Chapter 2

TWO

0400 hours

Somewhere over the Atlantic

Declan Reid was three days past needing a shower, six months past a haircut.

Surrounded by crates of military cargo and the mindless drone of four C-5M Super Galaxy engines miles over the ocean, his mind was elsewhere. Only hours before, he’d been trading bullets with a Colombian cartel on the outskirts of Bogotá. Now, he had bigger problems.

Much bigger.

Meg.

Declan took a deep breath and shoved the thought away. He was a professional. One woman wasn’t going to commandeer ten years of intense training.

The cavernous interior of the C-5 cargo plane was dimly lit with the ghostly glow of LED lighting strips silhouetting rows of giant cargo crates packed tightly together. The air was stale and cold. The behemoth of a plane was never meant to transport people. There was barely enough room for stretching, less matter standing. It was enough to make anyone claustrophobic.

It didn’t seem to bother Spencer Sterling.

“You’re going to get us killed one of these days,” Declan called out.

Spence and Declan had been in more tight spots together than he could count, but being smuggled onto a military supply run as crates of ‘tactical equipment’ was a new one for both of them. Five hours in the cargo bay with nothing but their thoughts had put them both on edge. Or so he had thought. Spence actually seemed to be enjoying himself.

The bastard chuckled. Moving nimbly from stack to stack, exploring the containers in the bay, a resounding thud echoed each time he jumped between gaps in the stacks.

Who knew what was in those crates?

“Any word from Del?” He maneuvered back to where Declan sat. Del was their eyes and ears and had more technical expertise in computer systems than anyone at Langley. If he couldn’t get through to them on the Galaxy, no one could.

“Nothing yet.” Declan touched his earpiece, making sure it was still functioning.

The pair had been assisting the local drug enforcement agency in Bogotá with a group of cartels that had put a US Ambassador at risk. After cornering a few members of the gang on the west side of the city, a tense standoff situation had ended with Flynn—the man himself—on a phone call telling the duo they were being pulled out. Flynn rarely spoke directly to operatives. That alone spoke to the urgency and importance of the new mission. Team Pegasus had arrived shortly after, and despite his questions, Declan had followed orders.

Trusting your team kept you alive.

All Flynn had said was that he had a crucial mission that he knew they would want to be part of. That’s what had caused a cascade of questions in Declan’s mind. Flynn refused to tell them more over a public line. Get to the C47 Mil base. Your ride is waiting. Del will contact you. Meg Carson will be awaiting your arrival in Romania.

The last statement echoed in Declan’s head.

Shit . The Swans had been reactivated.

He’d hoped they might one day but had never imagined Megan Carsen would be part of them again. Their leader.

Turbulence rocked the plane, sending Spence stumbling and snapping Declan back to the present. He instantly touched the familiar grip of his Sig Sauer P320 as his other hand smacked one of the crates to steady him. Just turbulence .

Spence took a seat next to him on a metal bench crowded with black plastic containers that had been tied down. “Jesus, Dec, I haven’t seen you this worked up in a while.”

Spence didn’t know yet that Meg would be waiting for them. “I’m fine. Just want to know what’s going on.”

Declan was in his element when he had the big picture. Never one to rush into a situation, he always considered all of the options available to him and his team.

Six years in the Marines, a spec ops stint, and ending up on an Anti-Terrorism Security Team had put him on the CIA’s radar. When an op went sideways in Syria, and he’d been lucky to see another sunrise, he’d assumed he was done. Finished. Put a bullet in my head -kind of cooked with his career.

Conrad Flynn had had another idea.

Static blared in his ears. Del.

“Black Swan Two, this is Loch Ness. Come in. Over.”

And…here we go . “This is Swan Two,” Declan responded. “Never thought I’d hear that callout over comms again. Over.”

Del was silent for a pregnant breath. “Neither did I, but our current situation calls for it. We’ve got a highly-sensitive red bag retrieval mission, and we need a team that isn’t on record… anywhere. We need our best gents…and ladies.”

Dec and Spence locked eyes briefly. This was going to be bad.

Del continued. “Mosai Hagar and his death squad have made major progress on recruiting recently, and they’re looking stronger and more organized than we’ve ever seen. Bin Laden type-power. Only they’re not staying in the shadows. They’re striking where it counts and obtaining top-secret information that may lead to a lot of people getting hurt. They’re currently after a thumb drive in the Bucharest US Embassy. They’ve already incited a considerable local uprising, and we believe they’ll use those folks to overwhelm security. He’s not on the scene yet, but we anticipate his arrival. We can’t let the intel on that drive fall into his hands.”

“Stopping an uprising isn’t under our umbrella,” Declan said. “Are we after the drive, or are we taking out Hagar?”

“The drive is your target. It’s inside a safe in the chief of mission’s office. There’s also a more personal interest—Tommy Mendoza. He’s missing. We need him back.”

Tommy. Declan hadn’t thought about the kid since they’d all attended Jessie’s funeral. Tommy had sent a roundhouse punch into Dec’s face.

Granted, it was deserved, but…

I can never make it right.

“What the hell is he doing in Bucharest?”

“His job. He’s been there for eight months.”

Right. An analyst who’d lost his shit after his sister’s murder was broadcast on social media was now working at the embassy? What was he really there for? “What’s he got to do with the red bag?”

“We believe he’s the one who discovered the intel the drive contains. His superior didn’t realize how important it was. Until Tommy disappeared.”

Idiot.

“Kidnapped?” Spence asked.

“Status unknown,” Del replied, giving them no hint. Tommy might be dead for all anyone knew.

Dead. Declan rubbed his eyes. Meg wasn’t ready for this.

Hell, he wasn’t ready for this.

“The Black Swan Division was put out to pasture for a reason, Loch Ness. Why does Solomon want to resurrect us?” Solomon was Flynn’s call name—the former codename he’d used while undercover in the field.

“More importantly,” Spence added, “if Declan is still Swanny Two, does that mean I’m Swanny One now?”

He never could be serious.

Del’s exasperated sigh could be heard in Russia. “Above my pay grade, Two. I’m here to keep you guys alive and moving. And no, Three, your status hasn’t changed. You’re meeting Swan One in Bucharest. She’s en route as we speak. She’ll be lead on the mission, just like always.”

Lead ? Spence seemed to echo Declan’s shock, his brows hitting his hairline. They’re bringing Meg back ? he mouthed.

Declan nodded. Spence used his hands to simulate the top of his head exploding.

Right there with you, buddy .

Del continued, “You have a limited window before the embassy goes tits ups, and you’re back on US soil. Twelve hours from the meet-up. That’s it, gentlemen. Retrieve the drive, locate Tommy if possible, and meet Pegasus for extraction at the rendezvous point. Coordinates will be sent closer to extraction time. Don’t be late. You will be left behind.”

“Easy for you to say,” Declan grumbled under his breath. That cushy chair in Langley had never seen Del be late in his life, but then Del had a reserved parking space and plenty of amenities to make his job a cakewalk compared to theirs. He spoke louder this time, emphasizing his words. “Is Swan One stable?”

The hum of the engines made Del’s hesitation even more obvious. Spence shifted uncomfortably where he stood, avoiding Declan’s eyes this time.

Finally, Del responded. “If you have questions, I can put Solomon on the line.”

Del said it almost as if it were a threat. Which meant what ? Declan bit down on his tongue to stop his flippant reply. Like hell, Flynn would discuss Meg’s mental status with them. They were about to be in the trenches together against Hagar and his death squad. Of course, he would say she was capable. Stable.

But is she ? Or was Flynn up shit creek and had no one left to turn to? Declan’s pulse raced beneath his skin. Probably the latter.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, eh?” Spence quipped.

Del didn’t acknowledge him. “You’ll be running dark once we terminate this connection until you’re reunited with the rest of your team.”

The rest of the team equaled one member—Meg.

“If things go sideways, what’s our contingency plan?” Spence asked, no joking now.

“Just like old times. You’re on your own.”

Declan sighed. It was probably better that way. Outside contact usually had a way of making things messy. But this felt wrong. Off. Not unusual for Black Swan missions, but still. This was off like the leaning Tower of Pisa-off.

Training and experience had a funny way of honing one’s sixth sense. His gut never lied.

Del’s voice squawked over the earpiece. “Any last questions?”

He had plenty. “You saw her last eval. Give it to me straight. Is she going to be a problem?” Declan needed Meg in top form. If she was off the deep end, she could put them all at risk, intentionally or not.

“Any other questions?” Del’s voice had an audible eye roll in it.

“Yes, but you won’t answer them,” Declan growled in frustration. Maybe Flynn should get on the line .

“Look…those evals are classified. I haven’t seen them.”

Bullshit. Del could access anything he wanted, classified or not. He was the best of the best. There was a reason Flynn used him. “Like hell, you haven’t.”

Del paused again. His voice came out lower. Declan could barely him over the plane noise. “She’s Orange, but passed every one of her last tests.”

Fucking. Hell. The color labels were a classification system Flynn used for evaluating competency in the field. Regardless of what tests he’d put her through, she was orange…

She shouldn’t even be allowed out of Langley. Fucking Flynn. Fucking Black Swan Division. Fuck.

“As I recall, she quit. How did Solomon get her back?”

Del’s tone returned to business, ignoring the question. “Good luck, swans. Radio contact will resume at twelve hundred hours local time. Loch Ness out.”

Outwardly, he remained stone cold, but inside, Declan raged. Every piece of this mission was its own bullet, just waiting to fire and cause irreparable damage.

Meg has to keep it together . If she wasn’t thinking clearly, who knew what poor decisions she would make?

And more than anything, she would have something to prove to herself. Despite having clean hands, Meg blamed herself for Jessie’s death.

Blamed him, too.

What a shit show.

The swans had once been the elite of the elite. Now? They were their own worst enemy.

And once more, they were going up against Mosai Hagar and his infamous death squad.