Chapter Forty-Nine
Phoenix
My son’s eyes welled, and his stare held as his throat bobbed with a hard swallow, but he didn’t comment.
Seeing how overwhelmed he was, I turned the engine over and dialed it back.
“Food?” Throwing the SUV into gear, I aimed at something I hadn’t engaged in for well over a decade—small talk.
“I remember being fifteen. I was always hungry back then.” Still was, just not for food, and it wasn’t lost on me that last night at dinner, the conversation with a little intruse was the closest I’d come to casual conversation.
Except nothing had been casual about last night or today.
“How—” His voice broke, and he tried again. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-eight.” Glancing in the rearview mirror to make sure Judas was following, I pulled away from the curb and addressed what he’d said in his first video. “I’m not sure what your mother told you or how much she knew, so I’ll start with the basics. Your mother knew me as Bravo.”
He immediately grabbed on to the intel. “That was the name she gave me. She said it was your call sign.”
I took note of how there was no hesitation in his speech pattern. “It was. I used to be William “Bravo” Nilsen. Now my call sign is Phoenix, but I go by Nix Erikson.”
“My middle name is Nilsen!” With shattering innocence, he smiled.
Stopped at a light, I smiled back. “I know.”
He sobered. “My mom must have known that? About your last name?”
Glancing in the rearview mirror, I hedged. “Did your mother tell you what happened ten years ago?”
“Ah….” Frowning, shifting in his seat again, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Ten years ago?”
Son of a bitch. “Fifteen years ago?”
The frown instantly lifted. “Oh, um, yeah.” He nodded as he glanced out the window. “My mom told me all of that.” He looked back at me. “How they, ah, had to fake your death? Because you had an important mission and no one could know? That it would be dangerous. You know, for all of us?”
The Vice Admiral was fucking lucky he was dead. I didn’t correct my son’s version of the timeline. “That about sums it up.”
He inhaled like he was taking a hit of courage, but then his tone faltered and his voice quieted. “My mom sort of had a theory.”
I turned onto the street the restaurant was on. Still on our six, Judas followed. “If you want to tell me, I’ll give you the facts as I know them.”
He blurted it out. “Mom said you didn’t know about me. About us. Like, anything.”
“I didn’t. In short, my sister and I were raised by our father, a Vice Admiral in the Navy with close ties to DC.
Unbeknownst to me, the Vice Admiral prearranged my career.
He also did the same to my sister, but that’s her story to tell.
While I was on the Teams, mid-mission, my death was faked in a controlled explosion.
Then I was extracted by Army Rangers, read in on my new assignment by a CIA operative, and from that point forward, everyone I used to know presumed I was dead. ”
“Whoa.”
“Hard to believe?”
“Um, yeah. I mean, no. It, like, happened to you. So, I just….” He sucked in a breath. “You have a sister?”
“Yes, and you have an aunt. Also an uncle, since my sister’s married.” I didn’t explain Alpha yet. “That’s the extent of our family. No other living relatives.”
“Oh.” He glanced at his backpack in the footwell between his feet. “Does, um, your sister know? About you?” His voice dropped. “About me?”
“She learned I was alive a month ago, but I only saw her for the first time yesterday. As far as you, she doesn’t know yet.” I stopped at a light and looked at him. “But she will. I promise.”
He nodded, digested the comment, then asked, “Are you married?”
I instantly thought of a little trespasser. “No.”
His voice quieted again. “Mom never got married either.”
I tackled the issue head-on. “Your mother and I only knew each other for one night. I don’t presume that she harbored any feelings or attachments towards me.”
“Oh, um, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just saying…. I don’t know. Mom mostly worked or we hung out. Then the past few years….” He turned toward the window, and grief robbed his voice. “She got sick a few years before she died.”
“I’m incredibly sorry, Lincoln.”
He didn’t reply for a beat. Then he asked about the one thing I hadn’t mentioned in my brief family history. “You said your dad raised you?”
I pulled into the restaurant’s lot, parked, and glanced in the rearview mirror as Judas took a spot behind us. Then I looked at my son. “My mother passed away after my sister was born. Late-stage cancer. I was ten.”
My son looked like I’d gut punched him. Then he showed both his age and maturity. “Cancer really sucks.”
“Agreed.”
His gaze dropped to his backpack. “I’m sorry about your mom.”
“I’m sorry about yours.”
“Thanks.” He lifted his head, and I watched as a transformation took over. He squared his shoulders, his expression turned grave, and he held out his hand.
I took it.
He shook with a firm grip. Then, whatever heart I had left, he decimated with a single word. “Pact.”
“Pact,” I affirmed, instantly becoming a father.
“So do they really not let you sleep during BUD/S?” he blurted.
Half my mouth tipped up. “They don’t call it Hell Week for nothing.” I gripped his shoulder and briefly squeezed. “Come on. Let’s get you fed. Then how about a short flight in a private jet? How do you feel about Miami?”
His eyes went wide as hell. “You have a jet? And live in Miami?”
“Yes, and I was hoping we would live in Miami. I have a house there. I grew up in Miami, and your aunt, her name is Maila, lives there with her husband, Adam.” I asked the hard question. “Are you attached to Virginia Beach?”
His head was shaking no before he got the response out. “Ah, no. But I kinda feel bad about Gram?”
“We can visit her.” A day trip, max. “What about Texas, where you and your mom used to live?”
“We only had an apartment. And, um, the rent hasn’t been paid in four months, so….”
I’d found out in his background check where they’d lived, but I was asking about sentimentality.
Since he didn’t answer with that perspective, I selfishly didn’t pursue it.
“You up for giving Miami a try?” I didn’t attempt to manipulate his answer by telling him about the oceanfront house or how it already had a piano in a soundproof music room for him, but fuck, I wanted to.
He sat with my question for a beat, then asked, “Pact question?”
“Of course.”
“Do you have proof of, like, who you are?”
My pride for him hit a new level. “Smart man for asking, and I do.” I reached behind my seat and grabbed a folder and new cell phone from my go bag that I already had prepared.
Handing him both, I downloaded. “There’s a copy of the DNA test, my old and current IDs, and my military service records.
There’s also a new cell phone for you. It’s encrypted, and my number’s programmed, along with the main number for my firm, Paragon Operations.
You can use the cell to run a search for our website. ”
Until a month ago, Paragon Ops had always been off grid.
Now we had a website—the intel was limited and purposely vague but self-explanatory.
I was listed as President and Chief Operating Officer, Cypher was listed as Chief Security Officer, and the site had Paragon Ops’s main number.
Once our new headquarters was fully operational, I’d update the site with the address.
Lincoln carefully looked at the printed pages in the folder. Then he swiped around on the cell until he found a web browser and did a search.
When the website came up, he took a full minute to read the homepage before glancing up at me. “Do you really do all those things?”
“Yes.” And much more that I would never tell him about. “Are you good?” I wanted him comfortable with his decision, and I didn’t want to overload him with everything all at once, but I also wanted to get the hell out of VA Beach.
“Um, yeah. I mean, yes. Sir.” He handed the folder back. “And, ah, thank you for the… encrypted phone.” He shoved it into a side pocket on his backpack.
In case he was unfamiliar with the technology or term, I explained. “Encryption prevents the cell from being tracked or hacked. Come on. Let’s get some food, but wait to exit the vehicle until I come to you.” Pocketing the key fob, I grabbed the door handle.
Mid-reach for his backpack, his hand froze, and he immediately looked up to glance around the parking lot. “Um… sir?”
Noting his reaction, I aimed for reassurance but also full disclosure.
“We’re clear. This is only precautionary and part of what I do.
I’m not expecting those two Marshals to resurface here.
The latest geo track on their cells pinged them two hundred miles from our location.
” Not that I assumed anything digital was fail-safe, let alone factual, but I left that intel unsaid.
My son stared.
I made him a promise. “You’re safe.”
He blinked, inhaled, then blurted out what was on his mind. “I was more worried about you being safe.”
It was my turn to stare.
He asked the hard question. “Why are the Marshals after you?”
This time, I didn’t withhold the intel. “The past I mentioned? This is part of it. It’s also the reason I didn’t come for you two months ago.
Prior to your texts, I’d been off grid for a while.
I needed time to expose my location and identity, eliminate any issues, and secure us a safe landing.
Operationally speaking, as far as my covert intelligence background, that’s handled.
As far as criminal opportunists attempting to blackmail or coerce me, they’re an occasional but expected part of my operations and nothing I can’t handle.
The corrupt Marshals are one of those occasions. ”
“So, they wanted to blackmail you for money?”
I took note of his uninflected speech pattern. “Essentially, yes.”
“Are you going to report them?”
I was going to eliminate them. “I’ll handle the situation.” Ending the conversation topic, I reiterated my order. “Wait for me.” I got out of the SUV, tipped my chin at Judas, and rounded the front of the vehicle.
As I scanned the parking lot, I opened Lincoln’s door.
He stepped out of the SUV and shouldered his backpack.
Then all hell broke loose.