My heart is going to have to take a backseat.
I take an Uber to the Jameson building, brushing off the driver’s concern at letting me off in such a bad area of town. Our headquarters is rundown and dilapidated on the outside, but it’s a wonder on the inside.
I pull up my security app, which rotates a new password to get in through the garage gate—a massive rolling steel structure that is impassable without the password. After I punch it into the key code at the box, I wait for the gate to rumble open enough for me to enter. I walk down the ramp leading deeper into the underground garage, past a handful of cars parked close to the entrance door, and flip down a cover over a metal box.
Leaning forward, I put my face up to the screen. A blue laser light emits, scanning my retinas.
A small chime emits. Welcome, Saint Bellinger, pops up on screen.
Fucking cool. One of the best things about Jameson is it has the best electronics and spy tech gadgets I’ve ever seen.
I enter the unfinished and grungy first floor of the warehouse. After I get in the freight elevator, I let it carry me up to the second floor, which houses the Jameson offices as well as conference rooms. Third floor is all tech and weapons, including an indoor shooting range. Fourth floor is our living space. We have individual apartments, but we share a communal kitchen, theater room, gym, and outdoor rec area.
Bebe is there to welcome me when the elevator comes to a stop. Since the retina scanner was her invention and she’s in charge of our security measures achieved through the technology, she would have been the first to see me enter the building.
She’s a phenom around here. A woman who had spent time in prison for working for black-hat hackers. She’d stolen nuclear codes for them because they’d threatened to kill her son Aaron, but she’d allowed herself to be caught by the police so the codes would stay safe, even knowing she’d be sent to prison. At least Aaron had been safe that way, too. Kynan pulled some serious fucking magic to get her out of prison to come work for us. Frankly, we couldn’t operate without her.
“Welcome home,” she says, holding out her fist.
I bump it playfully. “Thanks. Kynan around?”
“In his office,” she replies, and we both start walking that way. “Not sure how long you’re in for but you and I need to sit down and go over some new stuff I have for you.”
“Awesome. And do we have anyone around here with explosives experience?”
Bebe’s head snaps my way, her eyebrows going up. “Um… yeah, actually.”
“Relax,” I assure her. “I need to talk through a few things. I’m thinking ahead on how my mission is going to finish up.”
“With a bomb?” she asks curiously.
“Maybe,” I say vaguely, but I give her a charming wink.
When we reach Kynan’s office, Bebe prepares to peel off toward her work area, which is more than an office. It’s closer to a security center—filled with more computers than I’ve ever seen in my life.
“I’ll have Cage get up with you,” Bebe says as she starts to go inside. “He did EOD work in the military.”
“Sounds good,” I reply, stopping at Kynan’s door. When I give a sharp rap, I’m immediately invited in.
In addition to Kynan, Cruce Britton is waiting on me. He’s become my best friend in the brief time I’ve worked here. Dozer Burney, a recent acquisition to our team, is also there. According to Kynan, he’s one of the smartest men on the planet, even though he’s built like a damn football player. Dozer was brought in to help with strategic planning.
Cruce pops up from a small conference room table where everyone sits. He grabs me in a bear hug, giving me two hard slaps on the back. “Good to see you, man. Been worried.”
“I’m good, promise,” I assure him, then turn to Dozer, who also rose from the table, and shake his hand.
Finally, I move to Kynan, who gives me a handshake as well. He’d been expecting me. Even though he told me there was nothing I could do to help with the rescue efforts for Malik, he understood my need to be a part of it in the only way I could… showing up in person.
A wall covered with a large map of the Middle East and a more detailed map of Syria catches my attention.
“Anything yet?” I ask. It’s a vague question but they don’t need more. They know I will take any scrap of information or hope I can get.
Kynan shakes his head, but Dozer moves over to the map. He proceeds to spend the next fifteen minutes walking me through where the rescue of the hostages was supposed to take place, where the actual ambush happened, where Sal and Jimmy’s bodies were found, along with the Aussie counterparts, and where Malik was last seen. Believe it or not, it helps to have these details. Makes me feel more like a part of the team than I have, having been so far removed by geography.
“The State Department has become involved,” Kynan says, taking his seat again. He motions to the chair beside him, and I plop down. Dozer and Cruce join us as well. “Apparently having two brothers who are professional hockey players garners some pull with the government. They got their North Carolina senators involved, and now the U.S. has taken over the primary mission to find Malik.”
“Do we even know if he’s alive or dead?” I ask. I have to know which way the general consensus is leaning, so I can stop putting so much effort into trying not to worry about it.
“We don’t know,” Kynan admits. “It was a clusterfuck from the start. RPGs hit the convoy. All we can be sure of is that Malik’s body wasn’t there when they sent in a recovery team.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, then look around the table. “And what about Anna?”
Thinking about Jimmy’s pregnant wife hurts my heart. She had looked like she was close to giving birth when the gang had met for drinks a few weeks ago.
“Not good,” Cruce answers softly. “She’s a mess. The doctors put her on bed rest as a precaution because she’s so distraught.”
“When’s her due date?” I ask.
“Two weeks,” Kynan replies. “Jimmy and Sal’s bodies should be stateside by the end of the week. We’re waiting to see what the families want to do about funerals. I’m not sure Anna’s been able to focus on that, though.”
It hits me that I’ll most likely not be able to attend either Jimmy or Sal’s funerals. I’m heading back to Paris in two days.
“Speaking of which,” Kynan says as he rises. “I hate to kick you guys out, but I have a call with a contact of mine who has boots on the ground in Syria.”
We take the hint, pushing out of our chairs. Cruce is nosy enough to ask, though. “You’re doing your own investigation into looking for Malik?”
“Goddamn right I am,” Kynan growls. “Just because some state department bigwig says they’ve taken over and I can stay out of it doesn’t mean I will.”
I grin, liking this. It’s how I realize I’m in the right place. This is like a family. We leave no one behind.
As we’re walking out, I clap Cruce on the back. “You got a minute to talk?”
“Sure,” he says, then motions to the elevator. “Let’s go to my place to crack a few beers.”
“It’s ten o’clock in the morning,” I point out.