Flash of Fury

by Lea Griffith

  King cut the overhead lights, making sure a single lamp beside the bed burned. He didn’t want Allie to wake to darkness. “I hated that bastard from the moment I found out he was giving decommissioned weapons to young Somali boys so they could kill their parents and join up with warlords. The same warlords who paid top dollar for his illegal arms. He killed my people. I wanted to destroy his pockets, not crawl inside them.”

  “Too bad you couldn’t prove it. Too bad there’s a history between you and Dresden. That didn’t help your cause either,” she murmured before she pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a deep drag and blowing smoke up in the air.

  “Ella was his contact. You asked who was responsible for Nina—it was her. Once Dresden put a bullet in her head in Beirut, my ability to prove it was nearly decimated.” He decided to let the dig about the history between him and Dresden slide. They’d been teammates in SEALs, but when Dresden went AWOL and then mercenary killer slash gunrunner, he’d become King’s enemy. King wouldn’t let it be anything other than end of story.

  Loretta chuckled and shook her head. “Where have you and your team been the last year, McNally?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Ella’s not dead.”

  It was as if a bomb exploded in King’s brain leaving cotton in its wake. “Her head was blown to smithereens by Dresden. I watched it happen, Loretta. The helo went dead in the air and fell to the earth, and we scattered. He put her on her knees beside Madoc and Samson and blew her away.”

  “I think you’re a born leader, McNally. But you’ve never been very good at seeing through the smoke to the fire. You’ve wallowed in the muck of the dark side too long.”

  There was that note again—hidden meanings, a lie trying to make itself known in her speech patterns and tone. Desperation rode her tone, which bothered King because Allie was involved with this woman. There was a connection, and he simply was not willing to trust her where his brand-new burden was involved. For that matter, what the hell was Loretta doing in Cameroon? And only a stone’s throw from Allie this whole time.

  He turned on Loretta, stalking back and hovering over her, silently demanding to know what the hell she was talking about.

  “She isn’t dead,” Loretta said with another long drag on her cigarette.

  “I watched her fall. We all watched her fall. Unless she was goddamn Superwoman, there’s no way she could have survived a bullet to the head,” King said harshly.

  The memories were violent, tearing through his mind in a tsunami of blood, bullets, and fire. Normally he only remembered in his sleep, but right now, the sights, smells, and sounds were in the forefront of his mind, a movie playing behind his eyelids.

  “I’ve seen the video of that helo crash. I’ve watched you and your men escape, and I watched Ella give herself over to Dresden. I watched him kiss her on the cheek, then shoot her, and I watched two of his men drag her away before Savidge stepped up and shot Madoc and Samson. She was breathing. Still is. She didn’t betray you. She was the sacrificial lamb to the slaughter. And while you Endgame boys are chasing your ass looking for Dresden and his patsy Savidge, well, Ella’s out there on her own, playing Russian roulette with her life.”

  She’d seen video? Goddamn, so the CIA had been all over an Endgame op, hadn’t they? “She was our CIA liaison, Loretta. You’ll defend your fellow spook to the grave.” He got in her face again and she backed up, eyes going wide. “Or maybe she was your objective. Is that it? I know you’re cleanup for the director. Ella went rogue, and you had to go in and handle business—but Dresden got her first.” King almost punched the wall, but relaxed his shoulders and reined in his temper.

  “She betrayed us. Gave away our location, our mission specs, our team members, and our strategy. She had Dresden waiting in ambush for us. She’s responsible for the loss of Nina, Samson, and Madoc. And regardless of the whys and wherefores, all I want are the whos. Who is paying Dresden to kill my teammates? Who is determined to destroy Endgame Ops?”

  “I’m not CIA anymore, McNally. My life is my own now, so watch what you say to me. Accusations can get you gutted quickly. Ella was a victim as much as the rest of Endgame that day, and I don’t have the answers you’re seeking,” Loretta said in a low voice.

  “Don’t you goddamn defend her to me!”

  Loretta raised her hands and stood, backing away. “I’ve already said too much. But when you’re damning an innocent woman to hell, remember that I warned you there were bigger things in play than just Endgame. You weren’t the only ones to suffer that day,” she bit out before she walked to the bed.

  King wanted to fight. Wanted to demand she answer all his questions. But she was the least trustworthy of all entities—C. I. Motherfucking A. Or she had been. It was news to him that she was out of the game.

  “Why did you settle here?” he asked, the unknown biting at him.

  Loretta stared at him and ignored his question. “Does Broemig know you have her?”

  “He knows I have her.”

  “Does he know who you are?”

  “He knows I have her,” King repeated.

  “That’s not what I’m asking, and you know it, McNally. Does he know it’s you? Never mind, I’m sure he knows. Never doubt his reach. If he doesn’t, you should be afraid I’m going to tell him,” she said slowly.

  He narrowed his gaze on her. “You won’t.”

  Loretta nodded and her lips twisted. “I won’t. But only because I don’t want anyone else knowing you have her. That would be a death sentence.”

  King crossed his arms over his chest. “You won’t tell him because you just told me Company business. Your boss is a lot of things, tolerant ain’t one of ’em.”

  “Your southern is showing, McNally. I know how hard you’ve worked to get rid of your past. Might want to watch that,” Loretta warned.

  “Yeah, Loretta? Why?” She was threatening him. Did she know about him? Where he came from? What he’d done? Did it even fucking matter anymore? He’d told the woman lying on the bed more than he’d willingly told another soul. Ever. Did it really matter if the entire world knew he was a killer?

  He’d become something else after he’d signed on with the Navy—not necessarily good, but a man who lived by an honorable code. His father had taken all the good from King so he’d returned the favor. SEALs had offered him a chance to atone. But there’d never been enough expiation. King didn’t know if there ever could be. Then he’d been forced to up that ante again with the Piper. Forced to lie again to hide the truth about another lie. Goddamn, his entire life had been about hiding the truth, and he was sick of it.

  “I’m not Company anymore, McNally. I won’t tell you again,” Loretta said in a low voice. “But I still have my resources. Something else you should remember.”

  She was telling him something, the subterfuge in her words so thick that it raked over his eardrums. Her threats didn’t concern him. If his number was up to be punched, that was what it was. He’d go down fighting, but he’d played this game long enough to know Loretta was hiding a lot of information. On top of that, he didn’t believe for two seconds that she wasn’t CIA anymore. Agents never left the CIA unless it was in a body bag.

  A groan from the bed had King turning. Loretta went to her side and King followed.

  Loretta wiped a hand down her face. “How did she end up with you?”

  “I was given information that a courier for Savidge was flying Air France from Cameroon to Paris. Lots of terrorists setting up shop in this country, Loretta. Makes a man wonder why you’re here.”

  Loretta stared limpidly at him.

  “She was the only American on the plane’s passenger manifest. Then Boko Haram terrorists stormed the plane, hijacking it and threatening to kill her if she didn’t tell them who her father was.”

  Loretta bit her lip. “Oh damn—that’s not good.”r />
  “She knocked the lead terrorist out with a head-butt, and I had no choice but to get her out of there.”

  “You took her to one of Endgame’s safe houses?”

  He nodded.

  “Stupid move, McNally,” she said with venom.

  “You know, I’m thinking for someone out of the game, you know way too much about Endgame’s operations, Loretta. Why is that?”

  “I thought there was no more Endgame?” she told him bluntly.

  “Stop arguing,” Allie commanded.

  Her voice was weak but no less effective.

  “We aren’t arguing,” he and Loretta said at the same time.

  “Good,” Allie said on a deep breath.

  She was back out just that fast.

  “You involved her in your shit. She is the farthest thing from a courier you’ve ever known. Sweet girl, killer right hook and a mean shot, but so far removed from her father’s machinations that they aren’t even on the same continent more than a few times every other year or so. If Dresden or, God forbid, Savidge, gets to her, they’ll use her. Could be why she was put on the playing field to begin with. These men will not stop. They don’t care about guilt or innocence, only whether someone has use to them. Get her home fast and safely, McNally,” Loretta demanded in a low voice.

  King sighed. “I need everything you know. If we’ve been chasing our own ass, I need to know. Point me in the right direction, Loretta.”

  “You’re heading in the right direction, McNally. That’s all I can say. Remember to look through the smoke to the fire,” she said in a low voice.

  Her words sent chills dancing along his skin. King was missing so many pieces that it was hard to form even a partial picture of the situation. He despised that feeling of impotence.

  Loretta leaned over, placed a motherly kiss on Allie’s head, and shot him a warning look. “I’ve got recon to do. The locals have probably noticed your presence here, so I need to run interference. How you getting out of here? Where you taking her?”

  “Unh-unh, not telling,” King told her matter-of-factly.

  “If you need me, she knows how to reach me,” Loretta said as she stepped to the door. She glanced back at him, face drawn in a fierce frown. “You hurt her, it’ll be the last thing you do. That girl right there is worth her weight in gold. And you better keep who she is to yourself. She’s not a courier—vowed a long time ago never to get mixed up in her daddy’s shit. He wouldn’t have let her anyway. Remember that, King. She’s an innocent.”

  King shrugged. “Somebody’s dangling her like a carrot, and look what they caught? Little ol’ me.”

  Loretta seemed to stare through him, and then she turned to leave.

  King watched her. The silence stretched like a wide, yawning chasm, and weariness rode his shoulders like a fiend. He waited several minutes, giving Loretta ample time to vacate the premises before he followed her out the door and made sure their immediate area was clear.

  He reentered the hut, set homemade alarms at each of the windows and the door, and grabbed a bottle of water. King took a deep breath, gulped down the contents of the bottle, and picked up the chair he’d knocked down earlier.

  The hut was a single-room dwelling with a bathroom off the back and a full kitchen. Kribi was a resort town. The beaches and waters surrounding them were pristine. People from all over the world and the upper echelon within Cameroon considered this a paradise and vacationed here all year long.

  To King it was a pit stop, a place to rest and allow Allie to recover. But it was too open, too impossible to defend for his tastes. Their hut nestled in palms that butted up against the dunes before the sand gave way to the ocean. Someone could come up on them from any direction. Yes, it was the last hut in a line of about ten, but it was too open.

  Nothing to be done about it. His passenger on this ride had been injured, and he’d have to let it play out as it would until she was better and he could move her to safety.

  When had that become his primary objective? Hours ago, he’d been telling himself that finding the person who would lead him to Savidge and Dresden was the only important thing. That avenging the deaths of his men and proving the remaining members of Endgame innocent was his top priority.

  Now?

  It was different.

  And he’d realized over the course of the last hours there was no way he could use her as bait. No fucking way.

  It was her damn eyes. And her gold, silk-spun hair. And her bow lips and her apple-shaped ass and…the list went on and on. What he liked most about her?

  Her spunk.

  King had no business liking anything about her. Damn.

  He sighed wearily and sat down, untying, then toeing off his boots. He needed some rest. She’d be out for a while, and King needed sleep. He tossed the empty water bottle in a trash can beside the bed and folded his hands over his stomach.

  What the hell was he involved in now?

  He closed his eyes, knocked his head gently against the wall, and tried to dispel the scent of wildflowers in his nose, the taste of her kiss in his memory.

  He had a scary feeling it was going to be impossible.

  Chapter 9

  Allie floated up from sleep, riding a wave of cloudy awareness. Fire licked up her side. She was so damn hot. She needed to push the covers off. Normally she only slept with a light blanket, so why had she gone to bed with a quilt?

  She didn’t open her eyes immediately; rather she continued to lie still, taking stock of her surroundings. Fear was a rush in her bloodstream and a hard beat in her chest. Fear wasn’t bad. It was how you reacted to it that made you weak.

  Her father’s words echoed in her ears. But they made no sense right now.

  She strained to listen. Why couldn’t she open her eyes?

  “Hello?” she called out.

  Silence.

  Was she alone? Why had he left her alone? He’d gotten her into this. He should be here, talking her through this.

  “Kingston McNally…need you,” she mumbled.

  More silence. She must be dreaming.

  She opened her eyes and met the darkness. Someone was lying beside her. Someone large and warm, like a furnace blazing bright. There was something she was missing—where she was, why she was here, wherever here was.

  Allie shifted, and the pain made itself known. A dull ache along her side. A breath hissed in, and with it came a little more lucidity. She reached out tentatively, finding an arm beside hers.

  She took another deep breath, trying to control the pain. Evergreen and mint met her nose.

  King.

  “McNally, for some reason I like you,” she told him. She could gift herself with the admission because she was dreaming.

  He said nothing in return, and she wasn’t sure he’d heard her. Was that even him?

  Oh well, the black had crept back to grab her up and take her back under. This time she’d go willingly.

  “I like you too, Allie,” he said at her ear.

  His voice reverberated through her mind. Like a gong set off inside her, it was loud. Too loud. “Stop yelling,” she reprimanded him but smiled to soften it. This was shaping up into a very nice dream.

  Where was he?

  Silence.

  She needed him. She reached for the arm, following the strength of the limb before grabbing his hand and twining her fingers with his.

  “I’m going to sleep now,” she told him.

  “I’ve got you,” he said, softer now.

  And she was eased.

  Chapter 10

  King opened the door of the hut and stepped in lightly. He lowered his rifle as he noticed Allie still slept. He took a moment to track her breathing, and it was clear to him that her fever had broken.

  Her breathing was slow, deep, and even, not the shallower f
ever-induced sleep of the past twenty-four hours. King had been there the entire time, struggling to keep her from giving in to the infection.

  He’d forced her to drink when she rose from the sleep; then he’d given her antibiotic shots as the doctor had instructed him.

  She turned to him instinctively for protection and care. Somewhere over the past day, he’d lost a bit more of himself to her. She’d talked in her delirium, ranting soliloquies about her love for her father and her job, and her conflicting feelings for…King.

  Now she seemed to be on the mend. Her wound was healing rapidly, and he could only thank whatever divine entity was watching over them that it was.

  King placed his rifle in the corner, walked to the bed, leaned down, and checked her pulse and respiration again. When he felt safe that she was sleeping normally, he headed to the small bath and showered.

  He’d just put his clothes on when her voice rang out. “Hello?”

  He rubbed his chest, barely checking the action. Small, lost…vulnerable. She reminded him of a child in that second.

  It made the other thoughts running through his mind feel dirty.

  “King?”

  He closed his eyes, pulled on his T-shirt, and walked to her.

  “I’m here. You decided to wake up, huh?”

  Her gaze met his, and her relief was palpable. She smiled weakly and tried to sit up.

  “Here, let me help you,” he said as he came over her. “You’ve only got Steri-Strips closing that wound, so let’s be careful, yeah?”

  She stared up at him, confusion carving a path across her face before her lips pulled down. He didn’t like that look on her.

  King traced her lips, meeting her gaze. “You thirsty?”

  She continued to gaze up at him and finally nodded.

  He snagged a bottle of water and returned to her, holding it up to her lips.

  “You tried to drown me last time, if I remember correctly,” she mumbled before she took the bottle in shaking hands and drank long and deep.