Code Name: Sentinel

by Sawyer Bennett

  “Have Joslyn make you an ice pack and get it on those ribs again, okay?”

  “Okay,” I murmur, feeling as if maybe I’m more than a job to him.

  “Good girl,” he replies, then his hand falls away and he walks to the elevator.

  I glance at Joslyn, whose gaze follows Cruce. She has a pensive look on her face, and I can tell his behavior around me perplexes her for some reason.

  “Cruce seems like a nice guy,” I say to get her attention as the elevator descends.

  “He is,” she replies brightly, but she doesn’t take my bait to talk about him further. Instead, she starts toward the kitchen and motions for me to follow. “I was going to make a lasagna for dinner. It’s a good go-to to feed a crowd.”

  “Crowd?” I ask.

  “Me, you, Kynan, Bebe, Cruce, and Saint. Not a huge crowd, but those men can eat.”

  “Where’s Dozer?” I ask. Based on his chicken marsala, he should be up here cooking for us.

  Joslyn walks over to the freezer, then pulls out a gelled ice pack. “He’s in Vegas helping them put a plan together to nab the arms dealers who mentioned your name.”

  “Should that still be done now since we have one of the guys who actually tried to kidnap me?” I ask as she wraps a tea towel around the ice pack and hands it to me.

  Joslyn shrugs. “It would seem that might be a waste now, but I bet that’s on their discussion agenda. I’m sure they’ll fill us in at supper. Now, have a seat. Would you like a glass of wine?”

  I manage to get on one of the high barstools at the oversized counter separating the kitchen and living area, then place the pack against my ribs, which don’t even ache that much. “Wine would be great.”

  While Joslyn pours us each a glass, I look around curiously. “So… what is this place?”

  “This is the communal living area. This floor has five apartments. Each one has its own living area and small kitchen, but Kynan wanted something where everyone could gather as a team to cook or hang out if we wanted to.”

  “That’s very progressive,” I murmur appreciatively. I imagine teamwork building is a must in this line of business.

  “That’s my man,” Joslyn replies with a soft smile. Wow! If I could paint a picture of what being in love meant, it would be the expression she’s wearing right now.

  For some odd reason, it makes me feel sad I’ve never worn that look before. I wonder if Cruce has.

  Which is even odder. I have no business wondering about him in that manner.

  Still, I can’t deny I like it when he puts his hand on my neck to make sure I have eyes only for him.

  Or that I feel very safe and secure when I’m in his presence.

  And damn… last night at the State dinner, I didn’t want the evening to end. I got lost in talking to him, dancing with him, and laughing together.

  Yes, I am just a job to him, but it doesn’t mean he’s not easy to like.

  I mean, way too easy to like.

  CHAPTER 8

  Cruce

  I head down to the first-floor basement. Kynan chose to keep its appearance abandoned and filthy as a deterrent in case anyone managed to get past the alarm system and fortified locks on the doors. He wanted any intruder to only see what this placed appeared to be… unoccupied and worthless. It wouldn’t keep someone at bay from exploring for long, but it would give the occupants time to react.

  Eventually, I imagine he’ll do something down here, but for now, I don’t give it much thought other than to head to the east end of the building. Joslyn told me Kynan was in the conference room on the second floor, but he’d texted me to come straight to Sub Three.

  Apparently, this warehouse was originally built with underground food and beverage storage, which used the natural chill of subterranean temperatures. There are three floors below the first floor, but they don’t run the entire length of the building and Sub One butts up against the garage level. Each floor is about fifty-feet-by-a-hundred feet and can be accessed by a separate freight elevator on the east side. Only Sub One has been renovated, and it’s where Research and Tech will operate once Kynan makes further hires. I expect Dozer and Bebe will have a lot of say in who comes to work in that division.

  I take the rumbling boxed mode of transportation down, wishing I’d worn a jacket as it’s fucking cold. I’d guess maybe high forties, but in the darkened space with concrete flooring it seems colder.

  Kynan and Saint are waiting for me.

  Grinning, Saint holds out a fist. “Excellent shot, bro.”

  I bump my fist against his. “Thanks.” Turning to Kynan, I ask, “You get anything from him yet?”

  “Not much,” he says, but he doesn’t sound the least bit disgruntled about it. “Took a bit of time to get him patched up. Poor Corinne had to put stitches in him, and she bitched about it the entire time.”

  “She’s a psychiatrist,” I point out. “The last time she treated an actual body was probably medical school.”

  “I’ll give her a fucking bonus,” Kynan mutters as he stalks across the barren space. “But he gave his name—Keith Spire—and Bebe did a short background check. He lives in Bethesda, he’s single, works at a garage, and has some minor convictions like petty larceny.”

  There’s a door on the opposite end of the room, and he opens it to give me a peek inside. In the center of the small area, the man I shot sits in a chair. His hands are tied behind his back, his legs to the chair. Someone dressed him in a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt. There’s a black blindfold tied around his eyes, and his head pops up at the sound of the door opening.

  “Who’s there?” he demands angrily. “I’m fucking cold and hungry. I’ve been shot. I demand to have my phone call. I want my lawyer.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Kynan snarls before slamming the door shut. We take a few steps away so there’s no chance our voices will carry to him. “So far, he’s denied knowing any deep details of why Barrett is a target. Swears he and his partner were hired anonymously, and they were only told to grab her and bring her to a location that would be given to them once they had her. They were paid five thousand dollars up front, and they would get another five thousand on delivery.”

  “Do you believe him?” I ask skeptically.

  Kynan shrugs. “We haven’t had a lot of time with him yet. Saint and I did the good cop/bad cop routine a bit, but he’s stuck to the same story that he doesn’t know anything.”

  “Give me ten minutes with the fucker and I’ll get the information,” I growl.

  Chuckling, Kynan claps me on the shoulder. “As much as I’d like to, you know we can’t rough him up. We’re walking a fine line here, seeing as how we’ve essentially kidnapped the kidnapper.”

  “With the president’s approval,” I point out, since Jonathan Alexander is the one who made all this possible.

  “That’s off the books,” Saint points out. “And even if it weren’t, we can’t put that on his doorstep.”

  “What can we do to get him to talk?” I ask. I’m hoping waterboarding is on the list.

  “Not much,” Kynan replies with a slight amount of bitterness. “Sleep and food deprivation. We’ll keep him uncomfortable… hence the cold room.”

  “What about sodium thiopental?” I suggest. It’s a drug that slows down the brain to make performance of high-functioning tasks difficult. Some call it a truth serum, but it doesn’t actually make people tell the truth. It just makes it extremely difficult to keep up a stream of believable lies.

  “Nope,” Kynan replies. “Not only do we not have access to that, but that would also be considered a physical assault by the authorities.”

  “Can he be offered a reduced sentence in exchange for information?” Saint asks, which is also a good question.

  Kynan shakes his head. “Not right now. This man’s a ghost to law enforcement. We don’t have access to that type of authority.”

  “So essentially, it’s a wait-and-see type of thing,” I mutter, scrubbing my h
and through my hair. I glance over my shoulder at the door, wanting just a few minutes alone with him.

  A thought strikes me, and I turn to Kynan and Saint. “Either of you bothered by the fact this guy is American?”

  “It crossed my mind as odd,” Kynan admits.

  “It is, given the original chatter was in Oman by two Middle Eastern arms dealers,” Saint adds. “Spire refuses to identify the driver, though.”

  “Driver was blond,” I tell them, “so most likely American, too.”

  “Doesn’t mean it wasn’t a foreign government or organization,” Kynan interjects as he starts leading us back to the elevator. “They could have hired Americans for this part to throw us off.”

  That’s plausible.

  But that’s all we have at this point—supposition.

  “Whoever hired these guys has to be nervous we have one of them,” Saint says as we reach the elevator. When he opens the metal gate, we step in. “It could mean they’ll back off.”

  “Or…” I suggest a different alternative. “If they really hired two guys to do the kidnapping but kept themselves anonymous, they’ve got nothing to worry about. They’ll come after Barrett again.”

  “You’re safe here,” Kynan assures me as we start to ascend upward.

  I consider his words for a moment, but they don’t sit right. “No offense to what you’ve got here, but I’m not sure we would be safe. Too many people already know the strings that were pulled to keep Spire in our custody. The police on scene, the Secret Service agents, and the ambulance transport. And while I know this facility is secure, we don’t know the lengths to which these people will go to get their hands on Barrett. Despite their first poor attempt at snatching her, we have to assume the worst. That because her knowledge is worth a lot of fucking money, they’d be willing to do whatever it takes to get her. They’ll step up their game.”

  “What are you saying?” Saint asks.

  The elevator comes to a lurching stop on the first-floor level, and we exit. I turn to face them. “I’m saying I’m not going to put the people here in jeopardy. Say they send in an advanced strike team… assault with RPGs or some other type of explosives to blast their way in. Too many people are at risk.”

  “That’s highly unlikely,” Kynan drawls.

  “Agreed,” I say, tilting my head in acknowledgment. “But are you willing to put Joslyn at risk?”

  His face clouds, then darkens before he grits out, “Point taken.”

  At that moment, his phone chimes a text and he pulls it out for a quick glance. His lips curve upward. “Speaking of the hottie, Joslyn says we need to head up for dinner.”

  “I’m starved,” Saint says, and I add a grunt of agreement. I drove straight here from D.C. without stopping except for gas.

  “Where’s Bebe?” I ask as we head over to the other elevator that will take us up to the inhabited space.

  “Went home a little bit ago,” Kynan replies. “It’s Aaron’s birthday.”

  “Shit,” I mutter, having forgot that little tidbit. I’d planned to buy him a few Xbox games, but it totally slipped my mind with everything going on with Barrett.

  “Joslyn covered you,” Kynan says with a grin.

  I let out a sigh of gratitude. “I could kiss her.”

  “I could kill you,” Kynan replies with an evil smile.

  I grin. “Noted.”

  In the communal area of the fourth floor, we find Joslyn pulling a bubbling lasagna out of the oven and Barrett mixing up a salad in a wooden bowl. She shoots me a worried look, and I jerk my chin to indicate I want to talk to her privately.

  She puts the salad tongs down, then wipes her hands on a towel. Kynan moves around the corner, giving her a nod of greeting before going to Joslyn and wrapping her in a hug while she irritably snaps she’s going to drop the lasagna. Saint just heads to the fridge, then snags a beer.

  I hold my hand out, Barrett takes it, and I lead her down the hallway past my apartment and the others to the intersection at the end. The laundry facilities are to the right, and a small staircase that leads up to the roof is to the left.

  The roof is my favorite place, and Joslyn made it a paradise. She’s covered most of the surface with potted plants and trees. The perimeter is bordered by a four-foot wall so no one can see up here from street level. There aren’t any taller buildings around to indicate we’ve got a miniature jungle up here. There are two sets of patio dining furniture as well as boxed vegetable gardens Joslyn started.

  I lead Barrett over to one of the tables, and she sits. I take the seat beside her, sitting reassuringly close.

  I start by filling her in on the things I know she’ll be most curious about. “The man who tried to kidnap you is American, but that’s about all we know. He swears he doesn’t know who hired him—that it was anonymous.”

  “Do you believe him?” she asks.

  “I don’t know, since I haven’t been able to talk to him. Kynan’s going to continue to work on him, though.”

  She mulls over it before nodding her understanding. “What now?”

  “Now, you and I have to leave,” I tell her. “Too many people know we’re here, and we don’t know who wants you. So we have to go off-the-grid.”

  “Off-the-grid?” she murmurs.

  “Somewhere no one will know where we are or how to find us,” I clarify.

  “My uncle?”

  I shake my head. “No one but Kynan and maybe a select few here at Jameson.”

  Barrett’s eyes cloud with frustration. “For how long? When exactly will I get my life back?”

  My hand goes to her knee and I give it a squeeze. It doesn’t seem too forward, and Barrett doesn’t react negatively to my touch. “I’m sorry. I know this is hard on you, but my job is to keep you alive. If we’re lucky, Kynan will learn something from this guy. We also still have the team in Vegas pursuing leads with the arms dealers who originally mentioned you.”

  “Or they can make another move on me,” she suggests softly, her gaze moving toward a pot of pretty yellow flowers. The tone of her voice tells me that scenario is one she does not want to happen.

  This is good, as she understands going on the run and hiding is our best bet to keep her safe.

  She continues to stare for a moment before focusing on me. I get an agreeable but tired smile from her. “Okay. Whatever you think is best.”

  I rise from the table, offering her my hand again. She takes it easily, and I tug to pull her up. Regretfully, I let go the minute she has her feet under her. Together, we return to the kitchen.

  Joslyn already has the table set. She, Kynan, and Saint are seated and waiting for us. Joslyn introduces Barrett and Saint while I grab a few bottled waters from the fridge. Joslyn serves up steaming plates of gooey lasagna. I forego a salad because… why would I want rabbit food when I can eat cheesy goodness?

  We engage in general small talk, and Saint goes into overdrive trying to charm Barrett. Makes me want to punch him so I concentrate on my food.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Joslyn says while we tuck into our meals. “About where you and Barrett can go.”

  I pop up, fork full of cheese and pasta paused in midair. “Where’s that?”

  “How about a private island in the Caribbean?” she suggests with a triumphant smile. “Accessible only by boat or helicopter, private and security conscious.”

  I cock an eyebrow at Kynan, because while I love Joslyn for putting her thinking cap on as well as getting a birthday present for Aaron from me, she’s not a security expert.

  Kynan nods. “It’s owned by Brad Murdock. Got the most up-to-date security, discreet staff on site, and the island is inaccessible on all sides except the north because of reefs.”

  Brad Murdock is a big time, A-list actor in Hollywood. I don’t know much about him but clearly, Joslyn has a good relationship with him since she thinks he’ll let us use the place.

  This has potential.

  I turn to Barrett, who meets my
gaze. “I need electricity to plug my laptop in. As long as it has that, I’m good.”

  Joslyn laughs. “It’s a luxury estate. It has electricity, servants, and Wi-Fi.”

  “No Wi-Fi,” I state, staring pointedly at Barrett. “You can’t communicate with anyone on the outside. Nothing that can track back to us.”

  Her face falls as she realizes how isolated we’re going to be. “But I need to be able to talk to my staff—”

  “Sorry, Barrett,” I murmur with a slow shake of my head. “We are going totally off-the-grid, okay?”

  “But we’ll be busting our ass on this end to find these people and shut them down,” Kynan replies with confidence.

  Barrett sets her fork down, not having touched a bite of her food. Giving a reluctant smile, she pushes up from her chair. “I understand. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m not feeling all that hungry. I’m going to lie down.”

  I start to stand, but she waves me off. “Joslyn showed me your apartment. I’m going to go hang out there… be by myself for a while.”

  “Are you okay?” I ask, finding the odd mixture of worry and empathy swirling within me a bit disconcerting. I don’t develop ties with my protection details. It muddles things.

  Another thin smile. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

  We all watch in silence as she moves down the hallway before disappearing into my apartment.

  “This has to be so hard on her,” Joslyn murmurs.

  “It will all be a distant memory soon enough,” Saint offers, choosing to look on the bright side. “For now, at least she’s safe.”

  Agreed. I force myself to start eating again, fighting against the need to check on her.

  Pull her into my arms and comfort her.

  Not part of the job description, yet I want to do it all the same.

  CHAPTER 9

  Cruce

  It’s late by the time I make it to my apartment. I need to get some sleep. After dinner, I’d checked on Barrett. I’d brought her a plate of lasagna and salad, but when I found her sleeping on the couch, I put it in the refrigerator for later. While I’m worried about the lack of food she’s had today, if she’s tired and needs to sleep, then that’s what she should do. I’ve always been taught to listen to the body’s needs.