Washington, DC

There were days that changed your life forever, though at first they felt perfectly ordinary. You got up, you got dressed, you prepared to go to work and Charlie Mike the hell out of the day. Continuing the mission was what Colonel John “Viper” Mendez lived for. Every day he sent teams around the world to save pieces of it, and every night he went to bed knowing that tomorrow would be more of the same.

He lived for the mission. He played sometimes, but not often, and when it was over he went back to work. He’d been doing it for so long that it was normal and expected. If he got up tomorrow and didn’t have a mission, he’d probably go out of his mind.

But today… Today there was still a mission.

Mendez—he’d long ago stopped thinking of himself by any name but that one—watched the news while he got dressed. It was the usual roundup of horror and mayhem, but there was one particularly discordant note. The Russian ambassador to the United States had been assassinated in Moscow while America slept. It wasn’t a particularly shocking occurrence these days, but it would definitely make the job harder as Washington reacted. They’d want to pull resources from other areas and concentrate them on Russia, and he’d have to argue for continuing the mission in many of the other places that needed it.

The storm hadn’t broken yet, so for now he fielded the usual calls about operations and statuses as he prepared for the day. His aide pulled up to the curb at precisely five thirty a.m., and Mendez prepared to walk out the door.

His phone rang again and he lifted it to his ear with a clipped “Mendez.”

“Good morning, Colonel,” a cheerful voice said.

Mendez stopped. “Black? What’s up?” Because Ian Black never called unless there was something important going on. Something that Mendez would want to hear. Maybe he knew something about the Russia situation.

“I’m saving your ass today, Colonel.”

Lieutenant Connor waited patiently in the car as Mendez stared out the window.

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’ve got news you need to hear. Today, around nine a.m., the military police will arrive at HOT HQ. They’ll be accompanied by a general officer who’s there to relieve you of command. They’ll probably arrest you, by the way.”

Iron formed a ball in his gut. It wasn’t fear. It was fury. “Why? And where did you hear this?”

“Why? Because the Russian ambassador is dead, and Vice President DeWitt has finally convinced the president that you’re dangerous and need to be stopped.”

Mendez reeled. Of course it was DeWitt. That little motherfucker. He’d been after HOT for the past couple of years. Being President Campbell’s running mate in a successful election had elevated him to a position he’d only dreamed about—and given him the power to do things he couldn’t do as a junior congressman.

“What does the ambassador’s death have to do with me?”

“DeWitt is saying you ordered it. That you’ve overstepped your authority and you’re operating a rogue organization.”

Mendez wanted to commit violence against DeWitt in the worst way. But that was a fool’s reaction, and he wasn’t a fool. “I’m not worried. The president’s daughter is married to one of my operators. HOT reports directly to the president—and Campbell won’t let HOT be defanged. I can handle an inquiry. Especially one as baseless as this one.”

“This isn’t an inquiry. It’s a witch hunt. And I can’t tell you where I heard it, but trust me, it’s real. The president is caving in to pressure, whether he wants to or not. They have evidence, or he wouldn’t have agreed to it.”

“If they have evidence, it’s fake. I can fight that.”

“John, listen to me. There are some things you can’t fight. Get out while you can. Fight this from the outside. I’ll help.”

Ian had never called him by his first name in all the time they’d known each other. Black was a mystery, a disavowed CIA agent who wasn’t disavowed at all in Mendez’s opinion. He was deep undercover, so deep that Mendez couldn’t figure out who his handler was in the CIA. He’d questioned Samantha Spencer, the agent he’d had a mutually beneficial relationship with until a couple of months ago, but she claimed not to know anything. Still, Mendez hadn’t forgotten how her fingers had trembled the first time he’d asked. She knew something even if she wasn’t admitting it.

“I still gotta go to work. Not showing up is an admission of wrongdoing, don’t you think?”

“No. I think it’s smart. Run while you can. Far better to work on exposing the truth than to be locked up and at their mercy.”

Jesus H. Christ. What a clusterfuck. Maybe he should run, but it wasn’t the way he was wired. Besides, he wasn’t helpless. A general and a few MPs weren’t enough to stop him if he really wanted to get away. He’d been in black ops far too many years to be helpless. Plus he was pissed. Were they really going to arrest him? He wanted to hear the justification for it, because there was no way they could really think he’d ordered a hit on the Russian ambassador.

“You do things your way and I’ll do them mine.”

Ian Black sighed. “Your funeral,” he said. “But I think you should know something else.”

Mendez’s patience hung by a thread. “What?”

“Kat wants you to run.”

“Who the fuck is Kat?”

“Ekaterina. She says you knew her sister. She said you’ll recognize her name.”

Everything inside him stopped moving. His mind reeled. It couldn’t be the name he was thinking. He’d searched during the year since Dmitri Leonov had told him Valentina was alive, but he’d found nothing. A sister? He didn’t remember Valentina talking about a sister. Must be someone else, yet still he hoped that was the name Black would say. “What name?”

“Valentina.”

That name was a battering ram to the brain. Ice coated his veins, stilled his blood. Someone was fucking with him. Baiting him. Hoping he’d do something rash. Hell, it could even be Leonov. Who, true to his word, had gotten sprung from an American prison within months of being captured. It could also be Sergei Turov, who against all odds had survived the bullet Dex “Double Dee” Davidson put in him last year. He’d even learned to walk again. Now that man had a grudge the size of Jupiter for sure.

But rash was not how Mendez operated. Ever. He wasn’t called Viper because he reacted too quickly. No, he was Viper because his strike was silent and deadly.

“That name means nothing to me,” he said.

“Doesn’t it? Valentina Alexandrovna Rostov. Kat says you have a locket that belonged to her sister. Bring it to the Court of Two Sisters in New Orleans. Tomorrow morning, ten thirty sharp. Ball’s in your court.”

The line went dead.

* * *

Mendez went into his bedroom and removed some documents from the safe he kept for his personal use. He also took a few thousand in cash. He didn’t quite know what he was going to do, but he stuffed it all into his briefcase. Lastly, he set the self-destruct program on his computer. It would wipe everything and leave a brick of a hard drive. Even “id” Blake wouldn’t be able to bring it back to life.

He took a last look around and then walked outside to get into the staff car reserved for his use. Sometimes he drove himself, but often his aide picked him up. The lieutenant got out of the car and saluted sharply before opening the rear door. Mendez saluted back.

“How are you this morning, Connor?”

“Excellent, sir. And you?”

“Fine, thanks.”

Mendez got into the car and waited for his lieutenant to get behind the wheel. He couldn’t help but think of Ian Black’s call and what it meant if it were true.

Which he didn’t doubt it was, strangely enough. It was just like Mark DeWitt to orchestrate something so complex. The man was a spider sitting in the middle of a giant web, waiting to snare his prey. Whatever this was, it went even deeper than Ian knew. Mendez would bet his life on it.

He spread his hands, looked at the veins carrying his lifeblood. He knew in his gut that this situation was more complicated than Ian realized. So why the fuck was he in this car, heading toward HOT and a potential loss of freedom—or worse? Being relieved of duty was one thing. Being arrested for a crime he hadn’t committed was another.

Then there was the danger of having an accident while in custody. He had to acknowledge the very real possibility of that scenario. Lock him up, quietly assassinate him.

He didn’t know which way this would go today—but he’d be ready no matter what. He considered what Ian had said about Kat. Valentina’s sister. A sister Mendez had never heard of. Who was she really and why was she involved? He didn’t know, but whoever she was, she’d known Valentina because she knew about the locket. That in itself was intriguing as hell. Part of him wanted to head to New Orleans right now.

But he had a job to do, and he would do it up until the moment he couldn’t.

Mendez took out his secure phone and went through email. He already knew what he had to answer, what was critical today. They had missions in Qu’rim, Acamar, Iraq, Afghanistan, Syria—the list was endless, and the missions were vital to national security.

Mendez pressed the button to send the glass up between himself and Connor. The silence was absolute. Connor wouldn’t hear what was said. Mendez hit the button to dial his deputy.

Alex “Ghost” Bishop answered on the first ring. “Yes, sir?”

“Ghost, we have a situation.”

“Don’t we always?” Ghost’s voice was filled with a sort of resigned humor that Mendez understood.

Yeah, they always did. That was the nature of the beast.

“This is something we haven’t encountered before.” He pressed his thumb and forefinger to his temples as he concentrated on what needed to happen. “I think I’m getting arrested today. For the murder of Anatoly Levkin.”

Ghost growled. “What the fuck? That’s impossible.”

“Not if I used HOT assets to do it.”

“We don’t even have a HOT asset in Moscow.”

Mendez snorted softly. “Bet our records say we do.”

He could hear the tapping of keys on a computer. “Jesus H. Christ,” Ghost swore. “Delta Squad.”

“They’re on a top secret mission right now.” Which was perfect for DeWitt’s purposes since it was impossible to say where they were or what they were doing without compromising national security. But how had he gotten access to HOT’s servers? That was pretty much an impossible thing to do. Someone had hacked into HOT—and that was not a good thing.

But what if it went deeper than that?

“Where is Delta Squad now?” Mendez asked, a sharp feeling beginning to churn inside him.

The keyboard clicked. “All I’ve got is Moscow. But they can’t be there. Last known location was Afghanistan.”

Anger began to throb in his veins. “Keep checking. Someone’s fucked with the database, but the real info has to be there.”

“Yes, sir.” Ghost hesitated for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was hard. “What do you need me to do, sir? For you, I mean.”

Gratitude rode hard on the heels of worry over his men. He and Ghost had served together a few times over the years. Ghost knew him, and he knew what kind of man Mendez was. Or so Mendez hoped. He could be putting himself out there for nothing. Trusting the wrong man. But he doubted it.

“First and foremost, I need you to keep HOT running. And I need you to find Delta Squad. For now though, get Matt Girard, Dane Erikson, and Cade Rodgers together in my office. I want to talk to them.”

“I’ll do that, sir. How much time do we have?”

Mendez glanced at his watch. “A couple of hours if we’re lucky.”

“Copy, sir.”

“Ghost?”

“Yes, sir?”

“I think you should call me Viper now, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir. Viper, sir.” Ghost cursed for a second. Then he laughed. “Goddammit. Been thinking regular Army protocol for too damned long.”

Mendez chuckled too. They needed something to laugh over, if only for a moment. “Even though we aren’t regular Army. But it’s been a while since we’ve been in the field instead of wearing the rank and doing the glad-handing to keep HOT running. Time to jump back in with both feet, I think.”

“Whatever you need from me. I’ll follow you through hell if I have to.”

Mendez frowned. He hated involving his deputy—or any of his men. But he had no choice. “I don’t want that. I’ll take care of it myself—but I want to know HOT’s in good hands when I do.”

“It will be. I swear.”