Chapter Three
“The fuck you say.” Tungsten stared at Titanium. No way in hell did he want to leave immediately. He’d been back at base for all of fifteen minutes when Poppy informed him Titanium wanted him in his office. Five minutes after he returned from seeing Copper at the lake, he’d been deployed on a critical information retrieval. He’d done his fucking job and earned ten stitches for his trouble.
“Someday you will understand that I rarely say what I don’t mean.” Patient tone aside, Titanium’s aggrieved expression gave Tungsten some satisfaction. “Someone knows you’re alive, and they are combing the net for information on you right now. They’ve instigated a dozen searches and advertised a rather hefty bounty for you on the dark net. Ant has done an admirable job of shutting them down, but they keep listing it. We haven’t quite pinpointed the source…”
“I’ve been dead for three years. Let them look. Nothing ties me here.” He wanted a shower and a chance to see Copper. Telling her he was alive then falling off the map was not what he had in mind. Then again, Titanium never seemed to give a damn about what Brad wanted. “So, if that’s all…”
The commander’s hand slammed against the desktop. “That is not all. You may think you’re off the map, and we’ve kept you legally dead for all intents and purposes, but someone is looking. And that someone knows a great deal about you.”
Apprehension fisted his spine. “Such as?” Gunnery Sergeant Bradley Peck was dead and buried, mourned with perfunctory regularity by a mother who used to visit him at boarding school and college with the same sense of obligation. His father certainly couldn’t be bothered to pull away from his latest mistress to bother, and he had no siblings. The only people who gave a damn if he was alive or dead were all on the teams, so what the hell could they look for? Targeting his mother would do them no good, and they had to know that. Hell, he hadn’t seen his mother in five years when he “died.” So whomever they looked for couldn’t threaten them, unless…
“Such as a former lover you took great pains to make sure wasn’t noticed by brass or written up for consorting on the team. A former lover whom you designated your heir.”
Violence threaded through his veins. “Sachi is safe. She’s here.” With John on one side, Gabriel on the other, and Brad to watch her back, no one was touching her.
“Sachi isn’t dead, though.” Titanium was relentless. “They have a picture, a name, and they’re looking. We’re tracking them, so we’ll deal with it. Until then, you’re going to ground and so is she. We don’t need them sending up the wrong flags to the wrong people.”
“So, we stay in the compound…”
“You have your orders.” Titanium rose and Annie came immediately to his side. The faint thud of his legs reverberated through the wooden floor of his office. The legs matched his name and they didn’t tread lightly.
“Fine. You want me to go under, I’ll go under but not without telling her this time. No more lies.”
“Oh, we’re telling her right now.” Titanium led the way, leaving him with no choice but to follow. The bastard irritated the shit out of him, but he always traded on solid intelligence and proved right more often than wrong. If the commander hadn’t been blown half to hell, Brad would be tempted to throat punch him. As it was, he still considered it.
The conference room held Chrome, Copper, and Gabriel. His arrival with Titanium made five. Zeroing in on her, he took inventory. A faint sheen of sweat coated her face and her white t-shirt clung to her breasts, clearly highlighting the sports bra beneath. The frightening pallor and hollow eyes had been replaced by a healthier glow and a warier expression. Satisfied she was in one piece, he quirked a grin and drank in her presence.
A flick of her gaze to the side didn’t dissuade him, though he glanced at Gabriel and his smile widened. The man didn’t look like a Marine, though he’d proven to be highly capable and an asset with his experience as a field agent and analyst. The cool, assessing look in his eyes was a reminder of Brad’s earlier challenge.
“We have an issue,” Titanium began as he dropped a file folder on the table. “The information on the mission is here along with your destination, temporary IDs, and the locations for a couple of fallback safe houses to be used as needed.”
No one reached for the folder. Copper folded her arms, ice frosting in her eyes when she glared at Titanium.
Gabriel slung an arm around her then glanced at Chrome. “What’s the issue?”
“Tungsten’s identity may have been compromised. Someone’s looking for him, and they are doing detailed searches.”
“I thought he was dead,” Copper replied to Chrome. The dynamic amused Brad. She might be pissed at him, but apparently she was even more pissed at Titanium. He could work with that. “What are they going to find?”
“It’s the nature the searches, Copper,” Chrome said, interrupting whatever Titanium had been about to say. “They are using specific details about him, his life and who he was before. Ant’s having trouble knocking them all out because the parameters keep changing.”
“Parameters of his previous life?” Gabriel studied him. “Likes, dislikes, relationships?”
Give the man a beer. He caught the thread fast. Copper frowned. “I don’t exist anymore either.”
“True.” Chrome tossed a grainy photo down on the table. The resolution was absolute shit, but Brad recognized it immediately. Based on Copper’s frown, so did she. It had been taken on their first “vacation,” when the two of them escaped to the Caribbean to snorkel far away from fields of fire and orders. She was a lot younger and her hair was a different color. The profile shot, however, flattered her and the white bikini bottoms only emphasized her graceful curves and complimented her dark skin tone. “This is the problem. They have a photo of you, which means, if they have any decent tech, they will keep searching until they find a match. We’ve scrubbed your ID five ways from Sunday, but it won’t matter a fuck if they find even a link.”
“Is it Red Wolf?” Cool anger threaded through her question.
The terrorist was still out there—the man who’d cost them everything, who’d lured them into a trap and fucked their worlds up.
“Don’t know. Doesn’t matter if it is or not. We know he’s looked for us. We know he was close to compromising our new IDs; it’s why we changed them. Sachi James is in an unmarked grave.” Chrome tapped the photograph with his finger. “Whoever this is seems fixated on Tungsten and, by extension, you.”
“For the time being,” Titanium intervened, “We’re relocating the two of you, while we track the problem. Copper you excel at making people disappear, you blend better than anyone—your record is impeccable. Securing the two of you together is easier than doing so at separate locations, and you can help make him disappear.”
“Three of us,” Gabriel stated, his tone uncompromising.
“Why hide at all? Send me out there. I’ll find out who it is, then we neutralize the issue. Done deal.” Fearless and unflinching, she wanted vengeance.
“No.” Brad heard the echo of Chrome and Gabriel past his own voice as they all denied her request.
“You and I had this discussion,” Chrome told her. “We can handle all three of you going. The question is, can you? You don’t have to do this. You can say no. We’ll explore other options.”
“This is the best option.” Titanium’s impatience filtered through his words. “They don’t have to like each other, they just have to go deep and stay there. We’ll take care of the rest.”
“Yes, we will. I’ll decide what the best option is.” Chrome pivoted and faced Titanium. “My team. My fucking rules.”
Fresh violence perfumed the air. While Titanium couldn’t glare, his expression hardened and Annie thumped her tail as she leaned into her master’s leg. Chrome hadn’t so much as acknowledged Brad’s presence since he’d walked in the room. Folding his arms, Brad shook his head. Across the table, Copper had done the same thing. The mirroring made him smile.
Gabriel glanced at him then Copper and said, “Do you have any idea who it might be?”
“I know as much as you do at this point.” Brad had no reason to keep any information from them. Not anymore. Chrome and Titanium had taken their disagreement down a notch and were arguing in a near silent whisper. “You don’t have to do it, Sachi. I can take care of myself, and you’re safe here at the compound.”
“Well, thanks for your permission. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.” The scorch in her gaze shouldn’t have turned him on, but fuck, he hadn’t been able to talk to her in forever. Just watching her breathe left his cock hard and aching. With another glance at their commanders, she reached over and snagged the folder. Flipping through it, she studied the information.
“You’re welcome.” He just wanted to rile her. The cool dismissive look was hot, but her furious gaze was hotter. “It doesn’t matter, we have the resources. It won’t take us long to pinpoint the source, then we can take it out. Problem solved and we can get back to more interesting matters.”
At first she kept her gaze on the folder, but he knew she wasn’t reading. Her eyes barely flickered. When she glanced at him again, her nostrils flared. “Or you can disappear again, since it seems to be what you’re good at.” Yep. He’d pissed her off.
“I’m sorry I disappeared this time, babe. They were waiting for me when I came in, and you were talking to Chrome when I had to get on the plane.” Which reminded him... Pulling her phone from his pocket, he slid it across the table. “I’d have called, except I had your phone.”
“It’s done,” Titanium said, and Chrome blew out a breath. The two pivoted to face the rest. “Pack your bags. You’re wheels up in thirty minutes. We’ll contact you when we’ve secured the package, and you’re safe to return.” Not waiting for their agreement, he left with his golden retriever at his side.
“And a fuck you very much was had by all.” Brad shook his head. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.
“Copper?” Chrome continued to ignore him. “Say the word.”
The room quieted, and Brad wasn’t the only one staring at her—waiting for her response. She tapped her finger against the folder. “One question, sir.”
Chrome nodded. “Hit me.”
“Is this for real? Not some elaborate ruse to get me out of the way? Is the threat genuine?”
“As far as we can tell, yes.” Chrome nodded. “Ant vetted it. Alayna is at the hospital with Steele’s going over the intel right now. They can handle it.” He’d anticipated her unasked question. Brad shared her sentiment. Why wasn’t he handling it, or her? If the source is after me, I’d recognize the threat before they do. “You are not having the information because you’re not going rogue to take out the target and potentially expose yourself. They’re kicking over a lot of rocks. You go dark, you take Gabriel and the knucklehead, and you stay out of sight.”
“That’s the mission?”
“Such as it is.”
Copper glanced at Gabriel. “You okay with this?”
“I’ve got your back, sweetheart.”
“We have her back,” Brad corrected.
“Oh, shut up,” Copper snapped at him and thumped her fist on the folder. “I’ll do it, sir. It’s for the team. I won’t let you down.”
No. She’d rather lose an arm than disappoint Chrome. She was a damn good Marine. Once upon a time, she’d given that same loyalty to him. Brad would win it back if it killed him.
And, hey, if it did? Well, at least she’d be off the hook.
Chrome nodded then focused on him for the first time since he’d come into the room. “You bring her back in one piece. We mourned you once. I won’t mourn her.”
“Sir.” Brad met his gaze, unflinching. “Yes, sir.”
He strode out of the room, and finally it was just the three of them. Brad studied the pair in front of him as they stood. “So, who gets the window seat?” When Gabriel rolled his eyes, Brad added, “Sachi sits in the middle.”
Brad waited ’til they hit a cruising altitude to stand and make his way to the bar. The nice part of a private plane—it came with a bar, a fully stocked galley, and comfortable seating. Hell, it even had a bedroom. He glanced at the far side of the plane, where Copper parked herself once onboard. Gabriel took the seat nearest her, and then they’d sat in uncomfortable silence as the plane taxied the runaway and completed takeoff.
“Drink?” he asked, since he was already standing and pouring a scotch for himself. Not drinking on the job was to be expected. At this point, however, he wasn’t on the job, and he needed a drink. His shoulder ached, the stitches itched and he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in years. Something about waking from a coma meant he didn’t like going to sleep anymore.
Not for long, anyway.
“I’ll take what you’re having.” Gabriel’s not so subtle dig amused him, and Brad chuckled. Not that he didn’t deserve the remark, since the other man already had what Brad had been having or, more importantly, who. He poured the second scotch and carried it over. The ache in his right leg was always worse in the air or too deep on a dive. Equalizing pressure meant the knee and hip joints protested.
Sachi said nothing, so he paused next to them and studied her. “Not going to say a word?”
With deliberate slowness, she flicked a look at him. She waited a beat, then tilted her head back and closed her eyes.
Stubborn woman. God, he loved her. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a pen-shaped device and flicked the power to on. “We have electronic scrambling for about two minutes, then they’ll compensate.”
Gabriel raised his eyebrows, but Sachi didn’t move—her eyes still closed. “So what’s your plan? I know you have one.”
Yes, he did. Before he could explain, Gabriel rose, phone in hand and walked over to one of the consoles. Interested, Brad tracked his movements. He plugged the phone in then said, “We’re good, you can kill the interference. They’ll see you sitting over there and us over here. Not talking.”
“What about the drinks?” Though Brad had to admit, he might be a touch impressed.
“There are empty glasses next to both seats, remember?” The man faced him, arms folded.
Not finding the observation wrong, Brad tossed back a mouthful of the scotch and turned off the jammer. Since Gabriel moved, Brad dropped into his seat. Sachi opened her eyes and shook her head. “Plan?”
“As soon as we touch down, we’ll pick up our tail and make contact.”
Gabriel walked over and Sachi rose, waited for him to slide into her seat and then she settled in his lap. Touché. Draining his scotch, he pulled out his phone and flipped it over. “I have all the files here, at least as much information as they’ve put together so far. Tin owed me a favor, so he took care of getting me the info they were given. I haven’t had a chance to review it all yet, but we need to go through it thoroughly.”
“No ideas on who could be hunting for you? Ex-lover? Ex-wife? Ex-one-night stand?” The coolness in her voice was a dead giveaway, but he met her gaze evenly.
“You were my only lover for five years, Sachi. I’ve never been married.”
“So for the last three years you’ve been celibate?” Was that skepticism in her voice?
“Unless a job needed it done,” he replied. “Just like you, until him.”
“We have a lot of discussion here, but with the limited timeframe, I suggest we push past the emotional IEDs and get straight to the heart of the matter. What are we doing when we land? The directions I have are for a safe house outside of Billings.”
“Billings?” Sachi made a face. “They must really want us off the map.”
“We’ll pick up whomever they assigned to be our tail, bring them up to speed on what we’re doing, so they’ll be on board.” He was pretty certain who they’d send to cover them. Brad knew he’d be on board with ending this issue as quickly and as efficiently as possible.
“And if they don’t go along with it?” Gabriel had his phone and skimmed the information on the screen without looking at either of them.
“He will.” Sachi and Brad spoke at the same time and, for a split-second, she grinned at him. The smile vanished, but for that one second, he’d enjoyed the way her eyes lit with humor.
Gabriel glanced from Brad to Sachi, then back again. Another point to the spook—he didn’t miss much. “You’re both assuming it will be John.”
“You really think John would stay behind?” She blew out a breath. “He was gone before we boarded, which means he probably went ahead on a different route. If anyone targeting Brad really knew me, they’d know John would protect me.” She frowned. “How the hell did they get that picture?”
“I don’t know. We were there seven years ago. That’s a lot of water under the bridge and a lot of hunting on their part.” The photo was the one piece of evidence that made him uneasy. To track where he and Sachi had gone was one thing, but they’d taken that vacation under different identities—specifically to avoid notice by their superiors. While on leave, they had to file where they were going and be available for recall. They’d put in for leave separately and both named the Caribbean, but different parts. Tropical beach vacations for Marines on Elite Recon weren’t that unusual and didn’t muster much notice.
In retrospect, Chrome had likely known they were hooking up and just didn’t give a damn as long as they did their jobs. When it came to the work, they were both focused and disciplined. More than once, Brad had sent Sachi off to seduce a target and only once had he had to sit and listen to her go through with it. At the end of the day, it had been a job. She used the assets on hand to accomplish the needed tasks—in that case, her body—and he’d had the rest of her. Or at least as much as she’d been willing to give.
If the target had been a woman, he or one of the guys had done the same damn things. Though, at one point, he’d noticed it became his task less and less, and they—like him—avoided putting Copper in that position if it could be helped. So yeah, they’d known. Still… At the time of the photograph, they’d escaped to explore the depth of their feelings, and he’d fallen in love with her on that island. Head fucking over heels, so was that photo a message?
“You’re bleeding.” The low pitch of her voice drew him to the present.
“What?”
“You’re bleeding,” she said, gesturing to his shoulder. Sparing his shirt a glance, he found blood spreading against the fabric. He shrugged, ignoring the sting.
“Probably pulled a stitch. I’ve had worse. It’ll get better.” What he needed was another drink. The photo was a clue—because Brad hadn’t taken any photos on that trip. They were both too careful about not keeping memento shots around, because they never knew when the next mission would come in. He had exactly one picture of Sachi, and it was a private photo taken in their apartment. So, who’d taken the one on the beach?
Rising, he paced over to the bar.
“If you pulled a stitch you’re going to get blood on everything. Take your shirt off.” The order rolled over him, and he paused to face her.
“You want me out of my clothes, babe, all you have to do is ask.”
With a roll of her eyes, she slid off Gabriel’s lap and went to one of the front compartments. First aid kit, he surmised while stripping his shirt. Gabriel sat forward, elbows on his knees, still scrolling through the photographed info on Brad’s phone. The shirt stuck to the blood and he felt another stitch give as he tugged the shirt off. Another wound to add to the myriad of scars he’d accumulated through the years.
Unflinching, Sachi pointed him to a chair. Her expression didn’t change, but he felt the stroke of her gaze. She studied him with the same kind of hunger he experienced every time he looked at her. Or she seemed to be memorizing the grill work crisscrossing his left, lower side.
“Phoenix,” he told her, not making her ask. “I got thrown into one of the trucks.” Turning slightly, he showed her the emblem buried into his flesh near his back. Saying nothing, she touched the sigil with her fingertips and traced it. Above the mark was a fat, puckered scar. When she reached it, he added, “Rebar punctured my lung. Most of these were closed and healing by the time I woke up.”
The light stroke of her nails brushed the edge of his scapula. “This is new.” The words were faintly accusatory, and he resisted the urge to shrug. The last gesture pulled a stitch, not that he felt an ounce of pain. She had her hands on him.
“Knife.” It was a long, clean slice, but the blade had bitten a bit too deep.
“These are shitty stitches.” Pain accompanied the bliss of her exploring the length of the wound. “Jesus, Brad, did you use a stapler?”
“It was handy. Tin did the rest on the evac. Just clean it up or tape it. It’ll heal.” Even expecting it, the sharp sting of her slap relaxed the ache in his soul.
“Shut up. Sit down.” Crisp orders he was more than happy to follow. She snapped on a pair of surgical gloves then began to clean the slice. It wasn’t pleasant, but she kept touching him. He’d endure any amount of torture—even her dealing with his scratch—to have her hands on him again.
“Where did you attend college, Peck?” Gabriel’s voice intruded on his moment, so Brad slanted a sideways look at the spook.
Knowing eyes met his, and he gave him a half-smile. “You don’t already have a dossier on me? I’m impressed.” Not getting a rise out of him, Brad inclined his head slightly. “Princeton.”
“Okay, these ‘searches’ and ‘inquiries’ are using all post-college information. They begin with where you did Basic.”
Copper echoed him when he said, “Pendleton.”
“Right. Then the next leap is to the invasion of Afghanistan.” Brad had gone to the ’stan plenty of times. It was probably his first deployment. “The next is Iraq then Liberia. Each one, I’m presuming was a mission. The search strings are using some fairly specific data. It doesn’t get personal until the beach photo. Then the search strings include data about Sachi. All very nonspecific, unless you know—”
At the sudden silence, Sachi paused on a stitch. She glanced at Gabriel, and Brad shifted to focus on him. “What?”
“When did you get the butterfly, sweetheart?”
“Six months before Phoenix.”
“Three—three and half years ago.”
Her answer overlapped his, but they added simultaneously, “Why?”
“She’s a real looker, favors a red dress or sometimes black. Be wary of this widow. Despite the blue butterfly on her ass, she has a wasp’s sting and survives more explosions than a cockroach. This witch doesn’t die when you drop a building on her.”
Ice poured into Brad’s veins. That wasn’t remotely general. “They do know who she is.”
“Yeah. I want the rest of the searches.” Gabriel’s brisk, business-like tone belied the quiet fury burning in his eyes. For the first time, Brad got a look at the weapon beneath the genial professor guise.
His respect went up a notch. “We’ve got this,” he told him, feeling the need to offer some assurance. “We won’t let anything happen to her.”
“No,” Gabriel agreed. “We won’t.”
“Witch with the wasp’s sting, standing right here.” She jabbed him with the needle, and Brad grimaced. “More than capable of taking care of myself.”
“Be gentle. Wounded man here.”
She snorted.
“And I’m not worried about you taking care of yourself,” he said. It was the first lie he’d told. He’d worried about her not taking care of herself a lot, especially after he’d seen the rat-infested building she’d been living in for the two years she was off Elite Recon. Frankly, he’d seen Gabriel looking after her, and he was here. Even if she tried to go off the reservation, she wasn’t going far.
“Moving on,” Gabriel said with a hint of force, and Brad swallowed another grin.
Yep, keep her on target, but she’s still touching me.
“Who else knows about your tattoo?” The question was solid. She hadn’t advertised it, to Brad’s recollection. “You don’t like distinctive marks people can remember or see. It’s why you have the Elite Metal tattoo on your foot.”
Brad hadn’t forgotten. Unlike their brothers, she didn’t go for body art. Not because she didn’t like it, but because people remembered ink. She’d gone through a damned painful sole of her foot tattoo, but few if any would see the bottom of her foot, so it didn’t stand out. “I know it’s there. The guys on the team. John, for sure. He’s the one who picked it out.” After she’d lost a bet. Brad had overseen the tattoo, because he wasn’t letting just anyone with a needle on her ass, but John picked the butterfly for her. “Anyone she’s slept with.”
The needle jabbed him again.
“Though, if you dig that needle in any harder, I’m going to be worried about me. Short, shallow pulls, you’re not attaching skin to my bones.”
Another snort then a half-laugh, and he went still. Her snicker was a gift in and of itself, but a laugh? From the corner of his eye, he caught Gabriel’s stillness and the way he stared at Sachi.
Yep. Ball was in Brad’s court. Come on, Spook. Learn the rules of the game.