Chapter 1

Chapter One

Present Day

"I'm on the roof," Max said. "You've got to be my eyes."

"I've got you in my sights," Eden Kane said through the tiny bud in his ear. "You've got about a minute and a half until the two Secret Service agents make their way back around the house next door. Otherwise you're clear."

"Plenty of time."

His rubber-soled shoes helped him keep traction as he slid down the sharply pitched roof to the small window on the top floor. Black gloves kept his fingers from being torn to shreds, and the black mask over his face and the matching clothes helped him blend in with the night.

The climb up the side of the Dallas mansion had been the hardest part—not to mention a former president lived in the house next door, and on a night like this, when unfamiliar cars and people lined the street, security was at a peak.

The climb had tested his strength and endurance tenfold, and he was glad he'd pushed himself so hard through rehab. Even now, his leg was aching and he'd had to stop for a few seconds to catch his breath once he'd reached the top.

His feet touched on the tiny lip that jutted from the edge of the roof, and he lowered himself down until his hands had a good grasp on the ledge. His muscles bunched and strained and sweat dripped from his temples from the relentless summer heat. He lowered himself inches at a time and then dropped the rest of the way to the balcony. He landed silently and then took the tools from the zippered pocket of his pants.

"Forty-five seconds," Eden said. "I've deactivated the alarms for the top two floors."

"I've got a visual on the senator," Nathan Locke said. "He's dancing with a woman who has a face like a hatchet and a diamond the size of a quail egg on her finger."

Max and Nathan went back to their military days together, and then they'd been recruited in the same class by CIA Director Robert Lockwood. That's where they'd been assigned to Atticus Cameron's black ops team and learned skills normal people couldn't imagine in their wildest dreams. They'd been known by different names back then—Atticus had been known as Reaper, Nate as Warlock, and Max as Zeus. Along with Calvin Cruz and Gabe Brennan—Cypher and Ghost respectively.

What no one knew except for Atticus Cameron, was that Max had been placed as a commander and director of operations at the DEA, all while on assignment from the CIA to infiltrate the United States Department of Justice and dig up the moles who were selling secrets to the cartels. He'd lived a double and triple life for so long he sometimes didn't remember who he worked for, and after Alexander Ramos had shot him and left him for dead, he'd had a serious change of heart about his career choice.

The timing had worked out perfectly because Lockwood had retired from the CIA about the same time their tight-knit unit had started to become disillusioned by some of the assignments their government was sending them on. Gabe Brennan had retired and split off, creating the ISF—International Special Forces—out of London. And Atticus Cameron had created his own private contracting firm—Dynamis Security based out of Dallas, Texas.

Max's only plan after his undercover job with the DEA was finished and he'd left the CIA was to move back home to Texas, buy himself a ranch, and work himself into oblivion while occasionally enjoying a wild Texas sunset. He'd bought the ranch and the house that had come with it, and he'd enjoyed a quiet life. For a while. Until Atticus had shown up on his doorstep after his wife and daughter had been gunned down in cold blood. His daughter had survived—barely—but she was in a coma and he'd had to bury his wife without her knowing her mother was dead.

He hadn't taken any convincing to join Dynamis Security. Their bond ran deep and true, and Atticus had saved his life. He owed him.

And it was just a bonus he was able to work with his old team. He and Nate had slipped back into their old routine as if they'd never been separated. The only difference was that Nate was now a married man. His wife, Eden, had been Israeli Mossad and she was a good match for his friend.

"The hatchet face would be Martha Sandusky," Max said, taking a slim tool and using it to unlatch the window. "She's the wife of one of Senator Henry's biggest donors." The latch gave and Max slid the window up and slipped inside. "I'm in."

"Just in time," Eden said, her voice soft.

He looked around the small guest bedroom and noticed a few items of clothing and a jewelry case open on the dresser. One of the guests from the party must be staying overnight.

Max stripped off his gloves, pants, and shirt, revealing his tuxedo below, and then he peeled off the thick rubber soles on the bottom of his dress shoes. He carried everything into the bathroom and dumped them in the clothes hamper, knowing a maid would think they belonged to whoever was staying in the room and take them to be laundered. He remembered the ski mask and tossed it in as well.

He checked himself in the mirror, making sure the putty he'd used to disguise himself was still in place. His nose was a little longer and his jaw softer. Dark brown contacts covered his normal blue. He straightened his tie and smoothed back the dark wig. He'd let his own hair grow out since the accident, so it was just long enough to pull into a tail at the nape of his neck, and it covered the ridge of scar tissue in the side of his head quite nicely. But for now it was all tucked under the protective cap. Not even his own family would recognize him.

"The senator is moving to the game room," Nate said. "Looks like he's settling in for a round of poker. Cypher is going to be mad he missed this one. There are almost as many celebrities here as politicians. You know how he likes to stay on top of current events."

"I like to think of it as him being nosy," Eden said. "Besides, he's on his honeymoon. He's not giving work a single thought."

Max grunted and opened the bedroom door, looking out into the hallway. Music and the muted sounds of laughter could be heard from the first floor, and he quickly left the bedroom and headed toward the back stairway that was reserved for family.

The halls were deserted and he walked boldly through the second floor family wing toward the senator's office. He tested the doorknob and found it locked, so he used the lockpick tools he'd placed in the inside pockets of his jacket.

"Man, I'm good," he said as the lock snicked and the doorknob turned beneath his hand.

"That's not what I've heard." Nate said. "There was a lovely story about you in the Enquirer last week. Something about billionaire Lincoln Devlin and his son, Max, who is known as much for his disenchantment with the government as he is for his patriotism. Now he spends most of his time drinking and partying to hide his PTSD and to forget how the government screwed him over in the end. But my favorite part was the women they interviewed. Agent Danger is how Max is known in certain female circles."

"I will kill you, Nate," Max said.

"To think you've wasted that photographic memory on tabloids," Atticus said.

"I've got plenty of room for things besides tabloids," Nate said. "That's just an added bonus."

"And all at my expense," Max said. "I heard you're building shelves for the baby's room. How are those coming along? Have them finished yet?"

"I told you I'd get them done," Nate said.

Eden laughed softly. "I didn't say a word. You're the one who was bragging about your new nail gun."

"So I take it there are no shelves?" Max asked Eden, just to rub salt in the wound.

"Nope," she said, and he could hear the laughter in her voice. "I'm just hoping he gets them built before she gets here. He's still got a few months to deliver."

"That's low, Max," Nate said. "Real low. I was just letting you know how well your cover story was working since you left the agency. You think you know a guy and then he turns on you."

As far as the public knew, Max had involuntarily left a life of service to his country after his almost-fatal injury. To believe the tabloids, the government had screwed him over in more ways than one, so he'd gone back to his wealthy roots like the prodigal son. Though his family had been less than happy to welcome him back into the fold. He'd always been somewhat of a black sheep, and it panged them terribly that his grandfather had left his fortune and stock in the company to Max, on top of his already substantial trust fund.

Being shot in the head by Alexander Ramos was the best thing that could have happened to him—though it hadn't seemed like it at the time. None of his family knew he'd taken a job with Dynamis Security. His family and society thought he was spending his days as a playboy, living off his trust fund and spending as much of his family money as possible on anything from cars to real estate to questionable investments and women.

And yes, the tabloids had started calling him Agent Danger —which gave those he worked with unending amusement and ammunition. It didn't matter that he'd never slept with any of the women they'd interviewed or done half the things he'd been accused of. The important thing was that people believed the illusion he presented.

"It's been a while since you and I stepped into the ring," Max said. "I think it's time for a rematch."

"Hell, no," Nate said. "Last time I sparred with you, Eden made me sleep on the couch because she couldn't sleep with all the groans. You have an unfair advantage. I still think you cracked one of my ribs."

"Nah, you're just a girl."

Max did have an unfair advantage in the ring since he'd had MMA training, but Nate made up for the lack of training by fighting dirty. Max had almost as many bruises as Nate, but it had been fun.

He locked the office door behind him and went over to the thin laptop on the desk.

"There's a closed laptop on the desk," he said. "You read me, Eden?"

"I'm here," she said. "I didn't want to interfere with your male bonding time. Go ahead and open it. You'll need to put the device in the USB port, and then I can run it from here."

Max opened up the laptop and watched the screen flicker on. It was password protected, but Eden could get around that.

Davis Henry was a member of the Senate Defense Committee, and there were enough leaks coming from that office to sink a ship. Too many of America's enemies knew more than they should, and it couldn't be a coincidence any longer. It was a mess the government didn't want to dirty their hands with because Henry held a lot of power, and where there was power, there was money. Always the bottom line when it came to the government. And when the government didn't want to dirty their hands, they called Dynamis Security.

Their mission was to get into the senator's personal files where they suspected he kept records of what he was selling and to whom. As of yet, they hadn't found a money trail, but it would only be a matter of time.

"This champagne is terrible," Nate said. "You'd think they could bring out the good stuff for five thousand dollars a plate."

"It must be terrible to rub elbows with the rich and famous while some of us are sweating our asses off in the car," Eden said.

"Well, when you put it that way?—"

"Could we pretend we're on a mission here?" Max interrupted. "Y'all can do marriage counseling later. The device is in the USB. Get me the password, Eden."

Numbers scrambled across the screen before he finished the sentence, and one by one the numbers turned into letters until the password was revealed. The screen went black and then the computer flickered on.

"Go ahead and put the flash drive into the other USB port," Eden said. "We're just going to download his entire hard drive, and then I can sort it all out back at the office on our own computers. He's got several encrypted files that are going to take some time."

"Uh-oh," Nate said. "Looks like the senator had a bad hand. He's headed out of the game room and making his way toward the center stairs."

Max looked up at the door to make sure it was locked and he willed the computer to hurry. He got up and looked around the office. It was bigger than most people's living rooms. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves were lined up across the wall at his back and a small sitting area sat directly across the room from his massive oak desk. An ugly painting hung on the wall over the sitting area, and it was so obviously a wall safe Max wondered why the senator even bothered to hide it. If he had more time he'd look inside and see if the senator kept hard copies of his records or a journal.

"He's heading up the stairs," Nate said.

Max went back to the computer to check the progress and did a quick search through the desk drawers while he was waiting. His hands were steady and his search methodical.

"Can you stall him?" Max asked.

"Not without jumping over all these people and making a fool out of myself. My other options are to shoot him in the arm or throw a glass of champagne at his head."

"Maybe you should just stay where you are," Max said dryly. He quickly flipped through a stack of loose papers in the top drawer but didn't find anything of consequence. He closed it softly and opened the next drawer. There were still two minutes until the download was complete.

"Wait a minute," Nate said. "It looks like the governor has a bone to pick with Senator Henry. Neither of them looks very happy."

"Not surprising. They hate each other's guts. The governor is a moron but he has impeccable timing. I just need one more minute."

Max finished looking through the drawers and started on the bookshelves. More than one person had the thought that the best hiding places were those in plain sight.

"It looks like the Secretary of Defense needs an urgent word with Henry as well," Nate said. "The governor has walked off in a huff, and now Henry and the secretary are headed back down the stairs in a hurry. Something must be wrong."

"Not our problem," Max said.

"It's clear," Eden said. "You can remove the device and shut down."

"Something's going on down here, Max," Nate said. "You should probably hurry. Some kind of political powwow is happening in one of the alcoves."

"Eden," Max said. "There's no chance our signal was picked up?"

"No, I would have gotten an alert if there was someone else monitoring the system."

Max grunted and shut down the computer, closing the lid and placing it exactly how he'd found it on the senator's desk. He pocketed the flash drive and the nifty device Eden had given him, wiped down the surfaces he'd touched, and headed back to the door.

He listened carefully for anyone out in the hallway and then slowly cracked the door open. The hall was clear and he stepped out of the office and made sure the door locked behind him. He straightened his bow tie and then headed for the stairs.

He almost made it.

"Hey! You there," a man's voice called from behind him. "Stop where you are."

Max turned and gave the guard a superior look. Another guard joined him, and Max swore silently as he saw the guard was already talking into his headset to alert security. Max shoved his hands in his pockets casually and adopted a bored expression, not looking like a man who'd just stolen national security files from the senator's computer.

"Are you talking to me?" he asked.

The guard came closer until he was standing just in front of Max. The stairs leading down to the party on the first floor were more than a dozen feet away.

"The senator's office is off limits to guests."

"I wasn't in the senator's office." Max picked at invisible lint on his sleeve and then gave the guard a sheepish look. "I was in that room right there," he said, pointing to the door next to the office. "A lady friend and I had a—meeting. She's familiar with the house and told me where to meet her. But I'd prefer that not get out. Her husband might not like it."

"You're going to need to come with us, sir," the guard said, pointing toward the way Max had originally come—back to the family wing. "Do you have your invitation?"

Max let out an audible sigh and started walking. He stayed relaxed when the other guard flanked him. "I don't think you know who I am," he said indignantly. "I'm not going to be treated like a common criminal in the senator's home."

Max heard footsteps pounding up the back stairway and knew he had to make his move quickly. His foot lashed out and kicked the guard on his right at the side of the knee. A sickening crack sounded and Max covered the guard's mouth with his hand so his scream couldn't be heard over the party below. Max touched the pressure point in the guard's neck and let him fall unconscious to the ground.

The other guard reached for his weapon, and Max grabbed his wrist, twisting it so the bone broke and the gun fell from his useless grasp. He gave him a short punch to the jaw, and the guard crumpled on top of the other one.

"I need a distraction," he said, running toward the stairs at the front of the house.

"I'm on it," Nate said.

An enormous crash sounded below, and Max heard a few screams from the women in the crowd as champagne glasses filled to the rims crashed to the marble floor and splashed their dresses. Nate had come through, and Senator Henry was apologizing to his guests while berating the poor server Nate had tripped.

Max walked at a sedate pace down the wide center stairs at the front of the house, pushing past the crowd of people that had converged there while they waited for the mess to be cleaned up. He ignored the shouts from upstairs where he'd left the guards and kept moving forward, getting closer to freedom. He reached the bottom of the stairs and Nate bumped against him, giving him the opportunity to slip the flash drive into Nate's pocket. The front door was only steps away and people were starting to panic from the unknown shouts and the sudden swarm of security everywhere.

"There he is!" someone yelled from behind him. "Stop him!" He didn't turn around to see who had said it. His training kicked in, and the only thing he worried about was blending. Making himself invisible. None of the people around him could tell who the guards were pointing to.

"I've got an alternative pickup en route," Eden said. "I just got word from Atticus about half an hour ago that he's in town and we have extra men. I'm trapped behind a limo. Head east toward the next cross street and they'll meet you there."

Indignant shouts of partygoers echoed in his ears as guards shoved their way through the crowd, and Max slipped out the front door and down the garden path. The front gardens were lush and the fragrant scent of roses reminded him of his grandmother—overpowering and slightly stifling. Each of the estates in the exclusive neighborhood sat on a couple of acres that were tree lined and picturesque. Only people with a lot of money could force their lawns to be that green in a Texas summer.

The air was stagnant and smothering and the humidity so thick it felt like breathing water, so the only people outdoors were parking attendants. Max was halfway down the arched driveway before security guards swarmed from each side of the house. He couldn't fight all of them, and he didn't want to kill anyone. They were only doing their jobs. But he knew they wouldn't have any compunction about using their weapons on him, and damned if he felt like taking another bullet anytime soon.

He ran. It was all he could do, and he hoped to God the pickup team was waiting where Eden had said it would be. Yells came from behind him, but he focused on the trees to the east and on the street he knew would be on the opposite side.

The loud crack of a gunshot sounded like it was right next to his ear, and the bark on the tree in front of him exploded, sending tiny shards of wood into his face and neck. Blood ran into his eye and his leg ached as he pushed himself harder and harder. He weaved in and out of the trees, in no particular pattern, making himself a smaller target, but the gunshots didn't stop and if anything, they sounded closer.

He ran out of the cover of trees and straight into the open residential street in front of him. If his driver wasn't there, he was screwed. He heard the squeal of tires before he saw the tiny silver car turn the corner and drive straight toward him. He kept running as the driver's side window opened and a slim hand appeared, holding a semiautomatic handgun.

The driver laid down cover for him, firing shots steadily, and he heard a couple of grunts from too close behind him as the bullets found their target. The driver turned the wheel at the last possible second and the passenger door flung open. Max jumped inside, and the car was speeding back down the street in the direction it had come from before he was able to get the door closed.

"Thanks for the ride," he said.

Jade looked at him out of unreadable green eyes. "It just so happened I was in the neighborhood."