Irished (The Invincibles Book 7)

by Heather Slade

“I do, and that’s why you’re here, Irish. First, if I’m right—and I almost always am—you remain in danger. Second, if it does, it means our mission isn’t over.”

  Buck joined us an hour later, and we talked about how things would proceed once we arrived at his family’s ranch. Most of it had little to do with me other than it would be the place where I’d be living for the foreseeable future.

  “This is my plan,” said Decker. “I’ve got a crew headed to the ranch now. They should already be there by the time we land. I’ll get them started on setup of the new security system, and head to California to meet with Burns. Rock can take over until I return.”

  Burns Butler had been Decker’s mentor when he was barely out of high school. While the man was renowned in the intelligence world as a technological genius—like Decker was—he was also considered the best in the business when it came to making everything to do with an op, or even an entire mission, disappear in a way that made it seem like it had never happened. In other words, burning it.

  Decker turned to me. “Your job is to find out everything you can about Kerr and his tenure at Interpol.”

  “Roger that,” I said as Deck and Buck left the stateroom.

  “How’re you doin’, Irish?” asked Rock.

  “You know how you feel when you’re having a nightmare and you wake up, but then you go back to sleep and the nightmare starts up again? That’s how I’m doing.”

  “I hear ya. I’m sorry, Irish. We all thought it was over.”

  II

  19

  Irish

  Buck led Rock, Stella, and me into the ranch’s main house. “Hello?” he called out.

  “Hey, Buck,” I heard a female’s voice answer and saw a woman walk up to hug him.

  “Where is everybody?” he asked.

  “Out surveying.” The woman turned and looked directly at me. “Who are you?”

  “Paxon Warrick,” I said, stepping forward and extending my hand. When she took it, a feeling I couldn’t explain, other than to say I never wanted her to let go, washed over me.

  “Flynn Wheaton,” she said. Her cheeks flushed, and I gripped her hand tighter.

  “Great name,” I said.

  “Yours too.”

  When Buck tapped her on the shoulder, I dropped her hand. “Hey, sis, I’d like you to meet my friend Stella. Stella, this is Flynn.”

  I watched as they shook hands; I couldn’t take my eyes off Buck’s sister. Buck’s sister. I knew from the brief that he didn’t have more than one, which meant Flynn was twenty-one years old. What I’d give to take ten years off my age and be five years older than her rather than fifteen.

  “And this is Decker Ashford and Rock Johnson,” I heard Buck say.

  “It’s nice to meet you both.” Flynn was polite, shaking the hands of both men while looking over her shoulder at me more than once. How did I know? Because I hadn’t taken my eyes off her.

  “Stella and Irish…err…Paxon are going to be spending some time here, on the ranch.”

  When Buck walked in the direction of the hallway, I wished Stella would go with him so I could talk to Flynn alone.

  “We’ll go get settled,” Buck said to Stella before turning to me. “You too, Irish.”

  “I should head out now too, but I’m sure I’ll see you later,” said Flynn, taking a step closer to me.

  “I’d like that.” I followed her to the front door and watched her walk away.

  “Ready?” I heard Buck say. When I turned around, I saw he was carrying a travel bag.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “I’ll be staying in one of the cabins.”

  “Which one?”

  “I’m not sure it matters, but if you’re asking if I’m staying with you, the answer is no.”

  “Hey, Irish, you do know I’m writing a book about the Fisk mission,” Stella said as we walked out the front door. “I was hoping that since we’re both here for the foreseeable future, you could tell me more about it.”

  “You have other sources.” I didn’t care if I came off as rude.

  First of all, the book was the reason we were all here. Did she think I wasn’t aware of that fact? Second, the woman didn’t know the first thing about me, but she’d hated me on sight and had never attempted to hide it. Even now, knowing I didn’t do any of the things she thought I had, she hadn’t apologized for the way she’d treated me.

  We got into a Ford truck, old enough that it still had a bench seat, giving me no choice but to sit next to her. She inched closer to Buck, which didn’t bother me in the slightest.

  “You’re in that one down there,” Buck said after pulling up to three cabins in close proximity to one another. I grabbed my bag from the bed of the pickup and walked down to the cabin. Only when I got to the front door did it dawn on me that it might be locked. I reached out and the handle turned. I pulled my gun from its holster and eased my way inside, only to find Ink sitting on the sofa. When he saw my gun, he laughed.

  “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot.”

  “Right,” he said, shaking his head as if he either thought I was a lousy shot or he was bulletproof.

  I dropped my bag on the floor and was about to see if there was anything in the fridge when my cell rang. Ink got up and went outside without my needing to ask.

  “Cope, aren’t you supposed to be on your honeymoon?”

  “Hey, Irish. I heard Stella’s aunt was murdered. Deck thinks this might be somehow tied to Fisk.”

  “Apparently, the aunt warned her that if she didn’t drop writing the book, it would put both of their lives in danger.”

  “What I have to tell you makes me think Barb may have been right. The federal prosecutor offered Fisk a deal, which he refused to take.”

  “Fuck.” Both Cope and I believed Fisk would turn state’s evidence as soon as it was offered. The only reason he wouldn’t, would be if he knew someone had the means to silence him if he did.

  “Fisk is more afraid of what will happen if he makes a deal than he is of going to prison,” said Cope.

  “My thoughts exactly. What about some of the other people arrested?”

  “The prosecutor is only interested in what Fisk has to say. Hey, is Buck around?”

  “He’s next door.”

  “Do you want to brief him on this, or do you want me to?”

  “I’ll let you. We just got here, and I need to take care of a few things.”

  When the call ended, I walked back to the fridge, relieved to see it was stocked with food along with a few beers. I pulled one out, twisted the cap, and took a long swig. I sat down on the sofa and looked around.

  When Buck said we’d be staying in cabins, I hadn’t known what to expect, but it sure as hell wasn’t this.

  The room I was in looked straight out of a magazine or a movie set. The sofa I sat on was oversized and so damned comfortable, I thought about stretching out and taking a nap.

  I did succumb to putting my feet up, but I doubted I could sleep. My brain raced with the things Decker had told Buck, Rock, and me on the flight here.

  My phone vibrating jarred me out of my stupor. I picked it up and read the text from Decker.

  We’re meeting next door, it said.

  I could only guess that meant the cabin Stella was staying in.

  When I knocked, it appeared Buck wasn’t expecting me. Before I could explain, Decker walked up behind me. Buck’s pretty sister followed, pushing past both of us.

  “Hey, everybody,” she said.

  “What are you doing here, Flynn?” Buck asked.

  “Holt asked if anyone would mind if Ben Rice and a couple guys from his band came over tonight.”

  “It would be better if Holt went there instead.”

  “But—”

  “We’re in the middle of something, Flynn,” Buck said to her.

  I pulled out my laptop when Decker did, sat at the table, and covered my mouth to hide my grin when she turned on her heel and stomp
ed toward the door.

  “I’ll go with you, Flynn,” I heard Stella say.

  “You need to stay here,” Buck told her.

  “I’m just going back to the house, Buck,” said Flynn. I was half tempted to get up from my chair and tell her I’d go with her as well. There was something that drew me to her. Crazy as it sounded, even to me, it was as though her soul spoke to mine, and it was the kindest I’d ever known.

  “I said Stella needs to stay here.”

  “Buck, I—”

  Before Stella could finish whatever she was going to say, Buck took her hand and pulled her into the bedroom.

  “I’ll walk you out,” I said to Flynn, happy for the chance to be alone with her, even for a couple of minutes.

  “I guess whatever you’re doing is pretty important,” she said, kicking a rock off the cabin’s front porch.

  “It is.”

  She looked out at the horizon and then at me. “Um, if you need anything, let me know and I’ll take care of it.”

  “What kinds of anything?”

  Her cheeks turned pink, and she grinned.

  How long had it been since I flirted? Years, it seemed, other than with Emme—who I’d heard was now married to Lynx.

  Thinking about it reminded me I had no business flirting now. If Decker’s suspicions were correct, and I had no doubt they were, our mission was still underway.

  “I’ll let you get back to it,” Flynn said, turning to leave.

  “Wait. What kinds of things?”

  “You know, food, extra towels, other stuff for the cabin…”

  “If I do need those things, how do I get in touch with you?”

  Her cheeks were pink again, and she lowered her gaze. “I guess I should give you my number.”

  “Do you give your number to all the guests?”

  “You’re the first one.”

  “The first one you’ve given your number to?”

  “The first guest.”

  “Go ahead,” I said, typing it into my phone as she rattled off the numbers.

  “Okay, well, bye.”

  “I’ll see you later, Flynn.”

  She walked away, waving behind her, and I went inside.

  “Are they still in there?” I asked Decker.

  “Mm-hmm,” he grumbled.

  The door opened seconds later, and Buck came out.

  “Where’s Stella?” Decker asked.

  “She’ll be out in a minute.”

  “We’re gonna need her.”

  “If I go back in there—”

  Deck held up his hand. “That was the last thing I was suggesting. Believe me.”

  Stella came out and sat in the chair Buck pulled out for her.

  “I spoke with Burns,” Deck began. “He said he’s heard rumors about Operation Argead but never had a reason to look into it. Which means he didn’t burn it. He has theories about who did, though, and has promised to see what he can find out. For now, there’s no reason for me to go to California.”

  “Copy that,” both Buck and I said.

  “There’s more.”

  “What?” Buck asked.

  “Settle down, young Buck. I’m getting to it.”

  “You do know that you’re only a couple of years older than I am, right?”

  “In age maybe, but infinitely older in wisdom.”

  Instead of sitting here, listening to this bullshit, I wished I could get up, go outside, call Flynn, and give her a list of things I needed from her, none of which included food, towels, or anything else for the cabin.

  “Burns thinks it would be best if we kept this thing as far away from the Invincibles as possible. Mainly to keep the heat off Irish and Stella. Cope and Ali too.” Decker looked over at me.

  “What did he suggest?” I asked.

  “To pull K19 in.”

  Both Buck and I raised a brow. An Invincibles partner was suggesting bringing in a rival company?

  “Yeah, I don’t like it either, but hear me out.”

  “What’s the plan?” I asked.

  “This is the part I like. Cope will contact Doc and get him to contract out a couple of undercover gigs.”

  “Where?”

  “Inside Interpol, for one.”

  “Who are you thinking?”

  “Casper.”

  The choice surprised me. Calla “Casper” Rey did far more work with the Invincibles than with any other private firm. I knew because her husband, Beau, was one of the agents whose death had gone unexplained, forcing Casper to resign from the agency when she couldn’t get any answers about how he’d died. I knew Casper well and admired her.

  “Who else?” asked Buck.

  “I’ll leave that to Doc.”

  “Why did you say you liked the part of the plan where Cope contacts Doc?” Stella asked.

  “I’ll answer that,” said Buck. “Because Doc will think it means he’s got a shot at recruiting Cope to join up with them.”

  “Does he?” she asked.

  “Hell no,” muttered Decker.

  “Cope won’t sign with the Invincibles either.” When I spoke, all eyes turned to me.

  “We’ll see,” said Deck.

  “What’ll Casper’s assignment be?” Buck asked.

  “To get inside Interpol’s executive committee. If we can get her in place quickly enough, she can be set up in time for the end-of-quarter meetings.”

  Interpol served as a clearinghouse for international crime intel, rather than an actual law enforcement agency. The organization only had as much power as its executive committee, and of the three positions—president, vice president, and secretary-general—only the latter was a full-time, paid position.

  The other two offices were advisory in nature and held by individuals who still worked for their respective countries’ intelligence agencies. The committee only met officially at the end of each quarter. Everyone in intelligence believed they met far more often than that in an unofficial capacity.

  “Does Fisk have any connection to Interpol?” Buck asked.

  “Negative,” Deck answered.

  “What about Kerr?” asked Stella. “Does he have any connection to the current executive committee?”

  “Irish?” prompted Deck.

  As he instructed on the plane, I’d spent the rest of the flight learning as much as I could about the man Stella just asked about, along with his connections.

  “Both Daniel Byrne, the current president, and Boris Antonov, his vice, served as delegates under Kerr. I haven’t been able to find a connection to Kim Ha-joon, the secretary-general, yet. However, he’s tight with Byrne and Antonov.”

  “What about a connection between Kerr and Fisk?”

  I wasn’t prepared to answer questions from a reporter, so I didn’t. “Need-to-know.”

  Decker cleared his throat. “Irish, answer Stella’s question.”

  There were times Decker’s high-handedness pissed me the fuck off. “They worked together at CFR.”

  “CFR?” Buck asked.

  Stella pushed back her chair, stood, and walked over to the window. “The Council on Foreign Relations.”

  “Officially, it’s a foreign policy think tank. Unofficially, a place for its ‘members’ to meet without having to announce it as such,” I explained to Buck.

  “Which office?” Stella asked.

  “Fisk was in DC. Kerr was in New York.”

  “Barb too?” Buck asked.

  “New York office,” she responded.

  There it was. The line had been drawn between Stella’s aunt, Kerr, and Fisk. That hadn’t taken long.

  “What happened to him?” Buck asked.

  “Kerr? He stayed on at MI5, but not as director general, the position he’d held for years,” I told him.

  “What did he do instead?”

  “Consultant.”

  “Where did Kerr go after that?” Stella asked.

  “Retired.” Something occurred to me, and my eyes met hers.
/>   “What?” she asked.

  “He divorced his wife at the same time he left Interpol. He’s been married to Sally Hennessey for nine years.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ.” Stella stalked out of the cabin door.

  “Who’s that?” Buck asked, standing to follow her.

  “At the time, she was the executive editor at AP.”

  “Barb’s editor?” Deck asked.

  “Affirmative.”

  A few minutes later, Stella came back in. Buck wasn’t with her.

  “Hey, Deck, can I have a minute with Irish?” she asked.

  Jesus, first Decker, now her? It was one thing to take his shit. I had no intention of taking hers.

  “I was just getting ready to head out anyway.” He put his laptop in his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

  “Are you leaving the ranch?”

  “As soon as I make sure Rock has the install of the security system under control, I’m headed to Texas.”

  After Decker left, Stella sat down at the table. “Look, Paxon, I owe you an apology, and it’s long past due.”

  I nodded but didn’t say anything.

  “I know you’re a good man, and you deserve a lot better than has been doled out to you, including by me. But now, I’m part of the investigation. The same people you’re after either killed my aunt or arranged for someone else to do it. I’m going to take them down, Irish, if it’s the last thing I do.”

  “Copy that.”

  “Can we figure out a way to work together on this?”

  “I promised Decker I would.” I stood to leave.

  “Where are you going?”

  I wanted to tell her I didn’t answer to her. Instead, I told her I work better alone.

  “But—”

  “Whatever I find, I’ll share.”

  “Everything good?” Buck asked when I went outside.

  “I told Decker I’d work with Stella if that’s what you’re referring to.”

  “I consider that good.”

  “Whatever.” I returned to my cabin. Once there, I tried to figure out an excuse to contact Flynn, but I couldn’t come up with anything. Instead, I decided to continue looking into Nicholas Kerr.

  As I’d told Stella earlier, once he left Interpol, he went back to work for SIS, but only in an advisory position. There wasn’t a lot about what he’d been up to in the last ten years, which I found suspicious. How did someone go from being that big of a player, to a man of little influence in such a short amount of time? The answer was, he hadn’t. He’d just gotten quieter about it.