Dark Escape (DARC Ops Book 10)

by Jamie Garrett

  “Sir, I can call in—”

  “No,” Ironside interrupted, his voice tight. And then easing up with, “No, it’s okay, it’s fine. We’ll have our talk here. We’ll get this over with.” He turned to his men with a smile and asked them very politely if they would give him and Jackson a few minutes alone.

  “Declan stays,” Jackson said.

  “Yes, fine,” Ironside said as he walked his men to the door. After a few words and a little wave, he shut the door. Then he turned to face the DARC men. He was still smiling.

  Jackson thanked him for his cooperation.

  The general nodded. “Now who is this person, this Sophia Sweeney? What can I help you with?”

  “You know who she is,” Declan said.

  “I may.”

  “You do.”

  “I know her privately,” he said. “That is to say, I’d only admit that privately. Lucky for you, I’m considering this a private conversation.” He walked back to his seat, sat with his hands folded in his lap. “Is this a private conversation?”

  “It’s the start of an investigation,” Jackson said.

  “Looks to me like it’s some boy scout mission.”

  “So let’s talk about Sophia,” Jackson said. “You haven’t been concerned about her disappearance?”

  “Of course I’m concerned.”

  “Have you notified her father?”

  “No.” The general shrugged. “I assumed he’d get that info from the proper channels.”

  Jackson said, “Was there anything proper about enlisting the help of an untrained civilian to take part in your covert operations?” He waited as the general stared daggers into him. “Was she a proper channel?”

  “She and her father are good friends of mine,” Ironside said. “Is that a problem, to have good friends whom you can trust?”

  “Trust to place bugs in Assad’s mansion?”

  “She did no such thing.”

  “Hey,” Declan said. His anger bubbled over, and he did nothing to stop it. Somehow, despite everything from the last two days, the smug look on Ironside’s face was the worst injustice of all. “We’re trying to be courteous and respect your intelligence. The least you could do is—”

  “I’m talking, aren’t I? For God’s sake, I don’t even know why I’m talking to you assholes.”

  Declan knew the answer but didn’t offer it to him, that the reason he was being even this forthcoming, the reason he didn’t call at once to his guards to have them thrown out, was because he was guilty as hell. Guilty of something . . . There would be the proper time and men and resources to figure out later what exactly he was guilty of. But for now, Declan just knew he had blood on his hands.

  He even looked guilty, his hands beginning to wring with another in his lap. That was probably why he kept them off the table, to hide how they’d begun shaking.

  “You’re talking,” Jackson said.

  “Of course I’m talking.”

  “But you’re not really saying anything.”

  “You want to know about Sophia Sweeney?” the general asked. “You really want to know?”

  “We do,” Declan said.

  “I have some documents about it, about her, in my back office.”

  “Where?” Declan said.

  Jackson huffed out a breath, appearing supremely bored. Declan’s eyes narrowed. He knew better. What the hell was his boss up to? “What we really want to know,” Jackson said, “is how she got involved with this mess. You heard about what she and Declan here just lived through.”

  “I was in the process of getting briefed on that,” The general said. “Until you guys showed up. But what, specifically, would you like to know?” He looked behind him, at a door that might have presumably led to his “back office.” He said, “Shall I look back there and get out my folder on Miss Sweeney? Is that what you want?”

  Someone must have tipped him off. Maybe not enough for the general to actually decline their interview, but enough to look and sound as antsy as he did. Declan wondered what he really had in the back office, aside from perhaps an imaginary folder on Sophia.

  Perhaps a gun.

  “Why don’t we just stay here and talk about it?” Declan said.

  “Whatever you want,” Ironside said. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, because, obviously, my primary concern is figuring out how this young lady got herself into so much trouble.”

  “Can you tell me about the bugs,” Jackson said, “and the reasoning behind having a civilian carry out such a dangerous mission when she’s had absolutely no—”

  “She’s had experience,” Ironside said. “She’s helped us in the past. She’s an associate.”

  It didn’t ring true for Declan, who’d just spent the last four days with her. She’d mentioned nothing about a prior history of intelligence work. And even if she had, he wouldn’t have believed it. She seemed so harmless and green and out of place.

  “So, the bugs really weren’t a big deal,” the general said. “But if you must know, they were placed in Mr. Abbas’s palace to gather intel on terrorist sympathizers. I’m sure you know something about that, and the type of shady characters that hang out around Mr. Abbas.”

  “One thing I know for sure, General Ironside, is that you’ve been working with him,” Jackson said, his voice still calm, despite the words making Declan’s skin crawl. “I have an insider to thank for that. The man’s son, who, for some reason, couldn’t bear to see a pretty, innocent girl killed for a corrupt general’s paycheck. Funny how that works sometimes.”

  Declan felt a surge of anger that Jackson had kept him in the dark, but then again, maybe Jackson had known precisely how Declan would react and had wanted the general to survive long enough to get answers. He sucked in a breath, sending a small prayer of thanks for Sajad. He might have been on the wrong side, but perhaps he had him to thank, in part anyway, that he and Sophia were still alive.

  “A false pretense to gain intel,” Ironside said calmly.

  “You’ve been working very closely with Mr. Abbas, and his even shadier associates.”

  “All part of the plan,” he said. “In the intelligence world, they call it deep penetration.”

  Jackson sat up straight and ready in his chair. “Was it part of the plan to offer information on U.S. troop movements in exchange for later payoffs to be laundered through art dealings?”

  The general paused, his face whitening. He pushed back his chair. “Let me just get you those documents.”

  “No,” Declan said. “No documents.”

  Ironside stood, wobbly-legged and uncharacteristically uncoordinated on his feet.

  “No,” Jackson said. “Don’t. General, please stay seated. Stay right there.”

  The general spun around and ran into the door, trying too slowly to turn the handle, fumbling with it before falling into the room and running out of sight. Jackson was already halfway there, around the conference table and barking orders for his military police to begin the arrest.

  Declan met Jackson at the doorway, rushing forward and bumping past, first to enter the room where the general was found rummaging through a desk drawer.

  “Freeze,” an officer yelled from behind them. “Don’t move!”

  Ironside rushed away from the desk, Declan relieved to see that he’d come away empty-handed. Now those empty hands were clawing at a window that wouldn’t open. Clawing away like an animal. A rat.

  “General Ironside,” the MP captain said, “you’re under arrest.”

  Watching the officers move in to grab the general, slapping cuffs onto his wrists, Declan felt a twinge of jealousy. He wanted to least get a little piece of the action. A piece of the general. A good punch to the face for everything he’d put Sophia through.

  But Jackson was indeed a smart man.

  He had grabbed Declan, turning him around from the arrest scene. “Let it go,” he said. “It’s over. You have someplace else to be.”

  Declan left the
room, not needing a second glance back. Not needing anything from the general. He had better things to think about.

  26

  Sophia

  When Sophia stirred out of the black comfortable nothingness of sleep, her eyes opened to a blank cinderblock wall. No one. Her dream had just been about Declan, his warmth wrapping around her. Now all she had were blankets. And questions.

  And then a voice.

  “You’re going home soon.”

  She flopped her head over to the other side, squinting against the sun’s reflection. Somewhere in the glare, she could make out the familiar shape of Declan’s broad shoulders. He stood and pulled the curtain closed, and she could see him exactly now, the way his body moved—bone structure and muscles working together to give her a little shade from the afternoon glare.

  He turned back to her with a grin and said, “We’re both going home.”

  “Declan . . .” She could barely say his name, her excitement twitching over the muscles of her throat, her face, her smile coming on wild and uncontrolled. She could feel his presence as he moved in closer, that familiar vibration. The way he’d electrified the very space he moved through. The hand that electrified hers.

  Declan held her hand softly, his thumb sliding over the tops of her knuckles, slowly, lovingly.

  Though Sophia knew she’d been sleeping, and though the sun had moved across to her window, it felt like he’d only been gone for several minutes. He had come to her in her dream. And now, in this real-life dream.

  “Where should we go first?” he asked with a smile.

  “They told me Spain.”

  “No direct flight home?”

  “Spain is good enough for now,” she said, sitting up a little straighter, her body still sore but responding to movement without any of the old shooting pains. Maybe they’d given her some meds for that. She asked, “Where are you going?”

  “Wherever you go. If it’s Spain, then it’s Spain.”

  “I didn’t even ask what kind of living situation you’ve got at—”

  “An empty one-bedroom apartment. It hasn’t missed me.” He smiled. “And I haven’t missed it.”

  “Empty?”

  “Practically,” he said. “I travel around a lot. Kandahar, Spain . . .”

  “And then?”

  “And then . . .” He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. He said, “And then . . .” and then kissed her lips, pulling back and then coming for more, two more kisses, a little hotter and wetter.

  When they slipped apart, Sophia stifled a giggle, and said, “And then . . .?”

  “And then they’ll kick us out of here if we’re not careful.” Declan smiled and looked away, nodding to someone beyond the doorway.

  Sophia asked him, “How long are you staying in Spain?”

  “As long as it takes for you to get better.”

  “What if takes a long time?”

  “You know the answer to that,” he said, looking at her once again. “Not that I want it to take a long time, but I have to admit I’m sort of looking forward to helping you with physical therapy.”

  “Oh,” she said with a smile. “Well, I’ll need it.”

  “I bet.”

  “You might need some, too,” she said, grinning. A rush of relief flooded her. Even through everything, things between them were exactly the same. Real.

  “You bet I do.”

  Finally, she noticed that his hand had found its way under her blanket, curving over her thigh, on the inside, caressing until she giggled and shifted away. He winked at her.

  “Well,” she said. “I thought you said we have to be careful.”

  “I’m trying.”

  It was almost funny to think about, how little they’d actually talked about their future. No solid plans. And no agreed-upon location for those imaginary plans. But she could tell, by how he looked at her now—and, well, through the whole mission—she could feel a certainty in the fact that he would be her future. A solid future from uncertain plans.

  How could she be so sure?

  She looked into his eyes again, those warm, loving eyes.

  The same eyes that darted away, to the door, narrowing.

  Jackson walked in with a beaming smile, patted Declan’s back, and walked up to her bed with a “Well, hello.”

  She nodded to him, not exactly sure how to respond to Declan’s boss. Her first instinct was anxiety, the worry that he’d arrived to take Declan away again. Put him on another ass-backward mission.

  “I thought they said you were recovering by the minute,” Jackson said. “What’s with the scowl?”

  She was scowling? Sophia tried to lighten her face while still coming clean with her worry, “Don’t you even think about it,” she told him.

  “About what?” he said. “Oh, let me guess . . .”

  She waited for him to guess.

  Jackson said, “You’ll have all the time in the world in Spain, but for now, I need him to come with me to—”

  “No,” Declan said, quietly. Almost too quietly for her to hear.

  Jackson was staring at him, eyebrows arched and wondering. “I know you and Miss Sweeney here have some unfinished business, but—”

  Sophia said, “Excuse me?”

  “Debriefing,” Jackson said.

  “Yeah,” Declan said, “debriefing together. It’s very important.”

  “But I just need you to stick around Kandahar for a few days with me, dot the Is and cross the—”

  “No,” Declan said, stronger this time.

  Sophia realized she was holding her breath. She tried breathing without making too much noise, but the tension in her—and in the room—was palpable.

  Maybe Declan was feeling it, too, because he sighed deeply before saying, “Jackson, I’m still on the original mission, with Sophia. We’re still in this together.” Then he rested his hand on her shoulder. “I’m staying right here, wherever she goes. I’m sticking by her side until we’re both one-hundred percent healthy. I don’t care where, if it’s in Spain or anywhere else, but I’m not leaving her until I know it’s over. And I mean completely over.”

  Jackson stared at him for a long time in silence. And then nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

  Sophia’s breathing steadied, but her heart was still racing. She knew what it was beating for.

  “But,” Jackson said, “there’s no over over. Right?”

  “I’m not quitting,” Declan said, “if that’s what you mean.”

  Jackson smiled. “You deserve a break. Both of you.”

  Sophia reached up and found Declan’s hand after it pulled away. She didn’t want to let go.

  “And after your break, I’ll want to see you.” Jackson said. “Both of you.”

  “Both?” Sophia said. “Me?”

  “You,” he said. “Yes, you. Of course, you.”

  Declan asked him why, an edge of defensiveness in his voice.

  “Because you’re such a rare find.”

  “Jackson, she’s not just some . . . asset.”

  Jackson looked at her. “And because you work so well together. It’s been hard, trying to match him up.”

  Declan looked like he wanted to strangle his boss, then a wave of lightness came over him. It wasn’t so bad, being told that they were a good team. Of course, it was nothing that they hadn’t already known.

  Jackson patted her on the leg over the covers. “Trust me, he needs you more than you need him.” And after a moment of a still, silent room, he said, “Alright,” standing. “I’ll get back to you guys when you’re ready.”

  Declan finally chuckled. “We’ll probably never be ready.”

  Sophia nodded at him. She was ready for Declan and Declan alone. Alone together.

  On his way out of the room, Jackson said, “I’m sure you’ll get bored eventually.”

  Declan was grinning, but his gaze on her body had turned almost desperately carnal. “No, we won’t,” he said, “ever.”

>   Also by Jamie Garrett

  Marked By Desire

  Books 1 - 5

  Southern Heat

  From the Ashes

  Fighting the Flames

  Burning the Past

  Trial by Fire

  Line of Fire

  Up in Flames

  Under Fire

  Dreamcatchers

  Books 1 - 5

  DARC Ops

  Darkest Hour (0.5)

  Dark Secret

  Dark Web

  Dark Heart

  Dark Control

  Dark Threat

  Dark Lies

  Dark Salvation

  Dark Discovery

  Dark Enemy

  Riley Reid Mysteries

  Books 1 - 3 (first book free!)

  Acknowledgments

  A huge thank you to you—all my readers, subscribers, and social media followers. Thank you for choosing to read my books!

  Thank you to my ARC team, for all your support. You’re all amazing!

  Lisa, Kate, Adele, and all the badass babes. You make my day on a regular basis. Thank you!

  A special thanks also to Anette King and Kristine Piiparinen, for all that you do. You are both incredible ladies.

  Come and hang out with me, plus authors Lisa Ladew and Kate Fargo, along with the fabulous badass babes in our Facebook romance group, Books, Babes, and Badasses. We talk about anything and everything, and there’s plenty of yummy eye candy too. Stop by and say hello anytime! You can also subscribe to my newsletter, send me an email, find me on Facebook, or visit my website.

  About the Author

  Hi, I’m Jamie. I live with my husband, two beautiful children and three cats. I loves to read almost as much as I loves to write, and can’t imagine anything better than getting to be an author and writing every day. There is at least one cat draped over the keyboard at all times.

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