Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

Mason

"I miss my home," Kowalski complains, looking at the Mediterranean blue sky.

The weather is perfect. Warm, but not so obscenely hot that it suffocates us. It's just another day in Greece. There's something inherently magical about Athens that brings us here—it's not the ruins or the tourists. It's the easy access to the European community.

So many arms, drugs, and other deals are getting finalized in this land daily. Hades would be proud of them, while Zeus… well, the almighty might not give a fuck. He wasn't a good guy either.

"If only I could've brought my wife," Kowalski complains as he takes a sip of his water.

"Sure, nothing says I love you better than I brought you to Greece during a mission. Sorry if I get you killed," I say sarcastically.

"Have you ever thought about taking more than a day off between missions?" he asks.

I nod. "Didn't I just do that a year ago?"

"You mean when you were shot and almost died?" He taps his chin as he stares at the ceiling. "No, it doesn't count."

I shrug. "That set us back a few months."

"We should give up this… what is this?"

It's a favor to Interpol, and they aren't paying us a cent. "I consider this training."

He exhales all his frustration, but I doubt it's enough to convince him that what we're doing is worth it.

"We're just observing," I remind him. "It's not a rescue mission. We won't be doing more than watching as Tom Dionati meets his contact. We're just two men visiting Athens and flirting with gorgeous women."

He glares at me. "I don't think my wife is going to appreciate the flirting part. Why would two men come to Athens without a date?"

"For the same reason many men do it. We are a couple who like to share their bed with others." I give him a loving smile.

Taking acting classes for a year pays off during undercover missions. I sell a character, and people believe what I want them to believe.

Kowalski shakes his head. "I'm getting too old to be dealing with this nonsense."

"We can always move you to another department."

"No,you need me to cover your ass. You're only twenty-nine, but one day, your priorities will change."

He sounds just like my father. He insists that I settle down—or at least stop risking my life. What does he mean by that?

Dad continues to offer protection to the Deckers. He goes wherever Chris needs them, either with him or his sons. There's always a groupie who is so out of touch with reality that they might become a threat. Is my father going to risk his life for Chris? In a heartbeat. That's his job.

Mine goes beyond protecting just one person. I want to make the world a better place. I don't think I'll ever stop going on missions—or find a woman to marry. My parents taught me that relationships are messy. To this day, their marriage haunts me.

My father still loves my mother. Mom can't seem to keep a guy longer than a season. What's the point of love?

Considering my future while scouting isn't smart. A distraction can be the difference between gathering information and wasting my time. It's just a heartbeat, one movement, and the guy we've followed might disappear. Or, in this case, he might be five steps ahead of us and ready to attack.

The man is in his late thirties or early forties. Dark hair with a few grays dusting his temples. His olive-toned skin blends with the majority of the natives. If it wasn't for the gun hiding under his jacket, I would think he's a merchant. Fortunately, I've trained with the best for the past ten years. My father, among others, like former CIA spies, former Delta Force officers, and more.

I reach for the knife I hide inside my utility boot. Kowalski closes his eyes briefly. He knows what might happen next. For some, a gun is the best arm. Not for me. I've learned that knives are a much more effective and fearsome weapon.

"Can you keep this low-key?" Kowalski asks.

"Watch my back. I don't think there's anyone else, but—" That's all I get to say. The man takes out the gun, it's a small automatic rifle. I squat, pull the knife, and throw it toward his neck. He falls almost immediately.

Kowalski is already up, holding a gun. People are screaming, running away.

"This is going to be a shit show."

He's not wrong, but maybe he's right about one thing. I need some time off to regroup.

"I had to call in several favors," Dad chides me.

Gunner Thompson crosses his arms and nods. He's one of Dad's best friends and a former Green Beret. He's one of my mentors, and he doesn't look happy. Greece was a shit show. The police captured us—I mean, I killed a man in front of many witnesses. Kowalski was able to catch two other men that were with him. He took them to the rental where we were staying and called my father.

I got out of jail, but now I'm facing the consequences of my actions. They don't mean the fact that I acted in self-defense. Nope. We think someone knows my identity, and I might be a target.

"They were waiting for you," Gunner glares at me. "They know you… you have to figure out the mission and go back to clean up. We discussed this part during training. There can't be any witnesses. If they recognize you, you're a dead man—and after they capture you, they'll go after your family. They'll kill them in front of you, and then you'll be next."

"Kowalski is interrogating the two men he captured," Dad says. "I know you're better at that, but I invited someone who might be able to speed things up. He's also a former Ranger."

He makes it sound as if we have a guest for supper. I nod. Though I'm listening to their rants, I'm racking my brain trying to figure out who sent these guys to kill me. If they're right, I have to go on a manhunt, and I can't go back home. Not like I promised Nine. I said I'd be there for her birthday this year. But it's okay. I'd rather skip it and take care of the problem than put her in danger.

I look at Gunner. "I might need more employees and people to train them. Could you get out of retirement and help me?"

"I'll give you two years, plus a few men and women that will be good for this operation. You fucked up, but I'm impressed with everything you've built. We can improve and figure out those gaps we need to fill. There's no margin for error in a company like yours."

"Do you need me around?" Dad asks.

"Always. Let me sleep for a couple of hours. After that, we can gather again and make a plan."

As I'm heading to my temporary room, Dad says, "I'm proud of everything you've done, Mason."

Sure, but what if this is the beginning of the end?