Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Jesse, did you hear me? I said I’m sorry,” Thatcher repeated. The secure line from which he’d called was currently broadcasting his words through the speaker of Jesse’s phone. Jesse closed his eyes, those last four words triggering an unpleasant memory, taking him back to Bama during his senior year in high school.
“I said I’m sorry. Did you even hear me?” Jesse’s father had grumbled before picking up the wrench he’d thrown at him in the garage, out of sight for Rory or his mom to witness.
Afterward, his father had taken a knee in front of where Jesse sat, his back to the wall and his hand massaging his ribs in an effort to ease the damage his father had inflicted with more than just the wrench. “You have to stop getting into fights at school.” Like always, his dad’s tone had become more calm and even, almost like he cared. Like he’d really felt bad about hitting him. “You can’t keep playing the hero, fighting other people’s battles for them just because they’re too weak to do it themselves.”
“What am I supposed to do, Pops?” His ribs had been on fire from the pain, but he’d swallowed a groan. He never let his dad know how badly he’d hurt him, but it’d always taken a bit more effort to hide the pain from his mom and sister. “The guy had it coming. He was picking on someone three years younger, and I’m not gonna just watch it happen.”
“I said not to involve yourself, and that’s what I damn well mean. Don’t you give me lip, boy. Don’t talk back to me. ” He’d leaned in and spat out the words, his breath smelling strongly of alcohol. Single malt scotch. Always Glenlivet. “You get suspended one more time, and you’re going to the Army the second you turn eighteen. Now get the hell out of my garage and clean yourself up. I’m sending you to the Hawkins Ranch to do some real work since you’re not allowed to go to school for three damn days.”
“Jesse?” He opened his eyes at the sound of Ella’s soft voice guiding him back to the present, and he spotted her standing on the other side of the table where his cell phone lay faceup.
Those beautiful blue eyes were the calm to his storm. Always had been. She’d never had a clue about his father’s temper or abuse, but she was always the first person he’d sought out back then to help “revitalize” him, in a way. There’d always been something about her that put him at ease, long before his attraction to her had become sexual. Her fresh outlook on the world made all the ugly at home fade away.
And looking at Ella right now, not even five minutes after he’d admitted to her in the bathroom how he really felt . . . made the memory with his dad hurt less. The pain in his chest felt as though it was shrinking in size the longer she stared at him.
Ella reached over and set her palm over his hand on the table. Had something officially changed between them upstairs?
She’d witnessed him take lives that night, and he’d have throttled Henry if she hadn’t stopped him.
But the moment they’d shared in the bathroom felt significant, and that kiss had him wondering if they were finally working toward that “middle place.” And it gave him hope. But first, he had to deal with Thatcher, as well as the world of problems his old boss had created for him.
“Yeah, I heard your apology,” Jesse finally spoke, and based on the anger he heard in his own voice, he figured everyone in the room was most likely worried he was on the verge of a mental breakdown. The only two teammates missing were Jack and Oliver, who were outside walking the perimeter for another security check.
Jesse purposefully avoided scanning the room for everyone’s reactions to this shit-show between him and Thatcher. He needed to keep his attention on Ella if he was going to get through this call.
“And I don’t accept your apology,” Jesse slowly added when Thatcher opted for silence this time. “I don’t care what you’re about to say as to why you lied, used, and?—”
“Just hear me out,” Thatcher cut him off. “I’m in France right now. I can come to you if you’d like?”
Of course, he was in France. What’d Jesse expect? For him to sit on the sidelines? No, Thatcher may have had E-9 status, the highest Air Force enlisted rank when he left, but he’d never lost the scrappy, go-for-the-jugular, New Guy mentality. He was an overachiever when it came to cutting down the world’s bad guys, and at one time, Jesse had admired that about him.
“Let me guess, you know exactly where we are too.” Carter approached the table and set his palms down alongside Jesse’s. “Share the drone feed with us. We need to know if or when any threats might drop in.”
“You’re in the clear right now. You did have a tail, but you lost them. But our eyes in the sky lost them as well,” Thatcher revealed the shit news.
“It’s a wonder you can even find your balls these days,” Carter remarked. “Of course, you probably keep them in a steel box on top of some suit’s desk back at Headquarters, don’t you? Letting them call the shots.”
“How I’ve missed you, Dominick.” Thatcher’s sarcasm bled through the line.
Jesse looked at Carter from the corner of his eye, realizing there was an obvious beef he’d been unaware of between the two men. New boss versus old boss. Well, if tonight was proof of anything, it was that Jesse was firmly on Carter’s side. And he now understood why Carter hadn’t liked Thatcher from the get-go. He’d most likely worked with him before.
“Sending you the transmission now. You should have access to our drone feed within sixty seconds,” Thatcher said, after which Carter looked Sydney’s way, signaling her to handle it. “By the way, we heard that a little birdie whispered some intel into your ear,” Thatcher added. “I bet you’re asking yourself whether or not that was part of the plan too.”
Carter’s nostrils flared, and his hand snapped into a fist. Something about this MI6 officer clearly got under his skin and disrupted his usually calm and collected demeanor.
“You don’t sound all that apologetic to me,” Jesse said, trying to redirect the conversation before Thatcher could get in another dig at Carter. “You should have told me about The Chechen. I should have known what was at stake.” He pushed away from the table and stood tall. Ella gave him a compassionate look, and he was surprised to realize his body wasn’t as tightly strung as he expected. “You manipulated this entire situation.”
“I didn’t anticipate the fake marriage, I’ll have to give you that. A nice touch—trying to entice Zoran to make a move earlier than he may have planned.” Thatcher knew exactly what buttons to push. He was still playing mind games—the man couldn’t seem to help himself.
“Had I known Zoran hired The Chechen to do his dirty work, you know I’d never have let Ella come to Paris. I’d have never let her leave the country. Period.” Jesse had nearly forgotten Thatcher was also responsible for setting up Henry Rochella’s offer to Ella and her trip to Paris. Fuck, he wanted to rip his boss apart and take his time doing it too.
He looked at Ella, her eyes wide, a hand over her mouth. She’d just put the pieces together as to the role The Chechen played. She’d heard him mentioned while at Rochella’s, and after talking with Griffin in the car, she knew he was dangerous enough to require additional protection for her family in Alabama.
But the team had yet to tell her and Savanna all the reasons why the guys were worried, including what they’d learned since their detainment by the French. And Jesse hated that she was about to hear more bad news.
“The Chechen is a . . . hitman?” Ella asked.
His chest tightened at the thought of her comparing him to The Chechen. God, he hoped she’d never see him like that.
“He’s a hired assassin, yes,” Carter replied when the words remained trapped in Jesse’s mouth. “Responsible for killing various heads of state and dignitaries. But he’s open to any target if the price is right.”
“We’ve been hunting him for years, but Carter’s the only lucky bastard we know of who’s seen his face and walked away to tell about it,” Thatcher commented. “The Chechen knows Carter is personally involved in this op, which means he won’t send a team like he usually does.” Thatcher’s casual tone had Jesse lifting the phone, wishing he could fist the bastard’s shirt and look into his eyes. “We need to get him, no matter what.”
“No matter what?” Jesse did his best to dial down his anger before he chucked the phone across the room. “You’re coloring way outside the lines on this one. Bringing Ella into this is a bit much even for you.”
“I didn’t bring her into this.” Thatcher’s apologetic tone was long gone now. “She was destined to get caught up in the consequences of your failure to kill Zoran because your fucking feelings were hurt over Ella marrying someone else. You brought her into this. Don’t pin that on me.”
Jesse closed his eyes, unable to look at Ella after Thatcher’s comment. Everyone in the room already knew that bit of truth, but hearing Thatcher, of all people, say it aloud in Ella’s presence tested Jesse too much.
In Thatcher’s mind, he was simply playing a game of chess, moving the pieces around until he achieved checkmate on a grave threat. And he’d clearly do anything to win the game. But bottom line, it was Jesse who’d given him those particular chess pieces to work with because Thatcher was right. Had Jesse finished Zoran eighteen months ago, there’d be no case right now. No lead to The Chechen.
He let go of the phone and turned, spotting Griffin standing alongside Savanna. When Griffin’s eyes met his, Jesse knew his teammate understood exactly what he was feeling right now. He’d want to shred anyone who placed Savanna in harm’s way.
“What’s the plan, Thatch?” Carter’s use of his nickname solidified they’d once worked together.
Griffin nodded at Jesse, his way of letting him know he had Jesse’s back, whatever he needed. And he appreciated that. But what do I need? I need Ella safe, not mixed up in this.
“We wait for The Chechen to come for you, and then we drop in and help you take him down. Captured, not killed. We need him alive to confirm some of his kills and the location of a few bodies.” And that was Congress speaking through Thatcher right now. Carter was right—Thatcher’s balls were more than likely boxed and on a desk somewhere in D.C.
“You think we’ll just sit it out and wait?” Jesse slowly turned back toward the room where Ella was now seated on one of the sofas. “I won’t do this.”
“What’s the difference?” Thatcher shot back. “You were okay when it was Zoran going after you and Ella.”
“There’s a huge difference. Zoran’s MO is eye for an eye. He won’t slaughter an entire family to nail one target like The Chechen may do.” Carter’s quick comment had Jesse closing his eyes.
Slaughter. Not the word he wanted Ella focusing on. Her family. Fuck, her family. If anything happened to them because of this. “Only one person we know of has ever faced The Chechen one-on-one and survived,” Jesse added, opening his eyes and tearing his fingers through his hair, trying to grasp the situation and devise a new plan, one that didn’t include Ella. Or her family becoming collateral damage.
“Lucky for you, that person is on your team,” Thatcher arrogantly remarked, and Jesse stole a quick look at Ella, her face ghostly pale, eyes on the floor.
Damn it. This was too much.
“Your people shouldn’t have taken our software,” Sydney spoke up before Jesse could lash back at his old boss.
How had he ever thought of Thatcher as a father figure? Joke’s on me, isn’t it? He couldn’t care less about what happens to me.
“We were using Aleksa, hoping to track Zoran before he got to us.” Sydney handed her laptop to Carter, which showcased the live aerial view of the bed-and-breakfast from the Agency’s drone feed. “If we can find Zoran, maybe we can find The Chechen before he finds us.”
“Zoran’s not the HVT, but he needs to be taken down,” Thatcher commented. “He does know Jesse’s name, which means he knows Ella’s.”
“Who leaked my name? Was that part of your fucking plan too?” He needed to punch or shoot someone, damn it.
Ella was on her feet now, face still lacking a bit of its normal color, but she strode his way as if sensing he was an animal in the wild, feeling threatened, and he might bolt. Or bite.
Hell, she was right.
And when she stood by him, stroking his arm, she managed to calm him down when he should have been the one helping her.
She remained steady even when Thatcher said, “We had no choice. We needed Zoran to know your name so that the plan would work with The Chechen. Your name was leaked to someone at Bulgarian Intelligence we believed would share the intel with Zoran for the right price.”
If Thatcher was in front of him right now, so help the man . . .
“Why the wife?” Sydney asked, saving Thatcher from a tongue lashing from Jesse. “You know everything about everything, which means you know why Zoran’s wife was murdered in the first place.”
“Why does that matter?” Thatcher replied. Why the hell was he keeping that a secret?
“It matters because, in part, Ella and Jesse are in this situation because Zoran’s wife died,” Sydney answered, the confidence in her tone causing Gray to look her way.
“Well, we can’t bring her back to life, and that information won’t help you. I need you to focus on The Chechen. The DGSE are now taking point on Aleksa’s operation, and if you want us to continue to share that drone feed with you, I suggest you not push back on this.” Thatcher was quiet for a moment, and Jesse looked around the room, not sure what to do. Thatcher now had them by the balls.
“If you change your mind, and you’d like me to pay you a visit, you know how to reach me. And, Jesse, for what it’s worth, I really am sorry. But the necessary evils of the job?—”
Carter ended the call, cutting him off, and Jesse was grateful. He couldn’t tolerate any more bullshit from that man, just as he’d never accepted the meaningless apologies from his father over the years.
Some apologies were just too late.