“Let me guess, you know exactly where we are too.” Carter approached the table and set his palms down alongside Jesse’s. “Share the drone feed with us. We need to know if or when any threats might drop in.”
“You’re in the clear right now. You did have a tail, but you lost them. But our eyes in the sky lost them as well,” Thatcher revealed the shit news.
“It’s a wonder you can even find your balls these days,” Carter remarked. “Of course, you probably keep them in a steel box on top of some suit’s desk back at Headquarters, don’t you? Letting them call the shots.”
“How I’ve missed you, Dominick.” Thatcher’s sarcasm bled through the line.
Jesse looked at Carter from the corner of his eye, realizing there was an obvious beef he’d been unaware of between the two men. New boss versus old boss. Well, if tonight was proof of anything, it was that Jesse was firmly on Carter’s side. And he now understood why Carter hadn’t liked Thatcher from the get-go. He’d most likely worked with him before.
“Sending you the transmission now. You should have access to our drone feed within sixty seconds,” Thatcher said, after which Carter looked Sydney’s way, signaling her to handle it. “By the way, we heard that a little birdie whispered some intel into your ear,” Thatcher added. “I bet you’re asking yourself whether or not that was part of the plan too.”
Carter’s nostrils flared, and his hand snapped into a fist. Something about this MI6 officer clearly got under his skin and disrupted his usually calm and collected demeanor.
“You don’t sound all that apologetic to me,” Jesse said, trying to redirect the conversation before Thatcher could get in another dig at Carter. “You should have told me about The Chechen. I should have known what was at stake.” He pushed away from the table and stood tall. Ella gave him a compassionate look, and he was surprised to realize his body wasn’t as tightly strung as he expected. “You manipulated this entire situation.”
“I didn’t anticipate the fake marriage, I’ll have to give you that. A nice touch—trying to entice Zoran to make a move earlier than he may have planned.” Thatcher knew exactly what buttons to push. He was still playing mind games—the man couldn’t seem to help himself.
“Had I known Zoran hired The Chechen to do his dirty work, you know I’d never have let Ella come to Paris. I’d have never let her leave the country. Period.” Jesse had nearly forgotten Thatcher was also responsible for setting up Henry Rochella’s offer to Ella and her trip to Paris. Fuck, he wanted to rip his boss apart and take his time doing it too.
He looked at Ella, her eyes wide, a hand over her mouth. She’d just put the pieces together as to the role The Chechen played. She’d heard him mentioned while at Rochella’s, and after talking with Griffin in the car, she knew he was dangerous enough to require additional protection for her family in Alabama.
But the team had yet to tell her and Savanna all the reasons why the guys were worried, including what they’d learned since their detainment by the French. And Jesse hated that she was about to hear more bad news.
“The Chechen is a . . . hitman?” Ella asked.
His chest tightened at the thought of her comparing him to The Chechen. God, he hoped she’d never see him like that.
“He’s a hired assassin, yes,” Carter replied when the words remained trapped in Jesse’s mouth. “Responsible for killing various heads of state and dignitaries. But he’s open to any target if the price is right.”
“We’ve been hunting him for years, but Carter’s the only lucky bastard we know of who’s seen his face and walked away to tell about it,” Thatcher commented. “The Chechen knows Carter is personally involved in this op, which means he won’t send a team like he usually does.” Thatcher’s casual tone had Jesse lifting the phone, wishing he could fist the bastard’s shirt and look into his eyes. “We need to get him, no matter what.”
“No matter what?” Jesse did his best to dial down his anger before he chucked the phone across the room. “You’re coloring way outside the lines on this one. Bringing Ella into this is a bit much even for you.”
“I didn’t bring her into this.” Thatcher’s apologetic tone was long gone now. “She was destined to get caught up in the consequences of your failure to kill Zoran because your fucking feelings were hurt over Ella marrying someone else. You brought her into this. Don’t pin that on me.”
Jesse closed his eyes, unable to look at Ella after Thatcher’s comment. Everyone in the room already knew that bit of truth, but hearing Thatcher, of all people, say it aloud in Ella’s presence tested Jesse too much.
In Thatcher’s mind, he was simply playing a game of chess, moving the pieces around until he achieved checkmate on a grave threat. And he’d clearly do anything to win the game. But bottom line, it was Jesse who’d given him those particular chess pieces to work with because Thatcher was right. Had Jesse finished Zoran eighteen months ago, there’d be no case right now. No lead to The Chechen.
He let go of the phone and turned, spotting Griffin standing alongside Savanna. When Griffin’s eyes met his, Jesse knew his teammate understood exactly what he was feeling right now. He’d want to shred anyone who placed Savanna in harm’s way.
“What’s the plan, Thatch?” Carter’s use of his nickname solidified they’d once worked together.
Griffin nodded at Jesse, his way of letting him know he had Jesse’s back, whatever he needed. And he appreciated that. But what do I need? I need Ella safe, not mixed up in this.
“We wait for The Chechen to come for you, and then we drop in and help you take him down. Captured, not killed. We need him alive to confirm some of his kills and the location of a few bodies.” And that was Congress speaking through Thatcher right now. Carter was right—Thatcher’s balls were more than likely boxed and on a desk somewhere in D.C.
“You think we’ll just sit it out and wait?” Jesse slowly turned back toward the room where Ella was now seated on one of the sofas. “I won’t do this.”
“What’s the difference?” Thatcher shot back. “You were okay when it was Zoran going after you and Ella.”
“There’s a huge difference. Zoran’s MO is eye for an eye. He won’t slaughter an entire family to nail one target like The Chechen may do.” Carter’s quick comment had Jesse closing his eyes.
Slaughter. Not the word he wanted Ella focusing on. Her family. Fuck, her family. If anything happened to them because of this. “Only one person we know of has ever faced The Chechen one-on-one and survived,” Jesse added, opening his eyes and tearing his fingers through his hair, trying to grasp the situation and devise a new plan, one that didn’t include Ella. Or her family becoming collateral damage.
“Lucky for you, that person is on your team,” Thatcher arrogantly remarked, and Jesse stole a quick look at Ella, her face ghostly pale, eyes on the floor.
Damn it. This was too much.
“Your people shouldn’t have taken our software,” Sydney spoke up before Jesse could lash back at his old boss.
How had he ever thought of Thatcher as a father figure? Joke’s on me, isn’t it? He couldn’t care less about what happens to me.