I couldn’t stand the hurt in my mom’s voice or the disappointment in my dad’s. I never talked to my brothers or Cara after the wedding. They didn’t understand my choices then. I had already abandoned them; I didn’t want to torture them too.
When my parents adopted my brothers and me, I promised never to hurt them. I lied. I know I’ve crushed them with my choices, but it’s better than the alternative.
“He was a fuckin’ beast,” Reed compliments my dad’s abilities as we stroll into the elevator.
“Best agent the DCA’s ever had according to the powers that be,” Mitch chimes in.
“That’s wrong. My mom was before she retired,” I say quietly as the doors slide open, leading directly into the penthouse apartment overlooking a sunny Chicago skyline.
“Hot and deadly, just how I like my women. You hit the jackpot in the adoption lottery, Coop,” Mitch says through a broad smile, taking in our accommodations.
I lift my chin at him and stride over to the wall of glass in the open floor plan apartment.
I miss my mom. I miss my whole family, but I miss her the most. She’s the first person to ever love me. I was eighteen and beginning a DCA assignment, nervous as fuck walking into headquarters for my first time. Fresh off the training farm to assist in an undercover op that required a kid. I didn’t look like this back then. I was lanky and baby-faced, the only choice the DCA had to go in as a fifteen-year-old high school sophomore while Nick and Kat would pose as my married aunt and uncle. They fell in love on our op. So it didn’t just change my life, it changed my entire family’s.
I strolled into headquarters, pretending I knew what I was doing with only three months of training under my belt, and there was Kat, sitting in a conference room beaming her broad smile at me. She stole my heart that day. She’s not old enough to be my mother at only ten years my senior, but she’s my mother all the same. She’s protective and loving as though she gave birth to me. I’m hers.
When Nick and Kat adopted me before we wrapped the op, they adopted my newly acquired three best friends too. Sawyer, Cole and Dane had all been abandoned in one way or another by their birth parents. My mom wasn’t having that on her watch. She risked our op, took the boys in and then became our mother. Kat and Nick started that op as single people devoted to undercover work for the DCA. They came out of it with three fifteen-year-olds, an eighteen-year-old, a pregnancy and a loving relationship.
We became the Coopers.
I carry that name with pride. I’m proud to call Nick and Kat my parents. I’m proud to be one of the Cooper brothers. I’m proud to have a family that loves me regardless of my neglect of them.
“Here’s the address where Smith’s staying. Scout the buildings around it. I think that’ll be the easiest way to take him out. He rarely leaves the place,” Reed informs me, sliding an information sheet across the white dining room table behind me.
I pull my mind from my family, avoiding thinking about Cara. She’ll be on my mind more than usual while I’m here. I can’t allow the distraction.
“Sounds like an easy hit,” Mitch says, striding from the kitchen with an apple hanging from his teeth.
“I can take him out myself. He’s not guarded, and I’ve never seen a weapon on him. You sure you wanna do this?” Reed asks me again, noting my clouded mind.
I close my big brown eyes and take a breath. When I open them, I’m back to myself. The killer.
“He’s mine to take,” I growl.
“Hey,” Reed says with his hands up, “I’m just offering my help. Personal shit can be problematic.”
“Reed, he bought Coop’s…uh…cousin,” Mitch struggles with how to refer to Cara, “when she was eight. Sold her to some sick ass fuck human trafficker when she was fifteen. That cunt bucket tortured her for two years. The only problem Coop’s gonna have is not killin’ Smith with his bare hands.”
The truth beyond that isn’t something Mitch or I will share with Reed, but it’s enough to get the point across.
Reed looks at me for confirmation of the details. I nod. I don’t want to talk about this. I don’t want to share Cara’s story with anyone. Mitch is the only person I’ve ever told and that took me almost two years.
How do you explain a history so dark you can barely see it through your fury and anguish?
Technically, Cara is my cousin once removed. Her biological father was Nick’s uncle. Her biological mother was a hideous woman, who’s also attached to my extended family. My dad’s best friend is Shannon Kellerman…Aunt Shanny to my brothers and me. In a strange twist of events, Shannon and Cara are half-sisters. They have the same biological mother.
No one knew Cara existed until she showed up running for her life through our backyard in Connecticut during our op all those years ago. Finding Cara healed old wounds for my aunt and brought about a whole slew of new ones. But if I hit the jackpot of adoption lotteries, Cara hit the jackpot of long lost family. She’s safe and protected now in a way people who have been hurt dream about.
Killing Smith will only further ensure her safety.
I owe her this.
“Your dad’s from Chicago, right?” Mitch asks as we climb service stairs to the roof of a building as a possible shooting location.
“My dad, my aunt and most of my uncles.”
“And Cara.”
“And Cara,” I agree.
“You wanna talk about this shit? Peru sucked and Palo Alto was worse. Maybe we should have a game plan if this goes to hell again.”
“It’s gettin’ done this time, Mitch. I’ll walk in the motherfucker’s apartment and rip him limb from limb if I have to,” I grumble.
Ten more stories to go. We’re not winded, but the forty-story climb is giving us a good workout.
“What do you weigh now?”
“Two twenty-five. Worried you can’t carry me anymore?” I joke.
He snorts. “No, just wondering how long it’d take you to rip Smith’s arms off.”
“Seconds,” I snarl, wanting to do that more than a person should.
“If it gets to that, I’ll time you. Maybe it’s another record you can hold that no one knows about.”
We both chuckle as we make our way out onto the roof. We’re in “borrowed” maintenance coveralls. So if someone spots us up here, we won’t look out of place. Both of us take turns with Mitch’s binoculars.
“Wind’s a bitch here. Somethin’ lower maybe?” he questions, passing me the binoculars again.
“Building to the south’s a little lower. I like the vantage point here, but the gusts will be a pain in the ass. Let’s take a look at the other building, figure it out from there.”
I don’t see Smith in the apartment, curtains drawn. It’s only a quarter to three. If he stays locked up like this, my job’s going to be a lot harder.
We make our way to another building and quickly decide it’s the better option. It’s not the lower building I initially thought we’d use. This one’s at the same height as the building to the west, but it’s shielded from the wind a bit better based on its location.
I can end the life that’s tormented so many. I will end it and when I do, I’ll feel good.
“Reed,” he grunts into the phone.
“Canary,” I respond before hanging up.
It’s our code for needing to meet in person. Phones are a tricky thing. I rarely talk on one unless I’m on a DCA secured line. It’s one of the reasons I don’t contact my family. I refuse to put them at risk. I could talk to my parents on the secure line in their house, but my brothers are away at college now. I don’t have that option with them.
So between my personal demons and the need to protect the people I love, I don’t use phones.
Once I’ve smashed the burner, Mitch and I sit at the dining room table and eat a deep dish pizza.
“You strugglin’?” he asks around a mouthful.
“I’m good.”
I take a long pull from my beer and relish the feel as
it rolls down my throat, anesthetizing the pit in my stomach.
“Think your family was in town for the holidays?”
“Thanksgiving’s usually at my aunt’s in Kansas City,” I reply.
“You could check in,” he suggests cautiously.
“Mitch,” I warn.
“Coop, they’re your fuckin’ family,” he huffs before draining his beer and climbing to his feet to get another.
He slides a beer in front of me before flopping back into his chair.
“I know they’re my family. I stay the fuck away because they’re my family.”
“That math’s fucked and you know it,” he accuses, pointing his bottle in my direction.
“I have two little sisters and a brother who don’t need to be exposed to me or my shit. I’m not that selfish. If I see them…I just have to take off again. We’re never around. How’s that fair to little kids?”
It’s a weak argument. I know it’s weak and so does Mitch.
“Jessie’s five and she’s never even met her brother. I don’t know how you do it. If I had your family, I’d be home every chance I got. Those kids deserve to know you. And you deserve to know them. Your brothers, Coop. They’re graduating from college this year. You’ve missed an entire section of their life. For what?”
Mitch is getting pissed. He’s an orphan, raised in foster care his whole life. He enlisted in the army right out of high school, and the DCA came calling two years later. He doesn’t have what I have, and he resents the fact that I’ve abandoned my family. I get it. I hate myself for my choices more than anyone. But it’s the right thing to do.
“For them,” I answer softly. “I crave killin’ people, Mitch. I can’t breathe unless I’m shooting. You know this. It’s not right for me to drag that shit to my family’s doorstep.”
“They’d take you. I’ve never met ’em, and I know they’d take you as you are.”
I can’t do this with him. There’s more behind my reasons than he knows…than anyone knows.
“They would, but I won’t ask ’em to.”
I walk away after that. Done with the topic.
I settle myself on the steel and glass balcony, enjoying the brisk air whipping around me. I try to force my emotions and my mind to stay here. Mitch is pushing me because the holidays are hard for him. We have conversations like this often during this time of year. I’m the only person he has. It hurts him. I hurt for him.
I didn’t grow up an orphan, but I didn’t have a family either. I know the void he’s trying to fill. And I know it looks like I’m taking the gift that was handed to me six years ago for granted. I’m not. I know what I have. I know if I picked up the phone, my mother would squeal with delight at the sound of my voice. But her heart would break when I told her I wasn’t coming home. She would be sick with worry when I went away on an op with an unknown timeline and no way to contact her.
She worries, but it’s not an up and down. Mom’s used to this by now. I won’t rock the boat because I miss her arms around me. I’m not that selfish. Distance keeps everyone safe.
The DCA only targets recruits with little to no family for this reason. Our lives are stark and filled with long bouts of solitude. It’s better for field agents to be unattached. The married agents typically work on-site at headquarters or retire once they decide to settle down.
My mom did that. When she got pregnant on our op and adopted us, she was done with the DCA. She gave them a decade of her life. It was enough. My dad only does small, quick jobs now. He’ll never leave the DCA, but he’ll also never be a tactical field agent again either. They chose our family. It was the brave choice. One I couldn’t make.
I will someday.
Just not today.
I decide to torture myself a little and pull out the folded picture I’ve had in my pocket for a few weeks. I shouldn’t keep it on my person. I shouldn’t have it at all. But it brings me peace along with pain.
Mom emails me about once a month with updates and photos. I never respond, but I always read them and keep one picture.
My mother is a stunning woman. Having babies has only added to her natural beauty. She beams so brightly the sun is surely jealous.
Scanning the faces of my younger siblings, I allow the guilt of my abandonment to seep into my soul.
Jessie’s five now. She’s got my dad’s inky hair and my mom’s hazel blue-green-grey eyes. She runs the little ones while Sawyer watches over all of my brothers and sisters. That should be my job. The four of us older siblings agreed we’d each watch over the babies our parents decided to have. Jessie was the first and as the oldest, I stepped up to be her protector. Then I abandoned my family so Sawyer took my place.
He’s not a fifteen-year-old pain in the ass anymore. Sawyer Cooper’s a man, taking care of the responsibilities I left behind. As he holds Jessie in his arms, his protective posture fills me with pride. The love pouring from his dark chocolate eyes makes me jealous. Selfish but true.
Cole’s holding Livy. She’s three now and the opposite in coloring to Jessie. She has Mom’s golden hair and Dad’s sapphire eyes. And her smile is earth-shattering as my brother nuzzles her neck, his pale blue eyes shimmering with glee at what I’m guessing is the glorious sound of my sister’s giggles.
Charlie’s settled on Dane’s broad shoulders. There’s mischief in Dane’s honey-hued gaze that matches Charlie’s hazels. He looks nothing like our dad. Even at eighteen-months old, he’s the spitting image of our mother. But there’s something about the toddler that screams I’m Nick Cooper’s son.
My parents are sitting on the couch in front of my six siblings, Dad’s hand spread over my mother’s growing belly. They’re both wearing contented smiles after finishing a massive family Saturday dinner.
A tradition I’ve never experienced.
I look at her last. Cara’s sitting next to my parents while Sawyer has a hand on her slender shoulder. Her face is alight with happiness, emerald eyes almost glowing with her mahogany hair spilling around her in soft waves. She escaped from a dungeon and ran into a family.
Her family.
Our family.
When the op was wrapped in Connecticut, my parents decided to relocate to Kansas City where Shannon lives. Cara lived with her family down the street from mine until she left for college. But I know she slept at my parents’ every night. Terrified to be alone in the dark, she bonded with my brothers. Cara found solace in their arms. They watch over her, protect her and love her.
The Cooper brothers have taken my place in my absence. I’m proud of that as much as I am embarrassed by it.
“Reed’s here,” Mitch grunts from the sliding glass door. “Sorry for bringin’ shit up.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say dismissively as I climb to my feet, shoving the picture in my pocket and my emotional bullshit away.
“Your girl just landed,” Mitch says as we make our way toward Reed.
“Good,” I sigh with relief.
I need her near me in order to do my job. I didn’t know I could love a person as much as I love her, but I do. She makes all of my sacrifices worth it.
We clink the necks of our beer bottles and all is forgotten.
“Beer?” I offer Reed as I step into the living room.
“Sure. Find your spot?”
“Got problems though,” Mitch responds with a nod.
I toss Reed a beer and we settle on the navy and white patterned couches facing each other.
“Problems?”
“No visual. His place was locked up tight,” Mitch answers.
“I’ve got a thermal scope, but if he’s got slaves in there with him, it’ll be difficult to pinpoint who he is. If you can get him on the phone, we’ll use that to take the shot.”
“He doesn’t do phones,” Reed huffs.
“Can you do face to face in his apartment?” I ask.
“We can try, but I’m not sure how I’ll get him to open his curtains.”
“You’ve
got a team on standby right?”
“Yeah.”
“Have them cut the power to the building. He’ll have to open the curtains or you can without suspicion.”
“Could work,” he replies, nodding.
“See if you can get the meet set up and then we’ll go through logistics,” Mitch says.
“I’m meeting him in a few hours to go over his requirements. You guys follow us and I’ll spot you, make him jumpy. I don’t think he’ll run. Smith seems desperate to get new girls, but I think it’ll force him to meet me at his place.”
“He could still run.” I don’t like the plan.
“We’ll watch him. If he takes off, we’ll grab him and do this old school. Why haven’t we done that already?”
“The slaves,” I grunt. “He makes them wear bomb vests set to detonate if he doesn’t return in time.”
“Sick fuck,” Reed hisses, finishing the last of his beer. “So we can’t grab him.”
“Blame him. When you spot us, blame it on him and try to back out of the deal. Smith craves control…power. If you point him out as the weakness, he’ll stand firm,” I respond.
“I like that idea. If it goes to shit, do we have any idea how long until the bombs go off?”
“No,” Mitch and I snarl simultaneously.
“How do we know about the bombs?”
“Watched him put ’em on the girls in Peru and Palo Alto,” Mitch answers thickly.
“Did he do that to your cousin?”
“Not that I know of.” I’m embarrassed to say I don’t know because I haven’t spoken to Cara about any of this.
“We’ll get him,” Reed assures me before climbing to his feet. “I better head out. I’ll have my team drop an SUV here. You guys put your plan together and then get in touch. Let’s make this shit good.”
We all shake hands and send Reed on his way. I’m ready for this. I enjoy stalking my prey, but this is better. If I wasn’t concerned with the innocent lives that would be taken, I’d kill him the moment I lay eyes on him. I’ll have to be satisfied with knowing this shit is coming to an end.
Escaping the Blackness (A Cooper Brothers Novel Book 1) Page 3