by Ronie Kendig
“I ought to kill you for what you did.”
The man had a point to make. Wanted to spill his guts about it. Olin hesitated, his gaze skidding over the pocked and marred wood desk. “Tell me what I did.”
“You blew our cover, Old Man.”
Two phrases—our cover and Old Man—brought Olin’s eyes up. Like an old movie, blue eyes glistened in the darkness. “Midas?”
Midas grabbed the back of his collar and jerked Olin up. “You compromised the team.”
“No!” He shook his head. “No such thing has happened.”
“They’re coming for you. Navas told me.” Midas nudged the weapon. “If they take you, they’ll torture your old butt till they drag out our identities.”
“Never—never will I betray the team.”
Weight rammed into the back of his neck. “Too late! Navas knew about you, knew where you were staying.”
“Because I told them. They think I’m on a diplomatic mission.” The man was stoked on fury. Olin had to bring him down, distract him.
Midas flipped him around, pressed his arm against Olin’s chest, and aimed the gun at his temple. “Stop trying to turn this on me. You’re screwing everything up. They know you’re after Roark and they know about the team.”
“No.” Olin breathed in deeply as Midas drew the weapon back. “That’s where you’re wrong. They know nothing of the team. Danielle—that can’t be helped.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because … because her father is here. He’s behind this snafu.”
Midas lowered his weapon. “Go on.”
“Michael Roark is obsessed with one thing: furthering his career. Bruzon, I believe has been helping him. Before I flew down, Sokoleski broke—he gave proof that he’s been working with Bruzon to supply missiles and fissile material. And his right-hand man—”
“Navas.”
Olin paused, frowned. “How do you know about Navas?”
“I trained him. Guess he’s gone rogue.”
“You can say that again. Bruzon doesn’t eat, sleep, or drink without consulting Navas.”
“It still doesn’t add up.”
“Sure it does. Bruzon—”
“Why are you here, Old Man?” Midas’s breath skidded along Olin’s cheek.
“I told you. I came down here because of Danielle, because of a promise I made to her mother.” Olin pressed his palms against the armoire, not wanting to frustrate Wolfsbane more. “When I found out the team had been locked down, I played my diplomatic card to find her.”
Midas flung him around. Torment wreaked havoc in those blue eyes. But amid that torment lurked a raging beast. Gun in hand, Midas shifted and shook his head. “No. That doesn’t add up. You wouldn’t even put your tail on the line for us.” Seemingly bolstered by his own realization, Midas straightened and pointed the weapon at Olin again. “Bruzon knew we were coming.” His stormy eyes bounced to Olin’s. “Tell me it wasn’t you. Did you turn on us?”
“Of course not!”
“Bull!” Canyon lunged forward. “Nightshade is black ops. We don’t exist in your paper-clean world. You could walk away, wipe your hands, and nobody would be the wiser.” Like a schoolyard bully, Midas was on him, clenching his shirt in a fist. “Somebody betrayed Roark and ratted us out. Betrayed the team, exposed our locations. I’m going to make sure they eat a bullet. If it wasn’t you— Why. Are You. Here?” He shoved him.
Olin stumbled backward. “I told you. I promised her mother”—he gulped air as the back of the couch clipped his knees, dropping him onto the thin cushions—“I’d protect her.”
For a moment the man seemed ready to yield, but then with a slow shake of his head, he lifted his Glock and aimed it at Olin. “Nice try, Old Man,” he snarled. “We’re out of time.”
In the trigger well, Canyon’s finger eased back.
“She’s … she’s my daughter.”
No way. Canyon stood mute as he eyed the man he’d long admired and respected. White hair glistened under the warm glow of a side wall sconce light as the general composed himself. The light caught his wedding band.
The Old Man scooted to the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, hands fisted. “Bet you didn’t see that one coming.” Despite the humor in his voice, there was none in his eyes. Regret. Sorrow. Ache.
“You realize what you’re saying?”
Defiance gleamed in the blue eyes set in a weathered face lined with the imprints of time and experience. “I know perfectly what I’m saying—and what one stupid mistake cost me over the course of my life.”
He could relate to that. Weapon down, Canyon slumped against the desk, numb. “I don’t understand. Roark …” The Old Man’s daughter? He tried to push his mind past that, to consider the consequences, but every thought rebounded. “How?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yeah,” Canyon muttered, his brain reengaging. “Yeah, it does matter.”
“Why?”
“Because if you were unfaithful to your wife,” Canyon said, “that calls into question your character and your loyalty to the team, to me—even Roark.”
Whoa. Saying her name made a lot of things make sense. The biggest of which was why the general had come down here. To save Roark—his daughter.
The Old Man’s head lowered, and he let out a long sigh. “My character was in question—twenty-seven years ago. I met a young diplomatic aide married to a freshman senator.”
He ran a hand over his face and groaned as he stood and paced. “I violated my oath of marriage and my oath as an officer. My infidelity affected me deeply. I tried at first to compensate for that sin, but God made it clear I had to leave it on the altar of forgiveness, move on.” He looked at Canyon pointedly, and Canyon couldn’t help but wonder if his sin with Roark was written on his face.
“I have never broken those vows since. Though God and my wife forgave me, it took years for that rift to repair in our relationship. It nearly ruined my marriage—imagine, putting a decades-old marriage back together.”
Canyon could relate. He’d slept with Roark, and now he felt as if the world had upended. Every effort to find her and get her back had tanked. Majorly.
“Jacqueline was pregnant—with my child.”
Canyon lowered himself into the chair the Old Man had occupied earlier. “Does Roark know?”
“No. Jacqueline made me promise I would never tell Danielle or insert myself into her life.” He attempted a smile that did not even flick past his lips. “To Danielle, I am merely her mother’s old friend and her godfather.”
Whoa. Roark. Her mother. The senator— “Her father.”
The general hesitated.
“Does he know that he’s not her father?”
“Yes. And he vowed to hate me with his dying breath.” General Lambert drew in a deep breath. “And I believe it is Michael Roark who betrayed the team—and Danielle.” The embers of hatred were kindled with that phrase.
“What proof do you have?” Canyon had already put together some keys to this puzzle, but he wanted to hear the Old Man’s thoughts. Wanted to know if they had enough to take the slimeball down.
“I’ve been in this business far too long to imagine things and leap without looking.” Lambert’s face seemed enlivened. “I saw him with Bruzon walking from a hidden garden, where I believe they have Danielle locked up.”
Something wild churned in Canyon’s gut. He’d already voiced unfathomable ideas in the last few minutes. Why not a few more? “You think … you think he knows about Roark being there?”
“I know he knows.”
No way. What father would do that to his own child? Canyon scrounged for a plausible explanation. “Maybe he’s trying to get information, so he can get her back.” Did he sound as idiotic as that question felt?
Lambert sniffed. “Michael Roark no more wants Danielle back than he wants you or me to return to the States alive.”
Fire lit through his already foul mood. “Why do you
think he ratted out the team?”
“Besides me and Nightshade, nobody else knew when she was leaving.” The Old Man stood and walked to the bedroom door. “Who—is that your brother?”
“Yeah. He helped me get back here, busted up his leg dropping in.”
“I’m sure he wants to get Danielle back as much as I do.”
Hot and roiling, a cauldron of jealousy ignited in Canyon’s gut. But he didn’t want to talk about it. Canyon straightened. “I have a theory about the senator.”
Though a smile seemed to tiptoe off the general’s lips, he nodded. “I’m all ears.”
“You know about Tres Kruces.”
Something strange flickered in the general’s eyes but he said nothing.
Canyon unloaded his heavy burden, the one that involved Tres Kruces and the village massacre. The training of the foreigner soldiers—illegally. And the name connected to them all. “I think Senator Roark has been in bed with Bruzon for a very long time.”
“I believe your theory is correct. The only problem is that Michael can wave off his relationship with the socialist general by saying he’s building alliances on behalf of the U.S. Unless we have proof of his wrongdoing—”
“I saw him at Tres Kruces. I think. He was younger, came in with the last group. Checked things, then left.”
“That’s not proof. And according to them, you gave the coordinates. You’re responsible—”
“I gave coordinates for a location a klick away!” He stuffed his hand through his hair. At least, he thought he had. One minute he heard the screaming bomb. Then he heard screaming people—shrieking in pain.
“Not one of your men could provide evidence of your innocence. Opening that mess up without the necessary proof will annihilate your chances of ever clearing your name.”
Canyon jabbed his hand over his head. “This is why I hate politics.” Forget it. This wasn’t about Canyon anyway. He had one goal. “We need to get Roark.”
“Midas,” the Old Man said. “We need the team.”
“Then we’re out of luck. Max removed me from the team after I punched him.”
Lambert chuckled. “You really are keyed up. Very unlike you.” His light expression grew somber. “Midas, what’s your interest here? There’s a lot more passion behind this mission than just wanting to complete it.”
Yielding information could be trouble, especially if Range overheard. Canyon wouldn’t make that mistake. “I promised Roark I would not go back without her.” He gritted his teeth. “I’m going to keep that promise.”
“Didn’t they have you in custody—for drug addiction?”
It surprised him that the Old Man knew, but he shouldn’t have been—nothing was sacred in the military. “I’m fine. And if you aren’t willing to do what’s necessary to get your own daughter back—”
“Don’t try that, young man.” The general strode toward him, purpose defining each step. “I may be old and I may be slower than I used to be, but I am still a four-star general who is aware of human avoidance techniques.” His nostrils flared. “You attempted to steal government property, involved a young man who is naive enough to follow you, then you illegally penetrated this country, brought your brother—all without considering the ramifications. Danielle is no safer because of your abandonment of the team—”
Canyon reared back and slammed a fist toward the general. It sailed past him and barreled through the wall. “Don’t lecture me,” he growled. “They drugged me and eliminated any chance I had to get her back. And that boy you called naive? He’s more a man than anyone else on the team. The Kid’s the only one who saw what happened and called it wrong. He’s the only one who stepped up to the plate to try to help get her back. And if you knew my brother, you’d know there was no stopping him from coming on this mission. Besides, nobody else would help.”
“Did you give them the chance?”
“They had their chance when they walked out of that facility on their own two feet without Roark.” The growl worked its way through his lungs. “I would not have left there without her.”
“Maybe staying there jeopardized too many lives.”
“She was terrified and trusted me.”
“You? Or the team?”
Canyon faltered.
“She trusted you or the team?”
“Me—the team. I will die to make sure she comes home safely.”
“Why? Why is there so much passion behind your determination to bring her home?”
“Because it’s my character, my reputation on the line.”
The general laughed and shook his head. “Nice try. But this time, I’m not buying it.” Lambert got in his face again. “Are you in love with my daughter, Midas? Is that what this is about?”
Creak.
Navas’s men! Canyon snapped his gaze to the door and yanked his weapon to the ready.
Crack! The door flew inward.
Behind the chair Lambert had occupied seconds earlier, Canyon hunkered and aimed. His pulse jammed as a half dozen men poured into the room. He fired at the first guy.
Point man’s shoulder whipped back. He stumbled backward into two more black-as-night men who rushed in with AK-47s. Wood splintered off the door frame leading to the bedroom. Plaster peppered Canyon’s face. No way would he survive this without a few extra holes.
Lord God, have mercy on me!
Considering his options, he flinched as a familiar sound registered.
Thump. Thump. Clink … clink … The canister rolled through the door and out into the living area.
Flash-bang!
Canyon curled in on himself, nose in the corner, and shielded his face and ears.
Boom!
An invisible force shoved into his back. Slammed his head into the wall. Everything went white. His hearing hollowed out.
CHAPTER 30
Miranda, Venezuela
22 May
He whipped out his hand and clamped onto the arm clutching his. Blinking, Canyon groaned against the light stabbing the back of his eyes.
“Easy.” A familiar voice warbled strangely against his burst eardrums. “On your feet.”
Seconds felt like hours as his brain formed a coherent thought. Again, he strained to see past the cloud and blurry images. “Frogman?” Two more shapes loomed behind the former Navy SEAL. “What the …?”
“Easy there, golden boy.” Aladdin’s voice, hollow and warbled, held humor as a touch rested on his shoulder.
“Aladdin? What’re you guys doing here?” In fact, shouldn’t he be stateside?
“Saving your sorry butt.”
“I can see that—well, no, I can’t.” Shame covered him as thick as the mist that made everything more like a creepy M. Night Shyamalan movie. “The flash-bang.”
“It’ll pass, just give it a minute.”
“Trouble en route,” Frogman’s voice cut through the blanket of confusion. “Move out!”
“Here.” Aladdin hooked Canyon’s arm over his shoulder and led him away … from what, Canyon wasn’t sure. His mind had drowned and become disoriented in the concussive effect of the flash-bang.
Cool air swirled and rushed over his face and body, soothing and yet taunting. Out of safety. Out in the open. “We taking a trip on your flying carpet?”
“You really need some new jokes.”
Still half-blind, Canyon chuckled as he placed his trust in the hands of his friend.
“Place your trust in Me.”
How … how exactly does one do that, God? He’d been trained as a highly skilled, lethal soldier. Trained to take control before things took control of him. But maybe that’s why things had screwed up so bad.
The iron fire escape rattled beneath his feet as he made his way down. “Wait.” His brain caught up with him. “My brother.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
His vision cleared with each step, his mind chugging along. In a truck, they rode for a while, jostled and tossed about like ice in a blender. As
they dumped onto a slick patch of grass, Canyon let his gaze shift to the sky. Hazy stars swirled against a black canvas. They spun, whirling.
“Just relax. We’re about ten klicks south of the city,” Max said, his voice calm and firm as he guided Canyon to the ground. “Sorry about the flash-bang.”
“A bit of a surprise.”
“It was necessary. Cowboy had his sights on too many tangos.”
Fingers pressed to his forehead—there was too much pain to pinch the bridge of his broken nose—Canyon hauled his brain, body, and emotions into focus. A strange chirruping bled into his awareness as he stared up at a starless night. Almost sounded like cicadas.
“Wait.” His heart rapid-fired as he looked at the men standing around. “My brother.”
“Your what?” A dark mass next to Max coalesced into the form of Legend.
Man, he couldn’t wait for his vision to clear completely. “My brother.” Canyon glanced around, blinking, straining through the darkness. “He was in the bed.”
“Oh.” Legend’s face fell. “Man, we didn’t know. We grabbed you and got out of there. No time to deliberate over the extra bodies.”
Canyon shoved to his feet. The world whipped around and tilted. He swung out a hand for balance.
“Easy,” Cowboy said with a chuckle as he braced him. “Ignore Legend. Your brother’s asleep over there.”
Amid Legend’s laugh, Canyon saw the bedrolled form on the ground. Slowly Canyon’s pulse evened out as his gaze connected with the general. “Are you in love with my daughter?”
Canyon glared at Legend, who laughed behind a fisted hand. “You’re a riot.”
“Sorry.” Legend laughed again and nudged a laugh-tear from his eyes. “That was too rich to pass up.”
Cradling his head did little to alleviate the squall pummeling him. “What’re you guys doing here anyway?”
“We heard about this guy chasing some woman down to South America, trying to get himself killed,” Squirt said. “All half-cocked with no backup.”