Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
P at pulled his motorcycle into Blackthorn Security’s underground garage and killed the engine. He should have headed straight upstairs, but instead, he sat there for a beat, gripping the handlebars, trying to shake her from his mind.
Jasmine McCarthy.
He’d met countless women in his lifetime—beautiful, smart, dangerous. But she was a combination of all three. Something about her refused to let him go.
Pat exhaled sharply, took off his helmet, and climbed off the bike. He had work to do.
Upstairs, the Blackthorn office buzzed with activity. Phones rang, operatives moved between desks, monitors flickered with live intel from operations across the world. The tempo was relentless—just the way he liked it.
And yet, all he wanted to do was get to his office, open his laptop, and watch her. Now that they had eyes inside the Falcon’s nest, he couldn’t drag himself away.
He strode into his office, ignoring the nods and greetings, and shut the door behind him. His desk was piled high with case files, mission reports, and urgent requests, but he barely glanced at them. Instead, he flipped open his laptop.
The live feed was running.
Al-Jabiri’s living room was empty and there was no sign of Jasmine. Crap. Probably for the best, now he could focus on the job.
He scanned the latest messages. A U.S. Ambassador in Belize needed protection. A Texas-based oil company required security for its overseas operations. A Virginia-based engineering CEO had lost contact with his head of operations in Colombia. Kidnapped, most likely.
He forwarded them to Blade. Blackthorn Security had expanded rapidly in the last few years, but their workload was pushing them to the limit. They needed to bring in more top-tier operators, especially for missions like this.
Some jobs required a small team. High-profile executive security, industrial sabotage prevention—a presence that served more as a deterrent.
Others were more high risk and required a degree of force. Like this situation in Colombia.
Pat picked up the phone, about to call the CIA Regional Director for Central America, Axel Poirier, when a movement on his screen caught his attention.
Jasmine entered the living room, carrying a salad and a fork, and settled onto the couch. Balancing the plate on her knees, she reached for the remote and switched on the television.
He studied her, feeling like a voyeur, even though this was just part of the job. Not strictly his job, mind you, but as the boss, he liked to keep an eye on things.
Even though the television was on, she didn’t seem to be watching it. Instead, her gaze was on the floor as she picked at her meal.
What was she thinking?
Had he managed to fool her? Or was she putting the pieces together.
Pat watched her as he dialed. A liaison officer at the CIA field office in Bogotá picked up. Pat confirmed he’d received the request and asked for an update.
The executive had been missing for two days. That meant he was already in transit, heading into the dense Colombian mountains. Pat wanted to send in a team before it became impossible to trace him. “Ask Axel to call me ASAP.”
The moment the call ended, Blade walked in. “You wanted to see me?”
Pat was grateful Blade was standing on the other side of his desk and couldn’t see his screen.
“Yeah. The Colombia job. We need a two-man team, fast. The CIA offered to cover infil and exfil with air support, but we need two of our best to go get the exec.”
Blade nodded. “Mad Max is available. We could send Thorn, but?—”
“No. Thorn stays with her kid.”
“What about Ghost?” Pat asked. “He knows that area like the back of his hand.”
“He’s in Mexico.”
Shit.
Blade ran a hand through his hair. “We could pull Viper or Phoenix. They’ve both worked Central America ops before.”
Pat frowned. “Can we spare them? It shouldn’t take more than a few days.”
“One of them, not both. We can redistribute surveillance coverage if needed. And if things go sideways, we pull in the Counterterrorism Division.”
Pat considered it. “Send Viper. Have Anna book him on a flight tonight. I’ll call the CTD and put them on standby.”
Blade nodded, before his eyes flicked to the laptop.
“Anything new?”
How the hell?—?
He snorted. Blade knew him way too well.
“Nope. Falcon and Buzzard aren’t home. It’s just the woman.”
Blade shot him a disapproving look. “That was risky, what you did today.”
Pat didn’t pretend not to understand. Blade was talking about him running interference with Jasmine. “It was the only way to stall her.”
“If she figures it out, she could warn him.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think she’s on his side.”
Blade arched an eyebrow. “Then why the hell is she living with him?”
“I don’t know.” His gaze flickered back to the screen. “But it doesn’t look like she wants to be there.”
Blade gestured to the laptop. “Thing is, she’s not trying to leave either.”
“I think we can turn her,” Pat said, after a beat.
Blade blinked. “Jesus, Pat. You’re serious?”
“If we pull her in, she could give us everything we need on Al-Jabiri.”
“That’s a hell of a gamble.”
“I know.”
There was another brief silence, then Pat said, “Did Anna get anything from the hospital where she works? Did they say anything about her behavior before she took leave?”
“I don’t know.” Blade poked his head around the doorway. “Anna, get in here.”
The logistics manager appeared a moment later. “Yeah?”
Blade repeated Pat’s question.
“Apparently, she was acting off before she left the hospital,” Anna said, filling them in. “The receptionist said she was distracted and forgetful, which isn’t like her.”
Pat rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “Sounds like she was stressed.”
“Did we check with the defense institute where her husband worked?” Blade asked.
“Yeah,” Anna confirmed. “His boss said he hadn’t shown up for days. They called his wife who didn’t know where he was. Get this, apparently he’d been dead for forty-eight hours before she found him.”
“Jesus,” Blade muttered.
“Where the hell was she while this was happening?” Pat asked.
Anna quirked an eyebrow. “She told investigators from the defense institute that she often stayed at work, on the pull-out couch.”
“They launch an internal investigation?” It made sense, after one of their engineers was found dead.
Anna nodded. “Apparently their marriage was in trouble.”
Pat’s pulse did an involuntary flip. “Can we get a copy of that report?”
“I’ll ask.”
The phone rang.
International call. Out of Colombia.
“Sorry, gotta take this.”
Both Anna and Blade left his office as he picked up. “We’re sending a team in tonight,” he told the CIA Regional Director. “They’ll arrive first thing tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll have a car waiting,” Axel replied. “Thanks, Pat. I owe you.”
Pat didn’t hesitate. “Any time.”
Axel had helped retrieve Izzy when she’d been taken off the coast of Mexico.
Izzy. His daughter.
He grimaced. She still didn’t know the truth. He’d almost told her at Christmas, but then Viper had proposed, and she’d been too damn happy for him to ruin the moment. So he’d kept quiet.
He ran a hand over his face. Astrid. Val. Both gone.
He had the worst luck with women.
But if he lost Izzy? Fuck, it didn’t bare thinking about.
Decision made. He’d tell her tonight.
His gaze moved back to the screen. Jasmine had set down her plate and pulled something from her pocket. A wallet. She slid out a photo—too small for Pat to make out—and stared at it. Her finger traced the image, and a tear slipped down her cheek. She wiped it away, kissed the photo, and whispered something. From her lip movement, he thought it was, “I love you.”
He stiffened. Who was in that photo?
Who did she miss? And why the hell was she still there when she could come and go as she pleased?
Pat stared at her for a long moment, then reached for the phone. “Anna, I want everything—everything—you can find on Jasmine McCarthy.”