Her hands froze in midair and she frowned at him. The look suggested she thought he was either clueless or not that bright. “Your self-assigned role.”
He didn’t deny it because he really couldn’t. Sniper skills and world-class patience separated him from some of the others on the team. He wanted to stay and be an essential player, which meant he needed to show that they needed him. “I’m good at it.”
“Then why do you have the marks?” Her hands fell back on her lap.
He looked at her joined fingers and noticed they’d turned pink from all the scrubbing to remove the blood. “To keep track of kills.”
“It’s penance.” What little fresh air moved through these twisty caves seemed to be sucked out of the room. “What, no response?”
God, she got it, but she did understand. He’d made himself get the marks. People died, many of them in covert operations. That meant dying without people knowing how you really lived. It was important to West that someone take notice since no one would ever apologize for the deaths he carried out. He picked the only way he knew how to do it—a pinch of pain and an indelible mark.
“The tattoo is a reminder.” To carry around a bit of his humanity to carry him through those days when he felt it all slip away.
“Because despite the training and your tough words,” she said, “killing matters to you. It leaves a mark.”
“Right. So I leave a mark.” But she needed to understand one very important point about who he was under everything else. “And while that’s true, I don’t feel guilty for doing my job.”
“But it touches you. You like to pretend the death around you is normal and not a big deal, but it is.” This time her hand went to his chin. She rubbed her fingers over the scruff.
Pretty words but she was treating him like the man she wished he was. The man he knew he could never really be.
He leaned his head against the hard wall behind him. “You’re giving me more credit than you should.”
“The man I’ve seen wouldn’t hunt another human for fun.”
He knew men like that and they made him sick. When the operative became emboldened and began to make life and death decisions based on something other than the terms of the job, the operative needed to go.
“It gets in the blood.” And here was the bottom line. “Lexi, I know it feels real, but you don’t actually know me.”
“I want to.”
He loved that she didn’t try to correct him, but it was time for some harsh truths and a bit of fantasy. “If I live through this, I go back to work. Get on a plane and leave, and you can’t know where to.”
He had to push the words out. The idea of walking away from her made his gut clench. Only a few days and his life mixed with hers to the point where separating them proved difficult. Not that he really wanted to anyway.
True, leaving and not looking back was the smart thing. It was the thing he would do. But as Pearce had touched the rod to him that last time, West let his mind wander to another place. One that didn’t exist but where he could be with Lexi and without all the other bullshit and baggage plowing them under.
“Is that what you want?” She shifted until she faced him, instead of the far wall. “For me to go away?”
The affirmative response lingered right there. West tried to choke it out but couldn’t. “I don’t know.”
“Know this.” With her fingers under his chin, she moved his head. Her mouth came down on his in a heated kiss filled with longing and a touch of sadness. “I don’t want to go anywhere without you.”
Pearce popped up at the entrance to the closed-in area. “I hate to break up your final hours together.”
At the sound of his voice, Lexi broke away from West. She immediately regretted the lack of his touch. Heat warmed her when she sat close and hands wandered. A cold chill returned whenever they separated. Maybe it operated as a metaphor. All she knew was that being with him, taking care of him, helping him see the man she saw, became for her an all-encompassing goal.
“You’ve done enough.” She mumbled the response because she was feeling hollow and grumbly.
“Look at the good side, West. I’m saving you time and heartache because she isn’t your type.” Pearce motioned for them to stand up. “Despite the shaky start and the repeated failures, she’s actually quite lovely. Much stronger than the type of woman I thought you’d prefer.”
West didn’t move. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”
“From what I can see, you can’t even stand.”
They were only prolonging the inevitable. Whatever Pearce had planned—and from the smirk, it was something big—he needed to unleash it on them. The waiting tore her apart. She could deal with the terror pounding her every second if Pearce didn’t toy with her.
“What do you want now?” she asked, not bothering to act as submissive and willing to deal with this insanity.
“Your attendance.” Pearce leaned in and grabbed for her leg.
That fast, West shifted. He got to his knees without a visible struggle and put his body in front of hers. “Do not touch her.”
Pearce watched it all without any outward reaction. “You’re coming, too.”
Knowing this could blow into a full-fledged battle, Lexi rushed to cool things down again. She slid along the wall as she stood. The move put her right behind West. “You’ve made your point.”
“I actually haven’t, which is why you’re both still alive.”
“Attendance?” West asked as his body continued to block hers.
“Benton has been waiting for you. It’s time for you to see what we have here and how close you came to uncovering it, only to fail again.” Pearce nodded at her. “Help him up.”
She waited until he turned around to slip her arm around West’s waist. “He sure does talk a lot.”
“Do not engage,” West whispered back.
“How can you walk?” She whispered the question, sure that West didn’t want Pearce hearing the real answer.
He lifted some of his weight off her shoulders and his steps fell surer. “I’m fine.”
Doubts smashed into her. For a second she wondered how much was an act. West wouldn’t be one to show weakness, but she wouldn’t put it past him to pretend to be worse off than he was to gain an advantage.
But then her mind shot back to that fence and the electricity. No, West might put on a good show, but he was injured. And he needed her to be something she generally wasn’t—strong.
People scurried around from one section of the caves to another as Pearce guided West and Lexi through the tunnels. There was an elaborate transit system and tracks that allowed for some sort of vehicle to get in and out without trouble. They turned the corner and passed a stockpile of something. Crates lined the walls.
Lexi looked at the writing on the outside but couldn’t pick out the language. “What is all this?”
“An aerosol spray of death. Well, the delivery mechanism for it.” Pearce stopped long enough to lift the lid off one of the crates. He brushed his finger over a tube about eight inches in length.
She had no idea what she was looking at. West stared at the contents as if trying to mentally catalog exactly what he saw.
“It’s brilliant, really.” Pearce spun the canister around in his hand. “We weaponize a toxin based on the chemical structure of the one West and his friends at Alliance stole from me, and then it goes in these, which go in those.” He pointed at crates stacked on the other side of the area.
“Toxin you stole from a government lab,” West said, piping up for the first time since they left the cell. “I’m betting the delivery system is government-issue and stolen as well.”
Pearce stopped moving around and faced West. “So, only the government can make weapons these days? That seems unfair.”
“You’re a demented asshole.”
Pearce continued talking as if West hadn’t spoken. “We’ve figured out a way to launch it and disseminate it over a town or a c
ity. Five minutes to create small-scale Armageddon, and by small scale I mean tens of thousands of people, maybe more.”
The words sunk in. Pearce talked about annihilation as if it were a code word in a video game. “You’ve lost your goddamned mind.”
He shrugged. “Think of it as capitalism.”
Lexi let her fingers tangle with West’s as they walked. Not overtly holding hands, but brushing up against each other in silence. “I thought this was about revenge.”
“He likes to say that and insist the CIA and the US and Ward and my bosses and everyone else screwed him, but this is about old-fashioned greed.” West rested a hand on his hip, looking as if he regained strength with each passing minute. “His pension wasn’t high enough and he’s throwing a tantrum.”
“You can’t tweak me, West.” Pearce returned the canister to the crate and shut the lid.
“Don’t plan to.”
Satisfaction poured off of Pearce. “Good.”
West smiled. “I’d rather put a bullet in your brain.”
Lexi was all for that. She’d hand him the ammunition and pass him more weapons.
Pearce let out a long exaggerated sigh and turned to her. “As I told you, he’s not really human.”
“I plan to cheer when he kills you,” she said, and she would. She’d never been one to welcome violence. With Pearce, she prayed for it.
“I take it back. She might be the perfect woman for you.” Pearce looked disgusted by the idea. “Too bad neither one of you will live long enough for us to know.”
19
WITH EACH step West felt better, more like himself. The aches and pains combined until his body went numb. He ignored the throbbing in his shoulder and forced the haze from his brain. He silently bargained with his body for two solid hours of adrenaline-filled hate. That would fuel him to finish this assignment. He could collapse later.
Their footsteps fell uneven in thuds in the dirt. A series of lights attached to the walls and fed by thick wires lined their path as they walked through the maze of crates and past rooms filled with people working. The details flooded his brain. It seemed like they devised the dispersal method and were perfecting the toxin. That meant Alliance had time to end this, but not much.
The important thing: now he knew about the weapons. Leave it to Pearce to upchuck the details on some huge walk-through. The need to impress everyone with his brilliance had finally tripped him up. It was an amateur mistake. He’d bought into West being unable to move or process anything.
They made a final turn and stepped into a wider hall that dumped into a larger open one. This one held chairs and a table. Almost looked like a command center of sorts. But that’s not what jumped out at West first.
“Raheel.” West walked right up to the man. Seriously considered delivering a knockout blow, and would have if it didn’t destroy the image he’d crafted of being near death. “What a surprise.”
Lexi let go of West’s arm and stepped in front of him. Put her body right between him and Raheel and verbally went after him. “You’re in on this.”
“Alexis. What are you doing here?” Raheel snapped out the words as other men walked around him on the way out of the chamber and into the hall.
Fury pounded off her as she balled her hands into fists. “Dying.”
West reached over and took one of her clenched fists in his. He wanted to send her the silent message to calm down. Going after one of the men would bring all of them running.
Pearce joined them. “Is there a problem?”
Raheel held eye contact with Lexi for a few more seconds then turned to Pearce. “This is the man who attacked me.”
West was sorry now he hadn’t killed Raheel. Looking at Lexi’s red cheeks and her scathing glare, he guessed she would have been in favor of that solution as well. She’d believed in Raheel. That sort of betrayal stayed with you.
“Then you’ll be happy to know we plan to torture him some more before killing him,” Pearce said as he circled the small group. He continued until he stood in front of the computers set up on the table by the far wall.
West couldn’t see the screens but it looked as if Pearce was tracking something. West hoped Alliance had him twitchy and chasing his shadow. That would make it more likely for him to mess up again. Then he could pounce on Pearce. He saved his energy to do just that.
Raheel’s gaze bounced back to Lexi. “And the woman?”
“Her, too.” Pearce waved off the question. “Neither one of them is useful to us except as entertainment.”
Lexi didn’t show any outward reaction but West felt her shudder beside him. The woman amazed him. She’d seen a horror show and stayed on her feet. Letting her go was going to rip him apart, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but that killing machine everyone wanted him to be.
There was movement at the end of the hall. A man came into view. “Jake, show our guests in.”
West drank in the details. This guy might be forty. Regular height, mousy brown hair. No distinct features. Dark pants and top, so no flashy clothes. He was the type who could blend in anywhere because nothing about him stuck out. Not handsome but not odd-looking, which would have drawn attention. Just your average accountant from Tulsa.
No introduction needed. “You’re Benton.”
West flipped through his mental Rolodex. What he called the “Asshole Contingent,” a group of the world’s most dangerous criminals. Nothing about this guy looked familiar. If he’d worked the system for years, he’d managed to weasel under rocks and pop up out of nowhere. Keep his identity hidden. Now, West added a face to the blank spot where only Benton’s name used to be.
“That’s not my real name, of course.” Benton carried a metal case no more than six-by-nine inches but thicker than an average briefcase. He set it down on the table while it was still handcuffed to him.
Without question, he stored this new toxin in the briefcase. West made a mental note to cut the guy’s wrist off and take the case.
“Who are you?” Lexi asked in a voice filled with confusion.
“A businessman.” Benton rested his hands on top of the case. “Someone just trying to make a living.”
“You’re a piece of shit.” West wanted to draw his attention. See what moves he’d make and how hard he was to shake.
The guy didn’t disappoint. His gaze flicked to West. “You should learn when to be quiet.”
An interesting response. His cool slipped when confronted. Not much, but enough to reveal that he was not trained. He didn’t have the control needed to work in the field. That raised a whole new set of questions.
Benton lived on the fringes. In a cave here. In a compound in Morocco that West had helped reduce to a pile of rubble during the search for the guy. Benton had been named as the secret source behind international bombings and providing the weapons that tipped internal and border conflicts from one side to the other all over the world.
His fingerprints were on a list of terrorist activities, even though his actual prints weren’t anywhere. He thrived on creating chaos and had the resources to bring that world’s most dangerous people to the table to listen to his demands.
West watched him stand at the table now and couldn’t figure out what it was about this man that made other men turn. Pearce had been at the top of his game and highly respected, yet he ended up serving Benton, a man who had come on the scene less than a decade ago without any fanfare and gone on to become an international enigma.
West had expected someone a little more impressive looking. This guy was . . . soft. Not fat, not thin. Nothing extraordinary.
Benton motioned for them to come forward. When West stayed put, Raheel pushed Lexi. As far as West was concerned, Raheel was inching closer and closer to a bullet. They’d taken his weapons but West watched every move and knew he could grab one. Then he’d light this motherfucker up.
“Jake showed you around. What do you think of the place?” Benton held out an arm as if showing off a new
mansion he’d purchased instead of a pile of rock carved into the side of a mountain that buzzed with the sound of voices and moving equipment.
“I liked your place in Morocco better.” West smiled. “You know, the one I blew into a million pieces with some of your men inside. Shame you weren’t there at the time.”
Fury swept over Benton’s features. “You shouldn’t have reminded me. I loved that house.”
Lexi beat him to a response. “Someone should blow you off the Earth.”
Benton’s smile faded. “That attitude is what started all of this.” He nodded toward one of the open chairs. “Alexis, sit.”
“If the army knows you’re here, you’re safe.” She remained standing until Raheel pushed her into the chair. A move that earned him a killing glare before she turned back to Benton. “You can let us go.”
“That’s the problem.” Benton tapped his fingers against the case. “I have purchased a few generals but it’s hard to find loyal followers when you can’t definitely state which side you’ll sell the battle-ending weapon to. But that’s my worry, not yours.”
Benton shrugged as if to say “Oh well,” and West had to beat back the urge to punch him. He acted as if dealing in death was no big deal. He might as well have been selling vacuums or time shares.
Raheel tugged on West’s arm, then pointed to the chair. “Sit.”
“Let Mr. Weston Brown stand.” Benton eyed him, running his gaze over West as if assessing his opponent. “He strikes me as the type who would want to die on his feet, and tiring him out sounds like a smart idea.”
“You’ve done enough.” Lexi sat up straight with her hands on her lap. Every line of her body was stiff and tension seemed to edge her tone.
Benton leaned forward as if they were having a friendly chat rather than him justifying death and destruction. “I don’t think you understand how much trouble West has caused me.”
Falling Hard Page 19