Absolving His Sins: Trident Security Book 7

by Samantha A. Cole

  Snorting, Carter holstered his weapon at the small of his back. “I’m sure. You’ll get through it, though.” Jordyn came out of the bathroom, and Carter couldn’t help running his gaze from her head to her toes and back again, remembering every inch of skin he’d enjoyed last night. “Jordy, you remember Jake, right?”

  “Yes.” She smiled and held out her hand, which the other man shook. “Nice to see you again, even though last time was only for a few minutes. I heard Ian’s brother and the girl are both doing okay.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Nick and Alyssa are doing just fine. I never really got a chance to thank you for your help. Alyssa means a lot to me, and she’s leading a normal life now, thanks to you.”

  Jordyn waved her hand in a no-big-deal gesture. “Please, all I did was crack a safe. You and Nick were the ones dodging bullets—or in Nick’s case, getting hit by one.”

  “Yeah, every time he leaves on a mission now, I remind him to duck a little faster if the bullets start flying,” he said with a wry grin. “All right, fill me in. I’ve got three of my team waiting for us downstairs.”

  Running a hand down his face, Carter sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at his friend. “We’re transporting a prisoner from the penitentiary, fifteen minutes away from here, to a private jet waiting for us at the airport. From there we’re heading to Missoula, Montana where he’s going to donate a kidney to my nephew.”

  “Nephew?” Jake’s eyebrows almost hit his hairline. “Damn, every time I think I’ve got you figured out, dude, you go and surprise me again.” He paused. “Who’s the prisoner, and why aren’t they just taking the kidney from him here in California and transporting it?”

  “The prisoner is Justin’s sperm donor. The bastard raped my foster sister when she was fifteen, and Justin was the result.” Jake’s jaw clenched. Alyssa had been a missing persons case for him that had him turning the tables when he’d found out she’d been repeatedly raped by her father starting at age twelve. Jake had helped her and her mother escape, but the latter was murdered when a year later the bastard had found out where they were hiding. Jake had come to Alyssa’s rescue again, along with Nick and few others from Trident. To say the man hated rapists, especially when the victim was a minor, was a huge understatement. Carter felt the same way. “With the help of my boss, Osbourne is being released into federal custody. All the warden knows is it’s classified, and he’ll be returned when we’re done with him. We’re doing it this way because otherwise we’d have to get a court order, which could take weeks if not months—time we don’t have. I also don’t want Osbourne to know where all this is taking place. With official paperwork, he’d have all the details he’d need to fuck with her. The head of the transplant team is also on the government’s payroll, and I’ve discussed this with him in the past—in case we had to go this route.

  “It’ll take about forty-eight hours to run all the tests on Osbourne to make sure he’s a complete match and healthy enough. Then comes the surgery which will take a few hours. Forty-eight hours after that he should be released from the hospital, but will need to remain local for a week in case any complications pop up. Honestly, after we get his kidney, I wouldn’t care if he croaked—actually, I’d prefer that, but I’m sure the doctors wouldn’t agree with me. I’ll arrange for a place where you can hole him up for the week, then you’ll return him to Folsom. At that point, the warden will have to be filled in because there’s about a six-week recovery period they’ll have to be aware of. Can’t just return the guy minus a kidney and not let them know, I guess.”

  “Guess not,” the man agreed. “Ian said he’s sending a second team to Montana. All six of Omega.”

  Carter nodded his head. “Yeah. It looks like Senator Beltram has come back from the dead to bite me in the ass. Emmanuel Diaz wants revenge.”

  “Seriously? Fuck.” Jake had been one of the men on the hit list Beltram had given his hired assassin. While the men at Trident hadn’t known for sure Carter had pulled the trigger on Beltram, under orders from his superiors, they had to have suspected after it all went down. He trusted Jake would take that intel to his grave, just like Ian and the others would.

  “Yeah. Looks like the security breech and hits on the other agents were red herrings. Problem is we’ve got a mole in Deimos. Until we figure out who that is, Diaz gets to keep breathing, then they’ll both be eliminated.”

  “So until that happens, you want a team on your family,” Jake acknowledged.

  He nodded again. “Exactly.” His gaze searched for Jordyn. While the two men had been talking, she’d been repacking her duffel and, to his surprise, his as well. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

  “Don’t get used it,” she teased. “Next time, you get to do the packing while I sit on my ass.”

  Unable to stop the grin spreading across his face, Carter ignored the fact that Jake was in the room. He stood and pulled Jordyn flush against him. Bending down, he gave her a brief kiss that held a promise it would continue when they were alone again. He was pleased to see a blush on her cheeks, but now was not the time to celebrate it. “All right. Let’s hit the road. The pilot was told to be ready by 0730.”

  Grabbing both their duffels, Carter followed Jake and Jordyn out of the hotel room to the elevators. They were all on alert for anything out of the ordinary. When the doors opened to the lobby, a man and a woman flanked them for the walk out to the parking lot where another of Jake’s team members was waiting to drive the eight-passenger van. Jake opend the back door, and his operatives cimbed into the rear, third seat, leaving the middle one for Jordyn and Carter. Getting in the front, Jake nodded for the driver to take off, then pulled up the address for the penitentiary on the GPS unit. Shifting around, the head of Trident Security West introduced everyone. “Jordyn and Carter, behind you are Riley Kramer and Rebecca Faraday.”

  The foursome shook hands over the seatback between them. After Ian, Devon, and Jake had agreed on the new team members, they’d let Carter review the operatives’ files in case he ever needed their help—he liked to know who had his back. Kramer was a thirty-four-year-old former Green Beret. Five foot eleven, with brown hair and hazel eyes, he was the team’s primary sniper. Faraday was a kick-ass woman in her own right. The pretty blonde with blue eyes was five foot eight and held a black belt in three individual disciplines of martial arts, including Krav Maga. They’d snatched her up from the Seattle Police Department where she’d been on one of their SWAT teams as well as their counter-terrorism unit. She smiled at both of them. “Nice to meet you. Please call me RJ.”

  “RJ it is. Thanks for the help,” Carter replied.

  “And in the driver’s seat,” Jake added, “is Tap Corrigan.”

  The black-haired, stocky, former Marine and FBI agent met their gazes in the rearview mirror and nodded hello before following the GPS woman’s voice instructing him to “turn left.”

  After a brief stop at a deli for egg sandwiches, bagels, and coffee, they arrived at the state penitentiary at 7:00 on the nose. Carter was the only one who hadn’t touched his breakfast. His stomach was churning at the thought of being in a vehicle and then a plane with Osbourne.

  They were flagged through the huge gate by one of the guards, and it closed again behind them. The vehicle was stopped over a narrow trench that was used to inspect the underside for bombs and weapons or other contraband. None of them opened their doors while another guard approached the driver’s window. Corrigan hit the button to lower it. “Hey, we’re here to pick up a prisoner.”

  Carter handed one of his federal ID’s with an alias, along with the paperwork McDaniel had faxed to the hotel for him last night, to Corrigan who gave them to the guard. The uniformed man looked everything over as two other guards stood nearby with two dogs which were probably trained to sniff out drugs and explosives or other contraband. The guard at the window handed the paperwork back to Corrigan. “You’ll need to hand these to the guards inside. They have Osbourne in a holding cell all ready to go. I just n
eed everyone to step out so the dogs can search the vehicle. Please keep your weapons holstered and wait over there.” He pointed to the wall behind him.

  Yesterday, Carter hadn’t gone through all of this because he’d walked in after leaving his weapons with Jordyn. This time, since their prisoner was waiting for them just inside the intake area, they didn’t need to relinquish their firearms. Five minutes later, they were back in the vehicle, and Corrigan drove them through the interior gate. Carter and Jake entered the prison, where, once again, the former handed over the ID and paperwork, while the rest of them waited with the van. The warden was nowhere to be seen but he’d clearly followed McDaniel’s instructions to the letter. Through the plexiglass window of the holding area, they could see Osbourne was dressed in civilian clothes waiting for them.

  When the door to the locked holding room was opened, the two men walked in to retrieve their prisoner. Carter stood stiffly, his fists clenched in a hatred that had been festering for years, as Jake instructed Osbourne to stand. The operative cuffed his hands behind him, then patted him down from head to toe. Just because the guy had spent the last twenty years in prison didn’t mean he wasn’t carrying some sort of weapon on him. When Jake nodded to Carter that they were all set, he pivoted and lead the way out the door without a word.

  As they approached the vehicle with the others standing next to it, Osbourne snorted. “You need this many people to transport me? And two women no less. At least they’re hot looking. Hey, babes—”

  Whatever he was about to say was lost when Carter spun around and grabbed the bastard’s throat, crushing it tightly, cutting off most of the man’s oxygen supply. Osbourne’s eyes bugged out, filling with fear, as Carter got into his face and spoke in a deadly voice. “Shut up, you piece of shit. Those two women know more ways to kill a man than you ever thought were possible. They also have permission to break any of your bones they see fit if you so much as look at them the wrong way. I don’t want to hear another fucking word out of you for the entire trip unless you’re asked a direct question. Blink if you understand me.”

  Osbourne opened and closed his eyes several times. When Carter let go of his throat, the man stumbled backward and gasped for air. Unsympathetic, Jake shoved Osbourne toward the van. Kramer pulled out a blindfold and put it over their prisoner’s eyes, then helped him into the middle row after Jordyn and RJ climbed into the rear seats.

  Carter held his hand out to Corrigan. “Let me drive so I have something to do with my hands beside strangle him.” The man nodded in understanding and tossed him the keys.

  The rest of them loaded up—Jake in the front passenger seat again, with Corrigan and Kramer flanking Osbourne in the middle row. Carter started the engine and drove them back out the way they’d come in. By the time they arrived at the airport where the private jet was waiting for them, he’d gotten himself completely under control. Well, as much as he could be around a man he wanted to beat to a bloody pulp. It’s going to be a long, fucking flight.

  Chapter 17

  Corrigan and RJ escorted Osbourne onto the waiting jet, while the others followed with everyone’s go bags. Once they were in the air, Carter would, begrudgingly, let them take off the blindfold and cuff his hands in front for a while, but he didn’t want the bastard to know exactly where they were going. Jake’s team would ensure no one at the hospital let Osbourne know what state Justin and Vicki lived in. It might be overkill, but Carter wanted to make sure they never had to deal with Osbourne again—his only other option was an unsanctioned kill—aka murder.

  The pilot, who’d flown Carter and Jordyn in yesterday, had already done the preflight checklist and within minutes of the cabin door shutting, they were rolling down the runway. Osbourne was strapped into a seat toward the front while Jake’s team surrounded him. Carter sat in the back with Jordyn, waiting for the jet to gain altitude and level off. Once that happened, he pulled out the secure SAT phone and called McDaniel, filling him in about what they’d learned at Club X before adding, “So it looks like this has all been a farce to cover up a hit on me.” The realization that three good men had lost their lives for an assassination he’d been assigned to was eating at him more and more. “We’ve got a mole in Deimos—you and Jordyn are the only people I trust right now, so she and I are heading to Colombia; we’ll be off the grid.” Jordyn reached over and squeezed his hand, and he gave her small smile in return.

  “You’ll need backup,” McDaniel huffed.

  “We’ll have it. I know exactly who I’m going to call—again, people I trust with our lives. You know I have to do it this way, Gene, until we find the mole. I don’t want anyone from Deimos down there on my six, and worrying if the shot is going to come from behind.” It was a sad day when you didn’t know which one of your fellow operatives wanted you in their crosshairs.

  There was a long pause. McDaniel knew he was right; the man was just weighing all the options—not that there were many. “Fine. But I’m telling you right now, I know Jacobs gave you the green light, but the mole changes things. Try not to kill Diaz until we find out who it is, all right?”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Let me talk to Jordyn.”

  Carter rolled his eyes and handed her the phone. Her brow furrowed, but she took it from him and put it to her ear. “Yes, sir?” There was a long pause and then, “Yes, I understand.” Their boss must have hung up without saying goodbye because Jordyn wordlessly hit the end button and placed the phone on the couch next to her. “He said I’m supposed to keep you from killing Diaz until the mole is found. Guess he doesn’t trust you to do your best.”

  He grinned. “Knows me too well.” Reaching down, he tugged on the lower halves of her pants, bringing her legs up across his lap. Pulling off her boots, he let them drop to the floor before massaging one foot. “So . . . we have a few hours to kill with not enough privacy to fool around . . . I told you about my crappy childhood yesterday, why don’t you tell me about yours. I know some of your background, but not all, and definitely not from your point of view.”

  He half expected her to refuse, but then she settled deeper into the couch, propping a pillow under her head. “I guess fair is fair. Just keep doing that and I’ll talk.”

  “And here I thought I’d have to torture it out of you. Something tells me you’re getting sweet on me.”

  “Don’t push your luck, Thaddeus.”

  Barking out a laugh, he shook his head. “Not even close, love. And I think that’s a repeat from when I was training you.”

  “Damn.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “All right. My background. I’m sure you know about my parents—who they were and what . . . what happened.” He nodded. “Mom was a beauty queen who fell in love with my father, a businessman, when she was twenty. They dated for two years and would have gotten married sooner, but then mom wouldn’t have been able to enter the ‘Miss’ pageants anymore. I don’t know how long it was after the wedding before he started abusing her, but I don’t remember a time there wasn’t yelling and hitting going on. Mom got very good at hiding her bruises under clothing and makeup.”

  She paused, and Carter realized he’d stopped massaging her foot and was staring at her. “Shit! That’s why you thought I was into abusing women, isn’t it?”

  Biting her lip, she nodded. “I assumed that’s what the lifestyle was—just a curtain to hide behind—an excuse to beat up women. I’m sorry I—”

  “Sh. No apologies, sweetheart. You’re not the first person, nor will you be the last, who misinterpreted what BDSM is all about—I did too, in the beginning.” Her eyebrows arched at his confession. “I had no idea what it was all about until I ended up at a club in Russia on an assignment for a few weeks. By the time I’d gotten what I needed from my target, I’d found a lifestyle that gave me that last bit of control I was looking for. After that, I trained under the best Doms in Europe and the US. I learned every form of play that appealed to me and how to ensure my submissive’s safety at
all times. I would be crushed if something I did resulted in a sub being physically, emotionally, or mentally damaged. Unfortunately, there are some people out there who do use it as an excuse to abuse others. Or don’t take the time to train properly which is just as bad.” He started massaging her foot again, trying to get her to relax a bit. “But let’s backup a little—you were talking about your parents. Did your father abuse you, too?”

  “No. Quite the opposite, actually—he doted on me. Because he was so nice to me, I grew up thinking it was normal for men to hit their wives. I went to private schools, had everything a kid could ask for—I was pretty spoiled. That all changed when I was fourteen.” She swallowed hard. “I got home from school one day and couldn’t figure out why none of the staff were around. I went from room to room—it was a huge mansion—trying to find someone—anyone. My dad apparently had told them to take the rest of the day off an hour or so after I left for school. I found them in their bedroom—my father had shot my mother in the head, then himself. The police never found out the reason, and just like that, I was an orphan. My father’s side of the family took every cent we had and left me with nothing. No one wanted me.”

  Her voice had gone flat, as if she were reciting something tasteless she’d repeated over and over, but Carter knew, deep down, this was something she’d never told anyone. Maybe it was about time she did. He let her continue without any interruptions.

  “I went from being a rich, spoiled kid, to living in an orphanage, until my mother’s brother found out about three months later. Uncle Iggy came and got me, then smuggled me into the US. As I’m sure you were told before McDaniel introduced us, my uncle was an accomplished jewel and art thief. He trained me how to pickpocket and bypass some of the best alarm systems out there. I learned how to crack open a safe before I could even drive a car. Not an Ivy League education, but he did his best to make sure I could survive in the world. He was actually a very sweet man.”