Chapter 8
Rockstar
Caleb
MY PHONE RINGS and wakes me out of a deep sleep.
It’s early Sunday morning and I’m a little disoriented at first, but my brain works fast as I search for my phone.
I’m alone.
I didn’t hookup last night or the night before or the night before that. Three nights and I wasn’t interested enough in anyone to make the effort.
That’s really fucking sad.
Then again, when your life is a lie, you can’t ever get too close with any one person. Random hookups with chicks you don’t know only put them in harm’s way. I’ve been feeling this way ever since I betrayed the man whose life I fucked up.
Actually, ever since I started feeling like a piece of shit, chasing away the brutality of what I see, what I do, by burying my dick in some stranger’s pussy just hasn’t happened.
Sure, feeling constantly on edge is hard on the body, and yes, I miss fucking, miss it a lot. I think it is time to get back in the game. Tonight.
“This better be good,” I answer looking down at the wood I’m already sporting.
I really should have gotten laid.
“You’ve been promoted,” Ford bellows into the phone.
“Fuck, yeah,” I shout, pumping my fist in the air.
“Cruz wants to meet with you today at five. I have a plane waiting for you at the airport,” Ford tells me.
My head hurts, a dull ache deep in my brain pounds, but I jump up immediately. “I’ll be there in plenty of time.”
“We’ll pick you up at the airport.”
“Hey, any movement in the warehouse?” I ask.
“Nada.”
I look around at the few items I have to pack. “When I get back, I’m parking my ass inside that building during my free time. Cleo has to be getting in and out without us knowing.”
“Whatever, dude. It’s not like I wouldn’t notice,” he scoffs as if I just insulted him, and then hangs up.
No time to worry about hurt feelings, I clean up, grab my shit, and ghost. Ghost, my nickname. Ghost, what I’m good at. A ghost, who I am.
The drive seems to take fucking forever even if it only minutes away. I don’t know why I just didn’t elect to drive all the way back to San Diego rather than take the commuter flight. It might have been faster.
I sip on a bottle of water and pull my cell out, knowing my best friend isn’t going to answer because he’s with that chick he moped over my entire trip in Laguna. Such a sucker.
The call connects. “Hi, you’ve reached Ben Covington. You know what to do.” A beep follows, but I disconnect the call and toss my phone onto the passenger seat of the rental car.
Ben and I have been friends since we were seven. I might get pissed at him, he might get pissed at me, we might toss each other around, but he’s like a brother to me. We always have each other’s back, or we did until I fucked up. Fucked up in a way he doesn’t even understand.
I met Ben in the second grade—we were in Miss Novak’s class and he was staring out the window . . . he hated being indoors and never could keep his focus in class. The teacher asked him a question that he didn’t hear. I jabbed his foot and muttered the answer under my breath. After that we were buddies for life.
When I finally make it to the airport, I find the private jetway and things move much faster.
As I rise into the sky, I glance out the window to the place I’ve always called home and wonder if I can really call it that anymore.
The plane heads south and I close my eyes, leaving that world behind.
Thinking about the case, I know this has to be my time because if not, it’s probably my last shot, maybe even my last breath. If I get what I need, though, it will be worth it—and the last four years of my life will finally come to culmination.
Seems bittersweet.
When the door of the small plane opens, my circle of five is waiting for me. Cruz isn’t the only one with a six-man team.
Wait, there’s only four. Someone is missing.
I’m sure for a good reason.
My heavy combat boot touches the ground, and I sense movement to my left. I spin away and twist my body just as the cool metal tip of a Berretta lodges against my temple.
“Not quick enough, Ghost,” a husky voice mutters.
Yeah, like I said, I’m Ghost. They call me that because I can slip in and out of any situation unnoticed. But I find the term of endearment fitting because to me, being the soul of a dead person thought living, describes me to a tee.
“Not so fast, Ford,” I ascertain as I grab his hand by the wrist and rocket my body into his, sending him tumbling backward onto the pavement.
With him out of commission, I wheel around.
With a devilish grin gracing my lips, I go for my own pistol inside the waistband of my jeans. But he’s fast and kicks my shin, sending me barreling on top of him. We roll around one or two times until I have the opportunity to disengage. I hop to my knees then my feet and finally, I pull my weapon. He’d be dead if this were real.
“Fuckkkk,” Ford yells in frustration. He can never get me.
“You’re still not fast enough,” I shout over the sound of the engine. My adrenaline spiking from the impromptu little exercise.
So, that’s what the fucker was up to instead of greeting me.
He shakes his head in disgust. When he sits up, I extend my hand to help him to his feet. Ford is the youngest in our group but also the most hotheaded, second to me, that is.
Gin pats him on the shoulder. “Maybe you’ll get lucky next time.”
He cocks his head and wipes the sweat from his forehead glancing at Gin with a disconcerted look. “Isn’t that what Drum tells you when you’re crying the blues that your wife has a headache—again.”
“Fuck you,” Gin says shoving him back. “I get laid more than all of you combined.”
“That’s bullshit,” Bond interjects. “I got laid three times yesterday. What about you?”
Gin rolls his eyes. “Your own hand doesn’t count.”
Bond throws him the finger. “Just so happens, I met a girl who couldn’t get enough of me.”
“Yeah, I’m sure that was the reason,” Gin sneers.
Bond diverts the conversation and looks at me. “Did you finally get laid?”
“None of your business,” I answer.
“That’s a no. Wait much longer and your dick is going to forget what to do.”
I flip up both of my middle fingers. “Not likely.”
We could do this all day. We know each other inside and out. Our triggers. Our likes. Dislikes. Moods. Everything.
“Enough of this crap. We have work to do,” Rice sighs. He turns around and heads for the black SUV already running with Ford licking his wounds behind the wheel.
Rice is the oldest in our group, and ever since the incident with our asset, he’s been taking the lead. He never loses his shit. And he always keeps us on the straight and narrow.
Ford’s glaring at me. I smack him playfully on the head when I hop in the car. “You got me, you just needed to pull the trigger faster. Don’t hesitate next time. Okay?”
He nods, understanding that the slightest bit of hesitation in a real situation could cost him not only his life, but any of ours, as well. “Yeah, man, I do,” he says and then presses the gas.
I turn to Rice. “Any updates?”
He nods. “Finally got approval for cameras in the warehouse storage units. Twelve has a number of brown wrapped packages stacked inside it, along with a few large trunks.”
“Did you get inside?”
He shakes his head. “It’s a no-go until we have something to substantiate the entry warrant.”
“Haven’t you ever heard of do now and ask permission later?” I joke, but I’m totally serious. Enough of this by-the-book shit. It’s getting us nowhere.
“You know I can’t do that,” he tells me.
“By the way, which of Cruz’s six-man team did you knock out?” I ask.
He looks at me amused. “None yet.”
“What do you mean? Ford said I was in,” I blurt out, glaring at Ford as he pulls out of the airport.
“You are. You’re just not a part of his six-man security crew, yet.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t fucking tell me I’m on kiddie detail, because you know that won’t get me anywhere.”
His grin grows wider. “I’ve got one better for you. Turns out, Cruz has a mistress he’s been hiding, and he’s worried about her security, so he’s decided to assign someone to her full time.”
Interesting. Somehow, we missed that.
“And Ghost,” he pats me on the shoulder, “you’ve been promoted. As of today, you’re no longer subcontracting for him. You’re officially on his payroll.”
Not exactly thrilled because I’m not sure that role is going to get us what we want, I ask, “Do you think breaking ties with the security office cover is worth it for this? Is she allowed in the house?”
He shrugs. “No fucking idea, but it’s all we’ve got. And it looks like she’ll be invited to the New Year’s Benefit, so that will be your in.”
“His mistress and his wife in the same place at the same time. Are you sure?”
His grin is wide. “The mistress conveniently works at the museum.”
“No shit,” I comment. “And here we’ve been thinking he’s such a humanitarian. I knew that was bullshit. Who is she?”
“This all came up pretty quick. We don’t have her name, yet. Once we get it, though, we’ll run a check on her.”
“Chances are I’ll be undercover by the time you get the info.”
It was already decided as soon as I made a vertical move in Cruz’s organization, I’d cut off contact with the team. Cruz watches everyone closely as it is, and especially his higher ups. There is too great of a chance of getting caught. I’m to leave all my equipment behind and my cell has been wiped clean of anything that isn’t part of my cover. Contact will be made every two weeks on a run at sunrise. That’s all.
He nods. “I doubt she’s a player. She’d be on our radar if she was, so who she is and where she’s from shouldn’t matter.”
“What’s she look like?” I ask, just curious more than anything.
He shrugs his shoulders. “No idea. Like I said, I haven’t run her yet. But what does it matter? We’re not asking you to fuck her.”
I grin at him. “If only that were part of the job.”
“Like it would matter,” Bond mutters under his breath.
Ford’s moving pretty fast, and yet I unbuckle my seatbelt and start to crawl through the seats to get to the third row. I don’t have to say a fucking thing; Bond knows he’s mine.
Rice gives me a hard shove right back onto my ass and then points his finger at me. “Sit down, Ghost, and listen.”
Ford keeps his eyes on the road and acts like absolutely nothing out of the ordinary is taking place—which in reality, it isn’t.
I narrow my eyes at Rice but keep my mouth shut. The man is one I respect the hell out of. Especially because he’s always able to keep his cool.
“I want you to pour on the charm,” he says. “That means you are not to show up with your typical brooding personality. Do you hear me?”
Gin taps my seatbelt and I take it. After buckling up, I twist back to look at Rice. “Yeah, I hear you.”
The dick is still pointing at me. “You need to become her best friend. Learn what you can. Find out as much as possible.”
Respect is one thing, but I’m not stupid. I roll my eyes at him. “I know what to do.”
As if uncertain, he shakes his head. “Yeah, I know you do. Just make sure your temper doesn’t get in the way of that knowledge.”
To avoid any more nonsense. “Anything else I should know?”
At that, he finally lowers his hand. “Cruz wants her mobility restricted. He said you’re to check with him before she goes anywhere. The meeting is set for five. He wants to explain his expectations in person.”
I drop my head back and look at the ceiling. “Please don’t tell me I have to listen to them fuck?”
“Hey, it’ll be the closest you’ve come to getting laid in a long time. Think of it as porn to whack off too,” Bond snickers.
This time I just shake my head at him. It’s obvious by my aggression; I have way too much pent-up energy.
I really should have gotten laid over the weekend.