DARC Ops: The Complete Series

by Jamie Garrett

  “Come on. Like I’d notice? I can barely string a sentence together. You read my emails.”

  “I loved your emails.”

  She caught him looking at her, a faint twinkling in his eyes, as if they’d reflected back starlight. Blackness returned when he blinked and kept his eyes shut, taking a deep breath. The poor guy had been through a lot in the last twenty-four hours. And probably for longer than that.

  He opened his eyes. She was glad to see life reflecting back again.

  “I liked your emails, too,” he said. He chuckled to himself, looking away from her.

  “What,” she said, “now you’re getting all shy?”

  Cole had his hand in the sand, playing around like she’d just done.

  “Aside from the general theme of it, I haven’t told anyone,” she said. “We haven’t gotten into the details about the drugs yet. I guess I was waiting for you.”

  “I’m not sure if they’re necessarily secrets,” Cole said, still looking away. “I just didn’t want to end up getting killed.” He raised a handful of sand high in the air, spreading his fingers to let the wind take it back toward the palm grove separating them and the rental house. He brushed his hands together and looked at her, shrugging.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I guess we went wrong somewhere.”

  “Yeah, you followed me to work.” He grinned at her.

  “I didn’t know it was you.”

  “Then why the hell follow me?”

  “I thought it could have been you,” Annica said. “And even if it wasn’t, from what I saw on the deck . . .”

  “What about it?”

  “I was . . .” Annica felt her mind cloud over again. While she searched for the words, she watched Cole’s eyebrows slowly rise. He wanted to know what she herself hardly had time to think of, or to make sense of: what drew her in so strongly to this man . . .

  She tried again: “I was . . . interested.”

  “Interested? In what?”

  “In you,” she said. “I mean, in who I thought you were. The man from the deck. I had no idea if he would be part of the story, or if he’d even want to talk to me. I just knew . . . I just wanted to follow him.”

  “Me,” Cole said.

  “You, yes. You all along, I guess.”

  He brought his knees up to a bend, his hands rubbing the sand off along his thighs. And then wrapping around kneecaps, holding there. Holding himself in.

  Maybe they were both just two kids. Two lost kids.

  “What was it about me?” she asked.

  Cole chewed on to his lip for a minute, thinking. “What do you mean, exactly?”

  “What made you contact me? You said it was my stories?”

  “Well, I’m not super well-read on them,” Cole said. “I’m not even well-read in general.”

  “Well, you’re a good writer.”

  “Thanks.”

  “A persuasive writer.”

  “Yeah,” he said, chuckling. “Aren’t you glad?”

  She laughed too. “No, not really. But go on.”

  “I know enough about the news, the industry at least, to know that it’s ninety percent bullshit.” He paused for a moment as if to let it sink in, but Annica felt herself already in silent agreement. “So it took some time to find someone I could trust. Someone who wasn’t already co-opted. Bought and owned. It seems like they come that way out of journalism school. Don’t you think so? They come standard like that. Pre-made shills.”

  “Sounds like you’ve done some research.”

  “No, I just compared the news stories to what’s actually happening in the world.”

  She nodded. Perhaps she didn’t need to bring up her stories on Libya, on what happened to the original DARC Ops guys. Cole seemed to already know about it. He certainly knew about the theme, in general, about how news and politics had been acting out in every way except for the public’s best interest. Their original mandate had been cast aside for decades, if not longer.

  “Fake news,” Annica said. “As much as I hate that term.”

  “You’re goddamn right, fake news.” Cole sighed, swearing again under his breath. “In my line of work, I get to see underneath a lot of these stories. I get to know the people involved, what they’re really involved in. And then I read their quotations in the papers and it’s like they’re two completely different people. With two completely different stories.”

  “A duality,” she said.

  “Yeah, whatever you want to call it. Fake, evil. You’re the writer.” He looked at her, and said quietly, “Aren’t you scared?”

  She wasn’t sure if it was a rhetorical question. By now it was probably obvious that she was scared out of her mind, and that there were things out there to be scared of. And that Cole had even more to tell her about.

  He continued. “I mean, haven’t you noticed that anyone actually doing real, old-school reporting is either blackballed or killed?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “But I’m still alive. Does that mean I’ve been co-opted?”

  He tilted his head to the side, looking almost surprised at the question.

  “Does that mean you don’t trust me?”

  “No,” he said. It wasn’t surprise on his face, but something more like frustration. Nostrils beginning the slightest of flares. “You just told me yourself, about the cage . . .”

  He had a classically lined face. Expressive and beautiful. Something a sculptor should memorialize with a bronze bust.

  “Right?” he said. “They went after you.”

  “I wouldn’t say my reporting is old school. I can’t credit myself like that. But I do investigate. And by investigate, I mean I piss a lot of people off.”

  “Exactly,” Cole said.

  “I’m glad someone likes it.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Someone really does.”

  “I’m glad someone can trust me.”

  “Someone really trusts you.”

  Annica could no longer fight back her smile, the lower half of her face almost burning with it. “Well, I’d really like to meet that person,” she said.

  “I think you have.”

  “Really? Who?”

  He smiled back to her, shrugging his shoulders.

  “Hmm,” Annica said. “Would that person happen to like long walks on the beach?”

  Cole nodded. “Especially at night.”

  “What else?”

  “Huh?”

  “What else does he like?”

  “Have I already said you?”

  Annica shrugged. “You said someone likes me.”

  “I like you.”

  “You do?”

  “Or else I would’ve actually shot you.” He laughed quietly, leaning into her, his shoulder against hers.

  “Yeah,” she said, resting her head against him. Somehow, right there, touching him, it wasn’t so scary. “I keep forgetting that part.”

  “I’ll have to stop reminding you.”

  “Please,” she said.

  “Or even better.”

  “What?”

  “Take your mind off it.”

  “How?”

  His hand was already around her far shoulder, pulling her in even closer. Annica leaned her head back, her body going limp with him. She closed her eyes and knew he would be there. His face near hers, the warmth of it. And then the fine edge of his jaw, his stubble over her soft skin.

  His face seemed to roll onto hers until flat and full, his lush lips between hers, moistening them with a kiss that was almost shocking in its delicateness. For a man of his line of work, of such a rough life handled with such rough hands, his kiss came in soft and warm like ocean mist. She felt that, too. All around her, the life of the ocean, the life of him. His earnestness, his energy. She drank it in.

  She opened her eyes when he pulled away, smiling. He looked at her almost guiltily, like he’d crossed some line in their journalist-subject enterprise. But that line had been crossed a while ago. It wasn’t th
e drinks she’d had earlier, or even just how good he looked in the sand. It was from that very first contact, a warmth indescribable, a draw that pulled her in and led her to this moment, from first contact to first kiss.

  He was still grinning at her. “What are we doing?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, laughing and sweeping hair across her forehead as the breeze picked up.

  “Should we stop?

  “No.”

  The wind blew even harder, kicking up her hair and the sand, both pelting into her face. She squealed and tried covering with her hands, turning and twisting away. Then came Cole’s hands, and then his arms, his thick biceps doing all the protecting she’ needed. He wrapped them around her and pulled her face against the hard contours of his chest, the warm safety of his body wrapping around her. The smell of sea spray and him, his dirt bike, gunpowder. Danger. But always a controlled danger. She had seen that firsthand, initially through his emails, and then how he’d straddled the line at the Kahn facility, how he’d risked it all to save both of them. It was the kind of safety she’d needed, especially since the cage . . .

  But in his arms, she felt him become the cage itself, though a different kind and for a better purpose. Not to keep her in, but to keep the world out. It was what she needed most at times, a blanket, a shield. An impenetrable love. He was certainly big and strong enough, as any cage, but could he offer more than the convincing facade of something real? Could it be more than a beachside fling?

  The wind had died down, but she was glad to stay in his arms. Her heart was beating harder and faster and she’d begun to worry that he’d notice, that he’d feel it throbbing. It probably felt like he was hugging a heart attack. And then there was her breathing, quickened and shaky, and way too much for hugging. It was the kind of breathing that preceded some trouble—the good kind and the bad. Though with Cole, she couldn’t deny that she was now interested in both.

  15

  Cole

  Annica felt fluttery in his arms, like a butterfly in a closed hand, her breathing quickening to match his own. But there was no way her heart could keep up with his. Absolutely not. He could feel it, knocking against his ribcage, the sound of its hurried blood throbbing in his ears. It was almost a little embarrassing. He was usually so cool and confident and levelheaded. Especially with women. Though it had been a while. He thought back to the last time he’d done something like this with a woman. Had he been so excited then?

  He remembered a time before the long ocean voyages, before what he did and didn’t do to assist an international smuggling ring, his last time being with anyone before he’d changed, before he’d lost the man he used to be. It was after a New Year’s Eve party in San Bernardino. A fond memory because he finally landed a waitress he’d been flirting with all night. But he couldn’t remember his body reacting in such a visceral and uncontrollable way as it had done tonight. He’d been plied with drinks on both occasions. Both women were beautiful—with Annica definitely taking the easy lead there. But it was more than that. On the beach with her now, his face inches away from hers and her hair billowing against him, Cole understood the difference. With her and every other woman before. No matter how much fun they’d been having on this beach, the hard reality of their situation was dire and fraught with danger. Picking up a waitress seemed ridiculous in contrast. As did the waitress, herself, compared to Annica and what she’d meant and come to symbolize for him: a second chance. But a second chance only through ashes. Only through death, a rebirth. It was the phoenix rising again, Cole making his way up from the depths of the ocean after tumbling overboard on Batchewana.

  “I feel like you caught me,” Cole said.

  “What? How do you mean?”

  He could feel her breath on his face. He liked being close like this.

  “Cole?”

  “On the ship, I mean. And I guess before that, too. But I just never realized.”

  “You didn’t realize a lot of things.”

  “I know,” he said, looking down into the sand between their legs. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said it again, looking into her eyes now.

  “No, don’t. You don’t have—”

  “I do. I need to say it. I’m sorry I doubted you. That I didn’t trust you enough to fully come forward, and to talk with you on the ship.” He reached for her hand, holding it around the outside. “Because now look where we are.”

  “What do you mean? We’re holding hands on a beach.”

  His grip tightened. “I mean with getting you so involved in this mess.”

  “Forget it,” she said. “Forget the past. Just be here with me.”

  Cole nodded.

  “Are you?”

  “I’m here,” he said, squeezing her hand. He folded his hand with hers, so their fingers clasped together. “You won’t have to follow me again.”

  Annica nodded.

  “I just want you to know that,” he said. “That you can count on me.”

  “And you can count on me.”

  “I am.”

  It brought a smile to her face, and a warmth through his heart. He wanted to keep her smiling.

  “They’re probably worried about us,” she said, nodding her head toward the beach house.

  “Let them worry,” he said. “Let someone else do it for a change.”

  He’d kept her smiling. “It feels kinda nice, doesn’t it?”

  “It does,” Cole said, happily aware of how their hands squirmed warmly against each other. Through hands they emoted their true intentions. Their true desire. How his hand ached and hungered against hers was precisely what his whole body felt for its counterpart. Sliding against her, feeling every inch. Even just over clothes would be fine. Right here on the beach. Right now.

  Cole left her hand, his fingers climbing up Annica’s bare arm. He leaned forward, needing to taste her lips again. He closed his eyes and heard the roar of another ocean wave rumble ashore. And then he heard Annica yelp again.

  It was not about wind and sand this time, but ocean foam. It bubbled white in the dark and shot up past the wet crescents of sand, climbing over dry territory and approaching their little slice of heaven. It looked surreal.

  “Whoa, it’s coming up here,” Annica shouted.

  It was too late to run anywhere.

  Annica cried out again as Cole lifted her off the sand, one hand underneath her thighs and another behind her back, slumping her weight against his chest and holding her there with his legs wide and flexed. She was laughing now, clutching onto him as the wave streamed in around his ankles. His pants immediately clung wetly to his legs. Then the wave flowed back down, back between his legs and back into the darkness and gone.

  Annica was laughing and hugging his neck. She’d survived the wave.

  “Oh, my God,” she said. “What was that?”

  “Sheer bravery,” Cole said, chuckling. “And selflessness.”

  “And good reflexes. That was quick.”

  “Instincts,” Cole said.

  “I know.” Her head had dipped to his, foreheads touching. “I know,” she said again, her voice nice and low and near him.

  “Your feet would’ve been soaked for the rest of the night, like mine.”

  “Poor baby,” Annica said, their heads still touching. “What can I do?”

  “I think a kiss might be in order.”

  “On your feet?”

  “What?”

  Her laugh vibrated through his ribs.

  “No,” he said. “Not my feet. Probably never my feet.”

  “Probably?”

  “No, never.”

  “You know,” Annica said, “some people are into that.”

  “Yeah. And some people have to work on their feet all day.”

  “Gross.”

  Cole nodded, moving her head in unison with his.

  “I don’t know,” she said, finally pulling her head away from his. “All
this feet talk made me not want to kiss you anywhere.”

  “You brought it up.”

  “And you can put me down anytime.”

  “Nah,” Cole said, leaning his head back against hers. And then their cheeks, flattening together as he laid another, softer, and longer kiss. Her back expanded out against his arms as she took in a deep breath.

  Cole felt sufficiently paid off for his rescue, for now.

  “Seriously, though,” she said. “We better not let them find us.”

  “Who?” Cole said with a chuckle. “DARC Ops or the bad guys?”

  “Either.”

  He finally let her down, surprised again at how short Annica measured up to him—barely clearing his shoulders. She was certainly easy to carry. That might be helpful to remember later. For whatever reason . . .

  “But let’s just . . .” Annica trailed off as they made their way back to the grove. “Let’s just kinda keep this on the down-low. Okay?”

  “Of course.”

  “It won’t look too good,” she said.

  Cole, not normally the sensitive one—and usually the most jaded—surprised himself with his reaction. Logically, she was correct. But whoever he’d become down there on the beach, the vulnerable, hopeless romantic, felt just a tinge of pain in a heart that had just been beating off the charts. An after-effect, he was sure.

  “What’s wrong?” Annica asked.

  Another surprise. He’d let something show.

  “Nothing,” Cole said.

  “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “I know. We’re cool.”

  “We’ll have to be cool.”

  “It’s cool either way,” he said.

  “Yeah.” Annica took a few steps. Her strides were shorter and she was working harder. Their pace, also, seemed to have sped up toward the house and the rest of the team. “Nothing’s changed,” she said.

  “Of course not.”

  Cole hung back, letting Annica take the lead up the first set of narrow stone stairs leading to the patio. He tried not to ogle her, a nice and faint view in the dark as she moved up. He tried to remember what it was like, just twenty minutes ago, when everything between them was still strictly professional. And deadly serious, where lives were on the line. Mostly his.