27. Nate
27
Nate
" T hanks, Sable, I owe you one."
The elderly office attendant gave me a smile as I grabbed a brochure and walked out, my earbud playing the recording of Ava's last phone call with Liam, my nerves firing as his voice came over the speaker.
"Look, I don't want to get in the middle of your personal relationships..."
Then don't.
Stay out of this.
I swung my leg over my motorcycle as their conversation continued, tossed my attached helmet over my head, and froze.
“Ava, I think he put a tracker in your car.”
Shit.
My stomach tumbled, then strengthened as she balked at his suggestion, defending what semblance of a relationship we had—one that was about to get a whole lot more complicated.
"He's there, isn't he?"
Her voice shook as she responded. But when I'd walked out of the bathroom, her demeanor was anything but.
She played me.
"Well done, my little recluse."
If only she knew what I was about to do for her.
I fired up the motorcycle and switched to the next audio recording, my eyes narrowing as he walked her through finding the tracker, my hands tight on the bars.
The call ended with a smile on my face as I drove to headquarters with an equally dubious mission.
For the first time since I started my career, I lacked confidence in the mission.
We were supposed to be the good guys, not working to undermine the American people but to keep our national security airtight.
How is keeping his secrets part of that mission?
I pulled into the covered parking, nodded to the new guards, and made my way through the two security measures and up the elevator.
Callie sat at her desk, her eyes wide as she saw me. "What are you doing here? Director Brentwood's not here. He's is in a meeting."
"Hello to you too, Callie. Thanks for your solid profile. Her police friend has been looking in on me."
"Is that why you're here?"
Other agents and workers passed by me, their eyes downcast or focused on their paperwork, never pitching me a second look.
"Why can't you be like all the other agents in here and keep your head down?"
I walked around her and toward Keith's office, his secretary sitting at her seat.
Shit.
"You know I can't keep out of things."
I raised an eyebrow, my mind whirring with countless scenarios. "Tell you what, you go back to your desk and pretend you never saw me, and I'll read you in."
She crossed her arms over her chest. "How do I know you'll do that?"
The back of my knuckles brushed against her cheek as I moved in closer. "You'll have to trust me, doll."
"Trust is a difficult commodity to come by in this field." She swiped my hand away. "You'll have to do better than that."
Another agent, three desks over, stood with his Bento box in hand and moved to the full-sized cafeteria beyond the doors.
I rushed to his desk, gave a half spin in his chair, and picked up his phone, dialing Judy's extension.
"Director Brentwood's office."
"Margaret," I said, lowering my tone and accent to match Keith's. "I need you down here on the ground floor. Bring me the paper on my desk."
"I'm on it, sir."
I hung up the phone and peeped over the cubicle.
Margaret stood, her long, slender legs covered by a black skirt, her white jacket widening her shoulders as though she were in the nineteen-eighties.
"What are you up to?" Callie crossed her arms and stared down at me, and I jerked her out of sight, pulling her down to the ground.
" Shh."
As Margaret eased the office door shut with a soft click, I sprang up, shadowing her with practiced precision.
My silent footsteps fell along the room in sharp contrast to her heels, tapping a steady rhythm on the polished floor toward the elevator.
I slipped through the office door she’d closed, easing it open just enough to slide inside, Callie drawn in tight behind me. The soft chime of the elevator echoed down the hall as the doors parted, masking our entry.
My heart skittered to a halt as I rounded his desk and shifted the mouse to the side, waking up his screen.
"A lock."
Callie narrowed her eyes, a faint frown tugging at her lips. "You really didn’t see that coming?"
I grimaced. "Yes, I did, but I forgot my Rubber Duckie stick."
She shoved me out of the way. "A USB stick would alert security." Her fingers moved over the keyboard, typing in two passwords, then a third. "Honestly, I don't know what he sees in you. Brute forcing this isn't the way you do things here."
The lock screen disappeared, and we swapped seats, my heart thundering in my ears as I took sparing glances towards the door. "How did you know the password?"
"I've been around to know things." She put her hands on her hips and hovered. "What is it you're looking for?"
"Something that will confirm my suspicions."
"About?"
I opened up his files, scrolling through them until I found a few locked folders labeled 'contracts, Operation Nightfall, and meeting notes’. "Dammit, I need to take these with me."
"Why?"
"I told you. Something isn't right with this assignment."
She sighed. "Actually, you didn't say anything."
I gritted my teeth. "Can you get me into these folders or not?"
Callie huffed and pushed the chair out of the way, me included, then typed in the passwords, her fingers flying to different keys in a blur.
"How do you know this?"
"You've already asked this question, and it was already answered. I have to go. If you get caught, I was never here. I never helped you."
I frowned, my throat constricting. "Don't you want to know why I'm looking into this?"
"It's obvious." She moved to the door and shook her head. "I hope she's worth it." Peeking around the corner of the door, she slipped out and clicked the door closed behind her, leaving me in absolute silence.
My knee bounced beneath his desk as I moved the mouse around, opening each file, my eyes skimming over confidential memos and emails.
I froze, my gaze stuck on the names I'd purged from my mind eleven years ago.
No, that's not right.
Scanning the disciplinary report, red coated my vision, my eyes burning.
United States Marine Corps
Office of the Inspector General
Military Disciplinary Action Report
Subject : Colonel Keith Brentwood
Rank : Colonel (O-6)
Unit : Special Operations Command (SOCOM)
Date of Report: March 17, 2013
Prepared by: Lt. General Marcus H. Donovan, Inspector General
Incident Summary:
On January 25, 2012, during Operation Iron Requital in the Kandahar Province, Afghanistan, Colonel Keith Brentwood was found to have intentionally withheld actionable intelligence from deployed Marine units under his operational command. This decision directly contributed to the compromised mission integrity of Viper Unit, 8th Reconnaissance Battalion, resulting in a fatal ambush and the death of Sergeant James Baker, Sergeant Victor Kuznetsov, Sergeant Cole Dalton, Corporal Darnell Hayes, Sergeant Elena Moreno, Corporal Drake Voss, and injury to Staff Sergeant Nathaniel Barlowe.
What?
I scanned over the summary one more time, my throat tightening as though the ghosts of my fallen brothers squeezed what little life I had left inside of me.
Findings :
Colonel Brentwood failed to disseminate SIGINT reports indicating heightened insurgent activity in the operational sector.
Reconnaissance data detailing fortified enemy positions was deliberately omitted from the mission briefing provided to Alpha Company.
Testimonies from subordinate officers confirm that Colonel Brentwood overrode standard protocol regarding intelligence sharing without proper justification.
The failure to disclose critical intelligence directly contributed to the operational failure and subsequent casualties.
Charges :
Article 92, UCMJ: Failure to Obey an Order or Regulation
Article 134, UCMJ: Conduct Unbecoming an Officer and a Gentleman
Recommended Action:
Formal reprimand and removal from command pending further investigation. Review for potential court-martial proceedings based on violation severity.
Action Taken:
Classified. (See Addendum B-4 for internal administrative actions.)
Classified?
Fucking classified?
"He got a slap on the wrist."
I've worked for the very man who got my team killed.
Glancing toward the door, I forewent Callie's direct warning and pulled out my keychain, stuck a blank USB stick into the computer, and transferred every folder I could find, my blood saturated with venom.
"Come on," I growled, my jaw aching as I ground my teeth. My eyes moved from the door to the computer screen over and over, willing the process to speed up.
Sweat breaks out on the back of my neck despite the wind biting through my collar.
The contrast creates a haze of disillusionment.
We're in the desert, but the air is cold, wintry even.
I glance around at the team, our boots barely sinking into the sand. It’s harder than normal, thanks to the rain that poured last night and the colder temps. The sand doesn't shift like sugar beneath us, making each step feel like a battle.
The night is as quiet as a tomb, except for the sound of our weapons clicking, the mechanics on our gear shifting.
We move in formation in the endless sea of darkness—my team in tight formation, except Baker, who lags behind checking our six.
Silence lingers like an oppressive weight.
Where is everyone?
“Bravo checkpoint in two clicks,” I say, my voice low over the comms, eyes fixed on the terrain ahead.
The others keep pace without a word.
I don’t need to say much.
They know their jobs.
"Baker, tighten it up."
It’s a small thing, but it matters.
Precision.
Discipline.
No room for mistakes.
Baker moves forward. His hand drops down onto Stover's shoulder, and the ground shakes beneath me.
The world splits open with a deafening roar.
The first explosion hits with a searing blast of heat and force that hurls me backward, knocking the breath from my lungs. My body slams into the jagged edge of a building.
My head rings, my vision swims as I push off the wreckage, trying to regain my footing.
Smoke, fire, the crackle of my comms in my ear...
Baker's body is crumpled on the ground, his helmet half-blown off, blood mixing with the sand beneath him. His eyes, wide and glassy, are staring at nothing.
It’s over.
It’s too late for him.
The world around me spins as I fight to stay in control.
Remember your training...
This is my team.
I'm the one they rely on.
We have to keep moving.
We have to keep fighting.
My hand fumbles over my comms across my chest and presses the button, my breaths heaving out of my wounded lungs. “This is Nighthawk. We’ve taken heavy contact—IED detonation at Bravo checkpoint. One KIA, multiple wounded. We need immediate exfil, over.”
The radio hisses before Tanner's voice crackles through. “Nighthawk, copy. What’s your grid? Over.”
I blink through the smoke, fingers already moving to the GPS on my vest. “Grid coordinate two-six-niner, tango-zero-four-five. Hot zone, repeat, HOT ZONE. Hostiles could be moving in. Request CASEVAC bird, guns up. How copy?”
“Solid copy, Nighthawk. Bird’s spinning up now. ETA seven mikes. Can you hold that long?”
I glance at Baker’s body, cold and broken in the sand. My grip on the comm tightens.
“We’ll hold. Get that bird here fast. I need guns on station, danger close. Over.”
“Roger that. Blackout inbound with gunship escort. Hold tight.”
The line goes dead, leaving nothing but the cries of my men behind.
Seven minutes.
It might as well be a goddamn lifetime.
A heavy exhale punched out of me the moment it hit a hundred percent with a successful transfer. With a grunt, I pulled the flash drive free and tucked it into my back pocket before bringing up Keith's email how it was and putting his computer to sleep.
Leave no traces.
Except for the security team no doubt running this way by now.
With long, determined steps, I swung open the door and made my way through the cubicles, snagging a random USB off an agent’s desk, then punching the button for the elevator.
Clear .
I released the breath I'd held, my shoulders falling.
That fucker got my team ambushed.
It's not just about Ava now...
But let's see what kind of destruction she can cause...
"Agent Barlowe."
I paused at the sound of my name, my blood running ice cold.
Fuck .
They move quick.
Forcing my shoulders to relax, I turned, facing Keith with two agents walking toward me.
My vision blurred into an inferno. I clenched my fist in my pocket.
Don't do anything stupid.
Not yet.
"I was just on my way out."
They slowed to a stop a few feet away, the two agents fanned out in a strategic position.
Trying to surround me?
You only brought two?
I'm insulted.
Keith crossed his arms over his chest with a stern look on his face. "What were you doing in my office?"
My heart shifted in my chest as I glanced at the guy beside me, his weapon on the left, my right a little too far forward.
The man on my left stood just out of reach, but I could make it if I needed to.
"Just came by for a new tracker. Old one broke, sir."
"That's what you want to go with?" Keith's eyes narrowed, his hands tucked into his pockets, the dress shirt sleeves folded to his elbows.
I could grab his tie...
"No other reason."
"You went in there alone." Keith moved closer to me, our heights near the same. "I'd say that's pretty suspicious, wouldn’t you?"
"Because I went in alone?" I held his gaze, refusing to budge. "You're sounding more paranoid than I am. Got something to hide?" I raised a brow, poking the bear with a very sharp stick.
Keith's eyes darkened before he nodded to the two other agents. "Bring him."
My teeth gritted when the agents moved forward, their hands outstretched.
"If you touch me, you'll walk out of here two limbs short and a headache that'll rival your worst hangover."
The men hesitated, giving Keith a once over as though they needed his permission to wipe their own asses.
Keith gave a look of contempt and a curt nod before turning down the hall.
The agents relaxed as I followed the traitor.
"You really need to stop dropping in like this. You're making me think you aren't serious about this mission."
I huffed and turned into admin, following behind him while keeping an eye on the agents behind me.
"I'm taking it very seriously, sir."
Keith turned into the surveillance room where two older men sat, their faces plastered to the two dozen screens before them. "Bring up the clip."
"Yes, sir." The older man, with a pre-Santa Christmas beard, clicked on the digital image of my mug walking into and out of his office, Callie included.
Shit.
"Want to tell me what the two of you were doing?"
I coughed into my hand. " Uh, we needed some place private?"
"Goddammit, Nate, I'm not playing games here."
"Look, Ava's been finding some pretty damning things during her investigation. Callie tried to convince me to get the fuck out of your office." I dropped my hand to my side. "Happy?"
"Now we're going to be honest?" Keith glared at me as the two agents remained at either side of me, then turned his attention toward the men in the room. "Everyone out. Now."
Hesitation bled through the air, except for Santa Claus, who jumped from this seat and scrambled out the door before Keith could utter another word.
The others followed, their faces scrunched in confusion.
He doesn't want you to hear this, you dumb tyrants.
The last agent shut the door behind him, closing us into the security 'closet'. Keith cocked his head at me, his nostrils flaring in frustration. "Your job was to stop her from finding out too much, not come here to confirm it."
"What information were you hoping she wouldn't find?" I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed. "Something about you?"
"Me?" His eyes narrowed, darkening beneath a heavy brow as a slow, cold smile crept across his face. "Do tell."
I shrugged. "Nothing that I know of."
"Tighten it up, Baker."
"But I'm curious about something."
"And what's that?" Keith moved back, resting his butt on the desk.
"At what point in time did you plan on telling me you were responsible for the death of my men?"
Keith's face turned ashen, his Adam's apple bobbing beneath his tightened tie. "Where did you hear that?"
I pulled out the dummy USB and put it down on the desk beside him. "You know, I used to think you had honor." My heart skipped a beat, and a biting anger prickled up my spine. "But you're nothing more than those worthless Generals who sit back in their posh chairs and issue commands from their air-conditioned rooms."
Keith tilted his head, a mocking smile on his lips. “ Honor , huh? Let me tell you something, Barlowe." His voice grew colder. “I didn’t make it as far as I did by following some romanticized idea of duty. I didn’t survive Kandahar by holding hands with every soldier under me. I did what had to be done.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You were supposed to have our backs.”
"I did." His eyes burned into mine, ice-cold. "But you were their Lead, and because of that, we lost good men that day.”
My fist flew, my knuckles popping as it connected with his jaw. "Fuck you." He leaned to the side, and I grabbed his lapels, twisted him toward the door as it opened from the outside, and pushed him out into the hallway. "You don’t get to blame me for what happened in Kandahar. You’re the one who led us into that mess, who played politics and dropped us into a death trap."
I pushed him away, and he stumbled into the wall opposite me. The agents waiting in the hall rushed to my side. The one on the left took hold of my arm, and I landed a backward elbow into his nose, sending him crashing to the floor.
The next one broke out his baton and swung down.
Ducking out of the way, I seized his wrist and twisted it behind him, pushing upward until it popped. His screams echoed down the sterile hall.
"Enough." Keith held his hand out to the young security guy who stood up to me like a fighting Irish statue. Blood trickled down his chin as he moved it side to side, his jaw tightening. "You're a liability, Barlowe." He pointed his finger at me, his voice raised. One of the agents groaned on the floor, holding his gushing nose. "You’ve been a liability ever since you walked into this agency, thinking life played by a certain set of rules. But guess what?” His cut lip curled into a sneer. “There are no rules here.” He swiped his hand to the side, encompassing an entire group of people in his debauchery.
My lungs heaved as I shook my head, my knuckles popping under the strain. “I'm not going to sell my soul for whatever sick game you’re playing here.” I glanced down at the two men. Four more men rushed down the hall toward us.
He drew in a deep breath as though regret hung heavy within. "That's too bad. I had high hopes for you." Keith’s eyes narrowed. “I’m pulling you off this mission, and I’m revoking your access to headquarters." He stepped closer, his presence suffocating. “And don't worry about the journalist," he whispered. "A couple sliced wrists and warm bath water—everyone will think she was no better than her mother."
Security Santa Claus handed Keith a tissue, and he took it, wiping the blood off his face. "Now get out. I don’t want to see your face in here again.”
"If you so much as touch a hair on her head, I'll burn you alive on your own front lawn."
"Cute. But if you couldn't even protect your men in Kandahar, how do you expect to protect some dumb broad?"
"Come after her and find out."
"Good luck, Barlowe." He laughed and wiped the blood off his hand. "You're one man in a sea of many who would do anything to be in your position."
I glanced at the agents waiting with bated breath to jump me. "Anyone who follows you after knowing you've stepped on the bodies of good men and women to climb higher... are spineless fucking dogs, too weak to get off their knees." I turned on my heel, ripped the badge off my neck, tossed it to the floor, and took the elevator out of the building. My eyes wandered to every shadow that mimicked movement as I brushed past the guards at the door.
Running, I threw my leg over my bike, strapped my helmet on my head, and dialed Ava's number.
There were five hours between me and her.
Five hours where he could live out his promise, ripping yet another part of my soul away.