Chapter Three
London
Eighteen months later
Mal ignored the pain in his leg as he looked at Damon
Knight. The pain was always there, a constant reminder of all the ways he’d
fucked up his life. But this interview was his whole future. He wasn’t about to
give in and massage it in front of his potential boss.
Damon Knight was a national hero who’d had books written
about his courage, but he liked his quiet life. It was there in how he
decorated his office. It was masculine and neat, but there were no medals hung.
The books about him weren’t on his bookshelf. He didn’t have his numerous
commendations hung on the walls. What he had was a series of photos. There was
a picture of him with his parents as a child, and then the pictures moved on to
his military and intelligence days, but in a fun way. There was a picture of
him on a camel with a massive blond man handing him a beer. There was a wedding
picture of him and his wife. Penelope Knight was smiling for the camera, but
Damon was looking at her like she was a present he’d waited for all his life.
And so many photos of his children.
He’d been in the Army and then MI6, and now he ran one of
Europe’s most respected security firms, but it was obvious he was a family man
to his core.
Mal would bet Damon Knight had never suffered the
humiliations he had.
“My son speaks highly of you,” Knight said.
“I respect your son very much,” Mal replied. Oliver was the
whole reason he was here. “He’s got excellent instincts. I’ve worked with him
many times. I would have continued to work with him happily.”
“That’s good to hear since I know many Special Forces who
wish they never had to work with us at all,” Damon said.
The security company known as McKay-Taggart and Knight or
MTK was a real company, but it hid an MI6 team inside. He knew some of his old
teammates hated to work with MI6, but he’d always found any mission with Oliver
ran well.
“Oliver was one of the good ones. I never had a chance to
work with your daughter, but I heard good things,” he replied. “I think you
would be surprised at how highly your team is thought of by my people.”
“Again, good to hear because the higher-ups aren’t convinced
it works yet. I like that they’re still your people even after the bosses
forced you out.” Knight summed up the situation neatly. “It was a helo accident?”
He nodded while he thought about how long it had been since
he’d rang any of his old teammates. A few of them had come by after the
accident, but they had their own lives to live.
Did he have any people at all? Or had he run them all off?
A vision of a blonde on her knees looking up at him with
teasing eyes whispered across his brain.
He forced himself back into the moment.
He was certain Knight had all the information on the
incident that left him in the hospital for months and that effectively ended
his career. “Yes. I was on a mission to South America with an MI6 team. I was
brought along because I understood the op and my Spanish is excellent. We were
trying to get to our meet spot. Top secret, of course. I was working with
another operative. Not Oliver.”
That was a stupid thing to say. It was obvious he wasn’t
working with Oliver because everyone else on that helo
that day was dead, their bodies abandoned in the jungle and families left
mourning and wondering why he’d been the only one to survive. Why it couldn’t
have been the pilot with two young children. Or the comms expert who was set to
retire and spend time with his wife. Or the operative who was engaged. Why had
the man with absolutely nothing to live for been the only one to walk away?
“You were working with one of Finley’s from what I read.”
Knight’s calm voice brought him out of his darker thoughts.
Damon Knight had been MI6 for a long time. This company of
his was excellent cover. His whole team was “employed” here. “Yes. We went down
in the Darién Gap, and there was no rescue given the delicate nature of our
work.”
He’d spent two weeks in the jungle trying to survive. It
wasn’t merely the animals and environment that tried to kill him. He had to
hide from cartels.
Knight stared at him for a moment. “I’ve read the reports.
You lost all your team members and barely survived yourself. You were alone
without food or water for weeks.”
“I had my pack. I managed to save it before the chopper
burned completely.” He hadn’t managed to save the other people in the helo. They’d been dead when they hit the ground. The only
reason Mal survived was he was thrown out into the jungle. His fall had been
softened by the thick foliage. “I had a few rations and a way to filter water.”
“You managed to make your way across some of the most rugged
terrain in the world with a broken leg. Impressive,” Knight said.
“I had help at the end.” He didn’t like to think about those
days. He could put it off in the daytime. He could fill his hours with work.
But the moment his eyes closed his world went one of two ways. He was either
right back in that hell of a jungle, his body aching and mind threatening to
break, or when the universe was kind, he was in the dungeon with her.
“Yes, I’ve wondered about that. You would have needed ID to
get across the border. My son happened to be in South America shortly after
your helo went down. I didn’t realize it at the time,
and Oliver can be close mouthed about certain things. Usually the things I want
to know.”
Oliver. He would owe Oliver for the rest of time. Normally
he would say nothing because this information wasn’t in the files. On paper he
made it out on his own and salvaged his ID. In truth, his pack caught on a rock
and his ID dropped into a gorge. In truth, Oliver Knight sent in mercenaries to
find him or he would be dead today. Oliver had been waiting with new ID and a
way out, but first he’d taken him to a doctor. “Yes. I owe your son a debt I’m
not sure I can repay, though I can understand if you’re upset he risked his
life and career to help me.”
“I’m proud of him for doing exactly that. Sometimes my son
plays his role too well. He’s gotten so good at it I think his siblings believe
he’s nothing more than a selfish playboy who also happens to be a spy. What he
did for you and how he runs his club are the things I hold on to.”
“He’s a good man, Mr. Knight.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Knight sat back, studying him.
“Oliver tells me you need a job.”
Put like that it sounded like he was begging. He hated
begging. “I heard you had open spots. I think I would be good at close cover.”
“You would be good at anything, and you have the clearance I
need to not have to tiptoe around you. I do have some reservations,” Knight
admitted.
“About my leg?” It still hurt even when it wasn’t there. He
could feel his foot, but he’d left that in a Colombian hospital. His leg had
fractured, but he’d managed to splint it well enough that he could move. It
hadn’t been the break that cost him. It had been the infection that had nearly
killed him. One or two more days, the doctors had told him, and he wouldn’t
have lived.
“Not at all. I’m not worried about you physically,” Knight
explained. “My reservations concern how you’ll fit on the team. Even with the
MI6 agents who work here.”
“You mean your children.” He wasn’t sure what was happening.
He got along well with Oliver. He was sure he’d never done anything to make a
man believe he couldn’t be trusted around a daughter.
“And Lucy Flanders. I believe you’ve worked with her as
well.”
Was this about the American? Oliver had told him she often
worked in Europe, so the London team gave her cover. “She’s an excellent agent,
even if she has interesting priorities.”
Knight’s lips curled up in a knowing grin. “What did she
do?”
Oh, he liked Lucy. Mal made a mental note. It was important
to get to know the boss and his likes and dislikes. “We were getting valuable
intel, and she stopped to rescue a cat.”
It had been one of the oddest missions of his life. And
she’d insisted on driving. He’d been forced to hold the cranky, smelly cat all
the way back to base.
Knight’s smile went vivid. Yes, he liked Lucy quite a bit.
“That sounds like her.” He sobered, his eyes back on Mal. “And how did you feel
about that?”
He shouldn’t be honest, but he didn’t know how to be
anything else. Sometimes he thought it would always be his downfall. “I thought
it was unprofessional. I thought it was reckless. I do believe Ms. Flanders is
an excellent operative. She’s a strategic thinker and normally practical when
it comes to a mission, but she has some large soft spots.”
Knight sat back and sighed. “I would agree with you, but I
also believe in tolerance when it comes to my operatives.”
He wanted this job. This job would keep him in London. This
job would give him access to Dominion. Oh, he would also be allowed to play at
The Garden, but he honestly preferred that rickety club to The Garden’s perfection.
He felt like he belonged at Dominion. He was as broken down as that club.
Or perhaps he should be honest and admit that what he wanted
to see at a club wasn’t at The Garden. She played at Dominion. At least he
hoped she did. It had been a year and a half since that night he couldn’t get
out of his head. Since she’d walked away.
“I worry that a former SAS soldier with your kind of perfect
record and reputation will find this company too loose for you. I don’t act
like a general with my employees. I don’t have hard and fast rules on how they
work beyond common sense. I worry you’re used to a much more formal setting.”
Knight sat up and pulled a sheet of paper from a stack on his desk. “I have
called a few other firms I feel might be a better fit for you.”
Mal didn’t look at it. He left it sitting there and forced
himself to stand though he felt like he’d been kicked to the floor. He never
stayed where he wasn’t wanted. It was one more rejection. He was bloody well
used to those. “Understood. Thank you for meeting me, Mr. Knight.”
He turned and started for the door, something rolling in his