Derrick's Choice (Titan Security Book 1)

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Derrick's Choice (Titan Security Book 1) Page 3

by Cynthia P. O'Neill


  He closed his eyes and began recounting the events so many years ago. “Your dad and I were part of the same team. Most of the groups were part of the operation designed to take out the small military presence guarding the new technology; however, I was tasked with sneaking in and gathering up their intelligence data on a new weaponry design.” He opened his eyes and looked deep into mine, conveying a level of urgency, “They were advanced, having already developed long-range missiles capable of mass destruction and worse—a device capable of undermining an entire military.”

  I watched as he became more agitated, his knee starting to bounce up and down, his eyes looking full of heartache. “We weren’t prepared for the amount of military presence they had. We’d been told to expect maybe ten to fifteen soldiers; instead, we were met with almost fifty. The soldiers didn’t hesitate using women and children as shields to protect themselves. They treated them as objects instead of humans. If one tried to break loose, they turned their guns on them and fired. Several of our team tried to offer me cover so I could get into the compound to steal the plans and set explosives to take out what they’d built to date.”

  Damn. How the hell did he and my father make it out alive? Was this why my dad was so meticulous about every assignment—always having us double and triple check our information? I’d always thought he was being an anal jackass for no reason.

  I listened as Tennison got up and began to pace back and forth through the apartment. “Over half of our team was taken out, the rest wounded, but we kept fighting. I’d managed to do my job, but was discovered by King Raqeem and his two brothers, Khalid and Farim. They weren’t even supposed to be in the village that day, but Raqeem got greedy and wanted to see the new designs his engineers had created that would allow him to take over the world. And wherever he traveled, a large military presence went with him. They held guns on me, ready to shoot, when your father came in and fired a hollow-tip bullet into the outer edge of the brother’s leg—taking Khalid down—before firing another one into the chest of Farim and killing him instantly. Raqeem was furious and ready to kill your father. Having already been shot a couple of times in my arm, I grabbed my sidearm, aimed for the king’s head, and let off the single shot that killed him. Although, not before your father took a bullet to the shoulder.

  “Khalid was furious, swearing in his native tongue, vowing that anyone related to me would pay for the death of his brother.” Tennison’s eyes looked haunted as he looked up to check that I was following along. I just nodded for him to continue as he sat back down.

  “I don’t know how we made it out of there before most of the compound blew, but reinforcements met us a couple miles out and took us to get sewn back up.” His breathing picked up, and I could sense he was reliving everything as if it was playing out in front of his eyes.

  “Your father and I were discharged for the carnage we’d seen that day and the loss we incurred as a team. Only he and I walked away mostly intact, while the majority of our team perished. Your father took an assignment with a new government agency that wasn’t supposed to exist, as I’m sure you’re aware.” I acknowledged him with a nod.

  “I was also offered a place on that team, but declined; they counter-offered time with a psychologist in a military hospital or to be sent home to my family. I decided on the latter, needing to have them near me. I shouldn’t have…”

  His unspoken words led me to the only possible conclusion, “You suffer from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?” I asked it more as a question in case I was wrong.

  “Affirmative. The nightmares began immediately. I didn’t know if Khalid was alive or dead. They never found his body in the rubble, but it was later confirmed he had survived and had put a price on my head. I was desperate to protect my family, yet I lashed out at everyone and became paranoid about Khalid finding me and hurting them.”

  His hands kept rubbing his knees in agitation. “Strange things began to happen, and I was on edge, so I called your father and we arranged to fake my death—only it came much quicker than I would’ve liked.”

  Okay, now I was curious. Kent had said he’d gone into his field of psychiatry because of his brother’s PTSD, but he never said much about how his brother died. So I asked, “How so?”

  He tilted his head against the back of the sofa. “I’d agreed to go out on a double date with my brother Kent and his girlfriend—now wife—Carol, along with one of her friends. They were hoping a night out on the town might help my depression. I couldn’t disagree with them, since I knew your father was coming for me and, therefore, would disappear at any time.”

  Tennison paused for a moment, shaking his head and smiling. “I wish I could’ve gotten to know Carol’s friend a bit better. She was one sweet number to look at.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t meant to be. As soon as we came out of the restaurant, I saw someone running from my car. I told Kent to watch the ladies so I could investigate. The guy was dressed completely in black and headed toward a field next to the place where a car was waiting for him. He kept shouting at the driver in Arabic, so I knew they’d come for me.

  “I got down on the ground to see what he’d been doing under my car, when I saw the bomb. It had only four minutes until detonation; I must’ve triggered it as soon as I opened the door to give me some light. I got in, started the car, and aimed it at the man who was running, all while calling your dad and letting him know my location. Thankfully, he was in the area.”

  Tennison looked at me and could see I was perplexed at what he was saying. “I figured out this was the chance to fake my own death, because I would have witnesses to my car blowing up, presumably with me in it. I had some rope in the glove compartment, so I set the wheel to follow a specific path and set the cruise control to keep a specific speed.” He looked up at me and shrugged his shoulders, “I calculated the exact point the car would make impact with the other and adjusted the speed so it would explode on impact.”

  Holy shit! “But how…?”

  I couldn’t even complete the question before he answered. “The field was covered in shadows and tall grass. I was able to roll out before the car struck the runner—right as he reached for his door handle. My car exploded, killing both the men who’d tried to kill me.

  “I hid in some trees, on the edge of the property, waiting for your dad to show up and collect me. He had his friends make sure the local fire and police accounted for only one person trying to kill me, while the other body was burnt beyond recognition and presumed to be mine. My life at that point was over—or at least my old life.”

  I quietly processed everything and kept pondering the same questions. “Why would the government be so careless as to keep you within a couple hours of your family? I’m not sure I follow how all this,” I waved my hand toward the Pterodyne employee folder on my coffee table, and then gestured toward the apartment building he owned, “came to be?”

  Obviously tired from our discussion, he ran a hand over his face. I couldn’t blame him because that PTSD was a bitch to deal with; I had some of my own demons rise up from time to time.

  “The government was ticked I’d not taken reassignment with your father. They wanted to send me to Washington because of my talents in weaponry and aeronautic design, but I refused to leave the area. As a compromise, they needed a new facility they could rely on to cater to their specific needs, so I offered to head that up if they’d provide the initial funding and the promise of a few contracts thrown my way. They agreed but also had to comply with my other stipulations: to stay within reach of my family, should I need to be there for them, as well as protective watch over them for a minimum of ten years.”

  I looked at Tennison with renewed respect. He’d managed to start a new life, secure a future in design for the military, and save his family all in one swoop. This man had the biggest set of brass balls I’d ever heard of.

  Several minutes of silence passed before he asked, “Has Rogers gotten you up to speed on everything?”

  I
was thankful the subject was changed. “Yes, sir. There was very little needed to catch me up. I understand that I’ll be taking over Mr. Rogers’ position as manager, overseeing the design work of the weaponry for new aircraft.”

  “Yes. My niece is probably going to be pissed as hell. She’s worked her ass off proving she can handle just as much work, sometimes more, than most of her male counterparts. They’ve given her flack—come damn close to making her quit—but she’s just as tough as her uncle.”

  I knew I was screwed as soon as he saw my face change. I couldn’t help it; whenever I thought of Jesse, the hardness I surrounded myself with just seemed to melt. “Fuck, Derrick!” That got my attention.

  “What?” I jumped in my chair, wondering what had happened.

  “You’re smitten with my niece.” He leaned forward and stared me straight in the eyes. “Admit it, son.”

  I couldn’t lie to him, just like I couldn’t lie to my father whenever he pulled the same tactic. So I glanced into his eyes and answered the only way I could, “I’ll concede that she’s rather appealing on the eyes, and I admire her mind and the work she’s done on the M-9I project, but her work is a bit overambitious.”

  “Explain yourself, soldier.” Tennison’s tone didn’t sit well with me.

  “Her design is trying to force too much ammunition on a plane that’s intended for maneuverability. It won’t handle well in the air. Rogers, myself, and one other are in accordance with this, but your niece is adamant that it’ll work.”

  He rubbed his thumb and finger across the beard of his chin and nodded. “I see your point. Maybe a demonstration is in order to prove your point? I could always pull some strings to arrange that.” I nodded in agreement.

  He looked up at me with an intensity that would make most men sweat, “And about your interest in my niece?”

  I swallowed hard, feeling like I’d been captured by the enemy and put under questioning. “I won’t lie. She fascinates me. But I’ll keep it strictly professional and do my job, sir.”

  He stood up for a moment and paced around. You could see the wheels in his mind spinning with activity, before he stopped behind me and pressed his hands hard against my shoulders to hold me in place. “I should have my bodyguards come in and rough you up for even thinking about getting close to my niece. However, I’ve known your father for most of my life, and he’s spoken highly of you. I’m not saying I’m giving permission to go after her, but I’m not going to stand in the way should something develop. She hasn’t had the best of luck with the men she’s dated. They find her knowledge intimidating, and they’ve treated her badly. All I ask is that you keep her link to me a secret, protect her with your life, and don’t break her heart.”

  I let out the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. I looked back into his face and promised, “You have my word. I’ll never do anything to harm her or allow any mischief to come to her.”

  He let go of my shoulders, which now ached. For someone the same age as my father, he sure had a lot of strength left. He walked back around to the sofa and sat down. “Now, let’s get down to business. Shall we?”

  I nodded in agreement and simply questioned, “What exactly am I doing? You’ve given me no real specifics.”

  He continued to lean forward as he clasped both hands over his knees. “I’ve had money siphoned out of company, and I’ve tried putting traces on it, but can’t seem to pinpoint where it’s coming from. I know this isn’t your area of expertise, so I’ll pay to have additional help in tracking down the missing funds.

  “The brakes on two of my cars have been cut, a couple of my guns tampered with, and a decanter of scotch was poisoned. Luckily for me, I was away on business, allowing the poison to sit long enough, for it to float to the surface and create a film where I could see it.” I could tell my eyes were bugging out when he’d finally finished. How could this man still be sitting here talking to me when all this has gone on? No wonder he kept his two bodyguards close at hand.

  “I can understand the knowledge of the cars and the scotch, but what made you privy to the guns being altered?”

  His face was cold with fear. “The weight of the gun seemed different, so I quickly emptied the chamber before trying to clean it. There were hollow-point bullets inside, which I never use because of their capacity to destroy. As you know, most bullets either lodge or shoot straight through their target. These are designed to explode on impact, destroying their target. The last time I’d seen one used was by your father on our assignment. Hell, I didn’t even know he had access to those.”

  Okay, my mind was blown, and I instantly thought about the remaining brother. “You think it’s Khalid sending you a message?”

  Tennison shrugged his shoulders. “That’s what came to mind. Although, it was alleged he’d died a few years after our raid, but then again, my death was faked, so why not his?”

  He looked up at me and admitted, “This is why I was gone. I used some of my contacts to verify whether Khalid was truly dead or not. The pictures they had of the body looked like him in the face, but plastic surgery could easily alter a person’s looks. The scar tissue on his left leg, where your dad had shot him, however, was too clean. The hollow-tip bullet had taken a good chunk out of his leg; even plastic surgery couldn’t make that look like new.

  “I was assured he was, indeed, dead. Unconvinced, I pitched a fit and threatened to delay production of the M-9I project. That got everyone moving. They exhumed his body and pulled marrow from the bones to run the DNA against the sample they had on file from the hospital he’d had his initial surgery to repair his leg.”

  He didn’t continue, only stared out into space. I couldn’t take it anymore. “And?”

  His eyes looked haunted as they refocused on me. “It wasn’t a match. The guy who’d died had been paid by Khalid to undergo reconstructive surgery and then be killed so that everyone would think he was dead. Turns out, the man was paid handsomely for his life. He had cancer eating away at him and wanted to leave his family something where they’d be taken care of.”

  Running my hand through my hair, I got up and paced around the room. I kept stopping only long enough to ask questions, before continuing to walk around. “So let me get this straight. It could be Khalid causing you problems, but we don’t have any guarantee. He could be alive or dead at this point, but no way to confirm it?”

  He nodded.

  “The company is losing money, but you don’t know where it’s coming from, only that it’s being siphoned slowly out of your accounts. This tells me it could either be someone external with an internal connection, or it’s someone close to you with access to the company’s accounts. Is this why your stepchildren are under my watch? You think it could be them?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I’d like to think it couldn’t be, but I don’t know. I know my stepson is devious, but to what degree, I don’t know. I have him strictly in the artillery division because that’s what he’s good at. He’s always had a love of guns and rethinking the design of them.” He shook his head and snickered, “Too bad he’s a genius in that element, but lazy as all get out. Same with my stepdaughter. She works in the same division, although, her focus is on creating new ways to incorporate protection into the clothes our military personnel have to wear. We’ve been trying to think outside the typical bulletproof vest scenario. However, if someone could breathe for her, I think she’d hire them.”

  I paused mid-stride in my pacing. “Could they be faking their laziness?”

  He shook his head. “No. Their mother and I always had this problem with them when they were in school and then college. They were both straight-A students capable of great things, but they barely pulled off C’s due to their lack of focus and desire to party. Their mom gave them whatever they wanted and never bothered to discipline them—one of the main reasons for our divorce—but I still care for those kids as if they are my own. That’s why they work for me, why I have you keeping an eye on them, for the
ir safety and mine.”

  I continued pacing. “Okay. Do you have any reason to believe your ex-wife, Amy, or anyone in your company would want you dead? How about your current wife, Natalie, and your son, Jacob?”

  I stared in amazement as Tennison dug his fingers into the hair on both sides of his head. “I just don’t fucking know!” He yelled. “Amy was a total money-grubbing bitch, a user. Natalie and Jacob are my life. They’re always trying to help me with whatever’s going on, never asking for anything in return.”

  He finally settled down, releasing his hair and taking in a deep breath, before waving his hand around. “This is where you come in. I haven’t a fucking clue who wants me dead, why the money’s missing, or if there’s just one person or multiple people after me. I just want my immediate family, my niece, and my extended family cared for.” He looked up at me with pleading eyes, “You have to help me, Derrick. The next attempt on my life might be successful.”

  I sat down beside him and gave his forearm a good squeeze. “I’ll talk to my dad about putting round-the-clock surveillance on the Bradford family. I’ll pull in a couple of extra agents to help not only with debugging the financials, but also with keeping an eye on your ex-wife and her kids. Since you’re back and Rogers is set to leave on Friday, I’ll start work as the new manager on Monday—leaving me to keep watch on Jesse both at work and after hours. I’ll also be able to keep an eye out for your kids at work and will keep an ear out for anyone talking out of line about the company. I suspect you have one person, maybe more, internally causing damage at work.”

  I took a deep breath in and admitted, “If you expect me to cover for some of the Dungeon Masters at the club, you need to grant Jesse access to Rapture. Maybe have the club send her a letter saying you apologize for not allowing her access because you confused her for someone else, and offer her free membership for a month or two as a result. She’d be safer if I could keep eyes on her, rather than left to her own devices.”

 

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