by J. M. Madden
“I don’t even know where to begin,” she said eventually. “Why all the subterfuge?”
Aiden sighed. “What you call subterfuge I call surviving.”
“I don’t understand.”
God. How much to tell her? Enough to get her out of his warehouse but not so much that she was going to be in danger from the Collaborative. “I’ve had assassins after me for almost two years now.”
Her eyes flickered, but she didn’t show the skepticism she had to be feeling. “Assassins? Why are they following you?”
“Because I have information dangerous to their bosses that if leaked, will send the world reeling.”
This time her eyes did widen, and her mouth fell open to ask another question, but he shook his head. “I’m not going to tell you what the information is. The less you know the better.”
Making a face she straightened in her chair. “Whatever you tell me will be off the record.”
He lifted a brow at her. “That’s why you’re writing everything down? To keep it off the record?”
Her delicate skin flushed again and she looked down at the paper. Then she snapped the notebook closed and shoved it aside, with the pen on top. “I remember things better when I write them down.”
He could have smiled then, because she looked like a petulant child, but he forced his face to stay steady. This wasn’t a situation he should be taking any pleasure in.
“How many assassins have come after you?”
“At least half a dozen that I know of.”
“Whose blood was in the alley?”
He blinked. She’d snuck that one in very smoothly. “It was from a fellow operator; a friend. The first assassin took him out.”
“What did you do with the body?”
Aiden blinked and he concentrated on not revealing anything in his expression. “I didn’t do anything with it. They took it, I assume.”
She frowned. “Who took it? The people that sent the assassin?”
He nodded once. “I believe so. I killed the assassin that killed my operator, but his body wasn’t recovered either, apparently.”
Angela blinked and her face paled. Aiden wondered what she’d do now that he’d confessed he’d killed a man. She paused for several long seconds.
“He attacked you?”
“Yes,” he answered truthfully.
That seemed to ease her mind, because some of the tension disappeared from around her eyes. So, self-defense must be an okay reason to kill someone.
She frowned. “Where did he attack you? Have you killed before?”
“In a parking garage. Yes.”
Again, she blinked her big eyes. They were such a tell.
“Other assassins?”
“Yes.”
She started to ease back.
“And others,” he admitted.
Her gaze sharpened on him. “What others?”
He shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. Yes, he was aware that it was generally a defensive posture, but he was curious to see what she’d do with the information he’d just handed her. “Men who have attacked me. Ops I’ve been a part of. I was in Afghanistan for six years.”
“Are you former military?”
“Yes. I was a Navy SEAL.”
“Was?”
Damn she was sharp. “Was.”
“Why did you leave the SEALs?”
Aiden swallowed. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“Why?”
For a moment, looking into her beautiful eyes, he wanted to tell her everything; how he’d been betrayed by his own government, used and almost thrown away. But that information would be dangerous to her health.
“Next question.”
She looked like she was about to argue, then thought better of it. “Are you squatting here?”
Aiden shouldn’t have been surprised at the question, but he was. “Not exactly.”
Her sleek brows, a shade darker color than her strawberry blond hair, drew together. “What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?”
“I have permission to be here by the company that owns the building.”
“And they know that you’ve … made modifications to their property?”
“Yes.”
Actually, he didn’t know if they did or not. Wulfe had set him up with the property. Well, technically, his brother Nikolas, the mogul had. The man owned property all over the world and this little derelict piece probably didn’t even register on his awareness. It meant everything to Aiden though. It was the first place he’d felt mostly secure in a very long time. It had given him space and time to heal.
Coming to Denver had seemed a wild and crazy endeavor, but when Aiden had seen that he’d had a brother listed on his paperwork, there was no way Aiden couldn’t investigate for himself. And as soon as he’d seen John, the family resemblance had been obvious. It had shaken Aiden to his core, because he hadn’t known about him. He thought he’d been the only child. There were faint, vague memories of playing with a dark haired boy, but he hadn’t realized the boy had been his brother.
There were so many changes going on then. When they’d broken out of the camp Wulfe’s brother had managed to get them transportation out of the country. When Nikolas had asked him who he wanted the official paperwork to be made out to, he’d balked at changing his name, even temporarily. He’d worked hard for the right to carry the name, and he refused to change it. Aiden had been the name of a maintenance man at the orphanage where he’d spent most of his childhood, and who had tolerated a curious teen following him around. Willingham had been the name of an English teacher who’d believed in him in junior high, and given him more hugs than anyone else ever had.
Wulfe had decided it would be more prudent to keep his own name, because of his family’s connections and history. Wulfe planned on exposing the corruption in the German Navy that had allowed him to be enlisted into the program without his permission. And Fontana was just contrary enough not to care if they tried to track him down with his name.
Fontana had been attacked several times in the past year, but he was still running and doing a very good job being the distraction he was supposed to be.
So many changes and decisions and responsibilities. When would it all stop?
When they could get the Silverstone Collaborative shut down. That’s when it would end.
The woman across from him lifted her brows and he realized he’d missed one of her questions. “What was that?”
“So, you’re not actually homeless?”
He waffled a hand in the air. “Not technically. But you learn more when you’re on the streets. People try not to make eye contact so they don’t have to ‘see’ you and feel obligated to give you money. But the street people themselves know more about the city than anyone. And they have a way of coming across information that’s proven vital to me. I hang out at the veterans’ shelter where they always have their ears to the ground.”
She nodded her head a couple of times, as if that answered a lot of questions for her. “I wondered about that.”
She waved a hand up and down his body. “So all this is a ruse?”
Aiden gave her a shrug, fingering the thin black sweatshirt he wore. It was threadbare but served its purpose, and dirty as all get out. It would probably stand up in the corner on its own. The jeans he wore weren’t much better. Ripped at the knees and ankles and pockets, they barely hung around his hips. The boots were a little better but not much.
Aiden didn’t like being dirty, but he’d gotten used to it. After being in the cage for so many months in the camp he’d gotten used to deplorable conditions. This outfit, as ragged as it was, was definitely a step up.
Trying to look at himself through her eyes, though, he could understand her dismay. It had been months since he’d shaved but only hours since he’d brushed his teeth. That was one thing he didn’t skimp on. To her, though, he probably looked like shit. And probably didn’t smell much better. But the disguise served its purpose.
The detective crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her head at him. “I really wish you would tell me everything. You’re giving me some details, but not enough. There’s something big you’re leaving out.”
“Why do you need them?” he countered.
“Because I need the questions answered in my mind. Even if it doesn’t reach the light of day,” she motioned toward the notepad, “I would still like to know what’s going on in my town.”
Aiden gave her a slight smile. “No, you wouldn’t.”
She glowered at him and even aggravated, she still looked cuter than anything he’d seen in a long time.
“The less you know the safer you are. It’s that easy.”
“Or the more in the dark I am when the shit hits the fan.”
Aiden considered her reasoning, and he had to agree that he would be of the same mind. Even if it was detrimental to his health he would want to know every aspect about the situation.
But it was too soon. There was no way he was exposing himself to her like that. “Maybe another day,” he told her finally.
Standing, he headed to the door of the break room, waiting for her to get up and follow. With a mulish expression she capped her water bottle and pushed up from the table, then crossed the room to him. “You didn’t tell me anything.”
Aiden shrugged, a little miffed at her attitude. He’d told her what he could.
“Follow exactly.”
“I remember from six minutes ago,” she snapped.
Appreciating her humor, he led her through the maze of heavy duty equipment and traps to the door she had entered through. After glancing outside, he pushed the door open for her. But she hesitated before stepping out, looking up at him. He imagined he could see hurt in her eyes, but doubted that was real.
“Why are you doing this? Why let me in if you were just going to kick me right back out?”
He had kind of done that. “I apologize for that, but it’s too dangerous for you to be here. It’s that simple. I’m not going to be responsible for you dying.”
Her jaw firmed. “No one is responsible for me other than me.”
With that she turned and exited through the door, water bottle clutched in her hand.
Later, watching the recorded footage in his office, he admired her. She didn’t play up her injuries or try to make him feel bad for her, but she did demand respect. He felt bad he hadn’t given her that.
Chapter Six
Priscilla smiled at Elizabeth as she walked into Damon’s office, wanting to claw the bitch’s beautiful cat-green eyes out. Elizabeth didn’t deserve Damon, she never had. Even though she’d given him a son, the only thing Damon had wanted out of the marriage, she continued to hold onto him for some reason. Yes, there would be major money issues if Elizabeth pulled out of the marriage, but surely Damon could support them?
Elizabeth and her family had provided the capital for the company, but over the years she knew Damon had been buying stock, in the hopes of someday forcing Elizabeth off the board. Since the company had gone through such a boom, though, the stock prices had gone through the roof.
He did like to play, though, Pris thought, and he had expensive tastes. Maybe he wasn’t as well off as she imagined.
It didn’t matter right now, he was too distracted by other things to really even look at her. And she’d dressed for him specifically today, in a pale, sky blue skirt set, a color he’d previously complimented her on, then promptly fucked her in…
What was he talking about now? Oh, another failed formula. Ergo, it was her fault because she hadn’t rounded up the escapees yet.
Pris looked down at her clasped hands, letting him think he was shaming her. He really wasn’t, but, you know. Men needed to think they were in charge sometimes.
“I’m sorry, Damon.”
The four men, well, three now, that had escaped were exceedingly dangerous, as well as slippery. She’d gone over the information they’d managed to gather about them. They would have made excellent soldiers but she was tired of playing. She was going to have to make an example of them.
Priscilla swirled the coffee in her cup, even as she fought off a sudden surge of anger. Those men had escaped months ago. Actually, it had been almost two years now. And she was no closer to finding them than the first day they’d broken out of the camp. They only found the aftermath of where they’d been. Tagging Collaborative men with GPS beacons had been a stroke of genius on Anton Scofield’s part. So far it was only by picking up the dead bodies that they were confirming the escapees’ locations now.
For a while they’d been with Nikolas Terberger. It had been easy enough to track the registration of the plane she’d missed in Brazil back to his company, as well as discover that he’d had a brother in the German Navy. It had to have been one of their men. And Damon knew something more about the situation, but he wasn’t telling her anything.
Damon paced the office across from her; his tall, slim form clad in a beautiful gray Caraceni suit. His golden blond hair was perfect, the fluorescent lights glinting off the gray at his temples. His deep-set eyes flashed with fire as he threw a hand into the air.
Priscilla was used to his dramatics and only listened half-heartedly. She was more interested in taking him to bed but with Elizabeth in the next room, they wouldn’t get a chance to play this time around.
When he paused to take a breath, she held up a hand. “I know you’re impatient, but we can’t do anything until we know for sure where they are.”
“You know where one of them is,” Damon snapped.
“No,” she corrected calmly. “I know where one was a few weeks ago, but we haven’t had any reports since then. I lost five men in Denver, but the sixth is still active. He’s reported in when he’s supposed to and hasn’t seen the target we’re looking for.”
Damon shook his head in aggravation before turning to face her. As always, when he looked at her Priscilla felt a shiver go up her spine, like she was in the presence of greatness. If he told her to strip down and bend over, she absolutely would, no matter the consequences.
“We need to get that information, Priscilla.” He moved toward her, leaning over her chair. “My ass is exposed if they manage to put the encryption together. And that camp was the most successful with the serum specifically because they had the correct formula. If you can’t capture them alive, we at least need their bodies back for study. Maybe we can reverse engineer the effect.”
Priscilla blinked up at him, and dared to reach out to stroke his tie. “I know, Damon,” she whispered.
His gaze narrowed on her hungry look. “You’ve been in the jungle too long.”
“God, yes. I don’t mind running the operations for you, Damon, but maybe sometime you can choose a deserted tropical island or something a little nicer than a destitute country in the armpit of hell. These other two camps are running me ragged.”
He laughed and pulled back. “That armpit of hell is very cost effective for us.”
She sighed, watching him round the desk to settle into his chair. “I know that. I’m just out of sorts.”
“I suspected you would be, so I had Saundra call ahead and book you into Aviva. Go do what you need to do to feel refreshed and I’ll try to join you later.”
A shiver ran through her at the thought of the pampering about to come. And if she was really lucky, she would too. Grinning as she pushed up from the chair, she walked in front of the desk, trailing her fingers over the surface. “That’s where I’ll be then. I promise you, Damon. We will get these men. No matter how long it takes. As soon as the encryption fails we’ll have a location.”
He gave her a skeptical look. “We’d better, darling.”
Without another word Priscilla turned and walked out the door, very conscious that he watched her ass the entire time.
The situation with the men had lasted longer than she’d expected, but she could be patient when she needed to be.
Angela headed back to her ap
artment, running their short conversation over and over in her head. Yes, she was satisfied that she finally knew for sure the man was Aiden Willingham, but otherwise she was completely frustrated. He’d left her with so many more questions than answers.
She wondered of the danger was real or imagined, then thought of the frozen pool of blood she’d found in that alley so many months ago. There was some kind of danger, but was it as bad as he explained? She had no idea. As she’d walked home, though, she’d taken the time to make sure she wasn’t being followed or watched.
Then she’d felt ridiculous. She wasn’t falling for this government conspiracy garbage. It had to be some mental issue he was dealing with. She could empathize, but she refused to cater to it.
She’d seen it before with the homeless veterans. Sometimes the delusions would be so pervasive that they would build a fortified nest, just like Aiden, and they’d spout preposterous government conspiracy theories. In those cases the department mandated that the veteran be admitted to the hospital for observation, and most especially their own safety. Once they were back on the psychiatric meds they’d been skipping or selling on the streets, the wild beliefs would be reined back under control.
It was always just a stopgap measure though. Yes, they’d get back onto the meds for a while, and get better, but as soon as they were released the meds fell away and they were back in their conspiracy driven world.
Aiden hadn’t struck her that way, though. Most vets that fell into that destructive loop were more than happy to tell you about what they believed, in an effort to convince you that they were right. Aiden had held his cards close to his vest.
Was there a glimmer of truth in what he’d told her? She had no idea, but she would like to think she was more enlightened than the average person. After serving in the Marines for four years, she knew her government could act as criminally as any other. Yes, she loved her country, but she was also aware that the people that ran it didn’t always have her best interests at heart.
Toeing her tennis shoes off and dropping her bag on the entryway table, she headed to the couch. The pain pills the hospital had given her sat on the table and she debated taking one, but shrugged it off. She’d get a couple of ibuprofen in a while.