“Sergeant James, this actually will be of interest to you,” the agent said as if it had been his idea to include Jose. “Mr. Brown, stay with us.”
Stella took a place at the long table, chairs, and a smart screen with a map of the region running feed in all four corners. Really? They were going to have a brief while Stella thought of her mother on the other side of the wall? Smith was a f**king sadist.
The senior agent leaned a shoulder against the wall by the screen. “We got the reports back on the bio toxin in the container.”
Jose sat up straighter. Hell, that seemed like years ago now. “And?”
“All exposed can enjoy a sigh of relief.” He thumbed a remote in his hand, bringing a report onto the screen. “The toxin levels were high enough to set off our sensors, but not enough to do more than make people sick—which explains how it flew under our radar. We would have caught the movement of chemical sales large enough to create a weapon of that magnitude.”
“A hoax?” Stella inched forward in her seat, her face overly controlled. “To cause chaos?”
“Apparently that’s what Harper and the warlord’s troops that brainwashed him intended.” Smith clicked through slides with images of the compound, the captors, Stella… the rescue.
Smith paused on a picture of the stolen artifacts, with the folded kanga Harper had stuffed in his backpack. “Their goal has never been order, but rather more anarchy so they can continue with their illegal trades.”
And now Sutton Harper was dead, a casualty of someone else’s larger plan.
Stella pointed at a new image. “Why did they drape the list on the VP’s wife?”
Brown took notes on his iPad. “To send a message? Or arrogance? My money’s on the former.”
Stella rubbed the back of her neck. “Or could she be involved?”
Brown looked up fast. “Did you really just say that, Carson?”
“It had to be said,” Stella answered. “True, Mr. Smith?”
Agent Hard-ass wasn’t giving anything away. “All scenarios have to be taken into consideration. But we must always—always—protect the families of our leaders without hesitation.” His eyes lasered in on Jose, finally coming around to the reason he’d been allowed in the brief. “We’ll sort it all out regarding possible high profile involvement once the dust settles.”
The official orders may not have come down yet, but it was clear even without Smith’s veiled mention. Special operations forces would be a part of the security detail and since his was already in the region, that put them at the top of the list. Jose knew his job and the best thing he could do for Stella was keep his focus, get through this nightmare scenario. He tuned in as Smith continued.
“We circulated a story that the cloth was promptly packaged up and mailed back to the States. Initially, we hoped they would try to track our decoy package. However, our intel on the ground indicates there will simply be another transfer that will take place tonight at the state dinner honoring the vice president’s wife. I don’t need to spell out how many years of operations—how many lives—will be in jeopardy if the list of our human assets becomes public knowledge. The balance of power and peace is already so unstable in this region.”
If intelligence agencies and special operation forces were compromised, unable to help stem the flow of pirates, warlords, separatists, terrorists, too many unstable factions to count, there would be nothing left to stop them—except war.
Fang’s words from earlier rolled around his head, how the kid had half-jokingly asked… Should I stay or should I go?
Jose glanced at Stella and saw the answer in her eyes. There was no question for people like them, intel, and special ops. They were here for a mission and they had to see it through to completion.
He’d always understood that part of his mission.
But this need to take Stella and tuck her away somewhere—anywhere—safe and to hell with the cost to everyone else? That distraction was a hundred percent new.
***
“Henry, we have one final mission for you and then your debt will be paid.”
Cell phone pressed to his ear, he watched Jose James stand guard outside the room where Stella Carson spoke with her mother. James’s determination, his protectiveness damn near vibrated through the air.
He understood the feeling well. There’d been a time he’d thought he could protect his family from anything by sheer force of will.
“Hold on. I need to get somewhere I can talk.” Henry marched toward the hangar exit, trying to give off the air that he was working and to back the hell away.
Shoving through the door, he blinked at the harsh sun. God, he missed his little house in Virginia, the snowy winters, all the shit he’d griped about, taken for granted. “Why should I believe this is ever going to stop? That I’ll ever be free?”
“Because you’ll die on this mission, Henry. You won’t be a danger to your family ever again.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, holding onto that image of building a snowman with his wife and kid. “Or I could eat a gun now.”