8. Escape Velocity
8
ESCAPE VELOCITY
They did not need help. Well, okay. Yeah, they did. But not from some lame boutique personal protection company run by a stranger who happened to share fifty-percent of Ronan’s DNA.
They could call up the rest of the old squad. Zara, Deke, Kenji, and the rest of the team would be there in an instant. In the meantime, they’d hide out. Gather whatever intel they could get their hands on without risking detection.
Ronan leaned against the wall, watching Maya process what was happening. His body ached from the night’s exertions, but his mind was sharp, cataloging details, mapping scenarios.
She was even smaller without her tactical gear, but he wasn’t fooled. Those chocolate-colored eyes missed nothing, and her hand never strayed far from her weapon. Smart. Stunning. And ready to bolt at any second.
He shifted slightly, ensuring he had a clear path to the door. She wasn’t getting past him. Not when running meant certain death.
“Let’s walk through this again,” he said, keeping his voice neutral. “According to your supervisor, Tank supposedly accessed classified systems at 2300 hours Tuesday. Then nothing until almost twenty-four hours later when someone catches his little breaking and entering act on security footage and sends you and Benson after him. Only he’s already been dead since right after he broke in.”
“How’d the call come in?” he asked her.
His question obviously puzzled her.
“It couldn’t have been a neighbor hearing a gunshot,” he explained. “Tank was long dead before any of us arrived.”
She bowed her head. A small sign of defeat that hit him in the chest. “My supervisor got the call about your friend breaking into the computer system and told Tom and I to bring him in for questioning ASAP. He ordered up the local law to hang out in case we needed help persuading him to come in. You know the rest. The first officers on scene called in the death before we reached you.”
That made a horrible kind of sense. NCIS obviously hadn’t known Tank was already dead.
“We need documentation,” she insisted. “Surveillance footage from the base, access logs, witness statements?—”
“Which I guarantee have already been erased.” Ronan couldn’t keep the edge from his voice. “We need to move fast. Find who did this and?—”
“And what? Take the law into our own hands?” She straightened, all five-foot-nothing of righteous authority. “That’s not how justice works.”
“No? How’s it working so far?” He gestured at Tank’s phone. “They’re three steps ahead of us, fabricating evidence that’ll have every law enforcement agent in the state gunning for us, while you want to file paperwork.”
“Following procedure keeps innocent people from getting hurt. Keeps investigations from being compromised?—”
He pushed off the wall. “They killed your partner. Framed you for treason. There’s no procedure for this.”
“There’s always procedure.” But uncertainty flickered in her eyes. “We gather evidence. Build a case. Present it to?—”
“To whom?” He stepped closer. “The same people who just branded you a traitor? The ones who’ll shoot first and delete the bodycam footage later?”
“That’s not?—”
“That’s exactly how it works. Not the sanitized version they teach at FLETC. The real world, where good men die and bad men edit the security tapes.” He forced himself to soften his tone. “Look. I’m sure you’re good at your job. But this isn’t a normal investigation. These people operate outside the rules.”
“So your solution is to do the same?”
“My solution is to stay alive long enough to expose them.” He held her gaze. “Sometimes you have to break the rules to serve justice.”
She looked away first, but not before he caught the flash of recognition in her eyes. Part of her knew he was right. The question was whether the dedicated agent could override the lifetime of training that said otherwise.
“If Tank really did access those files, he had a good reason,” Axel added quietly. “Whatever he was onto, it was big enough to get him killed. Big enough to authorize the killing of two federal agents and”—he gestured between himself and Ronan—”whatever we’re called these days.”
Ronan watched her process that. “This goes deeper than any official investigation will reach. You know that.”
She didn’t answer, but her silence felt less hostile. Progress?
Maybe.
They needed her sharp mind, her insider knowledge. But first, they had to keep her alive long enough to use it.
“Sullivan was working as a clinic aid at the VA facility on base,” Maya said. “But you wouldn’t know that, would you? Since you walked away three years ago.”
The acid in Ronan’s stomach burned hotter. She wasn’t wrong. He’d cut all ties, burned every bridge. What else had he missed? What had Tank been into that was worth killing for?
“Sounds about right,” Axel said into the tension. “Tank always did have a big heart.”
Maya’s laugh held no humor. “Right. Because you two know him so well.” She swung her gaze to Ronan. “Tell me again how your good friend didn’t contact you for three years, then suddenly needed help?” She grabbed her jacket. “I’m done playing games. There are killers out there, and I’m not finding them hiding in some garage apartment with two former-SEALs who can’t even keep their stories straight.”
“Maya—” Axel started.
“No. I’m doing this my way.” She yanked the door open. “Stay out of my way, or I’ll arrest you both myself.”
The door slammed hard enough to rattle the windows.
Axel blinked at Ronan. “What now?”
Ronan pressed a fist to his churning stomach. Stress always triggered the acid reflux these days. Another souvenir of his last mission. “We follow her. Jump in when her stupid plan falls apart.”
“Ride to the rescue, you mean.” Axel’s voice was dry. “Sure. Whatever. I guarantee you Special Agent Chen isn’t gonna see it that way.”
“Don’t care how she sees it. Long as she’s alive to be mad about it.”
“A fair point,” Axel agreed, already moving toward the door. “Though for the record? I’m fairly sure she’s right about one thing—we’re missing something big about Tank.”
The acid burned harder. Because that was the real question, wasn’t it? How well had they really known Marcus Sullivan? And what secrets had he taken to his grave?