrive.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Maybe. But what I’m saying is that, I come with all the training that you have. And more, with the CIA. To quote you, I’m no slouch.”

  “I know.” Tucker could feel his own smile warming up across his face. For a brief second, things felt almost normal again, or at least as normal as they could.

  “So then you’ll talk to Jasper? I just . . .” Her words, and her smile, seemed to fade away into the abyss. She was just staring at him now, cold and hard. “I just can’t feel like I’m tagging along. Or like I’m some type of cargo.”

  Tucker rolled his eyes. “But you’d be the most beautiful cargo in the world.” And it was true, definitely true compared to a lump of uranium.

  But she didn’t seem to hear it. She scratched at her forehead, her eyes squinting. Was she trying to remember something? Finally, in a quieter voice, she said, “I know it probably looked bad. Your friend, I mean. Finding us in here like this and everything.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ll just say . . . um . . .”

  “That we were watching a movie.”

  Tucker laughed. “It’s like I’m trying to explain it to my parents or something.” He looked around for a clock and then sighed, remembering. “Jesus, what time is it?”

  “Your phone’s on the table,” Macy said, turning to the window.

  Tucker looked there too. The sky had begun to go a slightly lighter shade of blue. God, was it morning already? He felt like he hadn’t slept a single second. “I can’t believe it,” he said, shaking his head at the miserable, oncoming reality. “Tomorrow’s already here.”

  Macy walked out of his line of sight, leaving him to look with almost fear at the approach of morning. Another day of adventure lay ahead. Great . . .

  “There is no tomorrow,” Macy said, her voice suddenly sounding soft and melodious. “Or yesterday.”

  “Only here,” Tucker said, appreciating the philosophy. “Well, should I order up some coffee?”

  “I’m already on it,” Macy fumbled with the in-room coffee maker. He watched how her hands worked the machine, those fingers. Just a few minutes ago they’d been on him, not so fumbly, but pleasuring him, working him. The whole thing seemed crazy, now.

  Macy looked through the plastic coffee packets, throwing one of them back on the table. She looked at it with disgust. “I’m guessing you don’t want decaf at 4:30 AM, right?”

  “Hey,” Tucker said, faking surprise. “You’re right. You are helpful.”

  She didn’t laugh. And he supposed it wasn’t very funny to begin with, the demented product of his own fatigue and sexual frustration. He took a few steps around the room, pacing, planning the day that lay ahead, the steps he would have to take for everything to run smoothly . . .

  It only took him two minutes to remember the day’s first fuck-up.

  “Shit,” he muttered. “I’ve got to track down my laptop. I totally forgot about that.” Tucker went to move toward the door, but he stopped with the sound of Macy’s voice.

  “Wait.”

  Tucker waited. He turned to face her, watching her how hand played with the end of her robe belt, her fingers against the terrycloth. She was biting her bottom lip again, releasing it only to say, “You don’t want coffee?”

  17

  Tucker

  “I’m not even going to ask about it,” Jasper said, staring up at the hallway ceiling as he walked next to Tucker. Was he looking for anything in particular, or just a way out of the conversation?

  Tucker waited until they reached the elevator doors before replying. “We were just watching a movie, a rom-com, and then we feel asleep. I didn’t think that—”

  “Tucker, I don’t even want to know.”

  “You wouldn’t stop asking about it yesterday.”

  “That was before getting the call from Jackson.” Jasper reached over and clicked the down button. “Shit’s ready to hit the fan. That’s all I care about right now.”

  “I know.” Tucker made sure they made eye contact before saying, “Macy wants to help. She really does.”

  “Help?”

  “She wants to have a role in this. You know she’s capable.”

  “Of course she is. CIA trained.” The doors slid open and they walked into an empty elevator that smelled vaguely of cigarette smoke. Jasper continued, “And she survived two years of hell. We’re all really impressed by that. But this is a little different.”

  “How so?” Tucker waited for an answer, but got none. “What, it’s more ‘nuanced’?”

  “It’s not Rambo stuff; you can’t just jump into it. Even you, Tucker. Think about how much you were vetted before you even knew what we really do.”

  All Tucker could really think about was Macy, that hint of sadness in her eyes when he left her room.

  “Throwing people into the team in the middle of a potential shit show can backfire,” Jasper said. “Badly.”

  “I trust her.”

  “I know you do. But I don’t know her from Adam. And neither does Jackson.”

  “I’m not asking for her to be assigned into the heart of the operation. But, I mean, she’s not cargo.” Tucker had said it before remembering her voice saying that same phrase. He’d assured her it wasn’t like that then, but now he understood exactly why the idea had bothered her.

  “Okay,” Jasper said with a frown. “You’re right, she’s not 250 tons of enriched uranium. She’s not as heavy.”

  “Or as dangerous,” Tucker said. “You can trust her. And she can help us.”

  The doors slid open with a chime. “I know she’s helped you,” Jasper said.

  “It was the movie that helped.”

  “Sure.”

  Tucker lowered his voice as they crossed the busy hotel lobby. “It relaxed me, put me to sleep.”

  “Yeah. I know what else does that.”

  “I thought you were going to stop talking about her like that.”

  “How should I talk about her, then?”

  “Like an associate. A professional.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Jasper, it’s not hard. All it takes is you not being so much of an—”

  “—What I meant was, I’ll see what I can do about getting her involved.”

  “Oh,” Tucker said, a little shocked. What could he say to that? Finally, as they stepped out into the cool morning air, he looked at Jasper and said simply, “Thanks.”

  “Sure,” Jasper said. “But if it goes south, it’s your ass, not mine. And because you’re the new guy, that might be all it takes to get you dumped out of here.”

  “Roger that,” Tucker said. “And I’ll let her know how much faith you have in her.” He stared into Jasper’s eyes.

  “Please do. I want her to know what the score is more than anyone else. If she’s the professional you say she is, it’ll only motivate her to do better.”

  Do better? How could she possibly do any better?

  Tucker put it out of his mind. She’d been through hell, but they had to get through today first, before he could help. At least now she wouldn’t be stuck on the sidelines feeling useless. Macy deserved more than that. He looked forwar
d to telling her about it. He looked forward to her in general.

  A black Mercedes pulled up in the valet lane, and a red-vested parking attendant stepped out and gladly collected an American twenty spot from Tucker. When both men were in the car and the door had closed behind them, Jasper turned and said, “You don’t have to tip him.”

  “Huh?”

  “I already did from the get-go. An exorbitant amount.”

  “Is that the cost of having a bomb-free car for the day?”

  “No,” Jasper said, pulling out a small device from the glove compartment that looked like any old mp3 player. “The cost of that is in the high thousands.” He showed him how it worked, a digital device that detected the type of frequency emitted from implantable explosives. After he was done with it, Jasper said, “Still, I like to pay those guys a lot just to keep an eye on things. No matter how much tech we have, and no matter what Tansy has to say about it, nothing beats good old-fashioned friends.”

  “An expensive friendship,” Tucker said.

  “Cheaper than your life.”

  Tucker nodded, while a morbid set of images flashed, exploded, and burned through his mind. As they drove away from the hotel, Tucker stayed silent. Both of them did. He needed it, to finally process the events of the last hour. He’d barely had time to think it through. Just what the hell happened in Macy’s bed? How did it get started? Were they drunk?

  He still wasn’t sure what to make of it, the whole thing emerging organically from sleep. A slow wakeup, from dream to waking dream, darkness to darkness, skin on skin. He remembered waking with the sensation of someone’s hand in his, holding warmly, a small yet strong hand, Macy’s fingers wrapped around his. It had been easy, comfortable, like he’d always woken that way. Lying next to her, holding her hand, touching her. What followed was a little less familiar, but a lot more exciting. It was definitely more than he’d bargained for when agreeing to watch a movie with an old friend. He hadn’t gone in with the intention to do any of it, despite wanting it so badly. Maybe she had? Had it been perhaps her intention, her hand seeking his? Her hand seeking other places, too.

  There would be some awkwardness, he was sure, as there had been awkwardness in the brief moments before he’d left her room—the scene of the crime. Yes, there would surely be some price to pay for their indiscretion. Though he didn’t want it to seem like part of that price would be his having Macy join the mission. He wasn’t doing it out of appeasement, or some misguided sense of owing her something. He truly believed, especially after seeing her in action, that she was more than capable, more than trustworthy, more than a one-night stand in a Johannesburg hotel room. But while he was certain what it was more than, he still wasn’t sure exactly what it was, itself. A mistake? He hoped not. He sure as hell hoped that Macy didn’t see it that way. Was it a one-time deal? Part of him hoped not either, especially that part of him that was left interrupted and unfinished.

  Tucker’s mind went back again to the fogginess of how it all started. They’d only had one beer apiece, so he couldn’t blame it on the booze.

  Could it have been old feelings resurfacing? She’d been just a good friend when he was a rookie cop, but it had only taken a single glance yesterday to realize she was way more than that now. Had she always been and he was just too green to recognize it? All it had taken was one day—one hell of day—for them to resurface, to transform into an array of hot impulses. Mutual attraction, their animal pheromones pulling them together, his face guided between her legs. Tucker felt the attraction again as he sat next to Jasper in his car, looking out the window at the blur as his thoughts moved with the same blurred confusion. A fitting view. The silence of his contemplation was broken by Jasper’s sullen voice. “So, where’s your head at?”

  “What do you mean? It’s here.”

  “I don’t want to keep bringing her up, but . . . You’ve definitely been a little . . . ”

  “A little what? A little tired from flying sixteen hours in twenty-four?”

  “Is that what it is?”

  Tucker sighed. No. That was definitely not all it was. “Don’t worry,” he finally said. “I’m good.”

  “I just need to know that your head’s clear,” Jasper said. “I don’t care what’s going on with you and—”

  “—Nothing’s going on,” Tucker interrupted.

  “Whether it’s something or nothing, I don’t care. Believe me. What I do care about is getting this shipment safely to US soil.”

  “Me too,” Tucker said. But even as the words left his mouth, he knew it wasn’t true. Not entirely. He might be able to force his mind to focus, but his heart was definitely distracted. The discovery of Macy in Angola, as well as the recent developments in her bed, had nudged his concentration well off the path of DARC Ops. Jasper was right in worrying about him. Tucker worried about himself a little.

  “So we’re all good then?” Jasper asked.

  The world around him suddenly felt so much more complicated—even more than it had already, dangerous uranium and terrorist groups and all. It was pulling him apart at both ends, a tug of war. World peace versus inner peace with a woman he might be falling in love with.

  “Yeah,” Tucker said. “We’re good, I’m good.”

  That was the last of Jasper’s questioning, their conversation having died to silence, but the inner dialogue continued, rambling on louder and louder until Tucker had to try desperately hard to quiet it. He resorted to talking to himself as a drill instructor, a personal trainer. He could do this, he just needed to keep himself on the straightened path.

  He took a deep breath, flushing it all away. He gripped both armrests and leaned his head back, taking in the scene before him. Jasper steered the car around a tight downtown Johannesburg corner. A moment later, a red car swerved in front of them, cutting off the nose of their car.

  “What in the fuck is this?” There was an almost urgent sense of worry in Jasper’s voice.

  “Back up,” Tucker said. “Back up! Reverse!”

  The car had pinned them against the curb, both of its doors suddenly opening and two nylon-masked men leaping out. White men with sleeve and neck tattoos, and automatic weapons drawn. The black metal of their assault rifles gleamed in the morning sun as they stalked forward while Tucker reached for his own weapon. Just as one of the men approached the side of the car, Tucker heard the deafening pop of gunfire. Jasper was already firing through the car door. Tucker didn’t have time to see if he’d hit anything, already having his gun trained on the other assailant. He went to aim, but his backdrop was unsafe—a minivan directly behind. Even if he brought the gun sight to his eyes and shot through the window, it would have been an iffy shot. Half an inch either way and it would have gone into the van in the background. He held his fire, relieved when seconds later, Jasper threw the car in reverse and gunned it backward. Tucker’s chest lurched against the seat belt from the G-force.

  “What the hell was that?” Tucker said, checking behind the car for any other masked or suspicious-looking cars.

  “You know what that was,” Jasper said.

  “Friends of Browning?” Tucker turned back to look through the windshield. One man was down on the ground bleeding, the others running back to their car, jumping in and driving away. No honor amongst thieves or assholes. “What if it was just a car-jacking attempt?”

  “Really? Just an innocent car-jacking attempt?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “So is me getting a raise from Jackson out of this.”

  “Huh?”

  Jasper grimaced, pulling on the wheel. “Tucker, think about the odds of that being just an isolated incident car-jacking. It’s next to impossible.” Still driving backward, he yanked the wheel hard and the car spun around to face the opposite direction, almost sideswiping a bus in the process. They were facing the wrong direction for a minute, before Jasper took a quick left and then drove down a narrow side street.

  “So what’s the protocol for this us
ually?” Tucker said.

  “Usually?” Jasper laughed. “You think this happens a lot?”

  “I feel like it’s been happening a lot to me.”

  “That’s probably because you’re hanging around with Macy, and now it’s rubbing off on all of us.”

  “So what do we do?” Tucker said. “Police? Should we report it?”

  “We need to get to Pretoria,” Jasper said. “If we call the police . . . Okay, give Jackson a call and update him. Whatever that was, he’ll straighten it out. We just need to get going on this uranium shipment before Browning’s government gets too far ahead of us. We’re already well behind.” Jasper banged the steering wheel and swore. “The guys at Pretoria are gonna chew our asses out.”

  For a moment, Tucker agreed with Jasper’s urgency to get to Pretoria, the administrative capitol of South Africa. He was fine with leaving a would-be car-jacker—or assassin—bleeding and dying in the street without so much as even calling the police about it. But then he remembered how the gun glinted in the morning sun and his thoughts immediately swung back to Macy. It made him happy to be alive.

  But there was something else.

  Fear. Macy, alone, back at the hotel.

  “Wait,” Tucker said. “Hold on.”

  “What?”

  He took a moment to think of how he could say it and get Jasper to agree.

  “Come on,” Jasper said. “Don’t do this to me.”

  “I have to.”

  “No.”

  “Yes. Turn the car around, Jasper.”

  “No,” Jasper said. And then a second later: “For Macy? No.”

  “Yes. She’s alone. When the hell will I figure out not to leave her alone?”

  Jasper sucked in a breath through his teeth. “See, now this is where it gets complicated. I knew it.”

  “And you know that little stop back there was meant for her. No one even knows we’re here. No one knows who we are.”

  “Come on, Tucker. You don’t really think Browning has his own intelligence team? You don’t think they know exactly what’s going on in their own damned backyard?”