Shadow (Military Intelligence Section 6 Book 4)

by Heather Slade

“No. She wouldn’t qualify.” She sighed and took another sip. “Look, I appreciate this, Quint, but it isn’t just a recommendation. The person endorsing me must believe I’m capable.”

  “I see.”

  “Sorry to be blunt, but this is what you wanted to discuss with me? Why I’m not in MI6 training?”

  Quint scrubbed his face with his hand. “You know I have to go back to the ranch after the wedding.”

  “Of course I do.”

  “I’m not going to ask you to come with me, Darrow.”

  She stared into the fire, understanding why he said it, and willing her eyes not to fill with tears. There were all kinds of things she could think of to say in response, but every one of them would be reactionary, and not to what he meant. She got it. Quint Alexander wanted Darrow to follow her dreams, just like Orina wanted her to make sure she was whole before she became half of a couple. If she ever became half of a couple.

  “I want—”

  “Shh,” she said, turning to put her fingertips on his lips. “I get it, Quint.”

  “I’ll do anything I can to help you.”

  “And what if I fail? Will I be too much of a disappointment to you?”

  “You know the answer to that.” He stood, but she pulled him back down.

  “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

  He turned to her, cupped her cheek with his hand, and stared into her eyes. “I care about you, Darrow, too much to let you give up your life for mine.”

  “What if that’s what I wanted?”

  He leaned forward and kissed her. “If I believed that, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  27

  Q uint hadn’t seen Darrow since shortly after they ate breakfast together and she left for the abbey to help prepare for that evening’s nuptials.

  He couldn’t believe his baby sister was getting married. On the other hand, there was no doubt in his mind that Sutton Whittaker was the love of her life.

  Like when Darrow had showed up at the ranch, Wren came alive in her future husband’s presence. She laughed more, smiled more, even talked more. Her green eyes sparkled when she looked at him in a way that Quint had never seen.

  If the day came when Darrow looked at him in the same way that Wren looked at Wilder, Quint would know they had a chance. Until then, he’d continue to hold her at arm’s length. Was it easy? Hell, no. He talked himself out of it as many times as he talked himself back in.

  He wished, like he did so often, that his mama was still alive. She’d know exactly what he was going through. He could ask Z, but his father had been the one to give up his career, at least in part, for his wife. His mother was the one who Z had given everything up for. Did it make her feel guilty? Did she worry that he’d resent her for it somewhere down the line? That’s what he wanted to know.

  He checked his watch. Soon it would be time for him to join the rest of the guests at the abbey. He went into the kitchen and poured himself a shot of Wellie’s brandy, the stuff that everyone seemed to reach for when they were anxious about something. He had to admit, it almost always did the trick. He made sure his tie was straight, and walked out of Darrow’s house.

  Once again he was overcome by the feeling that everything was about to change. Was it just his sister’s marriage, or did the impending shake-up in the universe hit closer to home? As in, between him and Darrow?

  Just as he closed the gate behind him, intending to walk to the abbey, a car pulled up next to him.

  “Fancy a ride?” Axel asked through an open window.

  “Sure,” he answered, walking around to get in the passenger side. “Thanks.”

  “Not at all,” Axel answered. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, anyway.”

  Quint scratched his chin and looked out the window. “What about?”

  Axel laughed. “How many subjects can you think of that we’d have to talk about?”

  “I’d like to come up with about ten or twenty to avoid talking about the one you are.”

  Axel laughed again. “Look, all I wanted to say is, I think you’re good for Darrow.”

  “Appreciate you sharin’ your opinion with me, although I’m not looking for your approval.”

  He shook his head. “I get that, and I’m not giving it. All I mean to say is, no hard feelings.”

  “You were ready to let her go.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “If you weren’t, you’d have plenty of hard feelings.”

  “You’re right. Didn’t make it any easier, but when it’s done, it’s done, I suppose.”

  “You should know I care about Darrow.”

  Axel nodded.

  “You should also know that I’m not going to ask her to come back to Texas with me.”

  “You likely don’t need to ask.”

  “What I mean to say is, I won’t let her come back to Texas with me.”

  “Why not?”

  If Axel loved her, really loved her, he wouldn’t need to ask that question.

  “Instead of answering yours, I’ll ask one of my own.”

  “Go on.”

  “What does Darrow want to do with the rest of her life.”

  “Cor blimey. I don’t know.”

  “You should ask her.”

  “Aren’t you the one who should be asking her those kinds of questions?”

  Quint shook his head. “I don’t need to.”

  “You’re talking in circles now.”

  “When you figure it out, you’ll know what to do.”

  Axel pulled up in front of the abbey, and a valet approached the car.

  “Fancy,” muttered Quint.

  “Standard operating procedure when there’s an event at Whittaker Abbey.”

  “Glad you know what to do.”

  “There was a time I thought maybe that would be my job.”

  Quint studied Axel, who hadn’t yet opened his door to get out. “What happened instead?”

  Axel turned to face Quint and looked him straight in the eye. “I followed my dreams.”

  “You’re catching on.”

  “What I don’t understand is why I should be the one asking Darrow about her dreams.”

  “Maybe you’re the one who can help her achieve them.”

  Quint got out of the car and walked toward the abbey’s entryway. He looked up and saw Darrow looking at him through a second-story window. When he winked, she smiled.

  He’d been thinking about it all afternoon, and Axel giving him a lift only made him more sure of what he had to do. He only hoped it worked.

  28

  The wedding was simple but beautiful. Wren and Sutton made the perfect couple. There was no need for fancy gowns or elaborate preparation, they wouldn’t have even needed witnesses. Each other, along with the vicar, would’ve sufficed.

  Darrow was glad that they’d included their families, just because seeing the way they looked at each other gave her hope for her own future.

  If there were two people who had the odds against them, they were it, and yet they’d worked it out.

  Wren told her earlier, when they were getting dressed, that she’d officially decided to leave her job with the NSA, like Sutton had left his with MI6. Once they returned from their honeymoon in the Maldives, they intended to start their own consulting firm.

  First, Thornton had left MI6 when he married Orina. Now Sutton was leaving too. Ironic that the only sibling who appeared to want to spend her life as an agent, couldn’t even get her foot in the door.

  Her eyes met Quint’s several times during the ceremony, but once it was over, every time she looked for him, he was deep in conversation with Axel.

  “Bugger me,” she muttered, incredulous that the one man she had been convinced wouldn’t ignore her, seemed to be.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Orina, close on the heels of Kazmir, who was asking his auntie to pick him up.

  “You’re getting so heavy, Kaz,” said Darrow, walking over to a chair to hold him
on her lap rather than in her arms.

  “Darrow?”

  “I heard you.” She motioned with her head. “Look at the two of them. Thick as thieves, they are.”

  “Interesting.”

  Exactly what she thought, although more than interesting, she found it infuriating.

  “MIND IF I STEAL MY DATE?” she asked, putting her arm through Quint’s and leading him away from Axel, whom Quint’d somehow continued finding his way back to despite her best efforts otherwise.

  “Hello, Shadow,” Quint drawled.

  Cor blimey, he was wankered. Had Axel intentionally gotten him pissed?

  “Let’s have a seat, shall we?” she said, leading him over to the settee near the fireplace.

  “Damn, it’s hot in here,” he said, loosening his tie. “You wanna get out of some of those clothes, Darrow?” As he asked, he slipped his hand inside the bodice of her dress.

  She rolled her eyes and smacked his hand, which only made him laugh. When he rested his head against the back of the settee and appeared to fall asleep, Darrow tucked a throw pillow under his head and went in search of Axel. She found him in the butler’s pantry.

  “Hello, Darrow. Fancy a pinch?”

  “You’re as wankered as Quint is. What’s wrong with you?”

  Rather than answer, Axel grabbed her and pulled her up against him. “Give us a kiss, Dar, for old times’ sake.”

  She tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but he held on tight. “You can’t be serious, Axel. Let me go this instant.”

  Ignoring her, he brought his lips to hers instead. Darrow turned her head only to find Quint standing in the doorway.

  “Am I interrupting?” he asked, seemingly far less drunk than he was only a few minutes ago.

  “No!” she shouted, trying to get Axel to let her go. When she raised her leg, he did, surprisingly aware, given his state, that she was about to knee him in the knickers.

  “You don’t have to be like that, Dar.”

  She pushed past Quint and out of the butler’s pantry, expecting him to follow. When she turned around, he and Axel were laughing it up about something, or were they having a row? It was too hard to tell, given their inebriated state.

  “Quint? Are you ready to go?” She held out her hand, but he waved her away.

  “I got some unfinished business here, darlin’.”

  He was back to drawling his words. It was different enough that she wouldn’t call it slurring.

  “Yeah, we have some unfinished business, Dar. Just like you and me.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” she spat. “Let’s go, Quint.”

  “Hang on, hang on. Ol’ Pinch and me are gonna have another drink and straighten out just who you belong to.”

  “Belong to? Did you say ‘belong to?’ You’ve got to bloody well be kidding me? You know what? You can both sod off.”

  “What do you say, Axel? Game of cards, or should we dual at dawn?”

  Darrow couldn’t believe her ears. This was a side of Quint she hadn’t seen before and never wanted to again. In fact, she hadn’t seen this side of Axel either, and they’d grown up together.

  “I’m leaving, Quint.”

  “I’ll be right behind you, Shadow. No, wait. You’re supposed to be behind me.”

  Both Quint and Axel found that uproariously funny while Darrow was merely disgusted. “Fine. I never want to see either of you again if this is how you’re going to behave.”

  She waited for a response, and when she saw Axel hand Quint a bottle that they both took a swig from, she stormed out of the pantry and out of the abbey.

  The sign had come crashing down on her head. Orina tried to tell her, and even Quint had, back before he’d gotten falling-down sloshed. Darrow Whittaker was on her own. No men. No relationships. No help from her family. Nothing. If she was going to make a life for herself, she’d have to do it all on her own. There’d be no more putting it off. It was the beginning of a new year. There couldn’t be a better time to begin a new life.

  She asked the valet to give her a lift back to Covington House. “There’s a brunch for the wedding couple, in town in the morning. I need to head in tonight to get things set up before they arrive tomorrow.”

  “I can drive you, Miss Darrow.”

  “Thank you. I’d appreciate it ever so much. Just give me a moment to grab my overnight valise.”

  “Would you like me to fetch it for you?” he asked.

  “No, it isn’t that big, but thank you.”

  Darrow took the stairs two at a time, grabbed a few clothes, threw them into the bag, and ran back down. She didn’t even bother to change.

  “Where to?” the driver asked.

  “St. Ermin’s.” If he knew the brunch wasn’t being held there, he didn’t say a word.

  An hour later, he delivered her to the hotel’s entryway. When he came around to open her door, she pressed an envelope in his hand. “You didn’t see me tonight. Understood?”

  He peered into the envelope with wide eyes. “Yes, ma’am. In fact, I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

  IT TOOK her five days of feeling bloody sorry for herself before she called the one person left who she believed might be able to help her.

  “Axel,” she said when he answered her call.

  “Where in bloody hell are you?”

  “Keep your voice down. Is anyone with you?”

  “Not at the moment, but everyone is right worried about you.”

  “I’m fine. I’m at St. Ermin’s, and we need to talk.”

  “I’m guessing you don’t want anyone else to know where you are.”

  “If you do tell anyone, I can promise you, next time I’ll disappear for good.”

  Instead of arguing or telling her she was being melodramatic, he simply told her he was already in town and he’d be right there.

  PART II

  29

  While most knew that the British Army, Navy, as well as the Ministry of Defense were located at Fort Monckton in Portsmouth, few knew it was the primary field training center for MI6.

  Today, she was at the firing range for rifle practice. Weaponry was an area where she needed more training than others. Most of the trainees in her unit had vast experience; she had none.

  With her last shot, she thought she was lined up, cross hairs dead over the center of the target. She reached for the trigger and slowly began to pull, but she couldn’t keep the cross hairs steady. Just as the shot broke, she realized too late that she was off target, and it went wide. It was the third time today it happened. What was she doing wrong?

  “Tell me the five steps you need to follow,” said her instructor.

  “Breathe.”

  “Good. That’s one. Elaborate.”

  “I take a deep breath and let it half out and hold the rest for four to seven seconds while making the shot.”

  “Is that what you’re doing?”

  “No, sir. I’m not holding the second half.”

  “Practice.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes, now. Breathe in deeply and then let out half.”

  Darrow took a deep breath and then started to exhale.

  “Stop!” yelled the instructor.

  Darrow held her breath.

  “That’s it, right there. Breathe normally, Whittaker. You’re letting it all out. Don’t exhale for more than a second.”

  “I don’t see how this helps the shot.”

  She could sense the man’s exasperation, but he was her instructor, she had to understand in order to learn.

  “As you breathe both in and out, your body moves slightly. When you move, you go off target.”

  He had her practice breathing for another ten minutes. “If you get light-headed, you’re holding the second half of your breath too long.”

  He continued to watch her breathe, no longer counting the seconds along with her.

  “Good,” he said. “Let’s move on. What’s next?”

  “Relax.”
<
br />   “Correct. Elaborate.”

  “I need to slacken my muscles.”

  “Why?”

  “Because tension will also cause me to move, but it’s bloody hard not to be tense when I’m firing a gun.”

  “Of course it’s hard. But learning how to hit a target is somewhat paramount to why you’re here, Duchess.” He smiled, which she appreciated.

  He put his hands on her shoulders. “Combine the two. Breathe, and then relax your muscles.”

  Combining the two took far less practice than breathing had on its own. Soon he was asking what was next.

  “Aim.”

  “Right. Make sure you’re focusing on the right things, like the front sight. If you are using iron sights, make sure that the front post is centered in the rear sights.”

  She adjusted her stance and aimed.

  “Breathe and relax.”

  She did.

  “Check your cross hairs.”

  “Still dead on, sir.”

  “Good. Get out of position and then get back in.”

  She did this several times until she wasn’t thinking as much as she was doing it innately.

  “Next?”

  “Slack, sir.”

  “This is an important step. Watching you, I’d say this is an area you don’t need as much practice. Your touch on the trigger is damn near perfect. But tell me why this is important anyway.”

  “By taking up the slack early, I won’t slap, tap, or jerk when the time comes to break the shot.”

  “Fundamentally, that’s correct, and I can tell you, it isn’t taking up the slack that throws you off. You go off target earlier than that.”

  Darrow didn’t understand how that was possible. When she took up the slack, she was still aiming.

  “Put the four steps together, but don’t break the shot.”

  She went through the exercise in real time, but it felt more like slow motion.

  “Where’s your aim?”

  “Still dead on, sir.”

  “When you squeeze, think it through. You’re relaxed, holding your breath, have a good sight picture, the slack is taken up, and you’re ready to break the shot.”

  She went through each step in her head and then squeezed the trigger slowly.

  “It surprised you.”