Chapter Forty-Five

Ghost

"A nd here I thought I knew everythin'." Talerco tipped his chin aft cabin and fucking grinned. "Didn't know you had one brother, let alone two."

"Stepbrothers," I corrected.

The SARC smirked. "Daddy Grayson was a busy man, makin' all you golden boys." Pulling a suture through, he glanced up at me with a raised eyebrow and fished. "Unless it was Mama Grayson?"

"Hurry up." I needed to get to Safiya.

"Why? Cuz you don't want the missus to see the great Ghost is human after all?" He chuckled. "Trust me, Empire is well aware you ain't an apparition, and you already burst her hero bubble with that passin' out stunt you pulled on the apron. Although, considerin' she fainted right after ya, might be an omen or some shit. Couples that faint together, stay together."

"What did you just call her?"

"Empire. As in Ottoman." He glanced up at me and winked. "How am I doin' so far? Greek brothers, a Turkish missus, a dead terrorist, and an entire human traffickin' operation taken out from the top down." He threaded another suture. "Not a bad haul considerin' you lost almost as much blood as Sun God Blondie over there. By the way, 'bout that. Hacker Boy didn't warn me I was gonna be dealin' with two criticals. Since I only had one bag of O negative on ice, and Sun God Blondie took a worse beatin' in that shoulder and was bleedin' like a stuck pig, he got the goods. While he's juicin' over there, you get me." Tying off the last suture, he smiled. "And my stellar skills, of course." His expression turned serious. "Though I'm man enough to admit, you might have me beat on that title today. Cuttin' off the head of that ISIS snake and livin' to tell the tale?" He stood and checked out his handiwork. "I might like you yet, Agency."

"I'm not CIA."

"Maybe not or maybe not anymore, still unclear on that one, but Empire, Agency—got a certain ring to 'em. Besides, I can't hardly fuck with a nickname like Ghost. You scored the Holy Grail of call signs when you were on the Teams, and that old OIC couldn't remember shit. Lucky he didn't call you Golf." Talerco laughed.

"My call sign didn't come from the Teams." I glanced over at Safiya, but she was looking out the window. "What makes you think she's from Turkey?"

"Don't think, I know." Talerco nodded toward Helios. "Courtesy of Greek brother number one, aka Sun God Blondie. Which, if you ask me, is perfect irony on the nicknamin' front, cuz Sun God Blondie's attitude ain't sunny, and he makes Blade seem like a fuckin' Girl Scout."

"What'd Helios say to her?"

"Nothin' till Miss Ottoman Empire came to, took one look at her IV, and started cursin' up a storm. 'Cept it was in another language, and I ain't a hundred percent sure it was actual cussin'. All I know is, it wasn't Asian, Persian, or Russian, and it didn't sound like Dari, but I couldn't place it. Takin' a stab, I tried Arabic to keep her from rippin' her line out. That's when Sun God Blondie stepbrother set me straight and said she was speakin' Turkish. Wasn't sure how I was gonna swing that, but then your little Ottoman Empire missus switched to English, and now we're all good." Drawing out his last two words in a purposeful taunt, he pulled off his gloves, searched in his med kit, and came away with a Z-Pak. "Med allergies?"

"No." Besides nicknaming everyone he met, Talerco had a reputation for being a shit-stirrer and habitual flirt. He was also a legendary SARC. "She hasn't eaten in over twenty-four hours, and she was drugged before we retrieved her. Is that why she fainted on the apron? Did I drop her?"

"Blade caught her, and I suspect stress, fear, and trauma were the main factors of her LOC. She's also dehydrated, and unless you know for sure what she was drugged with, there's no tellin' the half-life of whatever's in her system." He held out the small pack of antibiotics. "You know the drill. Follow the directions. Take 'em all. Any sign of infection, get to an ER." He tipped his chin at my stitches. "Don't fuck around. I know that wound ain't fresh." His gaze cut to my temple. "Don't fuck around with that head injury either. Dizziness, LOC again, vomitin', get your ass seen."

"Head's fine. Not why I passed out." I took the antibiotics from him.

"If by fine, you mean the stock-shaped bruise on the side of your face matches the un-business end of an M4, then yep, you're fine. As far as it not bein' a contributin' factor to your LOC, we're gonna have to agree to disagree. Funny how gettin' coldcocked and stabbed takes all the piss outta ya."

I popped the first two pills out of the blister pack and swallowed them dry. Then I got up from the reclined seat, stepped into Talerco's personal space, and made sure we understood each other. "You don't know where she's from. You don't call her Empire, and you never speak about her to anyone, especially not Helios." I didn't need Helios's bullshit to infect her. "Copy?"

Dropping his accent and usual raillery demeanor, Talerco gave me a clipped nod. "Loud and clear."

Pocketing the meds, I walked to Safiya's seat. Barely fucking restraining myself from touching her, from taking her in my arms, I scanned her slight form under the blanket and the tote bag at her feet. Then I took in every inch of her despondent expression. Kicked in the chest and the goddamn gut, I asked instead of demanded, "Would you like to change into dry clothes?" Out of every goddamn thing that'd happened, it hit as the one question that was the most loaded, but it was also the only thing I could do for her right this second to make her more comfortable.

"No. Thank you." She didn't look at me. She hadn't since she'd met my gaze when I'd called out for her after coming to.

I glanced at her feet again. Bare. "I'll be right back."

She didn't reply.

I aimed for my goddamn stepbrother.

Helios glanced up as I sat on the divan across from him. "You fucking owe me a new goddamn plane, asshole."

Barly containing my rage, I refrained from telling him I didn't owe him shit because now wasn't the time. "How do you know Turkish?"

"How do you?"

"What did you say to her when she woke up?" I'd never heard Safiya curse, in Turkish or English.

He grunted with disgust. "Why? You worried your girlfriend's going to find out you're hazardous to her health? Spoiler, she already knows. What the fuck do you think pissed her off in the first place?"

"I'm only going to have this conversation with you once, so listen carefully."

"You and your conversation can go fuck off, Ghost ."

Ignoring the slight and his attitude, I outlined—in singular detail—his future fate. "You fuck with her, I'll kill you." I stood.

"You think she wound up in Venezuela because I fucked with her?"

I didn't reply to Helios, and I didn't make eye contact with Ares as he looked from me to his brother.

I grabbed the go bag that'd been left for me and hit the head.

Three minutes later, I was in a new shirt and dry pants, my hands and side were scrubbed of blood, a fresh bandage and antibiotic cream were covering my wound, and a second Glock was holstered. Pocketing an extra magazine, I powered up a new burner and sent a text.

Find the profiler.

Ten seconds later, a reply came through.

Copy.

I shoved the cell into my pocket and grabbed a pair of ballet-type flats that were stashed on every AES plane next to the small stack of women's clothes.

Then I walked back to my number one.