Chapter 8
“I didn’t take that footage. I never piloted any drones near the mine,” Bridget rushed out.
The vehemence of her answer didn’t surprise me. It was her trembling hands that grabbed my attention.
Before I could explain that no one was accusing her of participating in Mark Shillings’ blackmail scheme, Garrett beat me to it.
“I believe you. But someone took that footage. Who else on your team knew how to fly the drones?”
Bridget’s nose scrunched and some of the trembling subsided, but the tension in her shoulders was still visible.
“Everyone.”
At some point Zane had passed Garrett’s report to Easton who had spread the pages out in front of him.
“How’d you find all of this in less than eight hours?” Easton asked what I was thinking.
Garrett was good, but finding out Mark Shillings had been blackmailing the senior VP of Dusk Mining Company and finding the evidence of that, something I would think the feds would’ve loved to add to the lists of his offenses—though treason carries a stiff penalty—every charge helps make a case.
Which meant the feds missed the blackmail and Garrett had found it in the space of hours. That was next-level good.
“I’ve found that people in power who think they are untouchable are sloppy. That and Mark was just plain stupid.”
“Actually, he was extremely intelligent,” Bridget interjected.
“Right. Which made him stupid,” Garrett pushed.
“It took me less than an hour to find the account he used to email Kathy Cobbs. Want to know why?” Garrett paused for a moment but didn’t let Bridget answer.
“Because Mark Shillings is the kind of man who thinks he’s smarter than everyone else.
His intelligence makes him arrogant. He thought he could outplay the CIA and get a double dip.
And there was his mistake. If he’d planned on taking his micro-drone to market he never should’ve taken the CIA’s contract.
But he thought he could have the CIA pay for the research and development and sell the finished drone to foreign rebels.
Another oversight on his part that was shadowed by his intelligence—he thought he could handle a fucking warlord with no understanding of political climate or loyalties.
He thought because Amani was a rebel he was stupid.
If Mark had done the barest research on Amani Carver he would’ve known that the man was Harvard educated and went to boarding school in Europe and graduated head of his class.
But all Mark saw was an Egyptian, stereotyped the fuck out of him, underestimated him, and got fucked because he’s too stupid to realize that just because you have a high IQ doesn’t actually mean you’re smart. ”
Garrett was spot on with his assessment of Mark Shillings.
His biggest mistake was approaching the CIA to fund the development of a micro-drone that had the capability to carry a payload.
Of course to cover their ass the contract didn’t disclose what that payload was, however, it didn’t take someone of Mark’s or Amani’s intelligence to suss out why the CIA would be interested in a near-silent micro-drone that had the potential to fly low to the ground and drop chemical agents.
It would make a warlord especially interested if he could fly a drone over a village and drop sarin or another nerve agent and kill hundreds of people from ten miles away.
That was what the Sparrow was designed for.
Chemical warfare from a distance.
“I told you it wouldn’t be boring!” a child’s voice yelled from under the table.
“Shh,” a second voice shushed.
What the fuck?
“Linc!” Zane bellowed. “Come get your semen demons. They’re under the table again.”
“Uncle,” one of the boys whined.
“I told you to be quiet,” the other one hissed.
Easton had already pushed back from the table and was bent at the waist looking under the table at Asher and Robbie.
“Learn anything interesting?” Easton chuckled.
“Just that smart people are stupid. And three F-words,” one of the boys said.
“I’m gonna kick your dad’s A-word if you keep sneaking under my table,” Zane groused.
However Zane’s smile contradicted his statement. He looked almost proud the boys had evaded detection for so long.
“Boys!” Linc snapped when he appeared in the doorway.
Bridget jolted at Linc’s loud boom and leaned closer to me.
Two boys crawled out from under the table and simultaneously jumped to their feet.
“Did you teach them synchronized jumping or is that a twin thing?” Easton commented.
“It’s a they know they’re in trouble so they’re trying to be cute thing,” Linc shot back, then looked at his boys. “You’re supposed to stay in your mom’s office.”
“We got bored,” Asher proclaimed. “And the Kid Genius isn’t here and we promised we’d tell her everything she missed when she got back. Which means we can’t miss anything.”
Kid Genius was Kira Cain’s nickname and it was fitting.
The woman was a genius when it came to computers.
Her skills rivaled Garrett’s. Together they were unstoppable.
And she was younger than the rest of the team so she was a kid to us.
A kid who had run our intel for ten years, a baby sister we all loved and adored, a kid who had grown into a strong, resilient woman who we all trusted with our lives.
“Where’s your mother?” Linc asked.
“She went downstairs to the gun room,” Robbie answered.
That sounded like Jasmin Parker, Lincoln’s wife.
The woman was the only operator on the team.
I had never been out in the field with her.
However her reputation preceded her. Everyone in the business knew not to fuck with Jasmin and this was before she married Zane’s brother.
She was a badass in her own right and wouldn’t hesitate to literally gut a man if the necessity were to arise.
“Do you want children?” Zane asked Bridget.
“Um,” she stammered and sat up straight. “I did. But now that I’m dead I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Hey, that’s cool!” Asher exclaimed. “I’ve never met a dead person before. What’s it like?”
“Not fun,” Bridget answered woodenly.
“I wouldn’t know,” Easton commented. “Theo was the only dead one on our team and he seemed to have plenty of fun.”
Bridget slowly turned to look at me. Her eyes were wide and there was a shadow of hurt on her features.
“You were dead?”
Fucking hell. I was going to kill Easton.
“For ten years. Well, more like eleven.”
“You didn’t tell me,” she accused.
No, I hadn’t gotten around to telling her that I’d faked my death because that would lead to a conversation about my family, which would end with her putting two and two together about why my brother hated me.
Then like the rest of my friends, she would tell me it wasn’t my fault and Branson would one day forgive me.
And I wasn’t sure I deserved or wanted his forgiveness.
I’d purposefully and willfully lied.
I knew what my “death” would do to my family and yet I still went along with the plan.
Branson was entitled to hate me for the rest of his life.
“It’s complicated.”
That was a total cop-out. And unsurprisingly, Bridget called me out on it.
“Right. Complicated. Like going undercover for the CIA, collecting evidence that my boss was selling information and blueprints to a warlord, being taken into protective custody for months before testifying, then faking my death and assuming a new identity. All of that plus giving up all of my personal belongings and the job I loved. Complicated like that?”
Fucking shit. I stepped into a huge pile of dog shit .
“Yes, baby, complicated like that.”
“Don’t baby me, Theo.”
“New rule,” Zane grunted, saving me from having to reply.
“No more coming back to life. Die and stay dead. The paperwork to undead someone takes for-fucking-ever and it always causes problems. And while we’re at it, no losing your memory, I won’t help you find it.
Been there done that and that’s a pain in my ass, too. ”
“That’s four F-words,” Robbie proudly announced.
“Maybe can we try not to cuss in front of my boys?” Linc complained.
“I’m sorry, brother, are you talking to me? You do know your wife has a mouth on her and it spews more obscenities than the USS Nimitz hears in a year and she can manage that feat in half a day.”
“We’re working on that.”
“Momma’s up to twenty-five today,” Asher ratted his mother out.
“Terrific.”
“You said two C-words today,” Robbie helpfully put in.
“I want my twenty back.”
“Why? I didn’t tell Momma.”
The room was silent for a split second before it erupted into laughter. That was, everyone but Linc laughed. He was too busy staring at his son, waiting for him to return the hush money he’d paid him.
“On that note,” Garrett started. “I already sent my files and report to everyone. The safe house in Monroe is ready for you. Easton, you’re following them, right?”
“Yup,” Easton answered, then looked over at me. “Your bags are in your office.”
“Smith, I need you and Cash to take the meet with Johnson and his team,” Zane ordered.
My gaze skidded to Smith who had an uncanny ability to become invisible even when he was sitting out in the open, or in this case at the table.
His preferred method of business was silence.
He was watchful, and when strategy was being discussed he never said a word unless he found a flaw in the plan, but he never participated in the planning.
He was too busy finding fault and holes.
“Copy that, boss.”
“That’s it?” Bridget asked and I looked back at her.
“Is what it?”
“You’re going to give me back?”
“Give you back?”
“To the Marshals. You’re going to turn me—”
“Fuck no!”
“That’s five.”
I ignored Robbie and turned Bridget’s chair so she was facing me.
“You and I are going to a safe house in Virginia. Easton’s going to follow us as backup.
Smith and Cash are going to meet with the Marshals to tell them we haven’t seen you; our caseload is such we can’t assist them, and wish them good luck.
Then later when we’re settled we’re going to read over Garrett’s report, which will undoubtedly include images of every employee that works at the mine, and see if you recognize any of them.
While you’re looking at pictures Easton and I will be looking into Jeff Goetz and why he was killed. ”
Once I was done explaining the plan, Bridget looked relieved. The look only served to piss me off.
“Seriously?” I snapped.
“Seriously what?” she bit back with the same venom.
“You thought I was going to turn you over the Marshals? What the fuck?”
There was a beat of silence. Shockingly, Robbie didn’t fill it with his F-word commentary.
“No, I—”
“Yes, you did,” I cut her off.
“Fine. I was scared for a second, okay? This is a lot to take in. I still don’t completely understand what’s happening or why someone would attack me or how they even found me. Cut me some slack, Theo. It’s not every day I go on the lam from WITSEC.”
She was right, I should’ve cut her a break. But the ache in my chest at her distrust had caused hurt like a motherfucker.
“Oh, goodie, their first lovers’ spat,” Zane snarked. “Advice—she’s right, you’re wrong, admit it, move on, the end.”
There were days I found it hard to believe that one of the men from Red, Gold, or Blue Teams hadn’t cut out our boss’s tongue.
Or at least duct taped his mouth closed.
Though murdering him would’ve been a better option—the duct tape would only piss him off, then he’d murder you before he bothered to untape his mouth.
“I’m sorry. I trust you. That’s why I found you.”
And just like that, my anger ebbed and so did the hurt.
“You’re fucked, brother,” Smith mumbled.
He wasn’t wrong. I was fucked in the best kind of way.
“Let’s hit the road,” Easton suggested.
“Keys to the SUV are on your desk.”
“Great,” I sighed.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Does an Escalade not fit your standards, oh holy one?”
Zane’s sarcasm was ratcheting up. It was time to leave.
“It’s no M8 but it’ll do,” I returned and stood, holding out my hand for Bridget.
“I need to reconsider your compensation contract if you can afford a hundred-thousand-dollar luxury ride.”
“I took a pay cut coming to work for you,” I returned and pulled Bridget to her feet. “Being dead for a decade was a good retirement plan. Cash coming in monthly with nothing to spend it on.”
“A hundred thousand dollars?” Bridget whispered.
“A hundred and thirty thousand,” I corrected.
I smiled when her eyes rounded. “Ready?”
“I’m never getting in that car again.”
She sure as fuck was. But I wasn’t going to give Zane the pleasure of listening to another lovers’ spat when I explained that her ass was going to be in my car, and often.