Nightstalker: Red Team book 1 Page 17

  “I love you, Mrs. Parker.”

  I sat up in bed, sweat dripping down my forehead into my eyes. The sweat quickly mixed with my tears as I used the balled up sheet next to me to wipe my face.

  In the five days since Linc had been gone I had started to remember the seven months I had with him in Russia. It was both a blessing and a curse. I was now in a state of constant torture, willing myself to remember every last detail so I could have something to hold onto, then hating myself for remembering it.

  I threw the snot covered ball of sheet off me and stood up, hurrying to the bathroom. This was my new nightly routine. Dream about Linc, then cry myself to the point of throwing up. It was so fucking gross I could barely stand myself. I was in my own personal hell. Falling apart, I no longer cared who saw me, I could not bring myself to care about much of anything.

  I was going crazy. There was something in the back of my mind that was nagging me. I felt like I was missing something. I had watched the footage of the explosion so many times the team finally banned me from reviewing it again. Fuck them. Did they really think I needed to watch the video on a screen to see the replay? It was burned into my memory forever. Someone would die for this.

  Zane and the team were no better off than I was. Linc’s death fucked with all of them. Each of them blaming themselves for not saving him, not knowing it was a set up. I told them what I heard over Linc’s COMS. There was indeed someone to blame for my husband’s death and I would hunt the slimy mother fucker down and slice his throat if it was the last thing I ever did on this planet.

  I screwed my eyes shut and remembered the last conversation I had with Zane. He was fucked up, in some ways worse off than I was. The man was in a dangerous place.

  “Zane it is not your fault.”

  Wrong thing to say on my part, way wrong! He detonated.

  “How can you say that? I do not need your bullshit words, Jasmin. I sent him around that corner. I should have known better. I am the God damn boss, I should have known,” he yelled as he damn near knocked over the conference room table. “It should have been me. I should have died, not him.”

  His head was hanging. His hands scrubbed over his face and when he finally looked up at me I was scared shitless.

  “I will exact painful retribution for my brother’s death. I do not care if I have to tear the God damn CIA apart to do it. You hear me, Jasmin, it will be me. Lincoln would want you to breathe clean and easy. This will not touch you. No one will touch you. I owe him that. Mark my words, Jasmin; I will gut the mother fucker responsible for your husband’s murder.”

  I had to fix this before I lost Zane too. He was not thinking straight. Lincoln would not want Zane on a suicide mission, and that is exactly where Zane was headed.

  I washed my face and went down the stairs in search of something to drink. A quick check of the large clock on the sterile kitchen wall told me it was just after five AM. One of the private White House chefs came around the corner and startled when he saw me sitting at the stainless steel island.

  “Can I get you anything, Mrs. Parker?”

  My heart dropped. I remembered the day my little five foot nothing spitfire of an aunt ripped the staff a new ass for calling me ‘Ms. Smith’. She promptly told everyone I was Mrs. Parker. If I wasn’t so fucked at the moment I would have busted out laughing. I quickly fell in love with that woman. I would be in a strait jacket by now if it was not for her.

  “Just a cup of coffee, please, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

  “No ma’am, I have some ready. I hope you don’t mind hazelnut flavor. I wasn’t expecting anyone down for another hour.”

  “That sounds perfect, if you hand me a mug I can pour my own. If you’d like some peace before everyone shows up I can take it and leave.”

  “Here.” He handed me the mug and pointed towards the coffee pot. Thank Christ the coffee was already made. That thing had more freaking buttons and doohickeys on it then the damn space shuttle.

  “Please have a seat and keep me company. Would you like some fruit?” He pushed a plate of cut up fruit to the middle of the table and went back to chopping. I was in a trance watching his knife make quick work of a mango.

  “Holy cow, you are fast. Thank you for the coffee by the way.”

  “Happy to dazzle you with my culinary skills; they go so unappreciated these days.”

  I let out a laugh and then quickly covered my mouth. What was I doing laughing? I lost my husband five days ago. I had no business laughing.

  Linc hated me when he left the cabin; he looked at me like he didn’t want to even know me. I had lost him even before his death. That was the absolute worst part. Knowing he left without me telling him how much I loved him, how I wanted to have all those babies with him. I had royally fucked up and I had no one to blame but myself. I knew I would regret that for the rest of my life.

  “May I be frank?” the chef asked. That was an odd question. I gave him a nod, afraid of what my voice might sound like if I spoke. “I lost my wife of thirty years a few years back. I want to tell you that I know your heartache and I am truly sorry. One day you will understand it is okay to laugh again. Do not be so hard on yourself in the meantime.”

  I would not cry. I would not cry in front of this man. The fuck I wouldn’t. The tears came. It took a few moments before I could speak again, “Thank you for that. My family thinks we should have a memorial service. We do not have a body to bury.” I sucked in a breath. If I was going to tell anyone, a stranger was best. My team already thought I had gone off the deep end. “It doesn’t feel right. Something in my gut is telling me that…” I trailed off not knowing how to put my feelings into words. I already sounded crazy enough.

  “What is your gut telling you, darling?” He gentled his voice and his eyes were full of understanding.

  “I just don’t know how to explain it. Maybe I cannot accept he is dead. Maybe I am just crazy, but deep in my gut something tells me this is all wrong. I need answers first.”

  There I said it. Now he could tell my uncle I needed to be committed to the loony bin.

  “Then find the answers.”

  “What?”

  “Mrs. Parker, if your intuition is telling you that something is wrong, then do not ignore it. Get the answers you need. They may not be the answers you dream to have, but you need them nonetheless.”

  I drank my coffee and thought about what he said. He was right, just like Drew had done, this man had given me the words I needed to hear to get my ass back on straight.

  “You’re right. Thank you. If you don’t mind, I am going to take my coffee and get to work.”

  “Good day, young lady.”

  The team was staying at the White House. Oddly enough I was staying in the ‘Lincoln bedroom’. Yes, there is indeed a bedroom named the Lincoln in the private living quarters. It was beautiful and it was kind of my uncle to allow us time here, but I wanted to go home to my town house and be around my things. Zane wanted me here, protected, until we had a lead on the mole in the CIA. And if I was here, my team was here. They all had my back and refused to leave me even after I begged them to. Even Drew stayed. I talked to Julie and she threatened to slash the tires on my bike if I even mentioned Drew going home to her. For a small little subbie thing she sure was scary. I had no doubt she would make good on her threat.

  I made my way through the central hall way towards the Treaty room. My uncle was allowing us to use his private study as an office.

  I sat at the desk with a blank piece of paper in front of me, tapping my pen against the desk. What do we know? Sonreír hired Deepweb336 to hack the CIA records. Deepweb’s brother Timothy Clark was paid to reinsert redacted information into a report for me to find. Why would Deepweb hack the data base if his brother was on the inside and on the take? Who actually ordered the information to be recovered and Deepweb to be taken out? The more I thought about what I knew, the more questions I had. My phone vibrated on the desk. I slid the lock open a
nd entered my code.

  G2579: The information you have requested has been sent to your tablet. Password of the day will open.

  Garrett had finally texted me back. Thank fuck. I was going crazy needing answers. I picked up my tablet and opened the file. Shit and Damn, two hundred and thirty pages. It bit my ass having to ask for help but it would go so much faster if I could get the team to help filter all this intel.

  I was just about to text Zane when my phone vibrated again. The caller ID read BLACK.

  “Black, everyone ok?” I glanced at the clock, 6:05 AM in DC meant it was 3:05 AM in California. Zane walked in the door, obviously surprised to see me already working. I motioned for him to shut the door. “I am putting you on speaker. Viper is in the room with me. We are private otherwise.”

  “Viper. Nightstalker, we did some recon of the explosion sight like you asked. Ghost was right. There are tunnels under the house.” I looked up at Zane. He started clinching his jaw when he heard his brother’s call sign. OH SHIT! Black continued, “I will send you the map I drew while we were down there. The tunnel collapsed four hundred and ten yards south of the compound. Coordinates will be with the map.” Black stopped and took a breath. “Jasmin, you and I go way back, I do not want to give you false hope. There was blood in the tunnel; we swabbed it for a DNA match. Ghost’s record was wiped clean so it might take some time…”

  “Fuck that, it’s him. I know it’s him. I can feel it, Black.”

  “Shit, Jasmin, if you are putting together an op, you call me. I have plenty of leave. My Commander will approve any request when I tell him it is for Ghost. No marker.”

  Hell, yeah, Black was in on the op if I needed him, and I would not owe him a marker for his help. Said a lot about Lincoln that Captain Black would put his career and life on the line for him.

  “Copy that! You get some shut eye and I will be in touch in a few hours.”

  Zane stared at me, his face pinched, the vein in his neck was visibly throbbing. Oh, hell no, he was not going to lose his shit on me.

  “Zane, I say this with the greatest respect and love for you, but I know I am right. Lincoln knew that shit was FUBAR before the explosion. He asked about Micro Doppler images, he had a feeling there were tunnels under that compound.” I knew my next words would piss Zane off even more. “I am going to find Lincoln whether you approve or not. I do not give the first fuck what anyone thinks. I know you all think I am fucking crazy not accepting that Lincoln is dead, but Zane, I know. I know that something is not right. I feel it deep down in my soul. I know he is your brother. I know I am asking a lot of you. I need your help on this but just know either way I am doing it. I am going to bring my husband home.”

  “MOTHER FUCKING SHIT” Zane roared. I swear I felt the whole room shake. Leo rushed in the room along with three secret service agents. Guns drawn.

  Shit and Damn. Just what we needed. Bloodshed in the Treaty room. The agents scanned the room for any threats and Leo just stared at me. All my guys were doing that lately. Just watching me. I loved them for caring but I was starting to feel like some lab rat in a cage.

  “Stand down.” My uncle demanded. He stood tall behind the wall of agents. My niece is not a threat to me, neither is her team.

  “Sir.”

  “Now.”

  Oh shit, my uncle looked pissed.

  “Get the team together, I’ll clear the situation room.” I stood with my mouth agape, surprised by my uncle’s demand. “Close your mouth Jasmin, I knew it was only a matter of time before you snapped out of it and figured out a way to rescue your husband.”

  Zane let out a slew of curse words and followed The President. I shot off a text to the team and told them where to meet us. I sent the file that Garrett sent me to the printer and waited for what seemed like fifty years for all the pages to print.

  With my report in hand I ran down the hall and down the back stairs. I slowed to a fast walk once I made the main level of the White House. Luckily I had remembered to grab my badge, so I easily maneuvered past security.

  I pushed my way into the situation room. All conversation stopped and every man looked at me. Whelp, I already looked like a raving lunatic, so I might as well just let it all hang out.

  “I called in a marker and asked Black to go back to Sonreir’s compound to see if Lincoln’s hunch was right, that there were tunnels under the house. Turns out Linc was right. The tunnel collapsed four hundred and ten yards south of the house. Black should be emailing a map and coordinates any minute. I also asked Garrett to look into the Clark brothers. Something does not make sense there.

  If Timothy Clark was the one that left classified information about Lincoln and Zane being brothers in my work up, Sonreír was playing a long game. That was over six years ago. I have that report here.” I lifted my hand, shaking the papers. “I also asked for all known addresses for Sonreír and all his aliases.”

  I stopped, waiting for my team to chastise me and tell me I had to just let Linc go. It never came.

  “Give me the Sonreír aliases and locations,” Leo said holding out his hand.

  I dropped the stack of papers and sorted through them giving him what he asked for.

  “Pass me the Louis Clark file. Let’s see what this Deepweb asswipe was up to,” Eric said.

  “I’ll take Timothy Clark,” Colin said grabbing his pile of papers.

  “Holy shit did, Garrett seriously get the Director’s personal files? I’ll take those.” Jax lit up when he saw the Director’s name.

  A tear slid down my cheek, just one single tear. This was the last tear I was going to shed. I had my family at my back and I was going to find my husband.

  Chapter Twenty One

  Lincoln

  Every single part of me was in excruciating pain. I think even my hair hurt.

  “Tell me.”

  Thwack, thwack. Two more blows to my ribs. I would be surprised if every one of my ribs was not already broken. These assholes had been using me as a punching bag for hours, days really.

  “Speak, mother fucker.”

  I felt spittle hit my battered face. I kept my mouth shut. It was the same thing every time. I was praying I would just hurry up and pass out from the pain; I could get a reprieve, even if it was only for a little while. I still did not have all the information I needed to escape, there was still one more door I needed to see behind.

  I would die in this hell hole before I would sell my brother out.

  Mother fucking Christ! I felt the sear of the burn before I smelt the burning flesh. My back was on fire, another burn; the impact of the fist to my back came next.

  My head dropped forward and my vision blurred.

  “Tell me, you stupid gringo.”

  Sweet oblivion…

  ***

  I smelled her before I saw her; the sweet smell of her lotion filled my nostrils. I made my way further into the house, inhaling deeply. Walking through the simple living room of the safe house we are living in my eye paused on the framed picture of Laura and I in front of the sandstone Brandenburg Gate. I loved that picture of Laura; she was looking up at me with a huge, bright smile while I was looking at the camera. It was taken the day after we got married.

  I went in search of my wife, stopping in my tracks when I found her in the kitchen sporting a workout top and the tightest pair of spandex shorts I had ever seen. A feral growl slipped past my lips as visions of my woman in various yoga poses flashed in my memory. She was still recovering and had only been approved to do light workout activity.

  “Oh no, big boy, I hear you over there snarling like a beast ready to pounce. I just got done and I am all sweaty gross. You’ll have to wait.”

  She laughed and continued to cut up cantaloupe, never even looking my way. Of their own accord, my feet took me to her. I had been happily living my life, one operation after another, never thinking about the future or wanting to be tied to one woman. Then I saw Laura Bennett and everything else in my life seemed to pale in
comparison. It was all bland and monochrome. She was a bright light, full of color and hope and my future. I knew it the minute my name passed her lips. She was mine.

  I pressed my front to her back, not caring that I was dripping my sweat on her; I needed to touch her, smell her, be next to her.

  “Funny that. I am all sweaty too. What do you say we go clean up together?”

  I felt rather than heard the intake of breath. She had stopped cutting and grabbed onto the side on the counter, slightly arching her back.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes, baby I am.”

  “I cut up fruit and I can make you an omelet.”

  I pressed my hard dick into the small of her back and she squirmed against me.

  “Oh.”

  “Yes, oh.”

  “Hell yeah. I’ll race you to the shower.”

  She pushed off the counter and shot off like a bullet towards the bathroom, giggling as she ran. Chuckling, I chased after her.

  That’s my girl!

  ***

  “Wake up!” I felt a boot kick me in the gut and I tried to curl up into a ball to protect my broken ribs. I was back in the cell, lying on the concrete floor. All I could do was bide my time, assess how many guards were in this shit hole with me, how many rooms there were, and where the exits were. These guys were a joke, mistake after mistake. You do not transport a prisoner anywhere without taking their eyesight first, yet they walked me around this compound without a blindfold or hood. Idiots! You certainly never leave a man like me with the use of his arms and legs. They had yet to break either. Amateurs! They also were no longer shackling me to the wall. I guess they figured the bullet wound, knife wounds, and the burns would slow me down. Stupid fuckers were underestimating me at every turn. They would soon learn. It would be the death of them. There was one room I had yet to see into. The door always remained closed, a guard placed in front of it. Someone or something in there was important.

  Another swift kick. “Come on gringo, we have a special guest for you today. Get up.”