Secret Assignment

by Paula Graves

  Sweeney hadn’t been able to add much more, but what he’d told Gideon was enough to send his mind swirling. He’d been suspicious for a while about the general’s car crash, but to hear Shannon speak his nebulous thoughts aloud, tying them to a conspiracy that could very well run deep and wide through a large swath of the U.S. government—

  From outside, a soft scraping sound drew his attention. He listened carefully, but it didn’t repeat.

  Quietly, he stood and went to the front door, peering through the narrow glass inset at the top of the door. Outside, all looked quiet, although the Gulf was churning even more than it had been earlier that evening when he’d been out on patrol.

  Lydia had plans to meet a friend for lunch tomorrow—today, he amended with a quick glance at his watch. It might be the last day they’d be able to take the boat out safely before the tropical storm hit.

  Maybe he should insist Lydia stay on the mainland. They could all move into a motel in Terrebonne, or even drive up to Mobile where there would be safety in numbers. It would leave the island unprotected, but he had a feeling that the coded journal Shannon had found was almost certainly the item the intruders were looking for.

  He wondered how they knew about the book. And why they hadn’t looked for it before now.

  Nobody’s seen them for five days. Mitch Sweeney’s words flickered through his mind.

  Emmett Harlowe surely knew about General Ross’s journal, didn’t he? He’d have to know to help decode it should the time come to do so.

  If the SSU had somehow gotten their hands on the Harlowes, maybe used the general’s wife or daughter as leverage, would he have spilled what he knew about the journal? As secrets went, it wouldn’t have been a hard choice, he supposed. The coded journal would be useless without input from Harlowe and the third general, crusty old Baxter Marsh.

  He would make more calls in the morning, he decided. See if he could get in touch with General Marsh.

  As he started toward the kitchen to turn out the lights, he heard the same furtive scuffling sound he’d heard before. But this time, it hadn’t come from outside.

  It was somewhere in the house.

  * * *

  WHEN THE FRENCH doors from the balcony outside Shannon’s room opened silently, she wasn’t exactly surprised. She’d left the door open, as Damon North had asked. But seeing his dark shape glide almost noiselessly into her bedroom still made her heart skip a beat.

  She turned on the bedside lamp, illuminating his tall, lean form.

  “Turn off the light,” he commanded softly.

  “You don’t give the orders around here,” she answered flatly.

  “Please.”

  With a sigh, she turned off the lamp, plunging the room back into inky midnight. “You’re a fool to come here tonight. Gideon Stone is right downstairs. If he hears you—”

  “Just shut up and listen.”

  Shannon clamped her mouth into a line of pure annoyance, but she let him speak uninterrupted.

  “I’m undercover. Believe it or not, the business with your sister-in-law last spring got me back in, even though the SSU operation was a bust.”

  “Congratulations.”

  The mattress shifted beneath her, and she made out the dark, amorphous shape of him at the end of her bed. “I don’t know how much you know—”

  “Why don’t you tell me what I don’t know,” she answered guardedly.

  “There’s something in this house that the SSU wants.”

  “What is it?”

  “A journal. Information has come into our—” He paused, making a noise of frustration. “Into their hands. They know General Ross kept a coded journal regarding some of the things that were going on in Kaziristan a few years ago. Something that is probably still going on today, if not in Kaziristan, then in other hot spots around the globe.”

  “What kind of conspiracy?” From her family’s experiences with the SSU, she knew there must be some sort of global power-grab going on, but so far, even government investigators weren’t sure how far the corruption went or just how ambitious it might be.

  Damon didn’t answer right away. Shannon wondered if his silence indicated dangerous knowledge—or frustrated ignorance.

  The latter, as it turned out. “That’s one secret I haven’t been given access to,” he admitted. “I don’t know if any of my current crew knows.”

  “Just in it for the money?”

  “A big motivator,” Damon agreed. “But I think one of the crew may want something a little more personal out of this.”

  “Revenge on Gideon Stone?” she suggested.

  “You already know?”

  “Gideon recognized one of the people who knocked him out and kicked him while he was down.” Her gut tightened with anger. “You weren’t in on that, were you?”

  “No. I’ve been here on the island for days. I was in the lighthouse the first night, when you set off the horn. Five of us made it ashore that night. Four came in the Zodiac. I swam ashore on the lighthouse side of the island and stayed when the others left.”

  Shannon remembered that first night at the lighthouse, when she’d had a strong feeling someone was watching. She’d felt the same thing later, the day she went to find her penlight and ended up in the service room again, fighting the feeling she wasn’t alone. “You were hiding in the lighthouse the whole time?”

  “You nearly caught me twice.” He stood and paced quietly to the window, his shoes barely making a sound on the hardwood floor. “I decided the third time, I should just tell you I was there and see if you’d be willing to help.”

  “How did you know it was me? We barely met last spring—”

  “I sneaked into the house and searched the upstairs rooms,” Damon admitted. “When I found your ID and realized you were a Cooper—one of those Coopers—”

  “What do you want me to do?” she asked warily.

  “Find the general’s journal and give it to me,” he answered.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Are you crazy?” Shannon’s outraged voice carried from behind her closed door, making Gideon pause in mid-stride. If she was still up, that might have been what he’d heard. Probably talking to her brother on the phone, he realized, and started to reverse course back down the stairs to the main floor.

  Then he heard the second voice. Low. Well-modulated. A man’s voice. And it definitely wasn’t coming over any phone line.

  “I’m on your side. I don’t want that journal getting into the hands of the SSU, either.”

  “For all intents and purposes, you are the SSU,” Shannon said flatly. “What makes you think you can keep the journal out of their hands?”

  Gideon padded silently to the door of the blue bedroom, anger rising like fire in his chest. What the hell did she think she was doing? Had she let an intruder willingly into her room? She didn’t sound scared, only frustrated and distrustful.

  What kind of game was she playing?

  A tiny part of him argued for biding his time, letting her play out whatever she was trying to do. Shannon had proved herself so far, putting herself in danger to protect Lydia when the intruders came. She’d also helped him when he’d staggered home after a beating.

  Or had it all been an act on her part, a plan to worm her way into Lydia’s inner circle?

  Think about what she said. She just said she doesn’t want the SSU to have the journal.

  “I can get it decrypted. Can you?” the man countered, a hint of cocky confidence in his tone.

  “What if I can?”

  “You have the key?”

  “What if I do?”

  The man let out a low growl of frustration. “This isn’t a game, Shannon. You know that. You’ve nearly lost family members to these people. Why are you fighting me?”

  “Because my brother sent me here to do a job, and I trust him a hell of a lot more than I trust you,” Shannon snapped. “I heard you out. I’m glad you’re out there keeping an eye on those heartless bas
tards, but I’m not going to let you manipulate me into betraying people I promised to help.”

  Gideon had heard enough. He opened the door.

  He got a glimpse of an African-American man, dressed entirely in black. The flash of a compact pistol barrel rising to bear down on him. He heard Shannon’s soft intake of breath.

  Gideon ducked and rolled, coming up with the Walther out.

  But Shannon stood between him and the man in black.

  “Get out of the way, Shannon,” he growled.

  “Gideon, you don’t understand—”

  “Move out of the way.”

  “Listen to her, man.” The man in black did the one thing Gideon did not expect.

  He lowered his weapon.

  “Gideon, this is not an SSU operative,” Shannon said slowly, raising her hands toward him. He realized he was still holding his Walther in shooting position.

  “Give your weapon to Shannon, butt first,” he told the intruder.

  “That’s really not necessary,” Shannon protested.

  “Take the weapon, Shannon,” Gideon snapped. “If you want me to put down my weapon, take his.”

  She released a short huff of breath and took the SIG SAUER P229 from the intruder’s outstretched hand.

  “Come over here,” he said.

  Shannon shook her head. “I’m not going to let you shoot him.”

  Gideon glared at her. “Do you think I’m going to shoot an unarmed man? Really?” Although, as angry as he felt at the moment, he wasn’t sure he could blame her for wondering.

  She closed her eyes for a second, as if to shut them both out of her mind. Then she opened her eyes and crossed slowly to his side, standing a little out of his reach.

  Stunned by a sudden, powerful urge to drop his weapon and pull her into his arms, Gideon forced his gaze back to the man standing across the room, his back to the open French doors. “Name?” he asked.

  “I go by Damon North,” the black man answered smoothly. “That’s all you’ll get from me, so take it and move on.”

  “Who do you work for?”

  “A company named Chimera Security.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “You’re not supposed to have.”

  “What do you want here?” Gideon asked.

  The man’s dark eyes slanted toward Shannon. “I’m here to stop the newly reconstituted Special Services Unit, formerly of MacLear Security, from destroying evidence that could take down dangerous elements within the U.S. government.”

  “Looks to me like you’re just another thug trying to jerk people around.”

  “Looks can be deceiving.”

  Gideon bit back a growl. “Any more clichés you want to toss my way before you tell me what you really want?”

  A flare of anger blazed in Damon’s eyes. “I’m deep undercover, trying to thwart people who want a journal written by Edward Ross. They’re willing to kill everyone on this island to get it, if that’s what it takes. Believe me, I’m putting my neck on the line to keep that from happening. I’ve fought them every inch of the way. So don’t get in my way.”

  “Leave. Tell your friends there’s nothing here. And don’t come back.”

  Damon’s nostrils flared, the only sign of anger he showed. The sign of a professional.

  The thought gave Gideon little comfort.

  “Three days ago, a black ops unit kidnapped General Emmett Harlowe, his wife, Cathy, and his daughter, Annie, from a cabin in the north Georgia woods,” Damon said flatly. “They used the general’s wife and daughter to get information from the general—information about a journal that he and two other generals compiled to document a high-level conspiracy between agents of the U.S. government and criminal and terrorist elements around the globe. I know this because the cell I infiltrated was ordered three days ago to retrieve this journal and destroy it.”

  Gideon’s gut tightened. Had this man overheard his earlier conversation with Lydia and Shannon? Or had he known beforehand?

  The timing of the attempted invasion of the island seemed to correspond to what little they knew about the Harlowes’ abduction. But their nocturnal visitor could have heard the story on the radio anytime during the day. If Gideon had run the radio in the Caddy that day while they drove through town, he might have heard the news as well.

  He looked at Shannon and found her gaze locked on him, her eyes wide and dark with anxiety. “Why did you let him in here?”

  “She knows me,” Damon answered for her.

  “Damon helped my cousin stop a drug cartel seeking vengeance on him for something he did in the marines. And back in March, he helped my sister-in-law escape SSU assassins.” Her gaze slanted toward Damon. “Sort of. Didn’t exactly work how it was supposed to.”

  “I almost got shot luring them away from Amanda,” Damon said. “I don’t want the SSU to win. We’re on the same side.”

  “I’m on the side that has no intention of letting you manipulate us into giving you anything,” Gideon said.

  Shannon turned to Damon. “Are the Harlowes still alive?”

  Damon gave her an odd look. “I don’t know. Nobody’s said. My guess is, at least the general is still alive. They won’t want to kill him before they get their hands on the journal.”

  Shannon turned to look at Gideon. She didn’t say it aloud, not in front of Damon, but he knew what she was thinking. The kidnapping of Emmett Harlowe and his family raised the stakes exponentially and made protecting Lydia that much harder for them.

  He looked at Damon. “I suggest you go.”

  “Can I have my SIG?”

  “Shannon, empty the mag and the chamber and give it back.”

  She shot him an exasperated look but did as he asked. “He probably has ammunition hidden elsewhere.”

  “And he can go find it as soon as he gets the hell out of this house.”

  Shannon handed Damon the empty SIG. “Get off the island.”

  “I can’t. I was stationed here for a purpose.”

  “To steal the journal?” Gideon asked.

  “To kidnap Lydia Ross.”

  * * *

  SHANNON stepped quickly between Gideon and Damon, her hand closing over Gideon’s gun hand as he lifted the weapon on instinct. “Don’t be rash, Gideon. Please.”

  Gideon glared past her to Damon, barely leashed violence burning in his eyes. “You heard what he said.”

  “I said I was stationed here for that purpose.” Damon’s reasonable tone did little to dim the fire in Gideon’s gaze. “I didn’t say it was my intention.”

  “You said it to goad him,” Shannon snapped back at him. “Shut up unless you can be straight with us without the super-spy dog-and-pony show.”

  “You should have told me about him as soon as we were out of the lighthouse,” Gideon said flatly, turning his dark gaze on her. “I thought you were playing things straight.”

  She tightened her grip on his arm. “I had to hear what Damon had to say, and I couldn’t let you go off half-cocked before he got the chance.”

  In the blue depths of his eyes, she saw an unexpected flare of pain. “I guess I can’t blame you for that. I mean, I’m just the hot-headed hired muscle, right?”

  “No!” she denied swiftly, but she could see how her actions might have indicated otherwise. She lowered her voice. “I know how much you care about Lydia. You would do anything to protect her. You’re not going to take any chances with her safety on anyone’s word.”

  “I’d take your word,” he protested, but she didn’t hear real conviction behind his declaration.

  “No, you wouldn’t.” She tried not to let her own hurt show. “You’ve known me three days and there’s a lot at stake.”

  “As riveting as all this personal drama may be,” Damon drawled, “there’s still the matter of four very dangerous men who want that journal.”

  “We don’t even know there is a journal,” Shannon said, gazing up at Gideon. His gaze softened a hint.

 
; “There’s a journal,” Damon said darkly. “A damn fine air force general sacrificed his soul admitting to its existence.”

  Shannon’s gut tightened. “Tell them you searched and it’s not here.”

  “They won’t believe me.”

  “Make them believe you.”

  “It doesn’t work that way,” Gideon said softly. “We have to find the journal and decode it.” He spoke to her silently with his gaze.

  “Good luck with that,” Damon said.

  Gideon’s gaze shot across the room. “I suppose you could do better?”

  “I have assets you don’t.”

  “Such as?”

  “You know I can’t tell you.”

  Shannon flattened her hand against Gideon’s chest, trying to soothe the fierce energy she felt radiating from him like waves of heat. “This will get us nowhere, Gideon. Maybe we should at least listen to what he has to say.”

  Gideon flattened his hand on top of hers. He looked down at her for a long moment, as if anchoring himself in her gaze, then looked back at Damon. “Five minutes.”

  “I can do it in two,” Damon said, and proceeded to talk.

  * * *

  GIDEON SLEPT THAT night only because he knew he had to be in top form the next day. Everything was at stake. Lydia’s life, Shannon’s, his own—and if all the facts they’d gathered over the past few days were true, the security of the United States and its allies might well hinge on what General Ross’s journal might reveal. So he stayed the night at Stafford House, in the spare bedroom next door to Shannon’s, trusting his internal alarm, honed by over a decade of high-intensity combat situations, to keep the inhabitants of the island from coming to any harm.

  Waking around 5:00 a.m., he watched the sunrise from the balcony outside Shannon’s room after reassuring himself that both of his charges had made it through the night unharmed.

  The waters of the Gulf churned with restless energy, the whitecaps, whipped up by the coming tropical storm, larger and more powerful than usual, but nothing yet that would make a trip to the mainland inadvisable.

  Damon had gone away empty-handed the night before. Neither Shannon nor Gideon himself had let on that they already knew the location of the coded journal. He hoped Damon had bought the story, at least for now. There were parts of the man’s outlined plan that Gideon was willing to take a risk on—with precautions added from his end—but the safety of the journal wasn’t one of them. As a marine, he understood that some things were more important than life itself.