Chapter 13

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

CAL

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I heard you correctly. Did you just ask what my plan was?” Jack pretended to look shocked. “Are you actually deferring to me instead of doing whatever you want?”

“Shut up, Grayson. Let’s just say I might have learned a lesson in Venice.”

Jack rested his chin in his hand and batted his eyelashes. “You don’t say. Was it when you got stuck in the canal?”

“Seriously? Am I ever going to live that down?”

“Never. In fact, consider yourself lucky I didn’t snap a pic and send it to your brothers.”

“Yeah, yeah. You can give me shit all you want, but we need to know what’s on those trains.”

Jack cleared his throat. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He tapped on his keyboard and turned the screen toward me again. “Here is the shipping manifest for the train coming in tomorrow. It’s due to arrive at nine tomorrow night. The next train scheduled to depart for Bratislava leaves at four thirty the next morning.”

“If Mazal is going to move merchandise, he’s going to move it overnight.”

“Definitely. So I say we spend some time playing tourist tomorrow while also getting close enough to the commercial train yard to check out the on-the-ground security and figure out if there are any weak points we can use to get in. Mazal’s security system is top-notch, but I’ve hacked similar systems in the past. I’ll work on getting in tonight, then cut the security feeds from my laptop when we get closer to the train yard.”

I nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Are we sticking with our cover?”

My cheeks heated a little. Jack didn’t need to know how much I liked the weight of the gold band on my finger. Sometimes when I looked down at it, I let myself pretend it was for real. I wanted it to be so badly I’d almost slipped and told Jack the truth about our connection when he’d asked me about my saddle patch. He’d seen me naked at Reuben’s and again in Venice, and I wondered what it meant that he’d just now noticed the change to my saddle patch. But we had work to do, and I was determined to follow Jack’s lead.

There would be time to tell him he was my mate later.

Maybe.

Maybe it would be better if he never knew.

“Cal?” The way Jack said my name made a shiver roll down my spine and land in my balls. Thank god we had separate bedrooms and bathrooms this time. I was going to be spending a lot of private time with my right hand.

Then I realized he’d said my name like that because I hadn’t answered his question.

“Uh, yeah. I mean, it works, right? And isn’t Prague supposed to be, like, a romantic getaway spot?”

Jack shrugged. “I guess. There’s one more thing from Reuben.” He clicked open the last file in the folder. “Looks like Reuben has gotten us on the list for a modern art exhibition opening at the Museum Kampa, which is being sponsored by Mazal’s legitimate shipping company for the day after tomorrow.”

“If nothing else, we’ll be able to observe Mazal and see if he makes contact with anyone in particular.”

Jack’s eyebrows almost hit his hairline. “Yeah. Exactly.”

A yawn cracked my jaw. “Is that it? Do we need to go over anything else?”

“No. I think we’re good. If there is anything else to work out, we can talk about it tomorrow.”

Pushing my chair back from the table, I stood. “Then I’m going to crash.”

“Me too. Tomorrow is going to be a long day, so feel free to sleep in.”

I gave him a mock salute. “Will do.”

“Good night, sweetheart.”

My heart twisted every time he called me sweetheart, even when he was mocking me, and it damn near did a double back handspring in my chest now. “Good night, Jack.”

As we’d planned, we spent the next day playing tourist. We went to the Grand Palace and walked around Old Town and over a bunch of famous bridges. The city was full of old-world charm, yet so different from Venice.

Jack had suggested we grab a late dinner at a restaurant near the town house at the very edge of the city. We had taken a drive out to the industrial area of the city and had done a lap around the train yard. There was a fence on the north side that had seen better days, and we’d both agreed that was our best option for getting into the yard undetected. The north side of the yard was also flanked by several large copses of trees. Since we’d have to drive out to the yard, the trees would provide cover for our approach and a hidden place to stash the car. We went over our plan in hushed whispers while we ate, and after dinner, we went back to the town house to relax for a little while before we headed out.

I was too keyed up about the op to relax much, so I got dressed in all black—a long-sleeved T-shirt, black tactical pants, and heavy black boots. I was considering my weaponry options that I had laid out on the bed, both guns that I’d brought still in their locked travel cases, when Jack knocked on the doorframe.

“You ready?” He was dressed almost identically, but he’d thrown a tac vest over his shirt, and goddamn was he hot in op gear. My dick twitched, but now wasn’t the time to break my sex ban with Jack. We had important work to do, work that finally felt like it was playing to my skill set, like I could finally contribute something.

“Almost. I’m not sure what to take.”

Jack surveyed the items I had laid out and picked up the SRK I’d been carrying since BUDS training with the SEALs and handed it over. “This is efficient and quiet. I’m not anticipating a firefight.” He tapped his vest, and I saw the handle of a similar knife tucked through one of the loops.

“It’s always when you don’t anticipate a firefight that you should be prepared for one.” I pressed my finger to the biolock on the travel case that held Betty, my favorite Beretta, and entered the code on the keypad. I pulled her out, checked the safety and loaded the magazine, grabbed an extra, and tucked her into the holster at my hip.

Jack rolled his eyes. “You and that damn gun.”

“What? Betty’s my girl. She’s never let me down.”

“I think you’re going in too hot, but you’re not going to listen to me, are you?”

“Nope.” I popped the P at the end, which made Jack blow out a frustrated sigh. “You’re not carrying?”

Jack shook his head. “Knives only.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Are you ready now?”

“As I’ll ever be. Let’s roll.”

We made the short drive in silence, both playing through what we were going to do, and Jack cut the headlights when we were a mile out, approaching the rail yard as quietly as we could. He parked behind one of the groups of evergreen trees and grabbed his laptop from behind the driver’s seat. His fingers flew over the keys for a few seconds before he made a small sound of victory and closed the computer, stashing it behind him again.

“Security feeds for this section of the yard are running a loop, so they won’t see us come in. We should have enough cover from the trains in the yard to stay off their radar, but we’re going to have to work fast.”

“Roger that.”

We both got out of the car, slipping on black balaclavas and moving on silent feet. We didn’t need to say anything. For all Jack and I bickered and sniped at each other, we worked well like this, together in the field. We’d only done it a couple of times before, one of which was recently when we’d helped Nero rescue Felix. It had sort of been my fault Felix had been taken in the first place, but that was neither here nor there. That day, Jack and I had worked as a team, finding and taking out the men who had kidnapped Felix, then setting the whole warehouse ablaze to cover our tracks. We might have argued just a little about how best to approach the situation, but once we were actually on-site, we worked like a well-oiled machine.

Like we did now as we moved together toward the fence. Jack pulled a pair of heavy-duty handheld wire cutters out of his pocket and snipped along the fence before rolling the metal away far enough for us to slip through. We were on the far end of the train yard where it was the quietest, and we clung to the shadows as we moved closer to where the train that had come in with the “private” shipment had just pulled in.

“Look.” Jack held up a fist, and I stopped. He pushed me against a small, dark, and unmanned guard house and pointed toward the train.

The engineer jumped down from the front of the locomotive and walked back toward a car in the middle of the train. He rolled the door open as two men emerged from the shadows. I didn’t like that we hadn’t seen them. It made me wonder what else we were missing.

“Wolves,” I whispered, and Jack nodded.

Just like in the surveillance video, the wolves handed the engineer an envelope and entered the train car. This time, they made the call to their colleague from inside the car, and we waited, watching for the forklift to appear. The rumble of an engine cut through the quiet night, and the forklift operator left the engine idling while he, too, climbed into the boxcar.

“We should get closer.”

Jack considered my statement, then motioned for me to move forward. “Stick to the shadows. Go slowly.”

I didn’t need the reminder. This kind of fieldwork was my bread and butter. I was good at this kind of shit. Beams of light from lamps high above the yard cut vees through the darkness, but I stayed out of them by moving behind the light posts. I kept my steps light, a skill I’d perfected running ops just like this, though with more intent to kill, during my time in the military. I didn’t stop moving until I’d positioned myself between two train cars, where I was close enough to hear the shifters in the train car speaking in rapid Czech. It was another language I didn’t know, so I had no idea what they were saying, but the tone sounded urgent.

Jack was at my side, and we watched the forklift operator return to the vehicle and pick up the first shipping crate, then reverse, the beams from the forklift’s headlights passing right over where we hid. Jack and I plastered ourselves against the cold steel of the freight car until the forklift was out of sight. The crate passed close enough to us that I was able to make out some markings on the side, but I couldn’t tell exactly what they were.

“Follow him or stay here?” I asked.

“Wait. Let’s see if he comes back for more.”

I nodded that I understood and crouched low between the cars for a better view. The forklift returned a few minutes later, then left with another load. The process was efficient, and after the fifth trip, the forklift didn’t return. The sound of boots hitting gravel pulled my attention, and I peeked out enough to see the two wolves who had arrived first had jumped out of the rail car and were talking nearby. There was a glint of metal as the one with his back to us reached into his back pocket for a pack of cigarettes, his shirt lifting a little with the movement, and I was grateful I’d brought Betty, even as I hoped I wouldn’t have to use her. The wolf shifter closest to us lit a cigarette and blew a plume of smoke into the night air before they both turned away from the train and moved toward the station building. From this angle, I could see there were a few lights on in the building.

When they were out of sight, Jack nudged my shoulder. “Let’s see what they put on that train.”

“I’m with you.”

He led us between the cars—the shadows longer between the stationary trains, the light from the lamps not penetrating this deep into the yard—moving on nearly silent feet.

Jack approached one of the cars and made a move to shove the door open, but I grabbed his arm. “It’s the next one.”

All I could see were his eyes, and he looked skeptical. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay.”

Surprised he didn’t try to argue with me, I moved to the next car and pulled the handle on the door. It didn’t budge.

“Helps if you disengage the bolt lock.” Jack slid the bolt out, and I pushed the door back slowly. It was heavy, and the sound of metal on metal echoed around us.

Once I had the door open enough to slide inside, I swung myself up into the car. A beam of light cut through the dark interior, and I turned to see Jack holding a mini Maglite. Five shipping crates sat in the middle of the car. Other containers filled the rest of the car, but I knew these were the ones we wanted. The markings matched what I’d seen when the forklift had gone by.

Pulling my knife out of the sheath at my hip, I ran it along the edge of one of the crates and pried it open. Jack did the same on the other side, and we moved around the perimeter until we had the whole lid loosened. Jack held his flashlight in his mouth and pulled the lid free. I half expected to see the painting, even though I knew the shipping crate wasn’t the right size to hold it, but that wasn’t what was inside.

“Shit.” Jack’s quiet expletive echoed through the freight car.

“This isn’t art.”

He looked down at the military-grade munitions case. “Definitely not.”

“Should we open the others?”

Jack shook his head. “They’re all the same size. I think it’s safe to assume they’re all the same thing.”

“What now?”

“Let’s get out of here and get back to the town house. We can call Reuben and let him know Mazal isn’t moving art, at least not today.”

“What do we do about the weapons?”

“It’s not part of our mission, so we leave it alone. We don’t know where they are heading, and following them will take us too far off course. We have to just let this ride.”

“I fucking hate that.”

“I know.”

“I spent a good part of my military career stopping this kind of thing. It doesn’t sit right with me that he’s running guns.”

“Yeah, but neither of us have any jurisdiction here. We weren’t sent in to shut down an illegal weapons sale, and this isn’t our problem.”

“Fine.” I hated that there was nothing we could do, but Jack was right. I helped him put the lid back on the crate, and we emerged from the train car back into the quiet night. The metal-on-metal squeal as we slid the door shut sounded too loud, and I worried we’d drawn attention, but when seconds passed and there was no sound of running footfalls in the yard, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Which was my first mistake.