Chapter 13 The Refuge—New Mexico
THE REFUGE—NEW MEXICO
Lark squeezed the new blue stress ball in her fist. It was harder than her last one, but soon enough, it would mold to her grip perfectly.
She glanced around at the wide-open spaces as she walked along the path between their cabin and a building near the main lodge at The Refuge, Kawan at her side.
She glanced up at him. God, he was handsome—all sharp jawline and easy confidence, with those dark eyes that seemed to see right through every wall she'd built.
The way he leaned against the doorframe, relaxed but alert, like he was exactly where he wanted to be.
With her. Despite everything she'd put him through.
When had that happened? When had she stopped seeing him as a complication and started seeing him as... hers?
She’d never really had a boyfriend. Not since high school, and those boys hadn’t really counted. They were simply guys she hung out with. They’d made life bearable.
Kawan was more than that. He was the calm amid the chaos—the harbor in the storm.
Every single time they ended up together, he chipped away at her defenses and snuck pieces of himself into her heart.
It frightened her, and not much made her want to turn and run.
She was the person that the government called to do the jobs no one else wanted.
She raced toward danger. No mission was too hot for her to plan—and execute.
But caring—loving someone— that stole her breath worse than when she'd been shot so many times she was certain she wouldn't survive.
“Thanks for this.” She waved the ball. “For the whole box of them.”
He looped his arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple. “My pleasure.”
“I’m not used to people doing stuff like that.”
“I know,” he said. “Honestly, neither am I.”
“Come on. A guy like you. You’ve had girlfriends. Women who’ve cared enough to take care of you.”
He tossed his head back and laughed. Hard.
“Do not poke fun at me. Not unless you want to sleep on the sofa.”
“Not you I’m making fun of.” He cleared his throat. “Until you, I haven’t found myself fond enough of anyone to consider them a partner since my early twenties. Can’t say I’ve been in a committed relationship in years.”
“Not sure I’m ready to… define this.”
He smiled that sexy grin of his that said he thought he knew something she didn’t. “Ah, but that sounds like you’re heading in the right direction.”
“I’m heading in a direction. But don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late.”
“You know this is an impossible situation.” She leaned into his sturdy frame as they continued slowly up the path. “If I’m not running an op somewhere, I’m losing my mind at Fort Bragg.”
“Aren’t we calling that place Fort Liberty, these days?”
“No one stationed there is,” she mused. “Regardless, you’re in Virginia and deployed almost as much as I am.”
“I’m also not getting any younger.” He paused, turning to face her. “I’m closer to forty than I am thirty.”
She opened her mouth, but he hushed her by pressing his finger over her lips.
“In three years, I’ll have my full twenty years in. I don’t want to move up in the ranks. I don’t want to command my own team. This is as far as I’m going, and I can’t do it forever. My body has been beat up.”
“Are you saying you’re going to retire when you hit thirty-eight?”
“I always said if I made it to forty, I’d leave the military and find something else to do.”
“Like what?” Lark asked as an image of Alverez doing his best to enjoy a vegan burger popped into her brain. It wasn’t real. But Alverez was a man of his word.
“A couple of buddies of mine opened a security-type business. They do everything from bodyguard assignments to joint missions with the government,” Kawan said. “I’d go work for them. They have branches throughout Florida and are expanding into other states. I could probably work anywhere.”
“What about Thor? Jupiter? The rest of the team?”
Kawan traced a finger across her jawline. “They’d get their time and most likely follow me there. Thor and Danni have already talked about it. She’s down for relocating. Moose and Shay would move as long as they could take the chickens. The rest of the gang are single… for now.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”
“I have a plan.” He leaned in and brushed her lips with a tender kiss. “One that includes you.”
She patted his chest. “You’re turning into an old sap.”
“An old sap who loves you and isn’t giving up on us this time.”
Each time he said the words, her pulse increased, and her breath hitched. “I need you to lay off on the love stuff until this mission is completely behind us.” She palmed his cheek. “I’m not going to sneak out again. I promise. I just can’t think about it with everything else going on.”
“I can live with that.” He laced his fingers through hers as they continued up the path.
He pulled open the door and waved her inside the small building that the men and women who worked at the Refuge used for personal offices and other business. It was private, not intended for guests.
They navigated the corridor to a small conference room. The hum of computers filled the air. The scent of old coffee, sweat, and fried bacon lingered in the air.
“Welcome to the party,” Ry said, peering over one of the screens. Her fingers never stopped flying across the computer.
“Looks like you all started without us.” Kawan went for the coffee, pouring two cups.
Specs grunted. “Right. Because either one of you knows anything about coding.”
“I tried to teach him a few things.” Jupiter stood, stretched, and strolled toward the mini fridge. “But he barely knows how to work his smartphone.”
“I’m offended,” Kawan said. His eyes narrowed in mock hurt.
Lark leaned her hip on the edge of the long conference table, boot bouncing against the chair leg, eyes glued to the flash drive Specs just slotted into her military-grade laptop.
Kawan handed Lark a cup and watched the screens with the silent intensity of a man ready to launch into action.
Specs hunched over the machine, fingers flying across the keys like someone had lit a fire under her ass.
Jupiter leaned against the wall, arms folded, chewing on the corner of a protein bar wrapper—which Kawan had learned was one of Jupiter’s coping mechanisms.
Ry continued her assault on her keyboard. Her eyes shifted left and right. Up and down.
“Do we know anything yet?” Kawan asked.
“We know this isn’t your basic encryption,” Specs muttered, eyes narrowed. “This is next-level obfuscation—layers of AES-256 with biometric checks. We’re talking deep black asset encryption. Like stuff only a few people even know how to write.”
Lark tilted her head. “Define few.”
“I don’t know how to do it,” Jupiter said. “And I know a lot of shit.”
“I know it, but it’s not common in the FBI. And I didn’t learn it there.” Specs glanced up.
“Can someone just spill who they think encrypted it?” Lark asked.
“Only person I can think of that knew this shit and how to layer like this was connected to our op,” Specs said. “And that’s Bradford.”
Kawan cursed under his breath. “Of course it would be him. Fucking smug bastard.”
“The only reason I’m even getting through the first layer,” Specs muttered, fingers dancing over the keyboard.
“It's because I know the code. I helped write parts of it—field-level specs, encryption triggers. It’s like a private language used for everything just blew up, and I’m in the deepest shit kind of trouble. ”
“I’m not following,” Lark said.
“Inside Ghost Tier, there are only five of me.” Specs raised her hands from the keyboard and wiggled her fingers. “We all learned this code. It’s a way to protect information. To send information back to headquarters.”
“Does Lorre know about it?” Kawan asked.
“I’m sure he does.” Specs leaned forward, focus still shapr.
“But I doubt he understands it. He, Grady, they’d need a techie to open it.
This thing is wired to respond to location-based metadata, mission-specific key phrases, and even biometric cues, or even DNA verification, I’d bet it’s buried in here, too.
Bradford didn’t just lock this down—he built it to open only for the ones who made it out—or knew enough about key details to decode it. ”
“So, Lorre could’ve figured it out,” Lark said quietly.
“No. Because as I’ve gone through mission-specific phrases, a number of them have failed. That made me go down a chain of other things—some relating to how our team operated in the field. That, Lorre wouldn’t know.”
“How the fuck would Bradford?” Ry asked.
“Alverez,” Kawan said softly. “Had to be.”
A faint chime sounded. The screen flashed black, then a static-gray window appeared as a progress bar crawled slowly across the bottom.
Jupiter stepped forward. “Video feed incoming. Looks pre-recorded. No live transmission.”
Specs nodded. “No backdoor access detected. Looks clean. But let’s lock out Wi-Fi and all Internet access for now.”
“Consider it done,” Ry said.
“Play the video.” Lark stood and squeezed her stress ball so hard, it collapsed in her hand like it had finally broken itself in.
The window expanded, flickered—then resolved into the grainy face of a man she’d believed had died. Believed had betrayed her.
Alverez.
He looked wrecked. His left arm was in a sling, dried blood on his temple, a stitched gash down one side of his jaw.
Kawan stepped closer to the screen, his face hard.
“I’m alive,” Alverez said. “Barely. I owe that to Bradford. He pulled me out after the explosion went off in the chapel. I’d seen something and raced to help Mina. Only, as it turns out, she didn’t need my help. She needed me dead.”
“Jesus.” Lark paced the width of the room. She moved the ball from one hand and the other. It no longer provided the same relief. Setting it on the it on the table, she stood next to Kawan. She shouldered so close, their bodies touched.