Ciudad Real, Spain

1600 CET

Mick changed out of his suit into jeans and a button-down shirt. They’d landed at Ciudad Real’s airport, an airfield that had fallen into disrepair in 2012 and been sold at auction in 2015. Though media reports were vague about who had won the auction, and speculation was that a Chinese consortium had purchased it, Grimaldi Global had a stake and used the abandoned airfield for their planes.

Ares Team had been cleared by a special arrangement that Grimaldi Global had with many of the governments they worked for, so they were able to leave the plane and get right into the large sports utility vehicle that Frank had secured. They were two-hundred kilometers from Madrid, so they were on a tight clock to get into the city center and the train station on time to meet Kaylee and her team.

“I’m not sure all of us are needed to retrieve the geek squad,” Mick said.

“When have any of us ever waited on the plane?” Cade asked. He was sprawled across the third-row seats. Linc and Cory were sitting in the second row, Frank was behind the wheel and Mick rode shotgun. They had weapons on them, but nothing too heavy. This was a simple escort mission.

“I don’t think it’s going to take more than one of us to meet the three of them and bring them back to the vehicle,” Mick said.

“Great. I was hoping to get something delicious to eat before we get back on the plane,” Linc said.

“You always think with your stomach.”

“Better than thinking with my dick,” he said.

“Nah,” Cade said. “Never going to convince me of that.”

The men bantered back and forth, but Mick didn’t join in. He liked his guys. He respected them too. But he was the leader. He needed them to obey him, and it was easy to lose the line of command if he just acted like one of the guys.

They took the A-41 motorway toward Madrid. Congestion built as they got closer to the city. Frank was cussing as he weaved in and out of traffic. Mick glanced at his watch.

“How far is it from here?” he asked.

“Less than a kilometer. But in this traffic, who knows how long it will take?”

“Meet me there,” Mick said, opening his door and hopping out of the vehicle. He heard the back door open as Cory and Linc joined him on the street. They weaved through the standstill traffic to the accompaniment of horns blaring, and as soon as they were on the side road, Mick used the sat nav on his phone to navigate.

His men didn’t need an order to know they were on a tight clock, and all moved out at a run. They weaved their way through pedestrian traffic and moved like the team they were. Cory had issued all of them earpieces that worked as communication devices, so they were in contact at all times.

“This food you were talking about better be good,” Cory said. “I’m working up an appetite.”

“It is definitely something you’ll never forget having eaten,” Linc said. “I have a flat in the Salamanca neighborhood, opposite Retiro Park. Cade, you on?”

“Yes,” Cade answered. “What’s the address of the flat in case we need to meet somewhere other than the train station.”

Linc rattled off the address and Mick already had a feeling that this mission was going to be anything but a cakewalk.

The weather was warm and Mick started to sweat as they got closer to the Atocha train station. He had the image of the woman they were meeting in his mind, and he held up his hand to signal Cory and Linc to slow and then stop.

“I don’t see her,” Mick said. “Sam said the front of the station. Linc, are we in the front?”

“This is the side entrance. Up ahead to the right,” Linc said, gesturing.

“Let’s go,” Mick said. He rounded the corner of the building and saw that there were a fair number of commuters streaming into the building.

The station itself had platform roofs in the form of an inverted hull made up of steel and glass. It faced the Plaza Del Emperador Carlos V Square. He scanned the crowds in the square and in front of the station, looking for a trio of people.

He spotted Kaylee first. She glanced around the area in front of the train station and he recognized the shape of her face. Next to her was an African-American man—Jeff—he was taller than Kaylee and wore his hair longish and full around his head. He had on a red jacket and jeans and held a laptop bag loosely in his left hand. Next to him was a Latina woman—Ramona, he guessed—in a pair of tightfitting cigarette pants and stilettos. She had one of those large designer bags over her shoulder like most of the women commuters used in the D.C. area.

There was a fourth person in the group Mick wasn’t expecting. He had a military-style haircut and his shoulders strained the seams of the dark navy suit he wore. One that looked very much like the Tom Ford he’d left back on the jet.

“There,” Mick said, pointing to the group.

“Who’s the fourth?” Linc asked.

“I don’t like this, boss,” Cory said. “Want me to stay back and cover you from here?”

“Yes. No weapons,” Mick said. “Linc, with me.”

Linc moved up next to Mick and the two of them approached the group. As he got closer, he noticed things about the man talking to the trio. He wore a shoulder holster and stood in a ready stance. He was expecting trouble.

“Would they have brought a security guard with them?” Linc asked.

“Sam didn’t indicate they would. Only that he was expecting trouble,” Mick said. “Kaylee Thomas?” Mick called when they were closer.

She turned, arching an eyebrow at him as the fourth in their group reached under his jacket, but didn’t pull a weapon.

“Yes?”

“Mick O’Halloran. I believe you’re expecting me.”

“I might be,” she said. Clearly waiting to hear the code word.

“Well, I didn’t come to Madrid just for the churros,” he said dryly. This nonsense was precisely why he’d rather be in the field fighting insurgents.

“Good thing,” she replied. “This is Jose from our office. Ramona brought him with her in case of trouble.”

“Good thinking,” Mick said. “We’ve got this now, Jose.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, taking his hand from out of his pocket and turning to walk away.

“Linc’s with me. He’s my second in command, and Cory is out here somewhere providing cover.”

“Cover?”

Before he could answer, someone shoved him from behind, straight into Kaylee. He reached for her, steadying her as he brought his elbow up into the man’s midsection, but he met air as the man moved quickly past him, grabbing for Kaylee’s bag.

Kaylee kicked at the assailant, but Mick saw the flash of a blade and her bag went slack as the thief took it and started running. Mick took off after him. Running and weaving through the crowds. Keeping his eye fixed on his target.

“Linc, is everyone okay?” Mick asked.

“Yes. We’re moving to a secure location. Cade, meet us at the apartment.”

“Will do,” Cade said.

“Dammit, Mick, Kaylee is going after you.”

Crap. He didn’t want to drop back and wait for her. “Cory, on her.”

“Already following her. She’s fast, but I’m faster,” Cory responded.

“Stop bragging and run,” Linc ordered.

Mick was getting close to his target and lunged forward, throwing his weight into the other guy as he tackled him to the ground. He put his knee solidly into the back of the thief, pressing hard enough to shorten his breath.

Mick grabbed Kaylee’s bag from the assailant just as Kaylee and Cory arrived. He tossed the bag to Kaylee as he rolled the thief over. He came up at Mick with his knife drawn. There were civilians all around them, and someone raised cry of alarm. The man lurched forward in what looked like a sloppy move until Mick felt the steel of his knife against his chest. He used the side of his hand like a blade, bringing it down hard on his attacker’s neck, as he used his other fist to deliver a sharp, short jab to the other man’s throat.

He scuttled backward and then turned and ran into the crowd.

Mick turned to Cory. “Did you get a picture of him?”

“Sure did. I’ll run it through our facial recognition program.”

“Good,” he said to Cory. “Now you.” He turned to Kaylee.

“Me?” Kaylee asked. “What did I do?”

“You’re in protective custody, that means you stay with whoever is guarding you. You don’t chase after anyone. Got it?” Mick said. He was pissed. This was just supposed to be babysitting. He did like a little excitement at times, but not when he was expecting something cut and dried.

“You’re not the boss of me, and I wasn’t about to trust you. I don’t know you,” she said.

“Sam trusts me,” he said, taking her arm, pulling her with him out of the main thoroughfare. Cory followed a few paces behind, watching their backs.

“I’m sure he’s a good judge of character, but we’ve just met. I’ll reserve judgement for now,” she said, jerking her arm from his grasp.

He let her go as he kept his gaze moving over the crowd, searching for anyone who might be watching them. It had been too easy to get that bag back. Cory seemed to think so too.

“I think we should take the circuitous route to the rendezvous,” Cory said.

“Agreed,” Mick said. “Stay between Cory and me. You got your bag secured?”

She shook her head. She was digging through the bag, muttering under her breath. He watched the way her hair fell forward, hiding her face from him. She was stubborn and feisty, and not trusting easily was a good instinct for her to have, given the circumstances. But he didn’t like her not trusting him. He got it, but he didn’t like it.

“Okay. Everything’s here,” she said. “Where’s the rest of my team?”

“With Linc. He’ll make sure they get to the rendezvous safely,” Mick said.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think when I saw he grabbed my bag,” she said. “Gut instinct said to get it back.”

“Is that where you have the intel?”

She shook her head. “But my laptop is in there.”

“Tech can be replaced,” he said.

“Not this,” she said.

Stubborn.

“Thanks for following me,” she said, turning to Cory.

“No problem, ma’am,” Cory said. “The boss would have my ass—I mean I’d be in hot water if I’d let you go off alone.”

She smiled as Cory corrected himself to keep from cussing in front of her. Mick knew that Cory had been raised by a very strict southern mama.

“How did Linc know to stay?” she asked.

“Training,” Mick said. “Enough jawing. I want to get out of Madrid.”

“Yes, boss. I’ve got the coordinates. Do you want me to lead?” Cory asked.

Mick nodded. “Head out.”

Kaylee fell into step beside him. “You’re bleeding.”

He glanced down at his chest. The knife had made contact. The wound wasn’t serious, little more than a scratch. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” she asked. “If you say so.”

He turned and looked at her. She was nervous and struggling not to show it. He read the signs in her face, the way she nibbled on her lower lip and the way her eyes kept darting around, checking for hidden dangers everywhere.

“I got you. No one’s going to hurt you.”

She looked over at him, arching one eyebrow. “Someone hurt you.”

He laughed. “It’s going to take a lot more than a knife to slow me down. I’m the guy who can take the cuts and hits and bruises, that’s my job.”

“It sure is,” Cory called back. “Boss man can take more hits than most guys.”

She put her hand on his wrist and stopped him for a moment. “I don’t want you getting beat up, cut or damaged for me.”

“I don’t want that either, but I’m going to do my job.”

“Thank you,” she said, looking up at him as he looked down into those crystal-gray eyes of hers and just nodded.

* * *

The apartment that Cory led them too was a delay that Kaylee didn’t need right now. Her bag was ruined, and a part of her…the superstitious part…wondered if it was because her dad was involved in something he shouldn’t be. Ramona and Jeff were seated on one of the couches in the main living area, both looking more nervous than she’d ever seen them. Her own pulse was racing still and she felt slightly nauseous. Cory had patched up Mick’s cut before he, Mick and Linc had disappeared into another room and they were awaiting “transport”.

Cory returned a few minutes later and gave her a serious look. “Kaylee, we need to talk about your tech.”

“My tech?”

“You and your team. I need everyone’s cellphones, laptops and tablets…anything with Wi-Fi enabled tracking,” he said.

“We’ve already turned that all off,” she said. “We don’t enable anything while we’re working on a case like this one.”

“I need to check to be sure,” Cory said firmly.

“We work for the same company,” Jeff said. “We’re following the company protocols.”

“Exactly. So you guys know that the director doesn’t joke around about stuff like this. Our protocol when on a protect-and-deliver mission is to ensure that we are all safe. You guys and our team. That means verifying that every piece of tech is turned off.”

Cory, for all of his affability, looked like he wasn’t going to back down. She imagined them arguing until the transport arrived, but she suspected they weren’t leaving until he confirmed they were following protocol. “Just give it to him, guys,” Kaylee said.

“Thank you,” Cory said. “Bring your stuff to the kitchen table.”

She followed Cory to the large butcher-block table in the kitchen. For all the luxury of the apartment, it was also homey. There were no family photos, but all of the furniture was designed with comfort in mind.

“Here you go,” she said, digging her laptop, tablet and cellphone from her bag.

He took them from her and scanned the devices with a tool that she had read about, but hadn’t seen before. It was able to find broadcast signals without turning on a device. She had heard of it being used in some cases to see if a snitch was broadcasting to someone else.

“These are clear. Do you have a smart watch?” he asked.

“No,” she said, showing him her battered old Timex. “Still taking a licking.”

He shook his head and laughed, then stood and waved the device around her and she held herself still as he did so.

“Good enough. You’re clean,” Cory said with a wink. “You’re free to go sit back down.”

“Do you have anything I can use to fix my bag?”

“Boss should,” Cory said. “Ramona, please bring your stuff over.”

Kaylee gathered her stuff, shoved it back into the broken bag, and walked into the other room and down the hallway, following the sound of voices to find Mick and Linc. They were discussing the plane and how much longer they were going to have to wait to get back to the airfield.

“Excuse me,” she said, standing in the doorway of what looked like a boardroom to her, but seemed odd to find in a house.

“Yes?” Mick said, glancing up from the table where they had a map spread out.

“Do you have some thread I can use to fix my bag?” she asked.

Mick straightened up. “You know the city better than me, Linc. Find us a location to meet so we can get out of Madrid without being noticed.”

Mick left Linc and walked toward her. He moved with an economy of motion. His gait was smooth and purposeful. He was muscled, which she noticed now that she saw him in just a t-shirt that defined his shoulders and his upper arms. She saw the faint outline of a bandage on his midsection.

“Follow me,” he said.

She already knew he wasn’t much of a talker. And normally she’d have to say she wasn’t either, but a perverse part of her couldn’t stand letting someone else decide that there should be silence between them, so she started talking.

“So Linc is from Madrid?” she asked. “He doesn’t look or sound Spanish.”

“He’s not,” Mick said without looking over his shoulder. He led her into a bedroom with a large four-poster bed in the center of it. There were heavy curtains on the floor-to-ceiling windows. The carpet was thick under her shoes and it smelled sweetly of magnolias.

“So…”

“So?” he asked, going to the shirt he’d had on earlier and flipping it over to reveal some inner pockets. He pulled out a small gadget and then a sewing kit.

A sewing kit.

“Give me your bag,” he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Bemused, she handed him her bag. He bent his head over the needle as he threaded it while she watched him.

“I think Linc might have a bag that’s better than this old thing.”

“I can fix it,” she said. “You don’t have to.”

“You said the intel wasn’t in here, so why is this bag so important to you?” he asked.

“My dad gave it to me,” she said.

“The wanted criminal, Dirk Thomas?”

Of course, he knew who her dad was. The director had taken a chance on hiring her when others had objected to her background. But she’d been clean since she was fourteen. “Yeah, that one. He’s the one who taught me how to use computers and code and hack—all skills which I use now to put people away.”

She hadn’t seen her dad since she’d left. Occasionally she saw his code online, and one time he’d reached out to warn her about an impending attack on a network that she was in charge of protecting for the United States Government. But that was it.

The last time she’d seen him, he had stubble to cover the strong line of his jaw and had shorn his shoulder-length, golden-brown hair to a shorter, more corporate haircut. Sometimes, usually late at night when she couldn’t sleep, she missed him. Missed his voice and the way just knowing he was in the same building as her had made her feel safe.

“Not judging,” he said.

“I sounded defensive, didn’t I?” she asked, walking toward the window. “It’s hard not to. He’s a complicated man.”

“I get it,” Mick said. “Here you go.”

She walked over to him, taking the bag from him. His stitches were neat and strong. She tugged on the strap and Mick put his hands over hers and tugged hard and the stitches didn’t budge.

He was close now. So close she could see the flecks of brown in his hazel-green eyes.

His jaw was strong, and she could tell from the bump on his nose that it had been broken more than once. His neck and shoulder muscles were well-defined. Everything about him was hard—speaking of strength and promising violence. But his mouth…he had a hard set to his lips, but they looked soft.

“Never apologize for where you came from,” he said. “It’s what made you who are.”

“Is that why you do what you do?” she asked, fascinated by the stubble on his face and the calm, efficient way he spoke and moved.

“Yes. Some of us, like Linc, grow up surrounded by wealth like this. Others grow up fast and hard. We just have to roll with it and answer to ourselves at the end of the day.”

She nodded. “What made you the way you are?”

“That’s a story for another day,” he said. “Suffice it to say, I am very good at what my father taught me—like you.”

“What did he teach you?” she asked as he dropped his arms and stepped back from her.

“Violence.”