Chapter 26
An hour later, fed and showered, Sarah sat cross-legged in the corner of the living room, laptops open around her like a digital fortress.
Across the room, Knight Tactical had transformed the space into a tactical operations center.
Weapons laid out. Ammunition counted and recounted. Body armor checked for the tenth time.
Kenji was bent over Griff’s bare shoulder, rebandaging his wound. “Simple scratch,” he announced. “You’re good to go.”
Griff grunted and slipped his black tee back on. “For that you went to med school?”
The slender man winked at Sarah. “I went to med school to learn how to handle jokers like you.”
Alex laughed. “You should ask for your money back, Kenj.”
"Summit officially opens tomorrow at 1800hrs," Ronan announced, checking his watch. "But we're supposed to report for our security detail at 1600. We've got forty hours to figure out how to catch Buckley trying to kill us."
"And sleep," Axel added, yawning hugely.
"No kidding." Izzy shot him a look. "You're looking low on beauty sleep, dude."
Griff was the only one who didn’t crack a smile. “Yo, guys. We whiff this, and the people on Buckley’s list die.”
“What he said,” Ronan added. “We miss him this time, we might not get a second chance.”
Axel fingered a wicked-looking knife. “Copy that, jefe. We hear you loud and clear.”
They moved like water around rocks—never colliding, always knowing where the others would be. Deke would reach for a magazine as Axel finished with it. Ronan would point to a position on the blueprint just as Griff marked it on his tablet. No words needed. Years of muscle memory and trust.
Sarah understood none of it.
She watched Izzy fieldstrip a pistol faster than Sarah could type a password. Watched Kenji and Zara synchronize their communication equipment with hand signals she couldn't read. Watched Griff clean a rifle with the tenderness most people reserved for babies.
"Here's the situation," Ronan continued. "Buckley hired us through Knight Tactical for exterior security. He thinks he's setting us up—plans to have us arrested or eliminated during the summit."
"But he doesn't know we know," Maya added. "So we play along."
"Exactly. We show up at 1600hrs, as ordered, take our positions around the perimeter.
" Ronan pulled up a photo on the main screen.
"We need concrete evidence linking him to Tank's murder and the Charleston Option.
The Admiral says we're cleared to detain the man, but he wants the charges to stick once we hand him over to the Feds. "
"So we're running two ops simultaneously," Deke clarified. "The one Buckley thinks we're running, and the real one."
"He'll have layers of deniability," Maya said. "Politicians always do."
"Which is why we go after the paper trail," Griff added, nodding toward Sarah. "Financial records, communication logs, anything that ties him directly to the orders."
“We’re close,” she said. With Zara and Finn and Kenji helping her, she’d have the evidence she needed by tomorrow, for sure.
They were discussing entry points now, using terminology that might as well have been Mandarin. Fields of fire. Fatal funnels. Dead space. Violence reduced to geometry and probability.
Finn pulled up blueprints for the Charleston Place Hotel. "Main ballroom, three levels of security. We'll be stationed here, here, and here"—he marked the exterior positions—"for the official detail."
"But we'll also need people inside," Axel suggested. "Kitchen staff, maybe tech support for the AV equipment. People Buckley won't expect."
"I can handle tech," Zara offered. "Get into their systems, monitor communications. I'll go in early as IT support."
"—remember Kandahar?" Axel was saying. "That warehouse breach?"
"Don't remind me," Deke groaned. "Fifteen hostiles, one exit."
"Tank saved our bacon with that flashbang," Ronan added quietly.
A pause.
Sarah turned back to her screens, feeling more out of place than ever.
These people had bled together, killed together, nearly died together more times than they could count.
And here she was, a forensic accountant who'd stumbled into their world by accident.
She analyzed spreadsheets. They analyzed kill zones.
"Sarah." Griff appeared beside her. "You remember what we practiced?"
She looked up from her screen, pulse quickening. "The self-defense moves?"
"Show me the grip break again."
She stood, hyperaware of how close he was. His lesson came flooding back—including that horrible thumb dislocation technique she'd refused to even attempt. He held out his hand, waiting.
She grasped his wrist, trying to focus on the technique and not the warmth of his skin or the way his presence seemed to fill the space around her. He was built like a weapon—lean, lethal, perfectly calibrated for violence—yet his touch remained gentle as he corrected her grip.
"Rotate and pull," he reminded her. "Use their momentum."
She executed the move, breaking free cleanly. His approval sent an unwelcome flutter through her stomach.
"Good. Now, someone grabs you from behind—"
Before she could prepare, his arms wrapped around her from behind in a bear hug, pinning her arms. The solid wall of his chest against her back made coherent thought difficult.
"Remember," his voice rumbled near her ear, "drop your weight, create space, then—"
She dropped, twisted, and drove her elbow back—stopping short of his ribs. He released her immediately.
"Better." He studied her with those intense eyes that seemed to see everything. "You actually might buy yourself time to run."
"Still not attempting the thumb thing," she said, trying to steady her breathing. "That's barbaric."
The corner of his mouth twitched—almost a smile. "It's effective."
"It's disgusting."
"Tomorrow's going to be dangerous." His voice softened, and for a moment, she glimpsed something beyond the warrior—genuine concern, maybe even fear. "I need to know you can protect yourself if I'm not—if things go wrong."
The weight of his words settled over her. This magnificent protector, this man who could probably take down a dozen threats without breaking a sweat, was worried about her. The realization that she'd become important enough to him to warrant that worry made her chest tight.
Before she could respond, her laptop chimed. A pattern recognition alert.
She rushed back to her screens, Griff following. "Look at this." Her fingers flew across the keyboard. "All of Buckley's replacement personnel—they have something in common."
The patterns emerged. All had passed specific medical screenings in the last six months. All had the same unusual marker in their records.
"They're pre-cleared for the bio-passport system," Sarah breathed. "They're already authenticated. If something happens to the primaries—"
"The replacements step in seamlessly," Griff finished.
Ronan had moved closer, studying her screens. "No security checks needed because they're already in the system."
Sarah pulled more data, cross-referencing with the summit attendee list. Her excitement built as the pieces clicked together.
"This changes everything. They're not only eliminating threats. They're planning to replace them with their own people. People who are already cleared, already trusted."
"He’s installing a shadow network," Maya said.
"Exactly." Sarah pulled up more files. "Look—every replacement has ties to defense contractors, pharmaceutical companies, or intelligence services. All with contracts worth billions."
"It's a coup," Axel said quietly. "A corporate coup disguised as security protocol."
Ronan straightened. "This changes our approach. We need to expose the entire network."
"I can track the money," Sarah offered. "Every pre-cleared replacement will have payments, contracts, something linking them to Buckley."
"Do it," Ronan ordered. "Sarah works the digital angle. Find everything you can on these replacements."
"The rest of us will handle the physical infiltration," Deke added. "We show up for our security posts at 1600hrs as scheduled. Maya and I maintain the exterior positions Buckley assigned us. But Izzy goes in early as kitchen staff. Axel infiltrates with the medical team."
"Kenji and I will float between our assigned post and actual surveillance," Finn added.
"Doc," Ronan turned to the older woman. "We need you with Sarah, coordinating from the truck. Eyes on all of us."
"Obviously," Doc said dryly. "Someone needs to keep you children from getting killed."
Sarah watched them plan, each person knowing exactly their role, their strengths, their place in the machine. The complexity of running a false operation while executing the real one made her head spin.
"The beauty is," Ronan said, "Buckley thinks he's controlling us by hiring us. He'll be watching for us to make a move from our assigned positions."
"But he won't expect us to already have people inside," Maya added.
"Or to have the entire financial network mapped," Griff said, glancing at Sarah.
"Timing's critical," Ronan continued. "We maintain our posts from 1600hrs. At 1700hrs, during the cocktail hour when security's most relaxed, we make our real move."
"Buckley will have his own private security," Maya pointed out. "Beyond what he thinks we're providing."
"Let me guess," Izzy said. "Stillwater?"
"You know it," Griff confirmed. “I can’t wait.”
"But they won't expect their 'dupes' to turn the tables," Deke said with a grim smile.
"Element of surprise," Axel agreed. "Our best advantage."
Sarah listened to them plan contingencies, backup routes, extraction protocols. The double game they were playing—pretending to be Buckley's pawns while actually being the ones moving the pieces.
"Sarah." Ronan's voice cut through her thoughts. "Can you have the financial evidence ready by tomorrow afternoon?"
"Yes." She said it with more confidence than she felt. "I'll have everything—payment records, communication logs, the whole network mapped out."
"Good." He looked around the room. "We get one shot at this. Buckley thinks he's playing us, using the summit to eliminate threats including us. We're going to show him what happens when you underestimate Knight Tactical."
"For Tank," Deke said quietly.
"For Tank," they echoed.
Sarah turned back to her screens, fingers already flying. She might not know how to run a double operation or play security guard while planning a takedown, but she could follow money like a bloodhound. And somewhere in those numbers was the evidence that would nail Senator Buckley.
Forty hours to pretend to be pawns while becoming the players.