Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
This was insane. They were all insane.
Forty-five minutes. That’s how long they’d been sitting there, listening.
Calm. Focused. None of them had batted an eye when Ellis had given them a rundown of her missions—gathering intel.
Tracking down “assets”. People or organizations that presented a clear and present danger to the country.
Or military forces deployed overseas. She hadn’t gone into exact details, but they knew enough.
That she’d gone into the field. Infiltrated gangs, sects, government offices.
Had lied, stolen, and killed her way, when necessary, through deserts, jungles.
Whatever it took to complete her missions—just like them.
And they were still sitting there. Still calm. Still focused.
“Sounds like you’ve been busy, honey.”
Rourke Kincaid—Bishop to his teammates, his friends.
He’d been standing in the doorway when Brett had led her back to the living room.
Which had blown Ellis away. She hadn’t realized Cannon had been in contact with the other man—a freaking former-Green Beret.
That Ice, Rigs, Midnight—they’d all been working for Bishop’s company, Timberline, or the Peak, as everyone referred to it, before deciding to move back to Seattle.
Sign on with Cannon. Pitch in whenever Bishop needed the extra manpower.
And Bishop hadn’t come alone. Kameron Monroe. One of the few people Ellis had considered a friend. Another burned bridge from her past. The other woman had darted across the room—nearly taken Ellis to the floor in an attempt to hug her. Eyes glassy. Chin quivering.
She’d muttered a quiet, “Hey, sister,” then joined the others. Even now, she sat at the table, expression fixed like everyone else.
God, what had McCormick told Kam? Something equally convincing because the other woman had been MI, too.
Was just as adept at uncovering hidden information.
And Ellis was confident that if Kam had believed for even a moment that Ellis had been in trouble—hadn’t switched posts or gone on some kind of spiritual vision quest—she would have hacked her way into a military prison trying to find Ellis.
Screw McCormick. The bastard was good. Ellis just hoped this wasn’t a sign that their determination to bring the bastard down was misplaced. That they were all just fooling themselves.
She leaned back in the chair, running a hand through her hair.
Colt had grabbed her some sweats. Given her the extra sweater he’d left in Jericho’s Jeep when he and Cannon had been chasing down a warrant.
Had spent a few nights casing out the guy’s apartment.
Colt had taken the one Cannon had offered her.
Colt had said something about his being smaller—fitting her better.
All she knew was that it smelled like him. Like hope.
Not that she had much of that. Not until they’d devised a plan—one that didn’t end with all of them dead or rotting away in Guantánamo Bay—because if McCormick found them before they’d worked everything out, there might not be any more second chances.
“Let’s just say it’s been a long five years.” She ignored Brett’s huff, waiting to see where the men would take the conversation from here.
Bishop nodded, glancing at Cannon, Brett, then her.
“I realize we need to talk about your abduction. What you think they want, but…” He snorted.
“I gotta say. If someone had bet me my balls that you’d go CIA, I would have taken that bet, because the idea is so far off the reservation, there aren’t any road signs. So… What the hell happened?”
And there it was. The million-dollar question.
The one everyone at the table had been wanting to ask since she’d fallen into Brett’s arms but had shoved aside until the timing made sense.
Not that Ellis thought it ever would. Nor was a topic she wanted to discuss, even though she knew it was a necessary evil—a show of good faith on her part.
She broke eye contact, staring at the table for nearly a minute before sighing—pushing to her feet then pacing away.
She couldn’t do this sitting down. Feeling trapped.
Not with the weight of their gazes focused on her.
Adding to the heavy load she already carried on her shoulders.
Maybe not the world, but, damn, it felt like it.
Ellis braced her ass against the wall, looking back over at the men. “I got ambitious. Crossed a line I couldn’t uncross. Found myself with very few options.”
Bishop snorted. “And I thought you were cryptic before you became a spook. How about you try, again? Only, speak English, this time.”
“I’m not sure what you want from me.”
“The truth.”
“That won’t change, anything.”
“Or, maybe, you’re afraid it will.”
Shit. Were they all that freaking insightful?
Because Bishop was right. It was bad enough she’d broken down—admitted to Brett she’d been waiting for him to rescue her.
Like the proverbial damsel in distress. If his team realized her untimely recruitment had been wrought from her wanting to keep Alpha squad safe—keep them safe—that she’d gone digging on their behalf…
Yeah, things would turn cold. Ugly.
Cannon sighed, nodding at Bishop, then standing. “Whether we’ll like what you have to say or not, we need to know.”
“You guys keep saying that, and I keep thinking that ignorance is bliss.” She blew out an exasperated breath. Better to just spit it out. Get it over with. Maybe, then, they’d let her leave. Finish the job she’d started five years, ago—keeping them all alive. “Remember Somalia?”
Cannon winced, looked around at his buddies, then hissed out his breath.
“That one was hard to forget. They sent both assault teams in, half of which ended up bringing home some lead. All compliments of the National Clandestine Service and their jacked-up SOG team.” He narrowed his eyes.
Studied her. “You did intel for us on that one. Was the last time we worked together, if memory serves?”
“Intel. Except for the part where I didn’t know the damn CIA would send in one of their special operations teams. That they’d intentionally put all of you at risk—have Alpha be a distraction—take all the heavy fire—so they could grab their damn asset.
You might as well have gone in blind for all my resources helped you. ”
“That wasn’t your fault, honey.”
“The hell it wasn’t, Cannon.” She straightened, punched one fist against her thigh.
“I had one job. Ensure yours and Priest’s teams knew what they were getting into.
Were ready for all the damn variables that inevitably work their way into an op.
Knowing I’d sent you in with your damn hands tied behind your backs… ”
She shook her head, toeing the floor. “I wanted answers. Called in more than a few favors I had owed to me. Discovered that there hadn’t been any sanctioned NCS operations on the board that night. Which raised the question… Whose orders were they following?”
Cannon closed his eyes, breathing in what looked like an effort to calm himself. Not that it helped. Red rose along his cheeks, every muscle in his body tensing. “Shit. You went digging, didn’t you?”
“I wasn’t going to let that happen, again. Couldn’t. You weren’t some token team to me. Surely, you knew that?”
“But we’re talking about the CIA. Damn it, Ellis! You had to know nothing good was going to come from peeking behind that curtain.”
“I wanted to take down whatever scam they were running. Burn it. I got a tip that the man I was looking for was one Roger McCormick. Former-Special Forces—Green Berets. He’d been a CIA SOG leader and was the current director of one of covert units inside SAD.
I was led to believe he was the answer to all my questions.
“So, yeah…I went deep. Began with his childhood and moved forward. High school. Military career. I unsealed his records, got into his financials—picked him apart piece-by-piece until I was able to hack his NCS clearance.”
She snorted. “Asshole used his security number from his Green Berets’ file as his passcode.
Amateur. Found myself neck deep in covert ops.
Men who were designated NCS but weren’t anywhere anyone could ever find them.
Turned out, McCormick had his very own black ops division within his black ops division. A damn needle in a stack of needles.”
Cannon scrubbed his hand down his face. “You hacked a director of the CIA’s clandestine unit? Were you freaking high? Had a death wish?”
“What I had was an obligation. To the men who put their lives in my hands. You think I didn’t hear what everyone said about MI soldiers?
The names they called us? Each branch had a different one.
Greenhorn. Boot. Cannon fodder. But I never let it get to me because I knew I was saving lives.
That every kernel of truth I uncovered would stop one of you from eating a bullet.
I might not have gone outside the wire—had an impressive kill number.
But I could live up to your example. I could make a difference. ”
Breathing shouldn’t be as hard as it was.
Standing there. Trying to make her lungs work, while facing all those stoic faces.
But she pushed on, halfway hoping she’d just pass out.
End the torture. “It was about a month after that raid. I’d encrypted all the information I’d gathered.
Was on my way to hand it over to CID. Hoping the Criminal Investigation Division would take it all the way to the top.
See justice served, or at least, garner enough exposure McCormick would be crippled. Outed to his own damn agency.”
“Something tells me you didn’t make it.”