Finding the Way Back: A Stealth Ops Novel Page 6

  “Charlie Bennett!” His name was nails on a chalkboard out of one man’s mouth.

  He hadn’t missed this. Not for a damn second.

  “Are you here because your father was the target of an assassin? Or are you finally joining his campaign?”

  “How do you feel about someone trying to kill your father?”

  “Why haven’t you been on the campaign trail? Do you not support your father’s run for presidency?”

  “Rumor has it you had a falling out with your father—is there a reason he shouldn’t become the next president? What’s the true story?”

  “What have you really been up to for the last seven years?”

  “Back off!” A.J. roared, and Knox caught sight of the vein throbbing at the side of his neck.

  “And who are you?” A middle-aged reporter shoved a microphone in A.J.’s face, and Knox winced at the very real possibility that A.J. would knock the guy out.

  “We’re his protection,” A.J. seethed, taking a step toward the man. Knox grabbed hold of his arm, urging him to back down.

  It wasn’t easy being in the spotlight, especially for the teams. In their line of work, it was something they actively avoided, and the last place they should’ve been.

  Eva’s Hollywood family had been the main source of Luke’s apprehension about marriage, but if Luke could navigate the bright lights of the press without hitting anyone, Knox would do his damned best, too.

  “How the hell do you deal with that garbage?” A.J. asked once they were safely inside.

  “I don’t. I left that life behind,” Knox said.

  “You leave your family name, or lordship, whatever you Brits call it, for the same reason?” A.J. prodded.

  They’d only learned last year Wyatt had ditched his lineage and changed his last name when he’d become a U.S. citizen. He hadn’t talked much about it since dropping the truth bomb, and Knox was in no hurry to push. He understood Wyatt’s wish to leave his past where it belonged . . . in the past.

  “I left for other reasons,” Wyatt said when a woman in a black pantsuit approached them, her heels clicking across the floor. Her gaze laser-sharp on them. A touch of anger in her brown eyes. Yeah, she probably worked for Knox’s dad.

  “Shonte Stevens.” She continued to appraise Knox as if deciding why in the hell the son of a presidential candidate would only now make an appearance. Yeah, he was about as low as one could get on approval ratings in her eyes. A possible roadblock to his father’s success. An obstacle to deal with. “I’m your father’s campaign manager. I’ve been waiting for you.” Her dark brown eyes tightened on Knox’s face. “Let’s get you through security, and I’ll bring you to your parents.”

  “How’s my mom?” he asked once they were in the elevator.

  “She’s handling it better than anyone expected. But that’s Kathleen Bennett for you.” She motioned for them to follow her after the doors opened, which revealed an office bustling with uniforms and plain-clothes officers.

  He spotted his mom talking to an old friend of hers on the other side of the floor. Five-ten without heels. Dyed blonde hair that offered the appearance of being natural—best hair color money could buy. And her red pantsuit made her stand out all that much more in the sea of dark suits.

  “Charlie!” Her hand shot up in the air, and she immediately started for him, her friend forgotten.

  “Damn, your mom looks like a hot Kim Basinger,” A.J. muttered, elbowing him in the side.

  “Is there a non-hot version of Basinger?” Wyatt asked.

  “This is my mom, guys,” Knox chided, preferring not to know his friends thought of his mother as any kind of hot.

  He crossed the busy office space with long strides and met his mom halfway, then pulled her in for a tight hug.

  She’d never been much of a crier, but there were legit tears in her eyes.

  Shonte Stevens had been right about his mom. Kathleen Bennett would collect her composure and command her tears not to fall, but seeing the gloss causing her blue eyes to shimmer rattled him.

  “You okay? Dad?” he asked after letting go.

  She pulled back her shoulders and straightened her white silk blouse beneath her red blazer. When her eyes cut to him, there was a moment her face betrayed her true concern for what had happened earlier. The moment was a blink in the space of time, though. She’d returned to the wife of a senator in a nanosecond.

  “You know him. Unphased. Worried about missing the next event.” She glanced at Knox’s buddies as they closed in on them. “Thanks for getting him here safely.” A tight, toothless smile crossed her face.

  “Ah, Knox can handle himself, but we were happy to come with,” Liam said.

  “You remember Glenn Sterling, right?” She motioned to the tall, distinguished man at her right, who had government carved into every line of his face.

  “You haven’t been around in quite some time.” Glenn reached for Knox’s hand. “What’s it been? Fifteen years since I’ve seen you?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been busy.” He forced a smile, the kind he’d learned from his father growing up. Toothy and fake, but not too much tooth, so it looked believable. “How’s your wife? Daughter?”

  “Nancy died a few years back. Lung cancer. I never could get her to quit smoking.” His light blue eyes shifted briefly to the floor. “But Sarah’s great. She’s a world-class surgeon over at the Cleveland Clinic now.”

  Knox had been in med school with Glenn’s daughter. Sarah had obviously finished, unlike him. “Sorry to hear about Nancy.”

  “Glenn’s the Department of Homeland’s deputy secretary,” his mom quickly said as if trying to squash any sudden awkwardness at the mention of Glenn’s late wife. “He came here to make sure the investigation was going okay.”

  “Your mom and I go way back, and I can promise you, son, I won’t let anything happen to her.” He patted him on the shoulder.

  Wyatt leaned in and whispered, “This place is way too crowded.”

  The teams were used to operating solo and off the grid. Being thrown into a room packed to the gills with unfamiliar people made them all twitchy.

  “Did you know FBI Director Mendez was going to be here?” A.J. asked, and Knox followed his line of sight.

  Mendez was holding a tablet in hand and talking to a team of men Knox guessed to be his dad’s private security. Hopefully former security after their fuckup today.

  “President Rydell placed him in charge of the investigation,” Glenn said. “I’m gonna go have a word with him.”

  “Where’s Dad?” Knox looked at his mom.

  “Second office on the right.” She hooked her arm with his.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said to the guys.

  “We’ll try and see what we can find out from Mendez.” Liam gestured toward the FBI director.

  “You look more like my son than a SEAL today,” she commented as they walked.

  He hadn’t had time to change out of the pressed white button-down and black slacks he’d worn to the White House.

  He considered challenging her words, though. They rubbed him the wrong way. How was he not her son as a SEAL? He’d always thought the heavy hand of his political upbringing had been more from his dad, but maybe his mom’s comments and actions had been more subtle.

  He kept his mouth closed since a bullet almost clipped her earlier, and he was thankful to have his mom alive, even if she still had issues with his profession.

  “How are you really holding up?” he asked instead.

  “You know me. I’m always fine. And I’ve had about a million people calling to check on me today. I’m tired is what I am.” A touch of West Virginia, where she grew up, clung to her words as if still fighting for a place in her life.

  “You almost took a bullet, Mom.”

  “It’s not the first time someone has come after our family.”

  “The other times involved threats and no follow-through.” He pulled his arm free of hers. “This w
as worse. There was no warning beforehand.” Not that they were aware of, at least.

  “Remember Austria? There was that explosion . . . that attack may have been directed toward us. So—”

  “It wasn’t.” He hadn’t meant to snap at her, but he still felt guilty about Austria. The explosion was directly related to an op Knox and the teams had been working. Not that he could tell her that. His mom would probably have slapped the back of her hand to her forehead and fainted.

  “Charlie.” At the familiar sound of his father’s deep voice, now void of his Southern upbringing, Knox turned.

  His dad stood there in his three-piece custom suit that stretched over the length of a body that at sixty-five still exuded strength.

  He looked . . . presidential, as if this was just another day at the office and not a moment the history books could’ve captured as the day he died. “Glad you could make it.” He ate up the space between them in a few quick strides and pulled him in for a hug.

  Knox froze. He hadn’t hugged his dad in years. They’d exchanged the “man-hug,” that firm handshake where a guy pulled the other in for a quick slap on the back. But this was two arms. Chest to chest. It was real. He didn’t know his dad still knew how to do real. Real was an I love you that didn’t need to be said, but it was said because you wanted to. And damn, when was the last time he’d heard those words from either of his parents?

  “Son?” A throat clear followed their hug, as if his dad had become aware that his emotions were on display. “Come into the office. Could you give us a minute, honey?”

  “Sure.” Her eyes lingered on Knox for a brief moment. And he almost stopped her before she left and asked her what she was thinking, but he didn’t. He let her go because he didn’t always know how to do real with his folks either.

  “Please, sit down.” His dad motioned to a brown leather couch on the other side of a large polished desk probably reserved for the bigwigs.

  There were family photos and accolades on the wall behind the desk. An American flag on one side. The FBI flag with the motto: Fidelity, Bravery, and Integrity, on the other. His dad had probably hijacked a senior FBI agent’s office.

  “I’d prefer to stand.” Knox strode to the window and looked between the blinds. They were running out of daylight, and he was anxious to get to the scene of the shooting to assess the area. First, though, they needed permission from the FBI to join the investigation.

  “I’m glad you came,” his father rasped.

  Surprised, Knox turned to face his father, a man he’d never once heard speak in any manner outside of total strength and confidence. Today had hit a nerve, as it should’ve.

  “How long do I have you?”

  “Have me?”

  He removed his blazer and rolled the sleeves of his white dress shirt to the elbows. “I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t expect you to do a song and dance. No questions. No public speaking. I know you wouldn’t want that.”

  Politicians were adept at twisting and contorting everything to their needs. His father may not expect a “song and dance,” but he’d convince Knox to walk out on a few stages with him. Say a few words.

  For now, Knox would shelve his distaste for politics and focus on the fact the shooter missed.

  “I was planning on coming down to visit with you and Mom,” he admitted. “The shooting bumped up my schedule. I’m sorry about what happened today.”

  “I’m so glad your mom is okay, and no one got hurt because of me.” He slowly lowered himself on the couch and rested his elbows on his knees, wearily placing his head in his hands. Grief-stricken. Weak posture.

  Who the hell was this man? His father had encountered close calls with death when he served in the military. Had he forgotten those days? Forgotten what it was like to feel death breathing down his neck?

  No man or woman should know what it feels like to be in the spotlight of death—but utopia didn’t exist. People like Knox would always be needed.

  “This life isn’t easy. I get that.” His dad sat up straight but didn’t look at him. “I never even asked if you wanted to be the son of a politician. Maybe I should’ve asked.”

  “And if I’d said no?” He almost smiled. “At thirteen, would you have listened to me?”

  “But you would’ve liked to have been asked, right?” He lifted his chin to view him.

  He blinked back to his first semester in med school when he’d told his parents over Thanksgiving dinner his change in plans.

  “I’m dropping out. This isn’t the life I want.”

  “You don’t want to be a doctor?” his mom had asked, her brows popping up in surprise.

  “That was your dream for me. Doctor. Senator. Something fancy, right?” He’d tossed his napkin onto his plate and stood from the table—the entire meal had been catered since his mom didn’t know her way around the kitchen to save her life.

  “And what is it that you want?” His dad had leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.

  “I’m joining the Navy. Gonna see if I can get a contract with the SEALs after that.” He’d never forget how fast his heart had been racing like it might beat right out of his chest.

  “You don’t belong in the military. You’re not cut out for that life.”

  “I’m sure as hell not cut out for this life!” he’d yelled louder than he’d meant to.

  His dad had shaken his head. “Wow, what a bad life. You want for nothing. You’ve had the best education money can buy. The—”

  “There’s more to life than money and power.” He’d turned his back, unable to look his father in the eyes.

  “Don’t you dare join the Navy to spite me. They deserve a better man than that.”

  Knox let go of his memories and focused on his dad. “I joined the Navy to piss you off,” he admitted. “You were right.” And if he hadn’t met Luke at BUD/S, who gave him the kick in the ass he needed to get his head on straight, he may not have lasted long in the Navy.

  “Well, there are a lot of things I said to you I wish I could take back.”

  Like? He wondered if his dad would fill in the blanks.

  “I used to think every man, in some way, should serve our country—everyone except my son. But what kind of a leader would that make me if I was willing to let other parents put their kids’ lives on the line but not my own?” He stood. “I was wrong. And I’m proud of the man you’ve become. The Navy was good for you.”

  “I joined for the wrong reasons, but I’m still in for the right ones.”

  “But you’re—”

  Shit. “I . . .”

  The door swung open before he could backpedal. It was Director Mendez. “The agents are en route. Their plane should arrive soon. We’ll take you to your new hotel once it’s been secured.”

  “Are you clearing out his floor, and the ones above and below like you do at hotels for POTUS?” Knox asked.

  “Rooms on each side of his suite will have agents posted. Above and below as well.” Mendez tipped his head in apology toward Knox’s dad. “Best we could do, but we’re almost done sweeping the hotel and checking guests. You should be able to head over soon.”

  “Will we still be able to stick to my schedule?” his dad asked. “I have a fundraiser ball in Atlanta Saturday I can’t miss and a debate Tuesday in Cleveland.”

  “Can your VP nom step in for the ball, at least?” Mendez asked.

  “No, Bethany’s in California for the week, but I did put in a call to have her security beefed up in case anyone tries to come after her.”

  “Good idea,” Mendez said.

  “What made you change your mind about Secret Service?” Knox asked his dad.

  “Shonte convinced me to get my head out of my ass.” He braced a hand on Knox’s shoulder, holding his eyes. “I’m going to let go of some of my security since they dropped the ball today.”

  “Hire Scott and Scott instead. Well, in addition to the Secret Service, I mean.”

  “Y
our company?” His dad lowered his hand. “Why do I get the feeling this is the only way I’ll be able to keep you with me?” His eyebrows drew together.

  “I’d feel better knowing my people were with us.”

  “You sure this is what you want?” his dad asked.

  “What I want is for you to win this election.” Most of the team was getting up there in age in the world of special ops. Chris, at thirty-six, was the youngest. It was only a matter of time before they were replaced, and they wanted every year they could get. And hell, they wanted to know they’d be replaced in the future. New guys to fill their shoes when they were ready to retire. Because bad guys didn’t take breaks. They usually didn’t have 401Ks to collect from.

  So, yeah, his dad had to win. And then he needed to convince him why Bravo and Echo were desperately needed.

  “Really?” He flashed him what his mom referred to as his Denzel Washington smile. The physical similarities between the two men were uncanny, though. “Does that mean you’re going to vote for me?”

  “Yeah, Dad, you’ve got my vote.” Their best chance at survival was his father.

  “Mind if I steal your son, Mr. Bennett?”

  He’d nearly forgotten Mendez was in the room.

  “Sure.” His dad nodded. “Thanks again for coming, Son.”

  Knox followed Mendez to another room two doors down and found Liam, A.J., and Wyatt waiting inside.

  “Why do I feel like we’re about to get lectured at by the principal?” A.J. asked when catching Knox’s eyes.

  “Because we probably are,” Liam mumbled as Knox took a seat across from them.

  Mendez removed his blazer and tossed it over the back of the nearest chair at the table. He was in his fifties, his hair more silver than black, and the lines on his face a sign of stress rather than age.

  “I don’t like you all being here.” Mendez never was one to sugarcoat things, which was fine by Knox. He preferred it. “It makes me uncomfortable.”

  “I am his son, though.”

  “Stop trying to bullshit me. That’s not why you’re here.” Mendez’s brows lowered. “I don’t know how you managed to rope the president into letting you on to this investigation, but if you get in my way, I won’t hesitate to revoke your privileges.”