Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Twenty-four hours.
That’s how long it had been since her world had exploded, and her past had come pouring out.
Tierney scrubbed her hand down her face, blinking back the fatigue that weighed on her shoulders like a curse.
Rain still fell in sporadic bursts along the coast, more fog threading through the ancient spruce like ghostly fingers waiting to strike.
The lighthouse flashed in steady pulses, the echoed moan of the foghorn wearing on her last nerve.
Low lights illuminated the main office, a scattering of takeout boxes and paper coffee cups heaped on the table.
The HVAC hummed through the vents, blending in with the steady tap of Sloane typing on her keyboard as Buck’s team worked through the night in an effort to find something remotely tangible.
Tierney leaned back in her chair, staring at the phone sitting a few feet away.
There’d been nothing since the call last night.
Not a jingle. No vibration. Just the cell waiting on top of the table like a bomb even Buck couldn’t disarm.
She hated the silence even more than she hated hearing the bastard’s voice. A voice held weight. Had inflections and tones she could decipher.
The silence just settled over her, heavy and airless.
Buck slid into the seat beside her, shoving a cup of coffee her way. He didn’t speak, just placed his arm across the back of her chair, sipped the strong brew as if they were watching a sunset.
She loved that about him.
How he settled the air around her. Allowed her to breathe when it felt as if the walls were closing in. All it took was a touch, a smile, and the voices quieted.
At least the short break had given them both time to heal. Not in a long-term sense, but physically, neither of them looked as if they’d pass out at a moment’s notice. Even Dalton’s arm hadn’t bled through the butterfly strips in the past twelve hours.
Mentally, however…
She was strung tight, the unanswered questions rattling around inside her skull until she wanted to scream.
And despite her best efforts, she couldn’t stop replaying his voice.
Hearing the snick-clink of the lighter as it had flashed in the dark.
The suppressed crack of the bullet as it had dropped the man in the forest.
Buck squeezed her shoulder, tucking some hair behind her ear when she looked up at him. “Staring at the phone isn’t going to make it ring.”
“I know, but…” She sighed. “I hate waiting.”
He chuckled. “Most people do.”
“It’s because there aren’t any rules. He could call in a minute, an hour…
” She tossed up her hand. “Next week. Even when I was in that cell, there were rules. Cruel, but it’s what kept me sane.
Gave me hope that if I just figured out how to break them without breaking myself, I might have a chance.
This…” She blew out a harsh breath. “This feels like a leash neither of us agreed to wear.”
Buck leaned into her, his chest brushing her arm, his lips caressing her cheek. “I’m not going to let him take you, again. Not while I’m still breathing. That’s the only rule you need to focus on.”
Her heart stopped.
Nothing but a dead weight in her chest because he meant it.
That he’d die to keep her safe. Not that he hadn’t already proven it, but sitting there, his blue eyes fierce, his muscles primed for a fight, it hit her hard.
And she knew she’d never be able to look at him without seeing the fire burning inside him.
The sheer determination not to let her down.
She traced his jaw with her thumb, torn between wanting to keep everything on the down low and wanting to kiss him. Buck smiled, got her heart pumping, again, as he closed the scant distance, planted a soft kiss on her lips before leaning back, shoving the mug into her hands.
He nodded at it. “Drink. Or better yet, let me get you some real food. You’ve barely eaten anything.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Yeah, worrying. About everyone else but yourself.” He looked up as Nick walked over, hair spiked up, looking as if he hadn’t slept in a week. Though, Nick usually looked like that at the best of times.
The man kicked out a chair, all but fell into it. “Just once, I’d appreciate it if things were easy.”
Buck laughed. “Says the guy who spent a decade in the CIA. Brother, you’ve never done easy.” He placed his elbows on the table. “I assume you found something.”
“If by something you mean nothing, then, sure.” Nick rubbed his forehead as if he had the kind of headache only a dark room and four shots of tequila would fix.
“I ran the prints from our dead mercenaries through every damn database I could, including ones the CIA claim don’t exist. The men are ghosts.
I did get a couple hits on the tats that one guy was sporting.
No name, but he’s in a few photos with other foreign military types.
My guess is our mystery man had their identities scrubbed — created his own expendable hit team.
Which, when we take into account the British accent, suggests former SAS links.
I’m searching those now. I’m hoping Sloane has better luck. ”
Tierney folded her hands together on top of the table. “I can call my contact in Interpol—”
“Oh no. If you’re right, and someone associated with our JSOC mission sold out your recon team, we’re not involving anyone who knows you’re alive outside of this room.” Nick stood. “Sloane’s pretty damn impressive. Give her a bit more time. She’ll unearth something.”
“I heard that.” Sloane’s voice carried over to them.
“And that’s incredibly sweet, if not a bit optimistic, but luckily, accurate in this case.
First, I’ve cracked more of the body cam footage.
Unfortunately, it’s just more running through the forest. Though, you might find this interesting in a disturbing way. ”
She launched the fragmented video on the larger screen, adjusting the audio to cut out most of the heavy breathing. The forest emerged out of the ghostly glow of night vision, a silhouette thrashing through the underbrush twenty feet ahead.
The guy followed, flanking right, circling around until he’d intercepted the person’s path.
Branches cracked, leaves shaking when a man burst into a small clearing, face scratched, eyes wild in the white glow.
He stopped, held up his hands, then dropped a second later, the suppressed thut bouncing off the trees.
Sloane paused the image, glancing back at them. “Notice anything creepy? Other than that barcode on the shirt, and everything else?”
Dalton stepped up to the table. He’d been quiet all day when he hadn’t been patrolling the area, as if he felt he had to make up for the attack the previous night. “That’s not the same guy.”
“No, it’s not.” Sloane forwarded the frame, stopping on a timestamp. “But it’s definitely the same night, just a few hours earlier and a mile east, down a large ravine.” She looked pointedly at Buck and Tierney. “Probably why you two didn’t hear anything.”
Wade limped in from the outer office, still bracing half his weight on his cane. “I realize I’m probably a bit behind the eight ball on this, but that looked a lot like a hunt, to me.”
Sloane nodded. “Not nearly as far as you think, Wade. Now, this is where things turn really dark. The body cam you recovered wasn’t just live streaming to whoever’s running this show, it was broadcasting onto a dark-web server.
I was able to back trace the router data through a number of masked nodes to a ghost server transmitting the feed across a global platform.
Whoever built this system paid serious money for it.
From what I can tell, it’s invitation only and includes an exclusive, ultra-encrypted betting syndicate. ”
Wade’s eyes widened. “Betting syndicate? For tracking people in the forest?”
Sloane shrugged. “I told you it got dark.”
Buck coughed. “So, it’s something like The Running Man.”
“Only with fewer rules, shorter time frames, and richer bastards.” Sloane tapped more keys. “I can’t hack into the master server unless it’s exchanging data, and that only happens—”
“When there’s a game.” Buck shook his head. “Which means, whoever was watching, also saw us survive.”
Wade tapped the desk. “That’s likely how they tracked you down so quickly, too. It would have been easy to catch Foster’s tail numbers on the video. Wouldn’t take much to connect Raven’s Watch to us, or Saylor’s marina.”
“Damn. Foster and his teammates could be on their shit list.”
Wade nodded, already heading for the outer office. “I’ll call Jordan. Get a unit out that way until Foster gets back with Avery and Greer. Though, with how Foster’s buddies operate, I almost pity anyone who tries to ambush them.”
Tierney watched Wade leave, a rush of guilt souring her gut. Involving Buck was bad enough. Involving everyone he cared about — people he considered family?
She’d never forgive herself if anything happened to them.
Buck nudged her shoulder. “Stop worrying. Wade’s right.
Zain has the property wired twice as much as he did the marina.
Anyone so much as breathes on the border, he’ll know.
Besides, the way that guy talked last night…
He’s not looking for that kind of rematch.
He wants you on his turf, which is what we need to focus on. ”
“Isn’t that going to be hard with a federal SWAT team running around.”
“They were running around. Not so much anymore.”
Tierney turned as Avery and Greer walked through the doorway, clothes splattered with mud, carrying the scent of sea salt and wet moss. They each accepted the cup of coffee Wade handed them, leaning against the desk, looking as if a strong wind might blow them over.
Nick crossed his arms over his chest. “Jesus, Greer. You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”
Greer waved him off. “I’m pregnant, not sick. And all I did was stand in the mud watching Avery go all warrior ninja.” She snorted, a hint of red creeping into her cheeks. “I didn’t even have to draw my gun.”