Chapter Fourteen

Ghost

I kept my speed steady until I hit the end of the drive and turned onto the deserted access road to the property. Then I floored it.

Driving east for two klicks, I fucking cursed myself.

First the farmer's market, now this.

I'd bought this property a couple years ago for its remote location. One road in and out. Forest on three sides, no neighbors, electrified perimeter fence the previous owner had put in to keep deer out of his backyard garden. It'd been the perfect location and setup for a safe house.

Until I'd fucked up.

Turning north off the paved road onto an old hunting trail barely wide enough for a three-wheeler, let alone the SUV, I cut the headlights and grabbed my burner.

Bringing up my satellite feeds, I checked again, but this time I widened the parameters of my search to encompass a hundred-acre radius around the property.

The SUV hit a fallen branch and the vehicle lurched over it.

" Fuck ."

Slamming on the breaks, I studied the footage on the northwest corner of the property. If I was breaching the location, it's where I'd infil.

Five hours ago, nothing.

Ten hours ago, nothing.

Twelve hours ago, nothing.

Then I saw it.

Seventeen hours ago, moving so precisely out of formation that it was purposeful, five heat signatures trekked across the deer trails under the tree canopy at oh five thirty.

One hour after I'd landed at the private airstrip outside Miami this morning.

One hour before sunrise.

All five heading southeast toward the house.

I fast-forwarded two more minutes through the feed.

Flanking out, pulling in, varying their speeds, by sunup, the thermal images were virtually useless. The variation of their tactical approach was so practiced, they may as well have been wildlife. But they fucking weren't. Highly trained, in position before the farmer's market incident, they'd known I was coming. He'd known.

My HVT.

The fucking terrorist who'd picked up my first breadcrumb two days ago, except he hadn't waited for the rest of my trail like I'd predicted. He'd fucking skipped it and had come after Safiya.

FUCK.

No time to check my relocation sites for breaches, having to make the assumption that everything was now compromised, I exited out of my servers and dialed a number I didn't think I would ever call again.

Two rings and the line connected, but my nemesis—the one asshole who was more of ghost than I was, didn't speak.

Barely controlling a rage I never let surface, I fucking asked. "Did you do this?"

"Do what?"

For a split second, I calculated. My mission had aligned with one of his many agendas. We were both untraceable rogue operatives. I'd done fieldwork for him, he'd fed me intel in exchange, but I'd never planned on an alliance. This fight was personal. I was always going to end it. On my terms, with my own hands. Would he have sabotaged that?

Fuck .

"You know what," I accused, taking my foot off the brake.

"Hanging up."

"I'm compromised." Safiya was compromised. Sixteen relocations were potentially compromised, and I needed to be Oscar Tango Mike with an intercept plan because I was getting her back, no matter what the fuck I had to do.

"You're out, per your request."

Translation, he didn't give a fuck. Or he was behind it. Either way, the clock was ticking.

I made a strategy call.

Driving the SUV as far into the woods as possible, I aimed a direct tactical strike with enough truth for him to get the picture. "I didn't request getting out of the game. You assumed I'd been burned when we rallied at your drop after your field trip to Monza." I hadn't been burned, not back then, but I'd let him think I was because I'd been playing the long game.

He hadn't killed me on the spot, so he'd either known I was lying, or he still had an ounce of humanity left in him.

Playing on the latter during our last call, I'd told him to hang it up and come in, but it wasn't an act of friendship. It'd been a diversion to throw him off my trail so I could land here. Except here was now fucked, the world's most dangerous terrorist had Safiya, my entire mission might be compromised, and I wanted to know if this asshole was behind it.

"End result was what you wanted."

Bullshit. "Last chance." If I found out he'd fucked with Safiya and burned me, I was going to leak every goddamn piece of intel I had on him right before I ended him. "Five operatives, clustered. North America, southeastern region. Boots on the ground seventeen hours ago. They yours?" Throwing the SUV into park, I cut the engine.

There was a four-second delay. Then, "You're one-and-a-half klicks southeast of your empty Georgia safe house."

That motherfucker . "Tracking my untraceable burner for my POS and hacking my sat comms to access my property doesn't answer the question."

"I didn't hack."

"I changed the security protocol." I'd disabled his access. He'd fucking hacked into my shit.

"Who taught you those protocols?"

The only thing he'd taught me was useful paranoia, most of which was related to interactions with him. Ignoring his attempt at a redirect, I offered him a one-time professional courtesy. "Two choices. Answer me or I'm coming for you."

"Not my operatives, and don't ever threaten me again. If you'd wanted mission success, you should've read me in before your strike teams and before you leaked that intel two days ago." He hung up.

Fucking enraged, I swiped to my sat feeds. No time to question who the fuck on my strike teams had fed him intel, I brought up real-time imagery, then jogged back on the video until I saw it.

Seven minutes ago, five tangos left the safe house through the back slider. One was carrying a sixth heat signature.

Compartmentalizing my rage, I screwed a suppressor onto my Glock, then grabbed the sling on my rifle. Kitting out with the bare minimum—drop leg holsters, extra magazines and NVGs—I glanced once more at the satellite feeds.

Retracing their approach, none of them redirecting to my location, the tangos were exfilling the same way they'd come in, and I had my plan of attack.

Strapping my Glocks for thigh carry, repositioning my slinged HK416 to my back, my boots hit the ground and I dropped my NVGs.

Then I was running.