Chapter 5 #2
Hope stirred inside as he latched on to the idea that he’d finally get vengeance for his brother.
Maybe he was grasping at straws, but if it were true, there was no way he could sit on the sidelines.
He tipped his head back as he waited for what felt like hours for them to return, even though it was a matter of minutes.
“Welcome back,” Asher said with a mock of sarcasm in his tone once Luke, Handlin, and Jess returned.
Jess took the empty seat next to Owen and Luke assumed his previous stance of leaning against the wall with crossed arms. A dark look of worry clouded Luke’s blue eyes.
“Let’s get started.” Handlin eyed Owen one last time before announcing, “I’m going to cut straight to the point. Two Navy SEALs have been taken.”
Handlin’s words had Owen’s spine straightening and the hairs on his arms pricking to attention.
Dropped curses from his teammates filled the room.
“Hank Shaw retired ten years ago, and Aaron Robins, who is still active duty, was on leave.”
The name Shaw didn’t spark recognition, but Robins—he’d been at Jason’s funeral. He’d given his condolences while holding his baby tucked in the crook of his arm with his wife alongside him.
Your brother was a good man. An honorable man. I’m sorry for your loss, Robins had said.
“Robins has a daughter,” Owen rushed out. “She’d be eleven now. Is she okay? Is his wife okay?”
A SEAL wouldn’t cave under pressure, but if their loved ones were on the line . . . Luke had never wanted any of them to have a family while active duty to prevent something like this from happening. Then he went and fell in love and blew that idea to pieces.
“Shaw’s wife is at a safe house, as well as Robins’s wife and daughter,” Handlin said, and thank God for something.
“What the hell happened, sir? I’m assuming these were targeted hits?” Asher’s palms flattened onto the table, a grim twist to his lips.
“Shaw was on a fishing trip in Montana, and Robins was on his way home from the VA outside Dam Neck. When Shaw didn’t check in with his wife, she got nervous, and troopers went to his rental cabin, and they found signs of a fight.
” Handlin cleared his throat. “Robins’s car was found abandoned off the side of the road, and there was blood in the driver’s seat. ”
“You thinking he was shot?” Owen asked, his stomach tucking in at the thought.
“Probably resisted,” Asher commented. “That’s what any one of us would’ve done.”
“Must have been outnumbered,” Liam said.
“Shaw and Robins were Tier One operatives,” Handlin said, catching everyone off guard.
The government had never officially admitted a “Team Six” even existed, despite the press and Hollywood hoopla about the covert group. But if two Tier One operatives were truly now in the hands of someone, especially a terrorist, Owen couldn’t begin to imagine the blowback that’d result in.
“There’s more I have to tell you.” He paused. “As of zero eight hundred hours yesterday, we learned Roger Canton’s also missing. Based on our calculations, we think all three men were taken simultaneously, we just didn’t know about it at the time. A well-coordinated hit.”
“And who’s Canton?” Asher asked.
“A former CIA officer,” Jess whispered, and her eyes fell to the table.
“You know him?” Asher’s gaze winged straight to her.
She softly nodded but kept her eyes lowered. “He was one of my teachers at the Farm. Sort of a mentor.”
The room grew silent, as if giving Jess a moment to process—to grieve what could be a possible loss if they didn’t find him before it was too late.
Owen’s hands became white-knuckled on the table before him, and he finally broke the quiet and asked, “And what does Canton have to do with Shaw and Robins? What’s the connection?” He paused. “Because I’m assuming there has to be a connection, right?”
Handlin’s gaze journeyed the room, eying the team.
“Canton worked an op with Shaw and Robins.” He held up his index finger.
“Only one time. One mission ten years ago.” He coughed into his fist a few times and cleared his throat.
“Only a handful of people alive today are even privy to that op, so it wasn’t until I heard of all three abductions did I put two and two together. ”
Ten years. The number was like a blow to the side of his skull, and Owen’s mind raced with thoughts about his brother again.
“As you know, NCIS handles cases with military personnel, but given the nature of this situation, the FBI is also getting involved. But, under orders by the president, we’re not able to share intel from the op ten years ago with any federal agent. It’s above their security clearance.”
“And the personnel connected to that op, where are they now? Are they being watched in case someone comes for them?” Luke asked, possibly recommending a bait-and-trap play.
“The names linked to the op in question have been alerted. Most of those men already have security detail given their line of work, but we’ve amped it up—without drawing too much attention.”
“They’re okay with using themselves as bait?” Knox asked, surprise in his tone.
“Washington can’t up and fall apart over this—over something that may or may not have to do with that op. The wheels of the nation need to keep running, and these are powerful men we’re talking about. They don’t want to go into hiding.”
Handlin referred to the brass being safe, but what about the men who’d worn the uniform? “And the other SEALs from that op? Are they being protected?”
Handlin’s eyes became pinned to Owen’s, and he said in a steady tone, “No other SEAL from that particular operation is alive.”
His words were like a right hook to the jaw leading to a KO—a knockout, and a flurry of ideas crossed through his mind.
Jason? Brad? Was this the connection? Was this the op that took them out?
But no, they weren’t DEVGRU. It wasn’t possible.
“President Rydell doesn’t want to create a crisis or draw international attention from the media about this.
We can’t let people think it’s okay to abduct three of our men.
Or have journalists digging into the connection between the three men, either .
. .” His voice trailed off as he began hacking into his closed hand again.
“We’ve got to get our men back.” Asher’s fist met the table, and Owen could feel the angry vibrations beneath his palms.
Jess grabbed a bottle of Evian from her work bag and brought it over to Handlin. “You okay, sir?”
Handlin nodded while gulping down some of the water.
“Sir, why were there only four operatives working with Canton? Since when do we send in a four-man team?” Owen’s mind whirled, his heart still pumping blood up and into his ears.
Handlin lowered the bottle to the table. “It was only meant to be a recon and surveillance op, and we needed to keep a low profile.” He filled his chest with air and released it like a balloon losing helium.
“Guessing the op didn’t go as planned.” Asher shook his head.
“I can’t tell you more right now, I’m afraid,” Handlin said.
“Why not?” Luke stepped closer to the table.
“I need to get the final go-ahead from the president. He still has concerns about sharing the operational file with anyone without knowing for sure if the abductions relate to that mission.”
Luke’s jaw tightened at the news. “We don’t have time to sit on this.”
Handlin patted the air with both hands as if to say calm down. “And we have every agent scouring the country for them, believe me.”
“Hard to do without setting off the media alarm bells,” Knox grumbled. He knew a thing or two about the media having grown up in the political spotlight of his father.
“They’re doing their best,” Handlin said.
Knox stood, his palms landing on the table. “Their best is not our best. We need to get started.”
“I’ll give you an answer by tomorrow. We’re waiting for one more piece of information to determine if you get the greenlight.” Handlin swung his gaze over to his shoulder and gave a quick nod to Luke. “Okay?”
“You wouldn’t have called us here if you didn’t already think you needed us,” Asher said, joining Knox on his feet. And hell, everyone was standing now. How could they sit given what they’d learned?
“Why are you against me working this case?” Owen couldn’t help but ask, and his question had Handlin looking over at him.
Handlin took another sip of water as if buying himself time, and then he said, “Your brother was on the operation with Shaw and Robins—the op that took his life.”
Owen braced the table, so he didn’t fall. “No.” He shook his head, his brows darting together.
“Jason was DEVGRU,” Luke said.
His words had Owen’s attention floating back to Luke as if time stood still for a beat.
Had Luke always known the truth? Or had Handlin just informed him in the hall before the meeting?
The way Luke’s gaze dropped to the floor had Owen’s heart rate kicking up even higher.
His stomach squeezed.
Luke had known . . . After all these years, how could he not tell him Jason had been DEVGRU?
“Don’t blame him,” Handlin said. “Luke was under direct orders not to tell you about who Jason worked for. And no, he wasn’t privy to the details about the op that took your brother’s life.”
Owen pulled at the skin of his throat, trying to maintain his composure, so he didn’t lose a shot at being part of the mission.
Handlin’s leathery skin tightened around his eyes. “I can’t tell you more right now. I’m sorry.”
“Then what can you tell me?” He cleared his throat. “Tell us, I mean.”
“I need you to understand this case can’t be about finding justice for your brother.” He paused and his nostrils flared.
Justice? Justice meant Jason’s killer was still alive . . .
“This cryptic bullshit we constantly deal with is starting to get on my damn nerves.” Asher eyed the Reflecting Pool, the light of the full moon casting a glow onto the water.
“Considering we do Command’s bidding, you’d think we could get a little more honesty out of them.” Owen looked over at the Washington Monument, American flags skirting the perimeter, and a harsh reminder of the loss of his brother resurfaced in his mind.
Of course, the memory never faded, but today, it was like his insides had been hacked by a machete.
He looked over at Asher, a question burning in his mind. Asher had been an elite operative for Charlie Team before taking Marcus’s place nearly three years ago. “Did you know Jason was DEVGRU?”
Asher met his stare, his brows pinching briefly. “Nah, I joined after him.” He pivoted to better face him. “Regardless of what Handlin said back there, we’ll get our people back and fix whatever the hell he needs us to. But we’ll also get revenge for Jason and Brad.”
A knot fisted in his stomach, unease moving swiftly through him like a wildfire.
“Brad didn’t have any family after his grandmother died,” he said after a minute.
“Well, he had a fiancée.” He let out a weary sigh.
“And I promised her justice.” He dropped his head forward, trying to remember his brief conversation with Brad’s fiancée at the funeral.
“I also told her I’d look after her, but I didn’t have the balls to do it myself.
” Hell, I could hardly look her in the eyes that day.
Asher gripped his shoulder. “Well, we’ll make shit right.” He gave a hard nod.
“It’s time I deliver on my promise.”
Regret circled around his mind as he thought about his past, and then a wave of heat suddenly torched his chest and worked its way up his throat and into his face.
He clutched his stomach as Brad’s fiancée’s face came to mind. “Fuuuck.”