Chapter 48
Austin
Mike Rogers arrived at oh-four-hundred the next morning and, for once, I didn’t have a dossier in my mind.
G provided the only information I had. Rogers was a Ranger Medic, had CIA credentials. He was tall, black, bald, and leanly built.
Apparently, Rogers had rescued a female soldier from hell on Earth, and it nearly cost him his mental health.
Is he healthy enough to be an asset, or do I need to worry?
I’d have to take Gibson at his word and trust Rogers.
I don’t have any other options.
After much deliberation, we’d decided it was easier to take advantage of Nina being asleep to administer the under the skin tracking device. The thought of deceiving her, violating her body and her trust, gnawed at my brain and made my stomach turn. But G and I agreed it was better this way.
Shepherd Security could track us if something went south.
And things always go south.
Rogers texted Gibson when he arrived. Gibson texted the SSI team, so they’d know he was friendly, and G let him in.
I reached out my hand, “Thanks for coming on such short notice; we appreciate it.”
Rogers shook my hand with a firm grip. “No problem.”
We took Rogers to Nina’s room, not wasting time on small talk.
Thankfully, Nina wore a tank top, so we didn’t need to worry about her clothes being in the way.
I brushed the hair off her face so I could see her expression as Rogers prepped his needle.
When he nodded he was ready, I held her hand. My thumb stroked the back of her hand.
Rogers whispered, “You gonna have a problem with this?”
“No, I don’t like it, but I know it needs to be done.”
“He’s solid,” G vouched for me. “He won’t let his feelings get in the way.”
I don’t have feelings, I’m a fucking robot, I lied to myself.
Rogers nodded and prepped Nina’s arm for the shot.
“This one might wake her, so be prepared to cover her mouth so she doesn’t scream,” Rogers warned.
Despite the compassion in his eyes—he didn’t like the idea of hurting her any more than I did—I had to swallow the instinctive urge to tell him that if he hurt her, I’d kill him.
You agreed to this, G’s voice echoed in my head.
Rogers must’ve read the look on my face because he raised an eyebrow.
“I’m good.”
Nina twitched when the cold, alcohol-soaked prep pad touched her skin. Her eyes popped open when Rogers jabbed the needle into her upper arm.
Bile rose in my throat as I used one hand to hold hers, offering what little comfort I could, while the other covered her mouth.
I hate myself for this.
I whispered to Nina that she was safe and everything would be okay as her eyes quickly fluttered shut.
“That’s some fast acting shit,” G whispered.
“I don’t mess around,” Rogers answered.
Rogers prepped the insertion site with another alcohol prep pad, pressed the device against the back of her shoulder, and pulled the trigger.
Nina didn’t flinch.
I sent them to the kitchen and sat with Nina for a minute, holding an icepack to the injection site as I apologized. The apology was sloppy, but since this one was for my conscience and sanity, it didn’t matter. I’d be more elegant when I repeated everything after this ordeal was over.
I had a feeling my apology list would grow before this was over.
Nina would probably forgive me for some things, but this level of betrayal would likely fall into the unforgivable category.
When I walked into the kitchen, Rogers was injecting a tracker into the back of G’s shoulder.
“You’re next,” G said. “You might as well sit and take off your shirt.”
Rogers’ chuckle was barely audible.
Having nothing else to do, I sat and removed my shirt and T-shirt.
A fucking subcutaneous tracker.
Twenty years of combined service between the Navy and the CIA, and this was the first time I’d take part in a black ops mission.
I knew about them, of course; one didn’t serve with JSOC and work for the CIA without knowing that Black Ops teams existed. Or that the government regularly funded their missions. But I’d never participated in one.
I don’t like it.
My fingers drummed a nervous rhythm on my leg.
“Winchester, you know it’s for her own good,” G said.
“I know, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“Winchester’s a bit of a boy scout,” G said to Rogers.
“Is that so? I don’t know many boy scouts who drug their girlfriends while they’re sleeping so they can implant a tracking device.”
The longest knife couldn’t have cut deeper.
“She’s not my girlfriend. Just a family friend.”
It was technically true, but I wasn’t convincing.
“You keep telling yourself that,” Rogers said.
He tore off his latex gloves and tugged on a fresh pair.
I would. I did.
Nina wasn’t my girlfriend. The only reason I agreed to the tracker was for her safety and the sake of the mission.
I understood the necessity of such drastic measures, but lying to Nina, regardless of the reason, would never sit well with me.
This mission, to protect Nina, solve the connected cases, and kill—catch, I corrected myself—the corrupt CIA officers, would rewrite my future.
As I waited for Rogers to insert the tracking device in my shoulder, I mentally drafted my resignation letter.
I’m not a Boy Scout. I might’ve been, once upon a time, but I’d broken too many rules and violated too many oaths to be considered one anymore.
How much would I report? All? Half? I wasn’t sure, but one thing I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt—I would close these cases before resigning. Or die trying.
I fully expected I’d have to mark several officers’ files as deceased before the mission was over. After everything I’d learned, I felt zero guilt about speeding up that process.
The sooner I closed these cases, the sooner Nina could rest at night without fear.
The sooner she can get her grandmother the full-time help she needs.
“I’m done. Here,” he handed me an ice pack, “this will help with the discomfort.”
I’d been so pre-occupied I hadn’t noticed the electric shock Roger’s had warned me about.
“Dude, you got it bad,” G teased.
“Just mission focused.”
Rogers took off his latex gloves and picked up his trash before making a call and verifying that all three trackers were online.
“You’re all set. We have a team nearby. Turns out one of the guys you sent a picture of was flagged, and we plan to stop him,” Rogers said, packing up the large black backpack that contained his supplies. “Call if you need us.”
“How long will you be here?” I asked.
“Until we get this motherfucker.” Anger flashed in Rogers’ eyes. “I’ll let you know before we leave.”
“Thanks, man, I really appreciate it,” I said, shaking his hand. It was the understatement of the year, but as men we weren’t into flowery gratitude.
“Don’t mention it.” Rogers paused. “Seriously, don’t mention it to anyone without a need to know and a signed NDA.”
“Copy that,” Gibson said. “Send me a copy and I’ll have everyone at SSI sign one tomorrow.”
“Anything you need to know about the SSI team?” I asked, more to gauge his response than to hear his reply.
“That won’t be necessary. I wouldn’t be here if we’d found a single thing in their backgrounds that made us nervous.”
Which was what I’d expected to hear. Gibson said Shepherd Security didn’t fuck around, and their research on SSI would’ve been as deep, if not deeper than mine.
I’d kept my snooping to a minimum. Because they’re family.
The familial relationship wasn’t a shock, but my newfound emotional attachment to it was.
I’d bonded more with the Sheppard side of my family in the last week than I had in decades. And I wanted more.
“Told you they were solid,” Gibson clapped Rogers on the shoulder. “I’ll walk you out.”
I texted the team to let them know Rogers was leaving.
“You should switch to comms,” Rogers advised.
I agreed. “We’ll have them tomorrow,” I answered. “Any chance you can meet us at the office and get looped in?”
He smiled. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll have Sharpe connect me.” He name dropped Doug like they were old friends.
“Thanks again, and no offense, but I hope we won’t have to see you again,” I said.
“None taken. No one ever really wants to see us.”
True. If you needed Shepherd Security, you were having a really bad, life-threatening day.
After I locked the door behind Rogers, I returned to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee.
“What time do you think Nina will wake up?”
“If she’s not up by seven, I’ll wake her.” I wanted to let her sleep in longer, but we had to be at the SSI office by eight.
“Two and a half hours should be more than enough time for the drug to wear off.”
“Let’s just hope her grandmother sleeps in, too.”
Ah hour later, Mrs. Novak supported herself with her walker as she made her slow trip down the hall. She seemed oblivious to our presence as she clicked the bathroom door closed.
“Let’s hope she doesn’t need help,” G said with a quiet chuckle.
“Show some respect.”
“Sorry, just thinking Rogers would be better at helping her than we would be.”
“He probably would be, but there’s no need to be crass,” my growl spoke volumes, as if I hadn’t been obvious enough about my feelings for Nina.
“Overreact much?” G glared. “Dude, you need to figure out your shit. Like now. Whatever your feelings for Nina, you need to sort them out before you get us killed.”
“I—”
“You’re not ready to admit it, that’s fine, but I need to know your head’s in the game.”
It will be. “It is.”
The toilet flushed. G turned on the kitchen light, so we didn't look like creeps lingering in the shadows.
He raised an eyebrow.
“It will be,” I said again, being more honest.
My problem wasn’t that I didn’t know how I felt; it was that I couldn’t act on my feelings.
Against all odds, I’d fallen for the raven haired beauty with the deep blue eyes. Her quiet strength. Her dedication to her grandmother. Her determination to smile through her pain.
She carried a lot on her young shoulders, and more than anything I wanted to ease her burden.
To hold her. To love her. To make her smile and to see her relax.
The bathroom door opened, and Mrs. Novak ambled out and down the last few steps into the kitchen.
When she finally looked up, she gasped and clutched her proverbial pearls.
“Good morning, Mrs. Novak.”
“Good morning, Austin. You gave me quite a fright.”
“Sorry, ma’am.”
“Now, now, none of that, ma’am stuff. I told you to call me Sue.”
“Can I pour you a cup of coffee, Sue?” Gibson asked, laying the charm on thick.
“That’s be nice, Ryan. Thank you.”
“Cream and sugar?” he asked.
“Just cream, I’m sweet enough.”
Holy shit, is Nina’s grandmother flirting with G? Gibson was a good-looking guy, women loved his devilish grin and caramel skin, and he knew how to turn on the charm, but still.
Gibson served her before offering to make breakfast.
“Shouldn’t we wait for Nina to wake up?”
“We thought we’d let her sleep in and have breakfast ready for her.”
“You boys are too sweet. I’d love pancakes with chocolate chips.”
Sue offered to help, but G refused, so she told him where he could find everything he needed.
We took the opportunity to learn more about Sue and Nina’s parents while Gibson made pancakes and I prepped eggs and vegetables for a scramble. I had a sneaky feeling Nina would have a fit if she woke up and all we’d fed her grandmother was chocolate chip pancakes.
We didn’t learn any additional facts about the Novaks, but Sue reminded us that Nina had grown up in a loving home and her parents had provided for her the best they could despite not having a lot of money. Sue’s face lit up when she told us how much she loved babysitting Nina.
Not once did she mention Nina’s adoption.
They loved her as their own.
I wanted to learn more, but Nina walked down the hall, rubbing the back of her shoulder where Rogers had inserted the tracker.
I glanced at the microwave clock. Six-twenty-three.
My hand moved to rub the spot where I’d also been injected, but I caught myself in time and waved to Nina instead. “Good morning, Nina. Did you sleep well?”
“I had the weirdest dream.” She looked at her grandmother and forced a smile. “But it faded away...” her voice drifted off.
Let me guess, three guys came into your room and shoved a needle into your arm and a device into the back of your shoulder.
The guilt wouldn’t serve me so I forced it to the back of my mind.
“Ryan is making pancakes,” her grandmother said. “I’m sure once you eat, you’ll feel better.”