by Ronie Kendig
With a muttered oath, Ram turned away, the team following him.
At the table with Levi, Robbie, and the techs, Kasey bounced her legs through another ten minutes. First time in the field, and she would not let them see her sweat. God had her here for a reason, and she was convinced it wasn’t to bring Cole home in a pine box.
“You worry for him” came the low, gravelly voice of Chiji.
She managed a smile. “Will you tell me it’s silly, too?”
Chiji folded his lanky frame into a chair and threaded his fingers on the table. “Worry shows concern. Why would you not worry?”
“Because I know God’s got this, got him.”
His satiny black skin rippled with an amused arch of the eyebrow. “You believe?”
It was almost a crime these days, but yeah. “I believe . . . help my unbelief,” she said, her voice fading at the end as she referenced the Bible verse.
“Ah, you are wise, Agent Cortes, to ask Him to help when you struggle.” His dark eyes drifted away from her. “I have spent many days and nights asking His help for Ndidi.”
“Ndidi?”
“The name my mother gave him.”
She shifted, surprised. “You don’t call him Tox.”
“Neither do you.” With that, he pushed from the chair and went to a cot, where he stretched out. Without looking, he dangled his arm and dug into his backpack on the floor below him. He drew out a small leather Bible and began reading.
Another fifty minutes fell off the clock in a weighted, aching silence. Her mind pinged through a million different, deadly scenarios, until the quiet and inaction pushed her to Levi. “How long do we wait?”
He looked at her, his gaze pensive. “All night, if necessary.”
“I mean, before we go looking for him.”
“We don’t.” His eyebrows tangled. “Kase, if he goes missing, we put out feelers, but we don’t launch a rescue op. Not without intel. Not without an idea of where to search. Doing so puts him in more danger. We wait.”
The fear and pain must’ve bled into her expression because Levi bumped her shoulder. “You should get some rest.”
“If only,” she murmured, then moved to the table and opened her secure laptop.
Buck up. God had not given her a spirit of fear, the Bible promised. And this was Cole. A skilled operator. He’d hidden from intelligence networks around the world for three years. She’d seen his self-defense handiwork on the video feed.
She checked email. Found one from another agent, asking her to view a video. Slipping on her headphones gave her the appearance of not obsessing. But . . . what if Cole had been compromised? What if something awful—
Stop!
This was Cole, remember? Seasoned soldier. Fierce warrior.
She glanced at the digital clock. Fifty-eight minutes and counting since Chiji returned. She couldn’t stand the thought of sitting here all night waiting, wondering, worrying.
Warmth covered her hand. Kasey glanced down, realizing she’d been snapping her pen against the table. Robbie smiled and shook her head.
Kasey gave a nervous laugh. “I’ve never been good at waiting.”
“Why don’t you work on transcribing the last report—”
An alarm pierced the air.
“Breach! Rear door,” Vander shouted.
“Why didn’t the monitors pick up movement in the lot?” Robbie asked.
“No idea.”
The warehouse came alive. Cole’s team leapt to their feet—weapons ready. Levi pulled his gun, and even Kasey had hers in hand. She jerked in the direction the men raced. Took a step forward.
Robbie straightened. “I have a feeling our phantom has returned.”
“Hands! Hands!” Ram shouted.
“Friendly” came Cole’s strained voice.
The men muttered as they made their way back to the main area, a flurry of comments and questions flung at Cole. Kasey didn’t dare move, her nerves buzzing and jangling against her confidence.
Robbie started toward Cole.
“How’d you get around surveillance?” Vander demanded from his station.
“Blind spot.” Cole’s words arrived shortly before he did. His left cheek sported a cut atop a red, swollen knot. Blood smeared his jaw and neck. He swiped his thumb up his temple, smearing more blood, then winced and rolled his shoulder.
Chiji was at his side.
“Glad you’re alive, Russell,” Robbie said.
“Makes two of us, ma’am.” Cole looked at Kasey and hesitated. His gaze skated over her, then shifted to Wallace, Vander, and Lewis.
“Is that another bullet graze?” Thor asked, pointing at the bloodstain on Cole’s leg.
Cradling his injured arm close, Cole nodded. “We had a shooter.”
“And a hunter,” Chiji agreed. “He shot flaming arrows.”
“Did you get the journal?” Robbie seemed hopeful as she pressed into the center of the throng.
Fire ignited Cole’s eyes. His hands clenched. “Things went sideways. Authorities, soldiers, Tanin.”
“You had a mission—”
“Yes, and I about died trying to do it.” He flung his hands out. “Guess I failed.”
“You didn’t fail,” Kasey muttered. “You just found a way that didn’t work.”
Cole’s gaze snapped to hers.
Too late, Kasey realized her mistake. Remembered all the times she’d heard that saying so many years ago. From the lips of Cole Russell.
22
— Day 10 —
New Delhi
“You didn’t fail, son. You found ten thousand ways that won’t work.” His father practically browbeat Tox with that Thomas Edison saying. The words rang through his mind as he met the green eyes of Kasey Cortes. It collided with his previous hackles that rose while listening to her talk, watching her move. There was something . . .
She curled her hands toward her stomach, then turned away. Her actions screamed of guilt. Nerves.
“You said something about an arrow?”
Tox flicked his attention to Almstedt. But he couldn’t help skating another look at Cortes as she made her way to the tables in the middle of the warehouse and slid into a chair, wavy blond hair concealing her face. Familiar. Somehow, she seemed familiar.
“An arrow?” Almstedt repeated.
Tox shook his head to dislodge the denotation from the past. “It struck a guy who’d attacked me. Next thing I know, everything’s burning like it’s on fire.”
“Burning arrows?” Cell taunted.
“I know,” he said, shaking and nodding his head at the same time. “It was crazy. Went through his chest. Flesh sizzled like bacon.” Tox ran a hand over his head. “But Chatresh said something about a sparkling arrow.” He looked to the isolation chamber, now empty. “Where is he?”
“Taken to a quarantine facility,” Almstedt said.
Ram shouldered into the conversation. “Hey, Tzivia is in town with Dr. C. They went after the censer Bhavin took.”
Tox lifted his eyebrows. “Anything?”
“Not yet.”
“Russell, have a seat.” Sitting at the head of the table, Almstedt motioned him to the chair on her left. Directly across from Cortes. “Brief me on what happened at the temple.”
Too many unknowns there at that table. The interrogation tactics of Almstedt and the unsettling nature of Cortes. But noncompliance would only inflame things.
“Can you identify anyone involved in the attack?”
“Just Tanin.” Tox lowered himself onto a folding chair, his thigh still burning from the bullet that had nicked it. He held his arm close as his gaze veered across the paper-scattered surface to the thin but athletic agent who’d helped him sort Chatresh earlier. Something about her . . . “Happened too fast. The other shooters were out of visual range.”
What was it about her? He searched for an answer in Cortes’s features. Straight, average nose. Killer green eyes. Wavy dark blond hair. She shifted and
bent over the pad, writing. Then set it down and massaged her left shoulder.
That buzzing at the back of his brain returned, mingling with his own nerves. He adjusted and felt the sting in his leg again.
A med kit slid onto the table, compliments of Ram. Two antibacterial wipes would work for cleaning the cut on his forehead. But what would it take to clean up the mess at the temple?
“Think anyone identified you or any of your team?”
“Possible, but unlikely. Too chaotic.”
“Unless they have cameras,” Almstedt suggested.
“Again, possible but unlikely.” He leaned forward and tapped the table. “Look, I’m—”
“Please, continue,” Almstedt said, then froze when their words tumbled over one another.
Right. Finish the story. He noted the upside-down words Cortes had scrawled. She’d copied his report verbatim. The realization made him swallow his agitation. That was impressive, her ability to recall all the facts.
He dragged the wipe over his bloodied knuckles, backtracking mentally to the temple. “With Cell’s distraction, I took a chance to get the journal.”
“That wasn’t a distraction,” Cell injected. “I was running for my life.”
“It’s why you make good bait,” Tox teased, then refocused. “Inside, I spotted the journal—”
“On that dais with those five freakish wax dudes with instruments.”
Tox ignored Cell’s second interruption and the image of the Brit that melded with the fiery inferno at Kafr al-Ayn. “I went for it, and a Brit comes out of nowhere. Starts saying weird things.”
“Latin,” Ram said.
“Right. Latin. Whatever.” Tox used another wipe for his temple and face. The burn in his cheek let him know it’d been cut.
“Did the Brit know why you were there?” Cortes’s voice was like silk. “Was he trying to distract you?”
Tox met her gaze and felt another implosion of time at the back of his head. Something—there was something familiar about her. Green eyes. Tilt of her head. “Yeah,” he said, trying to keep his mind above the churning whirlpool of thoughts. “He knew exactly why I was there. But I don’t think he was trying to distract me.”
“Did he try to stop you?” Wallace hovered behind Cortes again. Like a protector. A possessive one.
“Yes and no.” Tox glanced between the two. “Like Ram said, he muttered something in Latin—”
Ram nodded. “He told you to find a way out or make one.”
“Right. He knew we were in trouble.” Fire seared his skin as the antiseptic went to work. “Then he whips around and distracts the security and suits guarding the room after Cell’s incident.”
“Running for my life.”
“I move in to get the journal when all . . . heck . . . breaks loose.” Tox held out his hands, remembering the moment. “Army shows up. Guard sees me. I get pushed out by the crowd. Next thing I know, someone’s taking shots at me.”
“Indian Army shooting at you?” Incredulous, Wallace snorted. “How would they even know to target you? How could they get there so fast?”
“Negative.” The suit had some attitude and Tox was glad to put him in place. “Shooter was concealed. Army and local authorities had no reason to hide.” He nailed Wallace with a look. “And they were tipped off. As I said—someone did not want me getting that journal. They were willing to kill me to make sure I didn’t.”
“And kill five hundred innocents at the temple,” Cortes added.
“What I want to know is how they knew we were there,” Tox said as he applied a patch to the graze in his leg.
Almstedt slid a piece of paper across the table toward him. It was a printed email. “Indian Embassy is already asking why American soldiers were there.”
Why hadn’t she shown him this already? “Any other intel you want to share with me or my team?”
“I think you should dial back that anger—”
“What we should be doing is finding that journal,” Ram snapped. “Not sitting here through an hour-long interrogation.”
“Excuse me?” Almstedt demanded.
“This has to stop,” Tox said. “We need to work, be active.”
“I hear you, Russell.”
“Good.” He let out a short breath.
“The team will work on a plan to get the journal,” Ram said.
Almstedt gave a clipped nod. “And we’re waiting on Miss Khalon and Dr. Cathey to return.”
Following Ram to the back of the warehouse, Tox’s thigh burned again. Gripping it, he glanced down. Saw the edges of his scorched pants. “I’m going to change.” He grabbed his rucksack.
“Aren’t we supposed to be working on a plan to get the journal?” Thor asked.
“Get started. I’ll be back in five.”
As he aimed for the bathroom, Tox noticed Almstedt, Cortes, and Wallace huddled. He hoisted the ruck over his shoulder and deliberately made his way to the showers—via a wide route that took him near the trio.
****
“He’s not who you remember, Kasey.”
Kasey flinched at Levi’s words. But he was right—the Cole she knew and remembered probably wasn’t the man standing in this warehouse.
“He was in Leavenworth with good justification. He got people killed—President Montrose died.” Levi stabbed a finger toward the computer screen. “Now things are heating up. A man got out of the dig site with the virus, and because Tox wasn’t able to intercept him in time, it spread it to India. Add to that the attack on the hotel, which left a half-dozen innocents dead—”
“Not his fault.”
“Absolutely his fault—his team led the guns there.” Levi huffed. “Letting Tox loose to run this mission as he sees fit is not in our best interest. He’s a wrecking ball. Anyone who thinks otherwise would be a fool.”
His words, unusually harsh, warned of stronger feelings that were personal. Not professional. His jealousy was getting involved in this conversation.
“Almstedt?”
“Yes, Vander?” Robbie turned to a tech, who handed her a piece of paper. She glanced at the report and shook her head. “Two patients admitted to New Delhi hospital with plague symptoms.” She sighed. Her tired gaze drifted to Kasey. “You’re quiet.”
“‘Better to remain silent and be thought a fool’”—she deliberately met Levi’s gaze—“‘than to speak and remove all doubt.’”
“Abraham Lincoln.”
Kasey jerked, a wave of heat splashing across her shoulders as she met Cole’s narrowed gaze.
Where had he come from? Why hadn’t she noticed him standing off to the side? He stared at her, his blue eyes darting over her eyes, nose, mouth, and back to her eyes. Over and over.
“Can we help you?” Levi asked.
“Sorry.” Cole blinked. Almost seemed abashed. “Passing through. Heard Lincoln’s quote.” He paused. Then continued his course.
But she saw it. Saw the recognition in his eyes that wasn’t there before.
“What was that?” Levi planted his hands on his hips.
Galen had told her not to tell Cole her real identity. If he’d figured it out, would they remove her? “Nothing.” She focused on Robbie. “I think he’s right.”
“Who?”
“Russell,” she said, forcing herself to use his last name for safe distance. “If we don’t trust him to do this, then we need to put him back in the tank.” She nodded to Levi. “And Agent Wallace is correct as well—we need to exercise caution.”
“Espionage and black ops don’t work that way. There’s oversight for a reason, to protect him and those men.” Robbie’s tone did not betray her feelings. “Besides, I can’t cut him loose—his record speaks for itself, I’m afraid.”
Kasey sighed. “With respect, if there were options other than Russell, would any of us be here talking about him? But he is here because he’s our best bet. And apparently the president and his chief of staff believe that, too. They chose him. We either trust
their decision or we don’t.” She held up a hand so she could continue. “People are coming down with the plague. That means word’s getting out. And if Cole is right, then someone else is after this journal. We need to find out who and why.”
Levi and Robbie held a silent dialogue, right in front of Kasey as if she weren’t standing there. She suddenly knew how Cole felt when they did that to him. But clinging to that Abe quote kept her mouth shut.
“Agreed,” Robbie said.
Levi shook his head. Annoyed. Angry.
What was this? Did he trust her so little? Not value her thoughts?
Robbie nodded. “Kasey, contact the Saudi Commission for Tourism and National Heritage and the Israeli Antiquities Authority to find out what they know about that dig site bombing. It wasn’t us who hit it, so who did? Levi, get a tactical plan going. Work with Wraith. I want them heading out in a few hours to find that journal.”
Levi snapped his head and pivoted. His actions were so stiff, so robotic, Kasey couldn’t move at first. Then after a brief shrug from Robbie, Kasey went after him.
“What was that?” she demanded.
He rounded on her, his frown tight. “You have no idea—”
“Educate me.”
“He’s dangerous.”
“And ‘dangerous’ is what we need out there right now.” Though Levi towered over her, she stood her ground. “He knows his stuff. He can do it, and there are lives depending on someone like him doing what he does best.”
“You sure are gung-ho about him, Kase. Is this your professional opinion, or is it that you’re glad to see him again?” He dug in closer. “I just want to protect you from him. You shouldn’t be here. This is a mistake.”
She snorted. Stepped back. His words, his lack of trust in her skills pushed her away from him. “The only mistake was thinking you might be someone I liked.”
“Hey—”
She waved him off and went to her laptop. Seated and temples throbbing, she refused to let anyone see her as weak. Review the files, look busy. Headphones on, she was ready for some quiet time. God, I’m losing myself. This case, Cole being alive, had turned her world upside down.
Heartache came barreling at her from the past. Brooke’s constant belittling because Kasey was a tomboy. Because she wasn’t into makeup and flirting. She didn’t want the silky dresses and bows. She wanted hiking boots and jeans.