Chapter 10 Tag
TAG
Con found me in my study before the meeting reconvened.
“I received intel about activity in the Northern Highlands,” he began, closing the door behind him.
I looked up from the briefings spread across my desk. “Dunravin?”
“Most likely. The reports indicate thermal signatures, and the location fits with what you and Nightingale found there. However, we’re keeping it vague during the briefing. ‘Northern Highlands near Inverness’—nothing more specific.”
I raised a brow. “You and Nightingale?”
“That’s right. We received the same intelligence.”
“And your intention is to protect Renegade.”
“Exactly. If he thinks his family estate is compromised, it becomes a distraction. We confirm it’s Dunravin first, then we read him in. Nightingale and I discussed it—this is the right approach.”
I nodded slowly. The logic was sound. “Agreed. Anything else?”
“We’ll cover it when the team reconvenes.”
I didn’t like the sound of that, but given there wasn’t much time between then and now, I acquiesced.
“As to your question. I want to talk to you about your relationship with Nightingale.”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Wrong. As your lifelong best friend, it’s as much my concern as you are.”
“Not now. I’m busy.”
“Drinking yourself into oblivion isn’t busy.” He crossed to the sideboard, pouring himself two fingers. “It’s pathetic.”
“Fuck off, Con.”
“No.” He settled into the chair across from my desk, still holding both his glass and the bottle of whiskey. “You told me you and Nightingale had a friends-with-benefits arrangement.”
My hand stilled on my own glass. “So?”
Rather than in front of me, he set the whiskey bottle on the table beside him. “It was a lie.”
I should’ve known he’d figure it out. Con had watched me lie to targets, to assets, to enemies across three continents. But never to him. Not until Nightingale.
“What’s really going on?”
I stared into my glass but remained silent.
“You’re both miserable. Why?”
The question hung between us. I could deflect. But Con wasn’t going to let this go.
“My parents,” I finally said.
Con leaned in his chair, waiting.
“I can’t become them. I won’t put her through what they went through. What they did to each other—” I stopped. “You remember.”
“Of course I do. I’ve known you since we were eight. I watched it all.”
“Then, you know why—”
“What I know is you’re terrified.” He leaned forward. “But you’re not them, Tag.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because they never tried. They gave up at the first sign of trouble and turned it into warfare.”
I knocked back the rest of my drink and stood to reach for the bottle, but Con’s hand got there first.
“Talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to say.”
“Bollocks.” He poured me another measure anyway. One finger, not three. “Because she’s Idris’ sister? Or because you’re in love with her?”
My throat closed, and I couldn’t respond.
Con’s face changed. The frustration bled away, replaced by something I liked even less—understanding. “So what happened at Dunravin?”
“Nothing that matters now.”
“Try again,” he said as he poured more whiskey into my glass.
I stared at the amber liquid, wondering how many more drinks it would take before I stopped seeing the hurt in her expression. That I’d caused.
“I slept with her.” The confession scraped out. “Multiple times. Then I told her it couldn’t continue once we left.”
“Jesus, Tag.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” Con stood, pacing to the window. “Because from where I’m standing, you’re making this worse for both of you.”
“I ended it before—”
“Before what? Before you could be happy?” He spun around. “Your parents’ marriage wasn’t everyone’s fate. Mine weren’t much better. But they never loved each other, Tag. Yours did—at first. Then they gave up and turned vicious.”
“They destroyed each other. I’m protecting her—”
“From what? From having someone who actually loves her?” His laugh was bitter. “You and Nightingale have fought alongside each other for three years. She’s proven herself in ways most operatives never will. She’s not some society girl who’ll run at first trouble.”
Like my mother had been.
“She deserves better than—”
“Than someone who loves her enough to be terrified of losing her? That’s everyone worth having, you idiot. The thought of losing Lex scares the hell out of me—” He stopped and regrouped. “But I’d rather have that fear than live without her.”
I had no response to that.
“You’re so terrified of becoming them, you’re creating a different destruction. One where you’re both miserable but you get to pretend it’s noble.”
“At least she can find happiness with someone else.”
“You’ll be okay with it if she finds solace with another man?”
“She’ll get over me.”
“Will she? Or will she spend the rest of her life settling for men who don’t make her feel what you do? Men who are safe because they don’t matter?”
I looked away. Out the window, toward the loch, where the afternoon light caught the water that was as peaceful as it was deceptive.
“You don’t want to turn into your parents? Then, do things differently. Don’t give up. Especially on her.”
“I can’t give her what she needs.”
“You mean you won’t. There’s a difference.”
The distinctive thrum of helicopter rotors cut through the air. We both turned toward the window.
“That’ll be Vanguard and Prima.” Con stood and walked to the door, then paused.
“Lex asked me once if I thought love was worth the risk. I said yes. Because the alternative—living without her—that’s not living at all.
” His hand hit the doorframe. “You’re not living either, mate.
You’re just surviving. And dragging Nightingale down with you. ”
After the door closed behind him, I sat alone with the bottle and the truth I couldn’t face.
Con was wrong. He had to be. Because if he wasn’t—if I was destroying us both for nothing—then every wall I’d built, every promise I’d made to myself, every reason I’d pushed her away meant nothing.
I stood at the window, watching as the chopper’s rotors slowed and two figures emerged.
“They’re here,” Renegade said from the doorway as I poured one last round in my glass. “Should I let everyone know it’s okay to come back in?”
“Sure.”
The study filled quickly—Con and Lex took their previous seats, as did Ash and Sullivan. Gus claimed the window seat while Renegade and Archon flanked the door like sentries. Nightingale entered last, choosing the seat farthest from me.
Our eyes met for half a second, showing heat and hurt in equal measure. Then she looked away.
Typhon appeared with Viper, followed by the newcomers.
Vanguard came in first. The man had sandy-brown hair and the build of someone who spent more time in gyms than cockpits. How old had Typhon said he was? Twenty-eight? Fuck. He was young, uncomplicated, everything I wasn’t.
“Now that we’re all here,” Typhon said, “I’ll let Vanguard and Prima introduce themselves properly before we continue.”
Morse stepped forward with an easy confidence. “Oliver Morse. Most people call me Ollie.” His eyes swept the room, cataloging and assessing.
When his gaze landed on Nightingale, his expression transformed.
“Leila!” The warmth in his voice made my jaw clench. “I didn’t realize you’d be here. This is brilliant.”
She stood, professional but not cold. Not the ice she’d given me outside. “Vanguard. Good to see you.”
Code name rather than first, like he’d used with her. Did that mean she was establishing a professional distance or trying to hide a more personal relationship between them?
He crossed to her without hesitation, and they embraced. Nothing inappropriate—just the ease of two people who’d worked together before.
“What’s it been, three months since we were last together?”
“More like six,” she said, smiling.
“Three days would’ve been too long,” he said, winking.
The whiskey in my stomach turned to acid.
“Nightingale’s one of the best I’ve worked with,” Morse said to the room, though his attention stayed on her. “Brilliant under fire. Keeps her head when everyone else is losing theirs.”
Con cleared his throat, and I realized my hand had tightened into a fist.
Okonkwo introduced herself but otherwise kept it brief, then stepped back, clearly content to observe.
But Morse stayed near Nightingale.
My Nightingale.
Except she wasn’t mine. Not anymore. I’d made sure of that.
“Right then,” I said, my voice sharper than intended. “Shall we get to work?”
“I was about to suggest that I brief Vanguard and Prima on current intelligence,” Nightingale said.
“Go ahead,” Typhon responded.
She moved to stand beside the tactical display, and naturally—of course—Vanguard followed, positioning himself close enough that their shoulders nearly touched as she pulled up files.
“I’ll give you the short version,” she began. “Project Labyrinth is a weapons network trafficking AIWS. Selective EMP technology with neural interface capabilities. The system can disable all electronics in a region while protecting specific signatures.”
Vanguard leaned in to study the display, his hand bracing on the table, mere inches from hers. “Christ. That’s worse than what we encountered in the Baltic.”
“Significantly worse.” She pulled up schematics. “The woman who ran Tower-Meridian—Fallon Wallace—was killed in December, but the network continues. We believe Evelyn McLaren survived the explosion at Orlov’s facility and is still active, working for someone with the code name Janus.”
“Any idea who that is?” Prima asked.
Nightingale’s jaw tightened. “Not yet.”
Her hand gestured at the maps of Scotland as she walked them through the tunnel networks. Vanguard’s attention never left her face, making the anger inside me build.
“Amazing work,” he said when she finished. “Same Leila I remember—ten steps ahead of everyone else.”
The familiarity in his tone made my teeth grind.
“Right.” Con stood. “If that about covers it, Nightingale and I have urgent information to share with everyone.”
She met his eyes, nodded once, then moved to stand beside him.