Decoded

by Debra Webb

  Maggie hugged her arms around her knees. “Are you going to kill them?”

  He lowered the binoculars. She was really worried. This type of maneuver was the norm for him. He had to remind himself that all of this was strange and terrifying to her. “If we’re lucky, they’ll check out the old man’s story about us dumping the Jeep and leaving in another vehicle and move on.”

  “You’ll let them drive away if they show up here?”

  He nodded. “If they move on, that leaves us safe here.”

  Maggie pondered his explanation for a time. “We’re staying here if they go?”

  Slade met her expectant gaze. “If this goes down the way I want it to, you’re staying here.”

  A moment of extended silence passed.

  “You’re still planning to go after her.”

  Not a question. Maggie was beginning to understand there was no other choice. He’d taken the only choice he’d had when he left twelve years ago. There would be no other choices as long as she was alive.

  A cloud of dust announced the arrival of trouble well before Slade heard the engine. He lifted the binoculars and checked the passenger list. Three goons. The usual black SUV.

  The SUV skidded to a stop in front of the shack. All three men piled out. One took the back, the others burst in through the front.

  Slade lowered the binoculars and waited. The goons would find evidence of Maggie tending his wound. A couple of left-behind snacks and a half-empty bottle of water. He checked the time on his cell. Two minutes and they would be gone.

  One of the men walked out of the shack and back to the SUV. He opened the cargo door at the rear of the vehicle.

  Tension hardened Slade’s muscles. This was not good.

  The bastard dragged something from the SUV’s cargo area.

  The old man.

  Damn.

  They would kill him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The air stilled. Maggie stopped breathing. The old man was begging for his life. She couldn’t understand the words, but she fully comprehended the scene playing out in front of her.

  He was going to die for helping her and Slade.

  She looked to the man at her side. He wanted these men to leave with the impression that they were long gone. Was he really going to let that old man die to conceal their presence?

  Did she want him to intervene and put their lives at greater risk? The baby’s life at greater risk?

  Two beats throbbed in her skull along with the screams echoing from below.

  She couldn’t sit here and let that old man die.

  As if he’d read her mind, Slade fired a shot. The man taunting the old guy dropped to the ground before the blast stopped echoing in her ears.

  The old man scrambled to get behind the SUV, scarcely evading the shots that peppered the ground around him. Bullets pinged off the rocks of their hiding place. The other two were shooting at them. The shot that had saved the old man had given away their presence and their position.

  “Get down on the ground,” Slade ordered.

  She went facedown in the dirt, and her body started that now too-familiar shaking fueled by fear. Slade fired off three more shots before reaching into his backpack for a new clip. The old one hit the ground and the new one slid into the open slot.

  Maggie’s attention focused on his movements. Did he have enough ammunition to hold the two off? Was there anything she could do?

  Panic welled so fast she couldn’t breathe. He had been right about everything. She didn’t understand his world. He reacted on instinct. The fundamental aspect of human emotions was obsolete in his world. How had he survived?

  How were they going to survive now?

  Even if they got through this time, what about the next? And the one after that? How could Slade win this battle? The Dragon’s resources seemed endless.

  He couldn’t win. They couldn’t win.

  Maggie watched him alternate between ducking for cover and firing at the enemy. He remained completely focused, his movements smooth and unhesitating.

  Trained to kill practically from birth.

  No attachments. Not even to his own name.

  How could he ever love her even if he wanted to? How could he love their child?

  Maggie closed her eyes against the overwhelming sadness. As much as she feared dying, she felt both fear and regret for what he had suffered.

  “You can get up now.”

  Maggie’s eyes shot open. Her mind registered silence. No more bullets pinging around them. No more blasts from Slade’s weapon cracking in the air. Then the old man was wailing again.

  Slade grabbed his backpack and he stood. He offered his hand. Slowly, her movements unsteady, she pushed up, taking his hand for assistance.

  He rolled the bike as she trudged along behind him, her gaze sweeping over the aftermath. The first man lay near the SUV. The second at the front corner of the shack. Number three lay halfway between the shack and the SUV. All head shots. All stone-cold dead.

  Maggie hugged her arms around herself. She felt cold in spite of the sun bearing down on her. What on earth was she going to do?

  Even if she survived and returned to her life, how would she ever put all this behind her? Her gaze settled on Slade. How would she put him behind her?

  The old man from the village thanked Slade over and over for saving his life. Maggie watched, unable to react or think. She was past thinking. Her mind had shut down all but essential functions.

  Slade and the old man spoke at length. Maggie didn’t bother trying to translate.

  When the old man had ridden away on his bike, she started to ask Slade what they were going to do, but he was checking the bodies. She tasted the bile rising in her throat. He removed their weapons and the extra clips in their pockets. After that he searched the SUV, found more ammunition clips and stored them in his backpack.

  Finally he took her by the arm and guided her to the narrow path they’d started along before.

  “Where are we going?” Some part of her brain was obviously still operating on autopilot, because she hadn’t made a conscious decision to ask the question. The words just popped out.

  “Back to the village.”

  THIRTY MINUTES WERE REQUIRED to walk back to the village via the winding path the old man named Rico had suggested. He had assured Slade that the cousin’s house was vacant at the moment and that he would not betray him if anyone else came around asking, not even the police.

  Slade felt confident the man’s gratitude would keep him loyal.

  A cleanup detail would come for the SUV and the bodies. It would be assumed that Maggie and he were long gone. That would buy the time Slade needed.

  He knew full well what he had to do to protect Maggie and the child she carried. Leaving her tucked away would not be enough. The risk was too great.

  Her words, and what those words meant, kept nagging at him. Later he’d have to analyze that meaning. Any distraction at this point could cost him any advantage they had gained.

  The house belonging to Rico’s cousin was a palace compared to the shack. A few narrow streets away from the center of the village, the houses were close and clean. There was plumbing and electricity. And food. Since Rico had arrived ahead of them, he had generously provided a few supplies.

  “You look tired.” Slade ushered Maggie into a chair. “I’ll be outside for a minute.”

  She nodded but didn’t question his intentions. That wasn’t like Maggie at all. Worry gnawed at him.

  Slade locked the front entrance and walked through the house to the rear door. The yard was small and the neighbors close, but no one appeared to be home.

  From the moment she had realized the seriousness of their situation, Maggie had wanted to call the Colby Agency. To Slade the idea had been out of the question. Though he no longer felt vindictive toward Lucas, Slade couldn’t label what he did feel.

  Two years ago he had swaggered into Chicago with a single goal. Get close to Lucas
Camp and slowly but surely dismantle all that mattered to him. He’d started by purchasing the Equalizer shop from Victoria’s son, Jim. That had positioned him strategically on a professional level. Then he had drawn Maggie into his treachery. She had provided the personal connection. He hadn’t realized the potential at first. Her coffee shop had merely provided a tactical position. The rest had fallen into place by sheer coincidence.

  The three months he had expected to spend on the mission had turned to six, then to a year. Suddenly two years had passed and he had become a part of the Colby clan. At first his curiosity about Lucas had drawn him, but, in time, it was Victoria who had lured him closer and closer. Though looking at her had been difficult at first, he had gotten over that obstacle. It wasn’t like his mother had always looked like that. Lavena had shown him photos of the Dragon before. She had looked nothing like Victoria prior to setting her scheme in motion.

  Slade hadn’t asked the old woman how she happened to have the photos, but he had his suspicions. Just more irrelevant information, he had thought at the time.

  Everything had changed now. He had two lives to protect and clearly he could not do it alone.

  Slade opened his phone and made the call.

  MAGGIE FORCED HERSELF TO nibble on some crackers and to down a bottle of water. She had checked on Slade once. He’d been standing in the small courtyard, staring at the ground. He’d made a call. She’d heard his deep voice, but he’d kept the conversation too low for her to determine who he had called or what he had called about. She had finally stopped trembling inside, but she still felt numb.

  She kept thinking of her sisters and their children and whether or not her child would ever play with his cousins.

  Strange that she would worry about that now. Survival should be her primary concern. Maybe that was the way her extreme anxiety manifested itself. Or maybe the idea of the children playing was survival.

  A couple of days ago her biggest worry had been whether or not to continue this one-sided relationship with Slade. A smile trembled across her lips. Now she wondered if she would still be alive this time tomorrow.

  The back door opened and Slade stepped inside. Her heart fluttered. She wished her body didn’t respond that way whenever she laid eyes on him, but the wish was wasted. She loved looking at him…touching him…listening to his voice.

  He crossed the room and sat down on the sofa directly facing her. A painful combination of fear and anticipation thumped in her chest. Was there more bad news? She, for one, wasn’t sure how much more bad news she could stomach.

  “There are things I need to say.”

  Her attention sharpened instantly. He wanted to talk? As hard as she tried not to allow the tremor to reach her hands, they shook before she could clasp them together. He noticed. And he flinched. The news must be very bad.

  “My existence has been vastly different from that of most men.”

  She got it, fully recognized that the proclamation was the understatement of the century. There was more he wanted to say, she sensed. He braced his forearms on his knees. Maggie could have sworn she saw a bit of a tremor in his hands, as well.

  “Emotional attachments were forbidden.” His gray eyes connected with hers and held. “I have never felt an attachment to any person, thing or place.” He looked away. “There is a connection of sorts with Alayna.”

  “Alayna?” Maggie tried to clear the emotion from her throat. Was this a former lover? An ache threaded through her. She had no right to feel jealous of a woman she didn’t even know. Still, she did.

  “She’s my biological sister.” He shrugged. “Half sister. There were four of us.” His voice became distant as he spoke, as if he was remembering a painful time. “Two other males, myself and Alayna.”

  “Were?” She braced for the worst.

  “The older two were terminated. One for failure to live up to the expectations of the Code, the other for betrayal.”

  Dear God. “She had them murdered?”

  He nodded.

  “What is this Code?” He had mentioned it before.

  There was a long hesitation before he answered, “That’s the name of the program the Dragon initiated thirty-five years ago. Her theory was related to some ancient Mayan myth about the selection and training of warriors. The belief that one molds his offspring from birth to be the perfect warrior with no other distractions like emotions. I’ve studied Mayan history and I could never find anything like the twisted concept she devised. She has no belief system other than in herself.”

  He stared at his hands as if the lines there held some clue to why he had been born to such a monster. “Four children would be born of qualifying DNA. The unknowing sperm providers would be among the most talented in the business of infiltration, intelligence gathering and assassination. The Dragon was the willing surrogate for the first four. The hope was that with the proper genetic coding inherited from our biological parents and with the intense training from the time we could walk, we would become the perfect spies. The perfect killing machines. Relentless warriors.”

  That was insane. The fodder of science-fiction novels. She ached to reach out to him, but she didn’t dare do anything to stop the momentum.

  “Two years after their termination, when I was eighteen, I escaped while on a mission. I was disillusioned by her view of our purpose.” He shrugged. “I wanted a different purpose.”

  He’d wanted a real life. “You were instinctively repulsed by the evil she represented.”

  “Maybe.” A frown furrowed between his eyes. “I just wanted away from her. From the place. Eventually I grew bitter and weary of hovering beneath her radar. I decided that the person responsible for my hostile childhood was my father.”

  “He deserted you?” Maggie had wondered if he had died or if Slade’s evil mother had had him killed, as well. Slade had no one to protect him from this madwoman.

  “Maybe. But I wanted to find him and I wanted him to suffer as I had.” The long-festering fury in his eyes burned like molten silver.

  “You found him?”

  Slade nodded, again looking away. “I watched him. Drew closer at every opportunity. I couldn’t wait to wield the first blow against him. To somehow make him pay for not stopping her.”

  Watched? Drew closer? Realization dawned with such intensity that Maggie had to remind herself to breathe. Was he talking about…?

  “Rather than despising him,” Slade went on, “finding fault in his every deed, I began to admire him.” He rubbed his forehead. “I hated myself for the weakness. But I couldn’t stop looking or yearning to be closer. He represented all that I thought I deserved and wanted…to be and could never hope to be. He had everything that is real and tangible…and I had nothing.”

  Maggie couldn’t restrain the need any longer. She dropped to her knees, between his spread legs. She caressed his rigid jaw, savored the feel of the stubble there. “You don’t give yourself credit for half the man you are. The fact that you have come this far is a testament to who you are deep inside.”

  He searched her eyes, his dull and listless. “How can you care so deeply for a man who is better at killing than at living?” He placed his palm between her breasts, over her heart. “What makes your heart reach out to me when my own does nothing but supply my body with oxygen?”

  She tried not to show how deeply his words hurt. She had known he didn’t love her the way she loved him. Not a day passed that she didn’t hope, but she had known. Producing a shaky smile, she placed her hand against the center of his chest. “It works better than you think. You could have allowed that old man to die and saved yourself, but you didn’t. There’s more going on there than just pumping, in my opinion.”

  He shook his head. “That was a mistake. A split-second decision based on a misfiring neuron. The better decision would have been to ignore him and have the enemy walk away blind.”

  Maggie laughed. “You should stop thinking that way.” She touched the bandanna around his arm. “
You bleed just like I do. You have compassion and all those other emotions that you were taught to ignore. Maybe you just don’t recognize them for what they are and can’t utilize them to the fullest extent possible, but they’re all there.”

  He took her face in his hands. “How can you be so sure of what I am?”

  That lost little boy who only wanted someone to love him still lived inside this big, strong man. How did she help him see that he was good and caring? That his need to get away from his mother had proved that?

  Maggie shared the only certainty she could prove. “I feel it every time you touch me.” She blinked back the tears that threatened to make a fool of her. “You may not recognize your emotions for what they are.” She was the one shrugging this time. Her own emotions were making it difficult to put her feelings into words.

  She inhaled a deep breath and plunged onward. “I can’t claim to know that you love me, but—” she showed him with her eyes just how genuinely she meant this “—I know you’re attached to me just a little.” She held her forefinger and thumb close together and at tempted a smile. “Otherwise you would have left me in Chicago to fend for myself.” That was the absolute truth. She felt that attachment all the way to her bones.

  He leaned forward and kissed her softly, thoroughly. Maggie couldn’t resist the taste, the scent of him. She leaned into the kiss.

  His fingers entwined with hers and he pulled her to her feet. As if they were back home in her tiny apartment, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. Taking their time, as if they had all day, they undressed each other. Maggie was careful of his injured arm. He was taken with her belly, as if touching that part of her would somehow let him feel the baby growing inside her. The way he marveled at touching that part of her was all the proof she needed to know the man he was behind the abuse he had suffered.

  His naked skin felt like heaven against hers. No matter what else happened, she loved being with him this way. He kissed her all over, worshipped her body with his lips and his tongue.