by Cara Carnes
“I’m thinking when this is over, assuming I still have a job, maybe I should take Dallas up on that offer for self-defense training. Addy offered, too.”
“I’ll show you,” he offered.
Her toes curled in her flip flops. She really should have at least changed her shoes. She was wearing what Gage called her cave gear. Ugh.
She tried to imagine Gage training her on anything. Her insides warmed at the thought. “You don’t like me.”
“Where the hell did that thought come from?”
“You’ve told me at least a hundred times you don’t trust me.”
“I don’t have to trust you to want to fuck you,” Gage said.
Holy. Shit.
He didn’t just…
Zoey blinked as her stomach vaulted into her throat. The airplane rattled around her as it ascended into the sky.
He’d said it to divert her attention. Right?
She squeezed her eyes shut as he gripped her hand. She opened one eye and noted the relaxed spread of his legs. He wasn’t even the slightest bit worried about tumbling from the sky in a fiery inferno.
Her mind returned down the what-if trail with its new fodder—a hot and sweaty Gage, even more relaxed than he was now. In a bed.
With her.
Oh boy.
Sex hadn’t ever been spectacular, at least not for Zoey. At first she’d assumed it was her, but then she’d hooked up with the jerk of all time who’d assured her she was the best he’d ever had at certain things.
Too bad he hadn’t been anywhere near spectacular. He’d been downright horrific, if she was being entirely honest. She’d expected CIA agents to be decent in bed. Wasn’t that a necessity? What if he had to screw some high-up bitch and he sucked?
“You’re doing it again,” Gage commented.
Her stomach tightened. “Doing what?”
“Chasing smoke.” She looked at him. “That’s what my big sister Eleanor calls it. Our other sister Lydia does it a lot—stares out windows and wonders about things beyond her control. Worries. Obsesses. Daydreams. Anything to avoid reality. She’s the dreamer of our family.”
“That’s what you think about me,” she said, a tad hurt he’d think so little of her. “You think I avoid reality.”
“No. I think you live in your head more times than not to avoid it, Little Bit. There’s a difference, and it’s my job to give you more reasons to stay in the present.”
“Why would you care?”
“I have no idea, but I do,” he admitted. “Until we get this mess sorted, I’m sticking to you like I did Dallas during his dust up.”
Oh boy. Dallas’s “dust up” had been an outright war with the Collective after he discovered his bitch of a handler had gotten pregnant by him and birthed a son. Sadly, Dallas had discovered his son’s existence but not his exact location before the bitch died.
What happened next had been a grueling, outright race to find his son. Gage had been at Dallas’s back twenty-four seven during the harrowing treks through wilderness as they searched grids. He’d kept the man focused on the mission and out of his head.
“I’m not in my head,” she stated, even though she had kind of been.
“You’re a shit liar, Little Bit. Don’t ever play poker.”
“I don’t know how.”
“You want, I’ll teach you that, too,” he offered. His gaze softened as it swept down her.
“I’m thinking your antes would be steep,” she commented. “You’re a very big flirt, Sanderson. You’d best check that with the noobs.”
“Thinking we covered this ground earlier,” he replied.
They had. She swallowed her argument and looked out the window. As soon as they got to cruising altitude, she’d get to work. She had a call to make to Ben and a mountain of other things to handle.
Hopefully it would be enough to keep Sara secure.
“You aren’t in this fight alone, Zoey. Whatever you’re thinking, remember there’s a team right here on this plane ready to fight any war necessary to get Sara safe.”
5
Gage had intended to focus Zoey on something other than whatever worries she’d been obsessing over, but the covert glances she’d used to survey him every few moments left him thinking he’d gone a bit too far. She clutched his hand and squeezed as the plane touched ground.
Levi had warned them the runway was shorter than he’d like, which meant a hard halt rather than a slower glide to a stop. It was a common enough occurrence at the out-of-the-way airfields they used for ops, but Zoey wouldn’t be used to it.
“We’re clear,” he said. “When we get to the airstrip, we’ll need you to hang back with the plane while we secure transport.”
“I have transport.”
Gage froze and glanced at Jesse and his team, who’d all halted when they heard Zoey’s statement. “You have transport?”
“Erm, yeah. What do you think I was doing? Playing WOW?”
“We’re in Timbuktu nowhere,” Jesse said.
“Yeah, half an hour outside Chicago. I know.” Zoey looked at the team as she unlatched her seatbelt. “It’s not like only commandos use this airport, you know. It’s remote enough to get someone into or out of the area without much notice.”
Gage grunted. He’d underestimated her resourcefulness because she hadn’t ever been out in the field with The Arsenal. Given his firsthand experiences with the other women of the The Arsenal, it was a mistake he shouldn’t have made.
“There’s a van stashed at a garage across the street. Keys will be inside. Should have a full tank,” she added into the silence.
“Who secured that?” Gage asked, too curious not to ask.
“We’re a bit low on time, but let’s just say my network has built-in caches of supplies, money, and vehicles at the ready in case someone needs a quick escape,” she said.
“Seriously?” Cord asked in the com.
Gage cursed. He’d forgotten he and Jesse had turned theirs on shortly before the plane descended.
“Wait. Ask her if that’s what all the icons are. Never mind, I just clicked on one. Holy crap. Mary, Vi, get over here. Your girl’s got more rabbit holes than Alice in Wonderland.”
Gage glanced at Jesse and noted the man’s amused grin. Vi, Mary, and Cord had been ripping through the system Zoey had copied onto HERA. From what little the three had offered so far, they had far more questions than insight into the supposed network.
Translation—he, Jesse, and the team were following her blindly into the situation to exfil a young woman and a baby. He and Jesse had worked out a plan with the team, one that they’d gone over repeatedly.
She’s not an operative. It took years for Mary and me to acclimate to thinking like you all. Be patient.
Vi’s not-so gentle reminder from Zoey’s first few days at The Arsenal streamed in his mind whenever his frustration level hit critical with the maddening woman beside him. She wasn’t trying to be difficult. She was just not used to working with others.
Gage couldn’t get pissed at her since he was battling the same issue from a different angle. He’d been in a team, had trusted them with his life, and had nearly died because of it. He’d been burned—the precise thing he suspected Zoey was trying to avoid.
“You heard us going over a plan,” he said patiently.
“Yep,” Zoey said.
“You didn’t say anything about having transport,” Jesse said.
“You didn’t include me in your planning even though I was right there. Why should I insert myself into it?” She shrugged. “You have your plan, and I have mine. We’ll see which one we need.”
They hadn’t included her because they’d assumed she realized she was automatically part of the plan. But it was her first foray into the field for a mission.
Son of a bitch. He should have recognized that the fear she had earlier was about more than the plane ride. She was in the field for the first time. Sure, they’d run up to Austin and helped Cou
nterstrike get what they needed, but that hadn’t been a live mission.
“That’s not how this works, Little Bit. We’re a team,” Gage said, realizing immediately it was the wrong thing to say.
“That’s right, Sanderson. We are. You didn’t think I was a part of this even though it’s my asset we’re pulling. It’s my everything,” she declared as she rose on her tiptoes again. “So, yeah, I have a transport. I also have another secured outside the hospital and a cache of things I figured we might need for Sara and the baby. There’re also a few safe houses in the area in case we need to hole up.”
“You have safe houses?” Sol asked.
“They aren’t like the safe houses y’all are used to. They’re secured buildings—an empty rental house maintained by a trusted asset paid to keep it stocked with supplies, maybe an empty garage someone doesn’t use or a place above a garage. That sort of thing.”
Jesse crossed his arms and grinned. “Those sound like safe houses to me.”
“Whatever,” Zoey said. “Let’s go get Sara.”
The woman turned and charged through the team clustered behind Jesse. Son of a bitch.
“Zoey,” he called out.
“We’ve wasted enough time,” she said.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. We shouldn’t have excluded you from the plan.”
“I’m not Vi or Mary, but I am a part of The Arsenal. I’ve led missions, maybe not as big and perfect as they do, but I haven’t gotten anyone killed or hurt. Much.” She crossed her arms and glanced over at Howie, who’d been nicked by a round a few days ago. “Sorry about that, by the way.”
“Scars give me character,” the man replied. “You’re right to call us out on excluding you. This is your girl we’re pulling out.”
“It won’t happen again,” Gage said.
“Damn straight it won’t,” Vi said. “Give her a com. We want to see what she’s been working on. You may have excluded her, but it was a two-way street. We expected better of both of you.”
Gage reached into the bag he carried and pulled out the extra com gear. Zoey put it on. “She’s wired. Let’s move out.”
Brooklyn and Levi retrieved the van from the garage while Sol, Jesse, and Alex fanned out and reconned the area—a well-honed team like Gage had once had at his six. His chest tightened as unwanted memories tumbled into his brain.
“Z, we need an idea what kind of network you’ve got laid out. I’m a little overwhelmed,” Cord admitted.
“The van will get us to the hospital where Ben is coordinating medical care for the baby. We’ll need to hack in and handle the security footage. I took the system down for maintenance, but that won’t last long enough,” Zoey said into the com.
“I’ll handle the security cameras in the hospital and around the area,” Vi said.
“Depending on whether the area’s hot, the plane might be burned,” Mary commented.
“Which is why there’s a secondary vehicle near the hospital with clothes and supplies,” Zoey replied.
“And the safe houses? Are they secured by people you know?” Brooklyn asked.
“Well, no. It’s not like I’ve met anyone, but I vetted them.”
“How?” Gage asked.
“Security checks, background, criminal, credit. I found most via volunteer rosters.”
“And you have levels established. I take it Ben is at the top because you’ve used him before,” Mary said.
“Yes, anytime someone helps me, they get experience points of sorts. Enough levels them up, and they get more money for helping and are then trusted with more serious issues as they arise. I will always avoid using a higher level asset if not needed so I don’t burn them if something goes wrong.”
“That’s smart,” Vi said. “Okay, Z. This is your op. Mary, Cord, and I are here for support if you need it, but you’re running it from the field.”
“We need an idea of who’s on Cherling’s payroll.”
“We tracked what we could but lost the trail in the dark web,” Vi said.
“I have a program that’ll crawl the dark web,” she said.
“That’s impossible. It’s encrypted and unindexed,” Cord said.
“D0bbyRu!z initializes it. Parameters will need to be entered. Start with whatever account you traced and enter as many variables as you need to. The program should do the rest. Before you run it, type in the code D0bbyRu%z first. That’ll ghost everything.”
“Is that even possible?” Marshall asked on the com.
“We’re about to find out,” Mary said. “We’re on it. Let us know if you need anything.”
Sometimes the best way to stay off radar was to be the center of attention. Zoey had spent most of her life being weirder than everyone around her. She’d been into video and computer games instead of board games, and she could explain hacking and assorted math concepts easier than she could sports or the entertainment industry.
She was a proud, card-carrying member of the geek world.
She knew Gage, Jesse, and his team were more than a little concerned about her zombie leggings and brightly-colored hair. In their world she stood out, but the Chicago hospital wasn’t their typical operational theater. Men with two or three times more brawn than the average man stood out way more than a five-two woman with pink and purple hair, especially in this part of town.
Brooklyn and Levi broke off from the group the moment they arrived. Howie remained with the vehicle while Sol glanced up at the hospital. It was a behemoth of a building—at least twenty stories, but the emergency entrance was a single-story standout. He motioned toward it and cut away toward a back alley.
Once a sniper, always a sniper. The man likely slept dangling by his toes from the ceiling of his bedroom like a bat. She looked around and realized the team wouldn’t stand out as much as she’d first thought because they weren’t going in together.
Of course they weren’t. They never did. They always fanned out. Zoey knew that instinctively but being a live-action figure in today’s mission left her discombobulated.
Pull your head out of your ass. Sara needs your A-game.
Gage placed an arm around her as the emergency room entry swished open and a blast of cool air struck her face. Ugh. She really, really hated hospitals. The disinfectant smell from deeper within the facility drifted into her nostrils as a secondary assault to the stench of illness and filth from the large, crowded lobby.
A brief scan revealed no Sara, which was exactly what Zoey expected.
“She must already be in the back, honey lumpkins. Let’s go see,” she said as she looked up at Gage. She stretched her arm along the back of his waist as he had hers. Head leaned against him, she looked over at Jesse. “Want to hang here? We’ll be back in a minute.”
“Sure,” Jesse said with a chuckle.
“Cameras are still down,” Mary commented into the com. “You’ve got about fifteen minutes to exfil.”
More than enough time, unless Ariana was really, really sick. Dread knotted her stomach because she didn’t know much about babies. She separated from Gage enough to take his hand as she approached the glass enclosure holding the employees.
A half-asleep, middle-aged woman glanced up as she shoved a clipboard through the small cage below. “Take these, fill them out, drop them off on the side. We’ll call you when it’s your turn.”
“Oh,” Zoey said as she glanced at the clipboard. “I’m looking for my sister, Bess Harper. She brought my little boy here. Johnny. Johnny Marks.”
The woman rolled her dark eyes and motioned toward the waiting room. “Have a seat. If she’s here, she’ll be out when she’s done.”
Zoey blinked.
Time to activate plan B, which was really plan A because a straightforward approach never worked. Her lower lip trembled as she thought about anything and everything sad. She started with the SPCA commercials on TV, then moved to more personal things.
Her dad’s death three years ago. He’d survived the quadruple bypas
s but had succumbed to an infection in a hospital that stank like the same antiseptic burning her nostrils right now. Her eyes watered. She covered her face and sobbed.
Loud and long until the violent shake of her body rattled her bones.
“Jesus,” Gage muttered as he drew her into his body. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m sure he’s okay.”
“B-b-but we don’t know!” Zoey shouted. “This is Jeremy all over again.”
She reached up to swipe her eyes, but he was already there. “He’s a strong boy. There’s no sign of the cancer his brother had.”
“B-b-but he’s sick.” Zoey cried harder. Cancer? Jesus, Gage was good at improv.
“Oh, sweetie.” The woman behind the glass melted. Her gaze was on Gage. Apparently a sexier-than-sin man with a soft side was the key. The woman’s expression shifted to sympathetic. “Babies get sick all the time.”
Zoey sniffled and smiled up at Gage through watery eyes as he swiped her cheeks with his thumbs. “You think he’s okay?”
“Yeah, sweetheart. God wouldn’t rip a second angel from us,” Gage whispered as he feathered a kiss along her lips.
Awareness arced between them as she returned the butterfly-soft contact until molten need fired through her body. She melted into his frame and inhaled his scent.
“I hate the smell of this place. It reminds me of…” She broke the admission off and burrowed her head into body.
“Fuck,” Jesse muttered into the com.
“Tell you what, I’ll look him and your sister up. What was the name?” the woman asked.
“Bess Harper,” Gage said to the woman in answer. He ran his hand protectively down Zoey’s head. “My boy’s name is Johnny.”
“And your name?” The woman paused her typing as she glanced at Gage.
“Jeremy Marks,” Gage said, his voice broken as if he was choked up.
The woman’s eyes widened as she put the name together with the little Jeremy they’d lost to cancer. Wowza. Zoey never would’ve thought of that extra punch of emotional shock. The woman’s fingers flew across her keyboard. They could’ve likely hacked the hospital records easily enough, but Zoey wanted faces and stories mentally assigned to Sara’s daughter in case an investigation circled back to this moment.