2. First Command
First Command
Forest
My vacation ends halfway through breakfast.
One second I’m sitting beside a hotel pool listening to three mates argue about whether we’re spending the afternoon gambling or doing something involving helicopters. The next, my brother’s name flashes across my phone.
Jax doesn’t usually call at this hour to chat.
I leave the table before I answer.
“What happened?”
“Mercy’s sister has been taken.”
Everything else disappears.
“Hope?”
“Yeah.”
I’ve met Hope Chan twice. Bright, funny, scary smart. Mercy talks about her constantly, usually with equal parts pride and exasperation.
“Where is she?”
“On a private jet heading your way.”
I stop walking.
“You’re serious?”
“Beacon tracked her from Stanford to San Jose airport. G identified the aircraft. Destination is Vegas.”
“How long?”
“About an hour. Steve’s putting everything together now.”
“I’ll get my gear.”
“Forest.”
There’s something in Jax’s voice I know too well.
“Yeah?”
“She’s family.”
“I know.”
“And this isn’t a solo mission. Whatever you find, you wait for the team.”
“I know that too.”
A beat.
“We'll bring her home.”
“Yes, we will.”
The call ends.
Ten minutes later, I’m in my hotel room pulling clothes from a suitcase packed for four days of drinking, gambling and making questionable financial decisions with men I served with.
Fortunately, old habits mean there’s useful gear underneath the board shorts.
I power up my laptop and wait for it to boot. Seconds later, an incoming call flashes across the secure HAVEN channel.
I accept it, and Steve appears on-screen from San Francisco. Janice is beside him, with G and Felicity working behind them.
“Forest,” Steve says. “I’m giving you command on the ground.”
That stops me.
“Jax is coming?”
“He is. So is Dr. Matthias Cross. Blackstone’s Learjet is being prepared now, but you’re already there. Until they arrive, you’re our eyes and ears in Vegas.”
“Understood.” I hesitate. “One more thing. I’m here with three mates I served with. Ex-military, all capable, all people I trust. I’m not suggesting we drag them into HAVEN, but if we need extra eyes, vehicles or a distraction, they’re available.”
Steve studies me for a second. “Good. Keep them close. We’ll use them if it makes sense.”
Steve sends the aircraft information through. “G will feed you the landing location as soon as he confirms it. You observe only. Don’t approach Hope or whoever has her unless her life is immediately at risk.”
That part’s harder.
“Understood.”
“And when Jax arrives, you retain command.”
I look at him.
“You sure about that?”
“Yes.”
Jax has years on me, more field experience and a reputation I’ve been hearing about since I was old enough to understand what my big brother did for a living.
I joined the Canadian military partly because of him and spent plenty of years being introduced as Jax Reeves’s little brother too.
Usually, it doesn’t bother me.
Today, a woman’s life depends on whether I deserve Steve’s confidence.
“Does Jax know?”
A voice comes through the connection.
“I’m right here, little brother.”
I almost smile.
“Thought you might be.”
“This is your op,” Jax says. “I’ll support you.”
No challenge. No hesitation. Somehow that adds another few pounds to what Steve just put on my shoulders.
“Then get your ass on that plane.”
“That’s the plan.”
G cuts in. “Forest, I’ve got the jet. Henderson Executive Airport. ETA forty-eight minutes.”
I grab my jacket and hotel key card.
“Send me everything.”
The secure file begins downloading.
Hope’s photograph appears first.
Twenty-four years old. Mercy’s baby sister.
Someone took her from Stanford this morning and thinks Las Vegas is far enough away to make her disappear.
They’re about to find out I was already here.
Las Vegas, Nevada. 1005 hours.
By the time I reach the hotel lobby, another update from G has hit my phone with everything HAVEN has on Hope.
I don’t need the photograph. I remember her perfectly well.
Jax and Mercy’s wedding. Hope and I were paired in the wedding party, which meant standing together for photographs, walking the aisle together and ending up beside each other through half the reception.
She wore a bridesmaid dress that made concentrating on polite conversation considerably harder than it should’ve been.
There’d been something there. I knew it. She knew it.
A few looks that lasted too long, easy conversation, the kind of chemistry you don’t have to manufacture.
Then reality got involved.
She was at Stanford. I lived in Canada. Neither of us was looking for a long-distance relationship, and one wedding wasn’t enough reason to pretend geography didn’t exist.
So I went home.
Now her photograph is sitting in a HAVEN intelligence file marked Kidnapped.
That changes the entire equation.
I open the material G sent while crossing the lobby. Stanford graduate student. Twenty-four. Research schedule, apartment, vehicle, known movements from this morning. The parking structure footage follows, then the stolen SUV, the route south and the private jet carrying Hope toward me.
I stop on Hope’s photograph.
This isn’t Mercy’s little sister anymore. It isn’t a name attached to an operation Steve handed me because I happened to be in the right city.
It’s Hope.
The woman who laughed when I told her Canadian winters built character and informed me that sounded like something Canadians told themselves to justify living there.
My phone rings.
Jax.
“What have you got?”
“Henderson Executive. G says forty minutes.”
“We’re wheels up shortly. Matthias is with me.”
“Steve told me.”
“Anything you need before we get there?”
That’s Jax. No attempt to take over. No reminder that he’s done this longer than I have. Steve put me in command, and my brother accepted it.
“I need G tracking the aircraft and Felicity working out where they go after landing. If we can identify transport before they touch down, I can be waiting without getting close enough to spook them.”
“I’ll make sure it happens.”
“I also want a live feed back to HQ once I’m in position. If I can get eyes on Hope when she comes off that plane, Steve, Janice and G see exactly what I see.”
“G can set you up.”
“That way nobody’s relying on me describing faces, vehicles or movement while I’m trying to stay out of sight.”
“Smart.”
I reach the elevators.
“One more thing. Bring four ballistic vests. XXL.”
Jax doesn’t hesitate. “For you and the boys?”
“Exactly. If this turns into more than surveillance, I’m not sending any of them in unprotected.”
“And Jax?”
“Yeah?”
“I know Hope.”
A pause.
“I know.”
Naturally.
“We talked at your wedding.”
“You did much more looking than talking.”
Despite everything, I almost laugh. “Screw you.”
“There he is.”
The elevator opens.
His voice turns serious. “Bring her home, Forest.”
“I will.”
I end the call and look at Hope’s photograph again.
At the wedding, walking away from her made sense.
Today, I’m going straight toward her.
Las Vegas, Nevada. 1030 hours.
Jax calls again while I’m walking toward the hotel garage.
“One thing I forgot to give you in the rush. Matthias.”
“What about him?”
“Why he’s coming with me.”
I slow near the elevators.
“Go.”
“Meridian’s used memory suppression, conditioning and experimental drugs before. Matthias knows that program better than anyone we’ve got.”
That gets my attention.
“How bad are we talking?”
“Bad enough that Bliss Fontaine came out of one of their facilities with parts of her memory altered. Matthias helped dismantle that program and restore her memories.”
“If they dose Hope?”
“He’ll know what to look for. If they’ve started anything neurological or psychological, he’s the person we want helping her.”
“Fair.”
The elevator opens into the garage.
There’s a brief pause on the line.
“He’s got another reason for coming.”
I wait.
“His younger sister was taken ten years ago and trafficked through Meridian. They suspect she was subjected to the same kind of conditioning and memory manipulation they used on Bliss.”
I stop beside the rental SUV.
“Jesus.”
“Yeah. He’s been looking for her ever since.”
Most people in HAVEN carry something into the work with them. A person they couldn’t save. Someone they lost. A reason they decided sitting safely on the outside wasn’t enough anymore.
Matthias Cross spent more than ten years without knowing what happened to his sister. Now he’s getting on a plane to help rescue Mercy’s.
“Does Steve know?”
“Yeah.”
“And Matthias still wants in?”
Jax gives a humorless laugh. “Try stopping him.”
“Wasn’t planning to.”
I unlock the SUV and throw my bag onto the passenger seat.
“I’ll brief him properly when you land. Until then, tell him I want everything he thinks we should prepare for medically. Sedation, restraints, withdrawal, confusion, whatever Meridian might use.”
“I’ll pass it on.”
“And make sure he brings more than a basic trauma kit.”
“He’s already packing like he expects a field hospital.”
That sounds promising. I glance at the time.
Hope’s jet is getting closer.
“ETA?”
“About ninety minutes for us.”
“I’ll already have eyes on the airport.”
“Forest.”
“Yeah?”
“Matthias knows what this feels like.”
I know what Jax means. Waiting for someone you love to come home and having no idea where they are.
Ten years is a long time to live inside that question. Ten years of birthdays, Christmases and ordinary days passing without an answer. Mercy has been living it for barely three hours, and I can already imagine what it’s doing to her.
“Then maybe today he gets to help one family avoid doing the same.”
Jax goes quiet.
“I’ll see you in Vegas.”
The call ends.
I climb into the SUV and start the engine.
Hope’s rescue team is taking shape around me now. Jax brings experience. Matthias brings knowledge nobody else has. My mates are already on their way to Henderson in a second rental after the fastest briefing I’ve ever given.
They know my brother’s sister-in-law has been abducted, her plane is inbound and right now their only job is to watch. Three ex-military guys don’t need much more than that to understand the assignment.
And Steve has put me in charge of all of it.
I pull out of the garage toward Henderson.
By the time Hope’s plane touches down, I intend to know exactly who’s waiting for her.
Henderson Executive Airport, Las Vegas. 1115 hours.
By the time Hope’s jet appears on approach, the four of us are in position.
My mates are positioned in their rental near one of the exits while I’m parked where I have a clear view of the private terminal.
My phone is mounted against the dash, camera zoomed toward the apron. G has the encrypted live feed running back to San Francisco.
“You seeing this?” I ask quietly.
“Clear as, bro.”
“Keep recording.”
“Already am.”
The jet touches down and taxis toward the private terminal.
I force myself to watch everything instead of staring at the door.
Ground crew. Two vehicles waiting. Black Escalade, dark Mercedes van. Drivers stay behind the wheel. One man beside the Escalade, another near the terminal entrance.
“I’ve got both plates,” G says in my earpiece.
I read them aloud anyway.
The aircraft door opens. A man comes down first, then another appears in the doorway with Hope.
Every thought in my head stops. She can barely walk.
One man has an arm locked around her waist while another grips her upper arm and guides her down the stairs. Her foot misses one of the steps and her knee buckles.
He jerks her upright. My hand closes around the steering wheel.
“Forest,” Steve says through my earpiece.
“I’m here.”
Hope lifts her head.
Even at this distance, I can see something’s wrong. Her movements are slow and disconnected, like her body is receiving instructions several seconds late.
“The fuckers have drugged her.”
Nobody answers. They don’t need to.
One of my mates comes over the private channel. “Four visible. Drivers make six. We can take them.”
I know. That’s the problem.
Four former soldiers against six men who aren’t expecting trouble. Hope is twenty seconds from the Escalade. We could move now.
I could have her.
Or one of those men could put a gun against her head before we cross half the distance.
I don’t know who else is armed, who’s watching from inside the terminal, or whether another vehicle is waiting somewhere I can’t see. Charging in because the numbers look favorable would be gambling with Hope’s life.
Steve’s given me command because he trusts me to think beyond what I want to do.
Every instinct I have is screaming to get out of this vehicle, but I stay exactly where I am.
“Negative,” I say. “Nobody moves. We follow.”
Hope disappears into the Escalade.
The Mercedes pulls out first. The Escalade follows.
I wait five seconds, then ten. Long enough to avoid attaching ourselves to them. Short enough not to lose the convoy.
Then I start the engine.
“Vehicles moving,” I tell HAVEN. “We’re staying with them.”
My mates peel away from their position, keeping their distance and rotating coverage with me so neither vehicle stays behind the convoy too long.
My hands stay steady on the wheel despite the fury burning through me.
This is my first operation for HAVEN. I’m not going to let them down because I couldn’t control myself, and I’m not losing Hope because I moved too soon.
Now I find out where they’re taking her.