Finding the Way Back: A Stealth Ops Novel Page 5

  “Your parents are being taken to the local FBI field office,” Coleman told him. “Your dad declined Secret Service detail after he won the primary. He didn’t want to spend government money when he has plenty of his own cash. But maybe if . . .”

  “My dad’s stubborn.”

  “I’ll go with you to Charlotte,” Liam said.

  “I should go, too,” Wyatt added.

  “I’ll be in my office soon. Cancel my trip to Camp David,” Rydell instructed Coleman, effectively dismissing him. Once the door closed behind his chief of staff, the president faced the team crowded around the table.

  “Sir,” Wyatt began, “I know you instructed us to stand down as of now, but I’d like to get a look at the scene.”

  “Liam and Wyatt are the best snipers on the planet,” Jessica said while pinning her gaze to Knox, offering a look of condolence in the process. “They could possibly discover details that others might miss.”

  Rydell shifted his blazer out of the way as he squared his hands on his hips. “We’ll have the best people working the case, I promise.”

  “With all due respect, Mr. President, our team . . . they’re the best,” Luke said in a low, raspy voice.

  “I can’t have you all running around a crime scene. Too many eyes on you.”

  “What if we can convince Bennett to hire us?” Jessica asked. “Scott and Scott Securities? He’s used our services before.”

  It could work.

  Hell, it had to work.

  “If you do this, you’re on your own. I can’t officially authorize it,” Rydell said on a sigh. “But off the record, go for it.”

  “Everything we do is already off the record, Mr. President,” A.J. pointed out.

  True. A few minutes later, they left the room and went upstairs, everyone powering on their cell phones. Knox’s began ringing straight away.

  Adriana.

  “I gotta take this. I’ll meet you all outside.” He looked up at his team, and Jessica gave a stiff nod, then followed everyone down the hall to a private exit. “Hey,” he answered, pressing a palm to the wall for balance, his knees still a bit weak.

  “I just heard,” she said softly. “You okay?”

  He closed his eyes.

  Was he okay?

  Better now hearing her voice.

  “Yeah, are you good?” he asked, knowing the shooting had to be a painful reminder of what had happened to her mother.

  “You’ve got to stop worrying about me.”

  Easier said than done.

  It’d taken him years to accept the fact she was Secret Service. And then another few years to stop allowing his fear of something terrible happening to her, to drive him crazy.

  If she ever took a bullet on the job, though, he’d have to go John Wick on everyone involved. Maybe he hated killing, but he’d make an exception. He sure as hell hoped he never had to cash in on that exception.

  “I’m planning on going to Charlotte.”

  “Figured you’d say that. I’d come with you, but the PM of Sweden is here for a few more hours. I can fly in after. I don’t have any assignments scheduled, and I’m owed some time off.”

  “Don’t you have a date or something tomorrow?” Deflection should’ve been offered as a college course. He usually had it down pat, but shifting topics to her dating life, and at a moment like this, wasn’t the best idea.

  “With that fake boyfriend you made up at the barbecue when introducing me to your friends?” An eye roll he couldn’t see carried through her tone.

  “There is a guy, though. A blind date.” He couldn’t get himself to stop. And the words had even rolled so obviously bitter out of his mouth, too.

  “I’m canceling. You’re way more important.”

  “I probably won’t be in Charlotte long. I’m gonna go on the campaign trail with them for a few weeks.”

  She was quiet for a moment. Processing his words. “How’d your dad convince you to travel with him?”

  This would be a hard sell, especially to her.

  “I’m doing it for my mom.” Lying to her shredded him. It always messed him up. And maybe that was one of the main reasons he kept her away from his work-life.

  He glanced over his shoulder, worried she could possibly be in the building right now, and he’d come up empty as to why the hell he was at the White House.

  “Well, I gotta go. And I’ll be—”

  “Fine,” she finished. “You said that. Please let me know the second you get to Charlotte.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He started for the side door, which exited out to West Executive Avenue.

  “You’re not driving, are you? You’re probably not in the best state of mind.”

  “Some buddies from the company are coming with.”

  “Good. And, Knox?” She’d finally given in to his request to call him by his SEAL nickname—well, most days. When he did something to piss her off, she usually whipped out Charlie. “Stay safe. Love ya.”

  Love ya. The “ya” had a way of toning down the actual statement. It was a safety net. A way to keep her guard up, and he knew it. He hated it. And he wanted to tear it the hell down.

  But he was a hypocrite, because he usually only managed a, “You, too.”

  He ended the call, took a second to pull himself together, then went outside.

  He slipped on his shades when the sunlight hit him in the face. It was too bright for a day like this. A day when someone shot at his family.

  “Hey, you okay?” Jessica stood next to Luke and Wyatt outside one of their parked Suburbans. “What do you want to do? Tell me, and it’s done.”

  He glimpsed the backseat window as it scrolled down. “We got your back, brother,” A.J. said.

  “I know.” And he’d be forever grateful.

  “I’m thinking you, Liam, and Wyatt head to Charlotte first.” Jessica shoved her glasses to the top of her blonde head. “You can work your magic to ensure we get invited onto the case. Harper, Finn, Roman, and Chris can fly to New York and work out of our main office. We might need a tech assist from there. The rest of us will join you all tomorrow after we get some stuff prepped.”

  “I don’t think you all need to come. Obviously not Owen,” Knox replied. “And you’re pregnant.”

  “I don’t do well with idle time,” A.J. said. “So, I’m going with y’all today.”

  “Just promise me you won’t walk around the hotel in your bloody—”

  “For you, I might,” A.J. cut off Wyatt and kissed the air.

  A.J. had a penchant for strutting around in his American flag boxers and cowboy boots, and Knox was damn sure he only did it to irritate Wyatt.

  Wyatt jerked a thumb toward the door. “He stays here.”

  “You can’t survive without Echo Two, and you know it.” Luke smiled.

  “You care to make a wager?” Wyatt grabbed his shades hooked at the top of his shirt and put them on.

  “You’ve been batting zero on bets lately,” Jessica reminded Wyatt.

  The guys loved betting, but Wyatt had lost about every one that year. Beers would be on him for life if he kept it up.

  “We should get moving,” Luke said after a few moments.

  “Right.” Knox snapped his attention back to the op . . . he needed to call his parents. It probably should’ve been the first thing he did after learning about the assassination attempt, but he was still lightyears away from being buddy-buddy with his family despite a few dinners here and there. “My dad has gotten death threats before,” he said once they were in the SUV and on the move. “The US Marshalls have had to babysit him on more than one occasion while my dad was a senator.”

  “But this is the first time someone tried to kill him, right?” Liam asked from behind the wheel.

  “Yeah,” he said as they drove past the EOB building alongside the White House—Adriana’s office. “And hopefully it’ll be the last time.”

  Chapter Two

  Adriana: Why haven’t I heard from you
yet?

  A few dots popped onto her screen and then disappeared before popping up again. She set her phone on the kitchen island and removed her blazer.

  She was officially off duty, and yet, no word from Knox.

  As soon as they’d ended their call earlier that day, she’d immediately pulled up the GPS on her phone to calculate the distance and driving time from D.C. to Charlotte, and he should have arrived by now.

  And the friend finder app they used . . . of course, he’d turned it off.

  At the sound of the chime she had set for Knox’s texts, she snatched the phone off the counter.

  Knox: Traffic. We’re ten minutes away. You worried about me?

  Adriana: Me worry? Nah. That’s your job.

  A total lie.

  She poured a glass of wine, turned on the news, and muted the TV.

  She missed him already. He’d been in town since the second week in August. She hadn’t spent this much time with him since summers during their college days.

  Somehow, sharing one of the worst nights in her life had bonded them in a way that couldn’t be described in books or depicted in films.

  A relationship born out of tragedy that she’d defend until the end of time, even if she wanted more.

  But was she scared of losing what they had to even take more for a test drive? And Knox, well, he’d nearly fled from her apartment last weekend as if worried more might happen, and it’d been a prick to her lungs, deflating her and pulling her back to their stuck-in-the-friend-zone reality.

  But Knox’s parents were shot at today, so the last thing she should’ve been thinking about was her relationship with him. No, she needed to worry about how to be his rock. To support him as he’d always supported her.

  If Knox’s dad had died . . . or his mom killed in the crossfires . . .

  As much as Knox griped about his family, she knew he loved them. And she never wanted him to experience a loss like that.

  She forced away the emotions stirring inside, fighting back the sting of pain that gathered whenever she thought about the night she lost her mom.

  Knox: Maybe I should’ve brought you with me. My dad has always had a soft spot for you. He’d do anything you ask.

  It took her four years to discover the Bennetts, at Knox’s request, were the reason her father was able to keep their home after her dad turned to the bottle. It’d been the Bennetts’ money that kept her family afloat, but it was Knox who kept her head above water.

  Adriana: You’re a good son, you know that, right?

  Knox: Tell that to my dad.

  Adriana: He loves you in his own way.

  His father had retired from the military years ago, but he walked like a soldier. Squared shoulders. Head held high. Eyes gleaming with respect. Knox was the same in that way. A strong man.

  Knox: Where’s that date of yours taking you? What does he do? Social Security number?

  Adriana: That’s a lot of questions.

  Knox: Pick one and go from there.

  And he was deflecting.

  Adriana: I canceled. And why are we talking about my love life when someone just tried to kill your dad?

  Love life? God. What love life? She hadn’t had sex in FOREVER. But after Knox crashed her last attempt at dating back in the spring, and she’d so easily tossed her date aside for a night to hang out with her best friend, she was pretty sure she needed to figure out where her head was at before she dipped a foot back into the dating pool.

  Knox: I have to live vicariously through you since I don’t get any action.

  “No action my ass,” she grumbled, and a sting of jealousy—no, a full-on assault of jealousy—hit her at the idea of him with another woman. But she had to be the cool girl who could be friends with a hot guy and not get jealous, right?

  Adriana: Lies. Lies. Lies.

  You’re H.O.T. and women THROW themselves at you. The few friends Adriana had introduced him to always fell in love instantly. They said he reminded them of that actor who loved to call every fan he met “baby girl” . . . but she’d given her friends one hard and fast rule.

  Knox was off-limits.

  They were welcome to date any of her exes, coworkers, the president’s son for all she cared, but not Knox.

  She’d never met anyone Knox dated. Of course, Knox refused to talk about other women with her, but she was certain he didn’t have girlfriends.

  One-night stands were probably his go-to. The man was married to his job, after all.

  But Knox was always up in her business about men. None were ever good enough, and he made sure she knew that.

  For a while, she’d convinced herself he wanted to keep her to himself. They’d have a fairy-tale happy ending. Not glass-slippers-pumpkin-turned-carriages kind of happy, but their version of happy. Their version, in her mind, would be far superior to Disney’s.

  Adriana: You need to stop deflecting. You can’t talk about sex and pretend today didn’t happen.

  Knox: We’re talking about sex?

  Adriana: Action = Sex. Does it not?

  And he’s distracting me again. Damn him.

  Knox: You have a dirty mind, girl.

  “Yours is way worse,” she said at the phone as if he could hear her. She turned off the TV, unable to handle the barrage of footage showcasing the shooting.

  Adriana: Call me when you’re at your hotel later and let me know how everything went.

  Knox: Wish me luck. I’m gonna need it.

  Before she could respond, her work cell began ringing.

  “Hello, ma’am,” she quickly answered the call.

  “You have a new assignment,” her boss began. “We need you in Charlotte.”

  If she hadn’t already been sitting, she would’ve fallen to the floor.

  “Isaiah Bennett has finally given in and accepted a Secret Service detail. No doubt today’s incident was the deciding factor. We’re assigning eight agents. Two or three of you will run point on the investigation with the FBI and DHS, and the rest will handle protection and future threat assessments. You do want the position, right?”

  Yes, but . . .

  “Is there a problem?” she asked when Adriana hadn’t yet found her voice.

  Yeah, there was a problem. No way in hell would the Bennetts allow her to protect their family.

  “I—”

  “Pack your bags. You fly to Charlotte in an hour.” Adriana’s boss ended the call abruptly, which was her normal MO.

  She held her phone out and stared blankly at the last message from Knox, now back on her screen.

  Shit. You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?

  Chapter Three

  “So . . .” It’d been years since Knox had engaged in small talk. As the son of a politician, he’d learned the subtle art as well as the finesse necessary to talk in circles, making everyone dizzy while impressing them at the same time. After a while, he’d gotten used to it, but those days were long gone. He no longer talked for the sake of talking.

  He and the guys—well, they didn’t fill space with unnecessary words. But as the Chevy approached the FBI building on the outskirts of Charlotte, he wanted to jam every inch of space possible with words if it meant slowing them down.

  “What’s up?” Liam asked. “Getting cold feet?”

  “No,” he said. “But, um, how’s Elaina? Anything new?” He attempted to dust off his son-of-a-politician wheels and deflect.

  When he turned and glanced back at Liam, he was met with an Are you kidding? look. “You mean anything new since you saw her last weekend at the barbecue?”

  “Uh, yeah.” Okay, so he now sucked at small talk. But he did genuinely care about Liam’s daughter, and he’d much rather talk about her.

  “Well, she’s got a date. His name is Kenny. Emily’s taking them to the movies Friday.” He shifted back and tipped his head to the ceiling.

  “You should’ve stayed in D.C. I would’ve understood,” Knox said in all seriousness.

  “Emily
knows how to shoot, remember?”

  True. His wife had taken down an assassin in her apartment last year.

  “And since when do nine-year-olds date?” Wyatt asked from behind the wheel.

  “Since she informed me that she’s almost ten, and since Kenny reminds her of a young Clark Kent. Do I want to know what that means?”

  “Emily is letting this happen?” A.J. asked in surprise.

  “Elaina has a way of wrapping you both around her pinky,” Wyatt said with a laugh.

  “Don’t get me started.” Liam slapped a hand to his heart. “I’m gonna get a bloody ulcer. If I think about this Kenny kid with my Elaina—I might put my fist through a concrete wall.”

  “And ruin your trigger finger?” At least Knox was distracted now. Thank God.

  “You run a background check on him?” A.J. spun his American flag ball cap backward.

  “He’s not in the system,” Liam grumbled. “But his dad’s a reporter, and his mom’s a doctor.”

  “Reporter? Well, shit.” A.J. tsked. “End that and fast.”

  “Guys. Speaking of the media, we’re not getting in that building without walking through a wall of press.” Wyatt’s voice was grave, a stark contrast from moments ago.

  Knox turned to face forward in his seat and peered out the tinted windows. “Maybe they can let us in through some secret back door?” His stomach roiled at the thought of all the people who’d be clamoring to shove a mic in his face.

  “Still gotta go through security, especially since we’re here as civilians.” Wyatt pulled the Suburban into the parking lot and parked at the back.

  “We’ll have to plow through them in a hurry,” A.J. said before climbing out of the SUV. “We’ve got your back, though.”

  Knox put on his black and red Falcons hat before they made their way through the parking lot and toward the entrance.

  Liam and A.J. flanked his left and right respectively, and although Wyatt strode in front of Knox to keep him from being seen, someone must’ve sensed his presence, because a chorus of voices hollered out his name.

  Every reporter turned toward them like a pack of dogs at the smell of bacon. Bam!—they were on him and fast.