“Thanks. I think I’m over the worst of the morning sickness at this point.”
“The first trimester is the hardest,” explained Doc, as though that might mean something to Striker. But it didn’t.
“Tell us what you came down for,” said Merrigan, winking at his unease.
Striker nodded. “I haven’t briefed anyone else yet, but I wanted to fill you both in on my meeting with Ambassador Jiménez.”
“How is Santiago?” asked Doc. “I haven’t seen him in years.”
“He appears well.”
“One would think he’d give that post up soon,” said Merrigan. “I can’t imagine Bogotá is an easy place for a US diplomat to be.”
“No, it isn’t. Particularly when one of your top advisors is a mole.”
“What makes him think that?” asked Doc.
“Juan Carlos’ death right before we arrived.”
“Could be a coincidence. I’m surprised he wasn’t killed weeks ago.”
“What about this mole?” asked Merrigan. “Does he have any idea who?”
“Negative. I even had Diesel poke around while Ranger and I met with him, but no one stood out as suspicious.”
“What about you? Any ideas?” Doc asked him.
“None specifically, but if whoever it is isn’t connected to the Islamic State, it’s got to be someone working for either Franz or Mao.”
Juan Lehrer, head of the powerful Medellín Cartel, was known as “Franz” because of his surname as well as his Germanic coloring, even though he was born in Armenia.
Carlos Deodar, head of the Cali Cartel, was often called Mao, primarily for his communist beliefs, but also because of his eerie likeness to the man the world once referred to as “Chairman.”
Together they were considered to be the most dangerous of the Colombian drug barons. Their massive wealth and power enabled them to bribe government and legal officials, and buy sophisticated weaponry for their protection. Some believed their influence was so far-reaching they’d soon take over not just the government, but the military too.
Before that happened, Striker predicted that a bloodbath in which one emerged the victor and controlled it all, was odds-on likely.
“Do you think either of them is funding Ghafor?” asked Merrigan.
Striker nodded. “The most obvious would be Franz, given his Armenian connection, but there is a strong case to be made for Mao.”
“They aren’t the only cartels in South America either,” added Doc.
“No, but the amount of cash that is flowing in Ghafor’s direction is staggering.” Striker pulled the notes out from his last meeting with Mercer and gave them to Doc and Merrigan to look over.
“Holy shit,” Doc muttered when he finished reading the brief.
“It’s a lot more than I would’ve predicted,” Striker murmured.
“Is there any sign, other than the sheer amount of money, that either of the cartels is connected to the Islamic State or directly to Ghafor?” Merrigan asked.
“None.”
“Let’s look at it from the opposite direction,” suggested Doc. “What is Ghafor planning, and why would one or both of them want him to succeed?”
“At first glance, it would be easy to think that Ghafor is arming himself for an attack on the US. But would the cartels name us as their worst enemy? Would the Islamic State? There have been as many ISIS-led terrorist attacks on the UK, France, even Colombia itself.”
“We need someone on the inside,” said Doc.
“With all of K19’s recent activity there, who do you suggest?”
“What about Tackle or Halo?” asked Merrigan.
“What’s their status?”
“On board, but without known connection to us,” she answered.
Striker nodded. “Good. I’ll make contact.”
The three talked about their newest operatives’ backgrounds.
Tackle, who had once been the number one defensive player in division one college football, was well versed in the Middle East, and would be better placed inside the embassy.
Halo, whose mother’s family was Venezuelan and who had been Striker’s protégé in South American intelligence before they both left the CIA, would be the obvious choice to infiltrate one of the cartels. Which one, was the question.
“You’re far too visible, Striker, with both Ghafor and the Colombians. Put Monk in as direct handler,” Doc suggested. “Then decide whether Onyx and Corazón serve as more than transport.”
“Prior to sending anyone in, I’d like Eighty-eight to see if he can get a better idea of where the money is flowing from. It’s also imperative we find out who’s heading up the fundamentalist organization as soon as possible. I don’t want to make a move on Ghafor until we know.”
Doc nodded. “What was Santiago’s take?”
“He didn’t have one.”
Doc raised his eyebrow and looked at Merrigan.
“If you’re asking, I agree that it’s unlikely he’s as disengaged as he appears to be.”
“What about MI-6?” Striker asked.
“I’ll make contact and see if anyone in Colombia is on their radar,” Merrigan offered. “You’re aware Shiver’s out? Meaning he’s retired.”
Striker nodded. “I’d also heard his brother, Wilder, was being considered as his replacement.”
“It remains a rumor for now.”
Both Doc and Merrigan jumped when they heard the baby’s wail through the monitor sitting on the coffee table.
“I’ll get him,” offered Doc.
“Thanks, darling.” Merrigan leaned back in her chair, looking more tired than Striker remembered seeing her outside of a mission.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Striker asked once Doc was out of earshot.
“I’m fine,” she said, smiling and rubbing her belly. “I want this for you, Griff. I can’t wait to see you with a baby of your own. You’ll make an amazing father.”
Striker did his best not to react, but hiding anything from Merrigan was impossible. Not only had the woman known him for years, she was also a former MI-6 agent. She’d been one of the highest ranking operatives they had until she retired to spend her life with Doc and run K19.
“Fess up, Ellis. What makes you think you never will be?”
He should’ve known her first strike would be right at the heart of it. “I can’t.”
“That could be construed in so many ways. What makes you say you can’t?”
Merrigan would be the third person he told this story. The first had been a virtual stranger—someone he met on a plane. The second was Razor. Why he’d confided in him was still a mystery. And now, her. Out of anyone he knew, she would understand the best.
“I got a call earlier in the year. The man identified himself as a doctor, and then told me he was calling regarding Pamela Ellis, my sister.”
16
“We’re going to have a houseful for Thanksgiving dinner,” said Ava when Aine walked back in with Sam in her arms.
“Mom won’t be back from her cruise for another couple of weeks. Who else is coming?”
“Besides you, me, and Tabon? His mother and sister plus her two girls. That, of course, means Monk will be here.”
“That’s ten with Penelope and Tara.”
“Tabon said that since Quinn wanted to be here too, she and Mercer talked Doc and Merrigan into coming.”
“Sixteen, then, if you count their baby and Sam.”
“I guess I should since they’re both in high chairs. That’s too many for us to all fit at the table. It’s going to have to be more casual.”
“No one will care, Ava.”
“I know. I just wanted it to be nice.”
Aine laughed. “What would make it nicer than the Tribe of Five being together again, plus so many other friends and family?”
Since Ava hadn’t mentioned Striker, Aine didn’t either. She was sure her sister would’ve if he were planning to join them. She wondered what he’d
do instead, though. It wasn’t as if he had any family to spend it with. Maybe he was staying away intentionally because he thought she wouldn’t want him to be there.
“What about Striker?” she asked, feeling guilty.
“Right. That makes seventeen.”
“So he is coming?”
“It wouldn’t be very nice of us not to invite him.”
Aine nodded.
“You’re okay with it, right?”
“Absolutely.”
Ava sighed. “Thank goodness.” She tapped the notepad in front of her with the end of her pen. “Are you sure Stuart isn’t coming?”
“Positive. The job at the Overleaf ended up being a broken water main. It’s surprising that the spa was the only area without water. He said it was bad enough that it should’ve affected the whole inn.”
Ava nodded, but Aine didn’t think she’d been listening. Broken water mains weren’t exactly hot topics of conversation—unless you were a plumber.
“I feel as though I’m forgetting someone.”
“What about Zary? Are she and Gunner coming?”
Ava shook her head. “I talked to her yesterday, and she said they’d definitely be here for Christmas, but they’re staying in Maryland with her mother and his for Thanksgiving.”
“I can’t wait to see Lia again.”
“I feel bad that we haven’t been back since she was born.”
Aine did too. Now that her sister mentioned it, she felt terrible.
“We’re lousy sisters,” Aine sighed.
“I feel like we should get on a plane right this minute.”
“Where you off to, Avarie? And are you takin’ me with you?” Tabon put his arm around her sister’s waist like he did so often.
“Nowhere,” she sighed. “I just wish Zary and Gunner were going to be here for Thanksgiving.”
“They are.”
“Wait. What?” asked Ava. “Yesterday she said they wouldn’t be.”
“I guess she changed her mind after she talked to you. They’re flying in Thursday morning.”
“I should make other arrangements for a place to stay,” murmured Aine.
“You can stay with us, although there’s still plenty of room next door,” Tabon told her.
“I couldn’t intrude on them.”
“Hello? She’s your sister as much as I am. Well, maybe not exactly.”
“About that, Zary wants you to call her when you have a minute,” Tabon told her.
“I’ll do that right now,” said Aine, handing Sam to him when the baby reached for his dad.
She went out on the deck to place the call; Zary answered on the first ring.
“We were just talking about how we can’t wait to see you and Lia again,” said Aine. “We’re so happy you and Gunner will be spending Thanksgiving with us.”
“That’s why I wanted to talk with you. Both my mother and Gunner’s mother want to come too. Is that too much?”
“Not at all. We’re excited to see them too.”
They talked about where everyone would sleep, and Aine assured Zary she could stay with Tabon and Ava, so there’d be plenty of room for her mother and Gunner’s.
“It’s your house, Zary,” Aine had said when her half-sister worried about asking her to move.
After they hung up, she stayed out on the deck. While the air was chilly, the sun was bright today and felt good on her skin.
It was hard to believe that a year ago, she and Striker were still just getting to know each other. The first time they were together had been right before Thanksgiving. She remembered being so nervous, especially about sex, but he’d not only reassured her, he made her feel as though she excited him in a way that no other woman ever had.
She wiped a tear from her cheek. She missed him so much. Not just the sex, even though it was otherworldly. She missed talking to him, spending time with him, just being near him. Every inch of her body longed to be next to his, to feel him hold her, kiss her, bring her pleasure and let her do the same for him. It wasn’t that she just longed for Griffin—not Striker—she ached for him, and that wasn’t fair to Stuart.
In the months after their breakup, she’d convinced herself she was over him, but now she realized she wasn’t even close. Until she could say she’d truly gotten past her relationship with Griffin, she couldn’t be with Stuart or any other man.
If he couldn’t come down on Saturday like he was planning, she’d make arrangements to fly up to Yachats early next week and end things with him. Stuart deserved to be told in person. She hated hearing about people breaking up over the phone, or worse, via text.
Her sister’s screech jarred Aine out of her seat. When she saw Penelope and Tara through the window, she ran inside, screaming like Ava had. Before she reached her two friends, Aine stopped in her tracks.
“What are you doing here?” she asked Stuart, who was standing behind them.
“Nice welcome for your boyfriend,” Tara said, poking her.
Aine hurried over and hugged him. “I’m surprised, that’s all. I thought you said you couldn’t make it.”
“I was able to get the water main fixed and then made arrangements with Benji to be on call. It’ll cost me if it doesn’t hold or he gets called in on something else, but I figured it was worth it.”
She smiled and rested her head on his chest when he put his arms around her. Stuart was a good man. Being with him reminded her of that. Breaking up with him just because she found herself missing Striker was silly.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said again, hugging him tighter.
“We were at the rental car counter, and Stuart overheard us give the agent our names. He introduced himself, and we offered him a ride so he wouldn’t have to rent a car too,” Tara told her after Aine had hugged her and Penelope. There was something about her tone of voice that didn’t sit right. She looked at Ava, who appeared to be thinking the same thing.
“That worked out well,” commented Tabon, stepping forward to hug both of the women and shake Stuart’s hand.
“So, where are we staying?” asked Tara.
With only three bedrooms in each side of the duplex, space was tight. Ava had told Aine she could stay with them, but maybe she should offer to let their friends stay here instead. Plus, Tabon’s mother, sister, and her two daughters and Monk were coming. Where would they stay? And what about Stuart? This was becoming a logistical nightmare. Why hadn’t she and Ava talked about this ahead of time?
Actually they had, now that she thought about it. She hadn’t planned to stay here, and there would’ve been two extra bedrooms next door if Zary and Gunner weren’t arriving on Thursday with both of their mothers.
“Tabon, can you check and see if the house down the road has been booked for the week?” Ava asked.
“Already did, and I have it reserved from Thursday to Sunday.”
“I can stay there with Tara and Pen,” Aine offered.
All eyes immediately settled on Stuart, who put his hands on Aine’s shoulders. “I was able to get a room at the same place I stayed last time.”
“Uh…okay,” murmured Aine. “We can talk about it later.”
Stuart nodded, but Aine could sense his discomfort was equal to hers.
“Who else is coming?” asked Tara. “Any hot guys I can hook up with?”
“Tara!” gasped Ava.
“Oh, please. Just because you’re an old married woman doesn’t mean the rest of us are.” Tara looked over at Aine. “What about that guy you were with at Ava and Tabon’s wedding?”
She’d thought she couldn’t be more uncomfortable a minute ago when Stuart mentioned the room he’d booked, as though he was suggesting she stay with him, but Tara’s interest in Striker mortified her. What could she say in response, though? Stuart’s hands were still gripping her shoulders.
“I don’t know about you, but I need to excuse myself from this conversation,” said Tabon, motioning with his head.
Stuart leaned
down and kissed Aine’s cheek before following her sister’s husband out of the room.
“What the heck, Aine?” said Tara as soon as they were gone. “You should’ve seen the look on your face when I mentioned Striker. Are you seeing both of them?”
Ava stepped forward and put her hand on Tara’s arm. “It wasn’t an easy breakup for my sister. Maybe you could scale it back a bit.”
Aine didn’t like the look on their friend’s face. Tara raised her chin as though Ava had just issued a challenge. She’d seen her in action and knew that once she set her sights on a man, she rarely failed at gaining their interest.
She would literally die if Striker hooked up with Tara, but what could she do? If she asked her friend not to go after him, it would lead to a conversation about her and Stuart that she didn’t want to have. Aine had no doubt that Tara would call her out on claiming both men, and there was no guarantee she wouldn’t do it in front of either of them.
“Speak of the devil,” Pen said when she saw Striker walking up to the front door.
“I’ll get it,” Tara offered.
Aine looked at Ava, who rolled her eyes and mouthed, “Sorry.”
—:—
Striker wasn’t sure what he’d just walked into, but the tension in the house’s entryway was as thick as bay area fog.
“I’m here to meet with Razor,” he said when all four women looked at him.
“He’s downstairs,” Ava told him, adding, “with Stuart,” when he walked away.
Maybe that’s why they were all staring at him. Did they think he’d cause a scene?
After his conversation with Merrigan, Striker was even more determined not to pull Aine into his DNA clusterfuck. She hadn’t agreed, but saying the words out loud to someone who knew him as well as Fatale did, had allowed him to let his guard down and talk from an emotional place rather than just state the facts he’d shared with the stranger on the plane and Razor.
“Hey, Striker,” said Razor when he walked into the workout room where he was talking to Stuart. He’d noticed when he walked by that the office door was closed.
“Hello, Stuart,” he said, determined not to be as much of an asshole as he’d been the other times he was around the plumber.
Striker (K19 Security Solutions Book 6) Page 11