“Time’s a ticking,” Lou Ellen said, glancing over at her now-silent passenger. “We now have thirty-eight minutes before we arrive at the gate to the compound. I’ll leave you outside of that gate if I don’t know who you are by the time we get there.”

Griff squirmed in his seat to sit up straighter, because it was obvious she wasn’t going to let him off the hook. “First, I need you to promise that you will not intervene in any way or tell anyone what I’m about to tell you.”

She pulled onto the interstate, then looked over at him. “I told you I wouldn’t tell anyone, and I won’t. Just so you know, I have special access clearance because we will be handling government and military contracts at our new office, so you’re not breaking protocol.”

Protocol and clearance meant nothing to Griff anymore. His worry about protocol and clearance levels disappeared when the government let his family be murdered and tossed him aside to fend for himself. His biggest concern was her being killed for getting involved in his problems. This woman seemed to be one of those “Ms. Fix-it” types.

“Promise me that no matter what I tell you, you will not get involved,” he demanded, turning in the seat to look at her.

“I’m an office manager, not an operator, and don’t pretend to be one,” she said glancing at him. “I assure you I won’t get involved, unless they show up on my doorstep, in which case they will be dealt with.”

The words were right, but still didn’t include the promise he realized he wouldn’t be getting from her. With a sigh, Griff sat back in his seat, laid his head on the headrest and tried to figure out where to begin.

“Eight years ago, I was a CIA Agent. My last assignment with the agency was in the Philippines. My team of six men was sent into Julo, Sulu to gather counter-intelligence on the activities of Abu Sayyaf, a jihadist militant group. In two years we gathered plenty of inconsequential intel and rescued a few hostages they took for ransom to fund themselves. But we could never carry out the primary objective of the mission.”

“What was the primary objective?” she asked, looking over at him with intense eyes.

Griff took a deep breath and blew it out. He’d never told this story to anyone and doing so now felt strange. Admitting that the government issued orders to assassinate people seemed wrong. But he’d taken those orders for five years, while he was an agent and thought nothing of it. He’d since seen the error in his ways, and realized how stupid he’d been to trust the agency who abandoned him to the wolves in the end.

“Our primary goal was to find and assassinate Khadir Janjalini, one of Khadaffy Janjalini’s sons, who was being groomed to take over leadership of the group. He trained in the Middle East when he was a teenager, with Osama Bin Laden himself, before he was killed.”

“Wow, that was a heavy duty mission,” she commented, her hands gripping the wheel tight. “So what happened?”

“There were several traitors in the group who we paid for information. Two weeks before we were scheduled to go home, one of them discovered where Khadir was hiding in the jungle, but money wouldn’t buy that information from him. He wanted to be included in the takedown. Like a fool, I agreed, because I wanted that feather badly before we went home. I was burnt out on deployment and I knew it might mean a promotion that would keep me in the states.”

“So did you accomplish your objective?” she asked, but her voice told him she already knew that wasn’t the case.

“No, we were set up by our informant and ambushed.” Griff swallowed down the bile that surged up to choke him as visuals of that scene replayed in his mind. “Four of my men were killed and one was captured. I got away and hid in the jungle for a couple of months until I could manage to contact the agency. They sent in an extraction team to get me out and tried to rescue my agent who’d been captured, but it was too late.”

“That had to be horrific,” she whispered.

“That was the good part,” Griff replied, his throat raw as the bile pushed higher and he tasted the bitterness in his mouth. “I may need you to pull over for me when I’m done.”

“Good God, there’s more?” she asked, glancing at him again.

“Yes, there’s more.” Griff’s chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. The incredible pain took over his whole body. “When I finally made it back to the states, I went home to Jonesboro. My wife told me she was tired of being a single parent, that she and my daughter needed me more than the government needed me.”

“How long had you been in the service?” Lou Ellen asked.

“Twenty years in the Army with five moves and two deployments, then five with the agency and countless missions. She wanted me to turn in my resignation, and it was a fair request. I went to the office two weeks later to do that.”

Griff dry-heaved twice, Lou Ellen swerved then sped down the next exit as he rolled down the window and stuck his head outside. The icy air swept over his face, freezing the tears in his eyes. He swallowed hard and ducked back inside the car, but left the window down. The temperature of the air outside matched the coldness inside his body.

“A week after I resigned, I went out to walk the dog. When I got back to the house, I found both my wife and daughter had been m-mu-murdered,” Griff growled through chattering teeth, fighting the rage that tried to consume him.

Like it always did, thinking about the waste of those two beautiful, innocent lives put him on the verge of wanting to commit murder himself. He should have been there to protect them, instead of gallivanting all over the world fighting enemies that weren’t his own.

The government he’d committed his life to should’ve made sure they protected his family, while he fought those enemies. They should have told him his cover had been blown in the worst way possible when he got home, so he could protect them.

“Who killed them?” Lou Ellen asked in a horrified whisper, her words chopped by her chattering teeth. “I’m so sorry, Griff.”

“The CIA killed them as surely as if they were the ones who put the bullet in the back of their heads. I found out from my boss at the funeral that they knew my cover had been blown by the captured agent who was tortured to death.”

“Why didn’t they tell you? Why didn’t they protect you and your family?” she asked, her voice strengthening with her indignation.

“That is the golden question, isn’t it?” he asked with a bitter laugh. “According to my supervisor, they had something in the works, but they had to get it approved up the chain first. After I quit, it wasn’t a priority.”

“Good, God—that is just—unconscionable. How can that man sleep at night?”

“He almost died after he told me that. I had a meltdown and no control over my mind or body when I almost killed him at the funeral. A few of my Army buddies pulled me off of him at the last minute, or I would have.”

“I can’t blame you. Did you go to jail? I can’t see how any sane jury would convict you.”

“The agency didn’t want it to go to court and air all their dirty laundry. I was arrested, but they arranged for me to spend six months in a secure mental institution trying to get my shit together. When I got out, I had nothing. No family, no home, no job and no will to live. I buried myself in a bottle, went into the shadows and prayed I would drown.”

“How did you stop?” Lou Ellen asked. “You’re sober now, right?”

Griff sucked in a shuddering breath. “A year and a half ago, I met this kid who saved me,” he replied, with a harsh laugh. “Keeping her safe on the streets became my new purpose. She reminded me of a mocha version of my daughter. After I heard her story, until today, I never wanted another drink again. It took me a year sober to convince her to trust me. Another six months now to convince her to give me a chance to be the family she never had.”

“How long have you been homeless? Why are you still living in the shadows?” she asked, turning right when she reached the bottom of the ramp.

“Almost three years—and because I have a feeling those terrorists are still looking for me,” he replied, clenching his gut to keep the two bites of hamburger where they belonged. “The man I killed wasn’t just a soldier in that group, he was going to be their savior. If I went back on the grid, they would know about it and anyone I’m associated with would be in danger, too. That includes Layla—and now possibly you.”

Lou Ellen wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and laughed. “After you meet the men I work with, you won’t be worried about me, I promise. They will help us find Layla—then I am going to help you find yourself again.”

Griff sighed, because he’d been right. Ms. Fix-it had a bone between her teeth now, and that bone could be from his skeleton, if he wasn’t careful.