Chapter 7 #3
That yes, he needed his reputation as a corrupt FBI agent—the one that bought him clout with the syndicate.
And wasn’t it at least a little true? He’d helped the syndicate escape the FBI more than once.
For the good of the case. And because in his gut, he suspected there was someone pulling even Draven’s strings. So he’d stayed in the game.
Watched them do terrible things. Like distribute Neurosync throughout the community (although he had helped thwart a shipment and assisted in the takedown of dealers at a kids’ camp).
And they’d left more than one dead body in their wake—bodies of people he should have protected (although most of them he didn’t know until after the fact).
The bottom line was, he’d let them get away with just enough to buy his cover. But it still left dirt on his soul. Like those kids at the diner—his fault, in a way.
All because he was hunting the head of the snake, the one who’d started back in Denver, some thirty years ago.
The one who had ignited the gang war that got Gemma killed.
So, that was a lot of backstory that probably Daphne should know, right?
But now, he’d snuck away. And he’d have to lie to her again if she asked.
Because the mission wasn’t over. And if she knew he was now tasked to eliminate Destiny and Roger…
Yeah, he wouldn’t trust him either.
Still. He needed to hear her voice.
Make sure she was okay.
He pulled out his phone. His call went straight to voicemail.
“C’mon, Daph.”
He called again. Voicemail.
His chest tightened.
What if…shoot, he was an idiot! What if Draven had pulled him away from the house so he could…
Asher wanted to hit something. He slammed the accelerator, the rain slickening the pavement.
Michael. Asher had seen him and Dani pull up as he drove away.
Michael answered on the third ring. “Martinelli.”
“It’s Asher. Is Daphne there?”
“Ash. Where are you—”
“Daphne—I need to talk to her.”
“She’s not here, man. She left about forty-five minutes ago. Posted Blake at the gate before she went. No one gets in without his say.”
A beat. “What? Left where?”
“Didn’t say. She borrowed my car and drove off. I figured she was meeting you.”
He made a fist. “She’s not.” Asher ended the call.
What if…what if Draven had reached out to her? Threatened her—
Okay, and now he was simply past thinking. He floored the gas. Sixty. Seventy. Eighty. White lines strobing past. Wind buffeting the SUV.
His phone buzzed. Text from an unknown number.
Unknown Number
Slow down before you get pulled over. I’m behind you.
Lights appeared in his rearview mirror. High beams. Signaling.
What?
He slowed, pulling over, gravel crunching under his tires. His heart thundered, and he palmed his gun.
Then he got out. Cold wind hit his face, the air still soggy, the storm having wrung itself out. No moon. Just darkness and highway and empty land stretching in all directions.
The car pulled in behind him, headlights bright. Blinding. Driver’s door opening with a metallic click.
He raised his gun, heart pounding.
Daphne emerged in the light of the dash, hands up.
Her auburn hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail, but strands had escaped during the drive and framed her face in the harsh headlight glare.
Green eyes sharp on him. She wore dark jeans and a black tactical jacket zipped halfway.
Weapon visible at her hip but not deployed. “You going to shoot me?”
He lowered the gun. She lowered her hands and walked toward him. The wind caught her jacket and whipped loose strands of hair across her face. She didn’t blink. Didn’t falter.
“Where did you go?” Her voice stayed level, barely a hint of accusation. But he saw it in her eyes.
“How did you find me?”
She paused a moment, then, “I’m paid to keep track of people.”
Right. And he didn’t know why, but the words “Don’t you trust me?” just sorta spilled out of him.
As if he’d earned her trust at all.
So it felt right when she said, “Not even a little.” She stopped five feet away. Close enough to talk. Far enough to draw if needed. “You disappeared. Patterson was there asking questions. Our witnesses were vulnerable. You didn’t coordinate. You didn’t explain.”
He just looked at her.
“You were parked outside a warehouse for a long time.”
He drew in a breath. “I told you that I had an informant. He texted me. Said he had information about…” He stopped, the words tonight’s explosion on his lips.
Except, no. That would make her panic. Make them move. And then he’d have to deal with Draven again.
“Draven and his current whereabouts. I wanted to make sure he was far away from us.” Also true. “I was trying to make sure we were safe.”
“By meeting with an informant? Alone? Without backup?”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Then tell me what it is. Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re lying. Maybe even working both sides.”
Her words jolted him. “I saved your life tonight.”
“Instinct. Doesn’t mean you’re not playing me.” Her eyes stayed hard.
And oh, he wanted to tell her everything. “Ask your questions. Whatever you want to know. I’ll tell you what I can.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Fine. The courthouse. Did you know a hit was going to go down?”
“No.” Again true. “I only saw it as it happened. And I did try and stop it.” His voice thickened.
Her mouth pursed. Then, “Why Renegade? You were already investigating them in Denver.”
“Because it seemed like the head of the snake was here. Draven, or even someone else. All the syndicate activity seemed to heighten here. Something didn’t feel right.”
Her gaze stayed on him, rooting through his words. Then, “No. Something made you leave Denver.”
He swallowed, glanced away. Drew in a breath. “Yeah, okay. Fine. I left Denver because I had blown my cover there.”
She frowned.
“I finally found my sister’s killer.”
Daphne went still. Wind rattled through dead grass along the highway. Semi trucks passed on the road with diesel engines roaring. Headlights swept across them, bright and then darkness again.
“I thought it was gang violence.”
“It was. But…yeah.” He hung a hand on his neck. “It’s cold out here.”
“Tell me.”
Fine. Maybe it was best told in the half darkness, just the brutal headlights on them, the air still soggy.
“My sister was my responsibility. Since we were kids and my parents split up. I was…we were…” He shook his head.
“She trusted me. And I protected her. That’s why I got a job in Denver—so I could be around when she went to college at the University of Colorado in Denver.
” He looked away from her. “Wow, she was smart. Wanted to be a psychologist. And then…” He blew out a breath.
“She got involved in this Christian group on campus. She was…well, she was suddenly this die-hard Jesus follower, doing street evangelism and bringing food to the homeless…”
He looked back at Daphne. “That’s what she was doing when she was hit by a drive-by shooting. Wrong place, wrong time. Gang violence.” His chest burned. “The gang was connected to the Shadow Syndicate. Running drugs. Running protection rackets. Draven’s operation, even back then.”
“What did you do?”
“I was furious, but the PD wouldn’t let me investigate. Too close to the case.”
“Yeah.”
“So I investigated. Off the books. And then, when I realized it was the syndicate, I joined the FBI. That’s how I ended up an agent. Used all the pull and resources I had and finally landed on the case.”
He forced himself to meet her eyes. To let her see the truth of what he’d done. “Took me five and a half years, but I finally tracked down the shooter.”
He stopped there.
She didn’t. “And you killed him.”
Silence. Just wind and distant traffic and the sound of his own heartbeat loud in his ears. “Yes. And then I walked away. Went back to my life. Pretended to be the good guy.”
“And then?”
“Yeah. Someone saw me. A hit went out on me, but I spun it—was able to prove that he was the traitor. That I was doing the syndicate a favor. Still, it wasn’t safe, so I headed here, with the FBI’s blessing, and started over, trying to set up a new network of informants.”
He gestured toward the warehouse behind them somewhere in the darkness. “That’s what tonight was about. Getting information. Protecting the witnesses while gathering intelligence. Trying to do the job and get justice at the same time.”
It wasn’t all the truth. Not the undercover operation. Not the corrupt agent cover.
But enough.
He looked at Daphne. At her face shadowed in the darkness. At her eyes reflecting headlights.
“So yes, I might be a little dedicated to the cause. No matter what it takes.”
She studied him. Finally, “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah. I just needed to know who I was married to.” She turned back toward her car.
He watched her go, nonplussed.
Then she paused with her hand on the door handle. Looked over her shoulder. Face half shadowed, half lit. “Meet you back at the house. And pick up some milk and pancake mix on your way home. Roger wants blueberry pancakes for breakfast…sweet cheeks.”
Then she got in her car and drove away.
Left Asher standing on the shoulder with the sick feeling that he’d just lied to the one person he wanted to be honest with.