Savage Reckoning (Diplomat #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

NICO

“Find her!”

The command tears from my throat, a ragged sound that betrays more emotion than I ever allow. My injured ribs protest, sending hot pain through my chest. I ignore it. Pain is information, nothing more.

I barely register my uncle Alessandro’s hand on my shoulder, the silent warning to control myself. I shrug it off, and the movement reopens the wound there, a fresh warmth trickling down my back.

“Sir, we’re deploying thermal imaging,” the estate’s head of security says from the doorway, rain-slicked and wary. “Three teams are covering all exit points. We’ll find her.”

“She’s alone,” I say, my voice returning to its measured calm, though it costs me an effort. “Barefoot. Disoriented. In this weather...” I glance toward the window where lightning illuminates the driving rain. “She won’t get far.”

The security chief nods, turning to leave, but I stop him with a single raised finger.

“I want her unharmed,” I add. “Completely unharmed. Anyone who lays a hand on her answers directly to me.”

The implied threat is clear. He nods again, understanding perfectly, and disappears back into the hallway.

Alessandro moves to the window beside me. “She knows about her mother,” he says, his tone neutral. “That changes everything.”

I don’t answer. Lea Song knows that her mother is a North Korean operative.

She knows that her entire career was engineered.

She knows, or believes, that I’ve manipulated her from the beginning.

She is a journalist with devastating information, the daughter of a spy I’m tracking, and a woman I have physically claimed.

An asset, a liability, and a possession, all at once.

“Nephew,” Alessandro presses, his voice edged with caution. “You need to consider that we may not be able to contain this.”

I turn to face him, letting a fraction of my cold fury show. “I always contain my situations,” I reply flatly.

Before he can respond, sounds are coming from the hallway, a purposeful stride I recognize. Blake. My new right hand after Marco. I straighten and turn toward the door.

Blake appears in the threshold, rainwater still dripping from his black tactical gear, shoulders squared, his face set in lines of grim duty. Six-foot-two of disciplined muscle and calculated precision.

“Sir,” he says with a respectful nod, eyes taking in my blood-stained shirt with a microsecond of concern before returning to my face. “I came as soon as I received your message.”

I study him briefly. Blake Reeves, formerly my third-in-command. For years, he’s been shadowing Marco, learning the systems, observing the protocols, understanding the nuances of my operation. Now, abruptly, he’s been promoted by a bullet.

“Marco was a good man, sir,” Blake adds quietly, reading my thoughts with unexpected accuracy. “Loyal. Big shoes to fill.”

He’s right, of course. But emotion is a luxury I cannot afford. “Are you ready?” I ask directly.

He meets my gaze without hesitation. “I’m ready to step in, sir. Your orders?”

I give him a curt nod, accepting his new role without further ceremony. There will be time for vengeance later. For Moretti to pay in full measure for taking Marco from me. But right now, there is only the need to retrieve Lea before she becomes collateral damage.

“We’ll join the search,” I tell Blake, moving to Alessandro’s desk to retrieve a secure phone and earpiece. I ignore my uncle’s concerned expression as I pull a Sig Sauer from another drawer, check it from habit, and slide it into my shoulder holster.

“I’m going out there,” I tell Alessandro. “If Moretti’s people make any moves, let me know immediately.”

He sighs heavily but doesn’t try to stop me.

Blake falls into step beside me as I stride down the hallway. His presence is jarringly wrong. Not Marco. Never Marco again. The thought is another distraction, so I push it away and keep moving, my pace steady despite the pain lancing through my side.

“Status report,” I demand as we reach the exit to the gardens, and beyond them, the forest where she fled.

“Teams Alpha and Bravo are sweeping the east perimeter,” Blake replies. “Charlie is moving along the southern boundary.”

I nod. Alessandro’s estate sprawls across thirty acres of dense woodland. Lea won’t know that. She’s running blind, emotional, and betrayed. In her state, strategy gives way to panic every time.

“She’ll head for cover,” I tell Blake as we step into the punishing rain. “Deep into the trees, away from roads.” Lightning splits the sky, illuminating the vast, blurry gardens. Beyond them, the tree line is a dark maw. “The light?”

Blake passes me a tactical flashlight. Another distinction. Marco would have anticipated it.

We move swiftly through the gardens, mud sucking at our shoes.

What will she do with what she knows? Run to the authorities?

Her editor? Or will her journalistic instincts drive her to dig deeper?

The latter possibility intrigues me, even as I recognize its danger.

She has proven herself exceptionally resourceful, her mind sharp, her body…

The memory of her legs wrapped around my waist as I took her against the wall, flood my senses.

Then again on the desk, papers scattered to the floor as I spread her thighs and devoured her until she begged.

The shower, her back pressed against the cold tile, hot water streaming between our bodies as I took her from behind, my hand tangled in her wet hair.

Most dangerous of all is the memory of her eyes when I was fevered and weak—not pity, but with a tenderness that was foreign to me as she rode me, her hands splayed across my chest.

I force the thoughts away as we reach the tree line.

“Team Alpha reports movement near the eastern ridge,” Blake informs me, one hand pressed to his earpiece. “Possible thermal signature, but the rain is interfering with the sensors.”

I adjust our course immediately, veering east. The ground slopes upward here, becoming rockier, more treacherous. Each step sends fresh pain radiating from my injured ribs, but I maintain my pace, refusing to show weakness.

The rain has lessened slightly, though water still drips steadily from the leaf canopy above.

“There,” Blake hisses, pointing.

My flashlight beam catches it: a scrap of white cotton snagged on a thorny bush, muddy and torn. My shirt. The one she was wearing. A curl of satisfaction, sharp and possessive, winds through me. She’s close. Slower now, leaving traces.

I straighten to press forward, but a wave of dizziness washes over me. The forest floor tilts, and I brace myself against the wet bark of an oak, my vision swimming with black spots. I grit my teeth and shove away from the trunk.

“Team Bravo is repositioning to cut off the eastern perimeter,” Blake says, his voice low. “Five minutes.”

I nod, calculating. The ground slopes sharply downward ahead, into a gully. A natural path to follow if one were desperate. But the muddy bank tells a different story: the clear signs of a fall. Disturbed earth, broken ferns, the deeper impression of an impact. She tumbled.

I make my way carefully down the incline.

At the bottom, the evidence is clearer. A distinct footprint showing she’s favoring her right leg.

A single droplet of blood on a leaf. The thought of her hurt, bleeding and alone, stirs something dangerously close to concern.

I push it aside. An injured target moves slower, makes more mistakes.

I follow her trail. She moved away from the stream, deeper into the woods, seeking denser cover. Smart, but futile. The direction takes her straight toward Team Charlie.

“Have Charlie hold their advance,” I instruct Blake quietly. “Maintain a perimeter. Do not approach.”

He nods, falling back slightly. The forest opens onto a small clearing. My flashlight beam sweeps the space. A subtle disturbance near the base of the largest tree. She stopped here. She’s very close. And she’s trapped.

Time to end this.

The Alpha team has caught up. “Spread out!” I order loudly, my voice carrying through the clearing. “Check every hollow, every thicket! She’s close. Find her!”

I join Blake near a fallen log. “Anything?” I ask, pitching my voice for our hidden audience.

Blake grunts. “Hard to say, sir. The ground’s too disturbed…” His voice trails off as his flashlight sweeps the base of the log. The beam catches it. More blood, bright against the dark earth, and beside it, a delicate footprint.

My eyes track the subtle signs of disturbance to a dense tangle of ferns and brambles. Found you, piccola.

Carefully, deliberately, I move closer. I can practically feel her terror now, her exhaustion, and the defiance still burning underneath.