“There’s more,” said her father.
“What?”
“There’s evidence suggesting that Irish may have had a hand in Saint’s and Benjamin’s disappearances.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“Two things,” said Decker. “First, find the evidence Dr. Benjamin left, and then lead Paxon to the remaining evidence we planted.”
“Wait. You don’t have Benjamin’s evidence already?”
“No. I have enough on Irish without it, but finding it would give us the names of the people he’s been working with.”
“You don’t think Irish knows where it is?” she asked.
“Even if he did, it’s unlikely he’d know what he was looking at,” said Deck.
“It’s in code,” she gasped, picking up the second to last bread crumb we’d left for her.
“Do you want to go to MIT tonight?” her father asked.
“That won’t be necessary,” I heard her answer. “I have what we’re looking for at my apartment.”
That was it. Everything Decker set up went off like clockwork. Three hours later, I heard Emme’s father announce that he’d found the coded evidence we’d planted.
By noon tomorrow, I would be in the custody of federal agents and charged with several counts of conspiracy to spy for China.
“You okay?” Cope asked when he answered my call.
“Scared shitless, if you wanna know the truth.” There wasn’t anyone I’d admit that to other than Cope. Not even Decker.
“You can trust me.”
“That’s what I’m counting on.”
12
Flynn
Crested Butte, Colorado
September of Previous Year
“Goddamn commie bastard.” When my father slammed his fist on the coffee table, I rushed out of the kitchen.
“What?” I asked, drying my hands on a dishtowel.
He pointed at the screen. “Look.”
“CIA Officer Arrested for Conspiracy to Spy for China,” the news headline read as a man was led away in handcuffs. “Look!” I shouted the same word he had and rushed over to the screen. “That’s Buck!”
I watched as my brother moved through the crowd of reporters, escorting the man to the waiting vehicle. Right before getting in, the man who’d been arrested turned and, for a split second, looked straight into the camera. I put my hand on my heart as though I could feel his pain as my eyes looked into his.
My brother’s image flashed across the screen a few moments later, and even though he hadn’t looked at the camera, something in his expression, too, seemed off.
13
Irish
Richmond, Virginia
January
“What happened with the extraction?” I asked Cope when the guard, really Ink undercover, brought me to the visitation room of the Federal Detention Center in Richmond, Virginia. Before answering, he slowly walked the perimeter of the room.
“What are you doing?”
He put a finger to his lips.
“They got ’em out,” he said before sitting down.
“But?”
“Edge took a bullet in his arm. Last I heard, he was in surgery.”
“Is Lynx with him?”
Cope nodded. I couldn’t explain why that made me feel better, apart from the fact I knew their parents had been killed in a car accident when they were both still kids. From what I’d read, all they had were each other.
“How’s Emme?”
Cope sat back in his chair and drummed the table with his fingers. “Upset. By the way, we can talk freely.”
“Is that what the walk was about?”
Cope patted his shoulder, which didn’t mean jack shit to me. “You know Decker.”
“Back to Emme. Is she upset about Edge or me?”
“Worried about Edge. Mad at you. Incredulous that she didn’t realize what was going on under her nose.”
“That’s because it wasn’t going on.”
“I know that, but I can hardly admit it to her.”
Surely, if I had really been a double agent, Dr. Emerson Charles would’ve been the first to realize it.
“What else?”
“My dad has been asking a lot of questions.”
Cope’s father was the senior Senator from the State of Louisiana and the sitting chair of the United States Senate Select Committee on Intelligence.
“He’s suggesting the agency try harder to make a deal.”
“Has he come to you for help making that happen?”
“He brought it up, but I shut him down.”
“McTiernan?”
“He asked me to brief him but otherwise hasn’t said much.”
“My guess is he’s trying to determine your involvement.”
“I agree.”
Cope looked more tired than I remembered ever seeing him.
“If you’re worried about me, Ink and Rage won’t let anybody touch me.”
His eyes met mine. “Was this the right decision, Irish?”
“As long as you and Decker are holding up your end of the bargain.”
Cope shook his head, and I saw a glimmer of a smile. “Hard to believe Deck hasn’t gotten the whole thing figured out already.”
I knew what he meant, but I didn’t smile. Given Decker didn’t have any leads that I was aware of, this thing was buried deep by people who knew what they were doing and, more importantly, knew how not to get caught.
“Do you think it’s China?” he asked.
I’d thought of little else since I arrived here, and no, I didn’t think it was. “Maybe involved, but not acting alone.”
“I came to the same conclusion, but I’m curious to know why you did.”
“Mainly because I can’t come up with any reason why a few of the agents killed had nothing to do with Chinese ops, never set foot in mainland China or Hong Kong.”
“Who do you think is behind it, then?”
Only one entity made sense to me, and there was no way in hell I’d utter the words out loud.
“What about Dr. Benjamin? Do you think he’s involved?” he asked.
I shrugged. “No idea, but I have an equal distrust of Saint.”
“I’ll be back in a couple of days,” Cope said when Ink rapped on the door. “Hammer will be in tomorrow.”
“Hammer,” I muttered under my breath.
“Decker trusts him.”
“And yet he hasn’t told him the truth.”
“He will when he thinks the time is right.”
“In the meantime, he treats me like shit on his shoe.”
“Good for your cover.”
He might be right, but it was my soul I was more worried about. I thought I was prepared to handle whatever people like the Invincibles’ attorney hurled at me. What I hadn’t anticipated was the level of vehemence.
While my brain knew I was undercover, playing a role, the impact of others’ hatred had a physical effect on my body. I found myself nauseous and in pain frequently. If I were out on bail, something that wasn’t a possibility, I would do everything I could to find solace in the arms of a woman, which was even less likely than bail. My body craved the touch of another. I’d take any comfort at all. My pride, though, prevented me from asking for it. Even a simple hug from a man I considered my brother.
“Paxon?”
I looked up at Cope, who had his hand on the doorknob. “Can you do this?”
“Just get it done so I can get the fuck out of here.”
It seemed to take forever for my case to go to trial, and that was with the agency fast-tracking it.
In that time, I’d grown increasingly agitated and angry to the point where there were times I figured Ink and Rage would gladly look the other way if someone did try to kill me.
This morning, Ink, along with two federal marshals, escorted me into a pretrial conference room where Cope was waiting.
“How are you holding up?” he asked.
I
nstead of answering, I scowled at him.
“Irish?”
“You better be fucking sure you can protect me, Cope.”
“You’ve trusted me this far; don’t blow it now by panicking.”
“I’m the one locked up in a cell like a goddamn sitting duck.”
“Just keep your mouth shut and let me handle it like I always do. If you don’t, every risk we’ve taken in the last seven years will be for nothing.”
I understood. I did—intellectually. The depression and anxiety, though, were eating me alive.
Cope drummed the fingers of one hand on the table. “My father ambushed me by inviting Fisk to dinner last night.”
The CIA director had been at the top of our list of people we both, along with Decker, believed played a role in the deaths of so many agents, especially when he started snooping around what I was up to prior to my arrest. “And?”
“Smug bastard. It was all I could do not to pull out my gun and shoot the sonuvabitch.”
I had no doubt I would’ve felt the same way. And, like Cope, knew that as much as I wanted to kill him, we wouldn’t get any answers if he was six feet in the ground.
When I hadn’t heard from Cope or Hammer, my acting attorney, in three days, I engaged Ink. Within twenty minutes, he returned with news.
“Hammer says a reporter was driving Cope’s car when it was T-boned. I don’t know the extent of her injuries, but Cope thinks whoever it was, was targeting him.”
“Jesus,” I muttered.
“It gets worse.”
My eyes opened wide.
“There was a bomb planted in the courtroom. Decker says they’re going to bump up security in here.”
I didn’t say this to Ink, but if we were getting close to nailing these bastards, then they’d stop at nothing to shut us down.
“Who’s he bringing in?”
“Easy and Kanga.”
“Copy that.”
I looked over at Rage, who was undercover as my cellmate. “You wanna transfer out of here, I’ll understand.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yep.”
“If that’s the case, let’s do it together, Irish. I’ll ask for a transfer out, and you can come clean to the director. You know, tell him you’ve been conducting a side mission for a few years and you’re ready to call it quits.”
“Fuck you, Rage.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. If you aren’t going anywhere, then neither am I.”
At three in the morning, an unfamiliar sound woke me. I sat up and saw two men, both guards, rushing toward the cell.
“Rage!” I yelled as I watched Easy, Ink, and Kanga race toward the men, guns firing.
Before I could get out of my bunk and duck for cover, gunfire rained down on the cell. At least four of the bullets hit me before everything went black.
14
Flynn
Crested Butte, Colorado
January
At three this morning, my dad was taken by ambulance from the Roaring Fork Ranch to Gunnison Valley Hospital. Porter was the one who’d found him on the floor in the kitchen. According to the paramedics who came to the house, he’d most likely had a stroke.
“You should stay here,” said Cord when I followed him out the front door and over to the truck where Porter and Holt were waiting.
“The hell I will.” I stormed past him and climbed into the front passenger seat.
“Flynn—”
“Whatever you’re about to say, Port, you can forget. He’s my father too.”
“He’s Buck’s father too,” Cord said from the back seat.
“I’ll call him.” There was a chance he was still on the East Coast, where it would be almost daylight.
“Hey, Flynn, I’m in the middle of something, and I’ll need to call you back,” Buck said, sounding like he’d been awake for some time.
“We’re on our way to the hospital. Dad was taken by ambulance.” There was silence on the other end of the phone. “Buck, are you there?”
“Shit, Flynn. I’m here. I’m sorry. Been up all night, and I didn’t even realize what time it was.”
“Buck, you need to come if you want to say goodbye.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
He either ended the call, or it dropped. Either way, it didn’t matter.
15
Irish
Richmond, Virginia
February
I tried so damn hard to open my eyes, but I couldn’t. The sound of machines beeping their rhythm was muffled in the background just like the voice of the man I’d recognize even half dead—like I knew I was.
“I’m going away for a while, Irish, and as soon as you’re able to, you’ll be going away too.” I could feel his hand wrap around mine. “I’m so damn sorry, Paxon. I promised I’d keep you safe, and I failed.” Even as subdued as he sounded, I could hear the emotion in his voice. “I just hope that when this is all over, you can find a way to forgive me.”
I tried again to get my damn eyes to open, but they wouldn’t budge. Instead, I squeezed his hand with all my might.
“Paxon?”
I squeezed again. It probably didn’t feel like much to him, but it took every ounce of strength I possessed. I didn’t want to drift out of consciousness again, but my mind couldn’t fight against it.
I opened my eyes and lifted my head.
“Good morning,” said Decker, who was sitting in a chair in the corner.
“Where the fuck am I?” I rested my head against the pillow and closed my eyes.
“As I’ve told you at least ten times now, you’re at the King-Alexander Ranch. It’s located outside Austin, Texas, and if someone were to attempt to get to you here, their body would be blown to bits. Oh, and like I’ve said every other time you opened your damned eyes, afterward we could watch the drone footage over and over again if you wanted to.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Wouldn’t you want to see someone who tried to kill you blown to bits? I sure as hell would.”
“Where’s Cope?”
I opened my eyes again and looked at Decker. “Undisclosed location, just like you.”
“You just told me where I am.”
Deck laughed. “You’re the only one who knows.”
“Other than you.”
“Right. I can be forgetful when I need to be.”
“How long have I been here?”
“About ten days.”
“About?”
Decker laughed again. “Hell, when I’m on the ranch, I don’t keep that good a track. One day isn’t much different than another. Wake up, do chores, eat, do more chores, eat again, go to bed, sleep, and do it all over again.”
“What about the rest of the guys? Ink, Rage, Kanga, and Easy?”
When Decker lowered his head, I knew the news was bad. “Rage got hit, but nothing life-threatening. Ink and Kanga stayed out of the line of fire.”
“And Easy?”
“He didn’t make it, Irish.”
I closed my eyes and turned my head away. Another agent lost. I felt responsible for them all, but none more than Easy. He died protecting me. The man left behind a family, too.
“Irish?”
“Give me a minute, Decker.”
“He did his job. He made sure you stayed alive. Although, for quite a while, we weren’t sure you would pull through.”
“How bad a shape am I in?”
“You’ve made good progress in your recovery.”
I tried to shift my body, but it hurt too damn bad. “You been nursing me yourself?”
“Nah, I’ve got a team here ’round the clock tending to you. I try to come and give ’em a break every so often so they can take a walk outside, stretch their legs.”
“I thought you said no one knows I’m here.”
“No one knows Paxon Warrick is here. Your medical team knows you as Charley Weaver.”
“You’re kidding.”
> “You must be older than I thought if you know who that is. So far, I haven’t seen the slightest indication anyone else does.”
I turned my head toward the window, trying to remember the show my grandmother used to watch reruns of.
“F Troop.”
“That’s what it was,” I said, turning back to him. “Would’ve driven me crazy all day. How’d you know I was trying to think of it?”
“Clairvoyant.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me.”
“Here’s your nurse now,” said Deck, getting up from the chair. “We’ll talk more later.” He patted the end of the hospital bed when he walked by.
“Hey, Deck?”
He stuck his head back in the room. “Yeah?”
“Thanks for all this.”
He was more jovial than I’d ever seen him, but his expression changed to one I was more familiar with. “We’re close, Irish, and all because of your bravery. I know this has been damned hard on you. There will come a day when everyone knows the hero you are. I promise you that.”
He turned around and walked away. A few seconds later, a woman dressed in scrubs came in. “You’re awake!”
“I am.”
“I’m surprised your brother didn’t tell me.”
“My brother?” I almost told her I didn’t have one.
“Well, he said you were half brothers, but he’d never thought of you that way. Anyway, would you like something to eat?”
“What’ve you got?”
“A cook on standby, ready to make anything that sounds good.”
Everything sounded good. I wondered how long it had been since I last ate.
“How about some eggs, bacon, and toast?”
Irished (The Invincibles Book 7) Page 6