Delta Force: Crow (Wayward Souls) Page 6

  “Like I said—the two stories are intertwined.” He held up his hand to stop her from tearing a strip off his ass. Again. “But, to put it simply… What you heard is correct. It turned out that Adam Bains wasn’t a rogue CIA agent like McCormick had told us. He was an undercover Counterterrorism Officer. Had been for some time. And he was doing his best to protect that list and keep it out of McCormick’s hands. And, yeah, the man lied to us about everything.”

  Devlyn huffed. “I knew there was something wrong with that asshole from the start. He was always too smug. Too vague, even for a spook.”

  “Wish I’d had the same instincts. Might have saved us both some hard lessons.”

  Her eyes narrowed at his choice of words, but she didn’t question him about them. Instead, she thumbed the lip of her mug, staring at the coffee as if it held all the answers. “What I don’t understand is how there are more copies of that list? We were there when that virus erased everything. Set the damn hard drive on fire. Did Slader force Bains to recreate it?”

  “The man tried, but Bains held out until Slader’s interrogation techniques killed him.”

  “Bains is dead?”

  “Not long after that night.”

  Devlyn palmed one side of her head, looking up at him. “Maybe it’s the after-effects of the blood loss, but you just lost me. If Bains didn’t make any new copies…”

  “Turns out he had other copies, all along. Hid them inside old intel he gave to people he considered trustworthy—who were smart enough to intercept and decode messages he purposely released. Military personnel, actually. That guy Six… His wife, Kameron Monroe, was part of Military Intelligence over in Afghanistan at the same time Bains was. He gave her one of the drives. She didn’t know what was on it until recently when Slader sent a bunch of mercenary assholes out to grab her. Fortunately, they greatly underestimated Six’s abilities. And, in the end, we were able to destroy that copy of it. But we also confirmed there were more. None of which have surfaced, until now.”

  “And you’re sure that drive I grabbed has that list on it?”

  “The CIA team trying to piece this all together seems to think so. It appears Bains made contact with at least three other MI officers while over in Afghanistan. After some extensive investigative work, they tracked a viable lead back to that last base that was robbed. They had a hunch it was mixed in with other intel brought back from the field a couple of months ago. Unfortunately, your larceny ring beat us to the punch. But the real proof is Slader showing up at that motel. The man’s not stupid. He’s wanted by the CIA for espionage. He’s not going to risk making an appearance if it isn’t directly involved with that list. He’s obsessed with it. Which means there must be something on that drive connected with Bains. If nothing else, a means of tracking down the next unit.”

  “Do you think Slader’s still working with McCormick? Do we even know where he is?”

  “Smithers really didn’t tell you anything, did he?”

  “Tell me what?”

  “McCormick’s dead. Has been for a couple of months. Which, sadly, makes this situation even worse because it means Slader’s the one issuing the orders. Making the decisions. And he lacks any form of self-control. Any capacity for rational thought. At least McCormick tried to limit civilian casualties. Was still linked to the CIA—had people he had to answer to. An image he had to uphold in order to maintain his ruse. But Slader…” Crow looked her in the eyes. “The man’s lethal and insane. Not a great combination when he’ll be on our asses until we have that list.”

  A flash brightened her eyes as she sat a bit straighter. “So, you’re saying all we need to do is crack the encryption on that drive and this op might be over?”

  Shit. Crow hadn’t really considered that. Figured he’d have more time to puzzle out how to get Devlyn to talk to him. Listen. Maybe give him a second chance, or, at least, not want to kill him, anymore.

  He schooled his features, pushing the rising sense of dread down into his gut. Delta soldiers didn’t do fear. And they sure as hell didn’t run from a possible fight. “In theory. I’d want to make sure the threat to you is over, first, before you go back to the NSA, but—”

  “Perfect. Becca’s the best. She’ll have that drive decrypted by tomorrow at the latest.”

  “Becca? Who’s Becca?”

  “Seriously, Ryk—Crow?”

  She’d slipped. Nearly said his name, and damn if that didn’t give Crow a glimmer of hope.

  Devlyn muttered under her breath then drew herself up. “As I was saying, you met her, once. A couple of months before…” She paused, looking slightly unsure of herself. “She had a few drinks with us.”

  She had? Though, Crow was pretty damn sure he’d been so focused on Devlyn—on how fucking beautiful she was and how much he wanted to spend the next fifty years with her—that he hadn’t noticed anyone who wasn’t actively trying to kill them.

  Devlyn huffed. “Redhead. Curvy. Pretty damn stunning, in fact. Ring any bells?”

  He shrugged. “I’m sure I was too busy watching the exit points. Reading everyone who walked in to really notice. So, who’s Becca?”

  “Just the best hacker and IT person the NSA has working for them. She’s also a close friend. And like I said…she’ll have that thumb drive singing by morning.”

  Damn. Smithers really should have briefed her more on what he’d meant when he’d told her she was on loan to the CIA. Now, Crow had to be the bastard. Again, in her eyes.

  “Sorry to burst your bubble, sweetheart, but this is a CIA venture. Which means the drive went straight to my superiors, their IT techs, not your friend.”

  Of course, he’d made a copy before handing it over. A safety measure in case things went sideways. More likely when things went sideways. One he was confident Kam or Ellis could decipher. But, for now, he wanted to keep this mission as far away from Cannon’s crew as possible. Limit their exposure to Slader unless it became life or death. It was bad enough he’d had to call on Six and Ice. Might have put them in the crosshairs. He didn’t want to risk involving anyone else unless needed.

  The look Devlyn gave him. Murderous didn’t begin to describe it.

  He held up his hand, hoping to ease the growing tension before the air thickened to the point it would smother them. “I know you don’t have much faith in the Agency, and, to be honest, neither do I. But, for everyone’s safety, I’m trying to keep this strictly by-the-book. The last thing I want is more bloodshed, especially when it comes to people I care about.”

  He groaned inwardly at the way her eyes narrowed, and her lips pinched tight, a red slash coloring her cheeks. “Dev. Can I please just explain about Slader. That night—”

  “I think I’ll go get some rest. Since, we can’t really do anything until your fellow officers crack that drive.” She stood, bracing against the table for a few moments before starting toward the bedroom.

  Crow watched her go, noting the slight hesitation in her step. The uneasiness of her gait. She wasn’t close to being a hundred percent. “Devlyn.”

  She paused at the doorway, looking back at him across her shoulder. Brow arched.

  He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Sooner or later, you’re gonna have to listen. Whether you want to or not. Having this damn elephant between us is only going to end up biting us in the ass.”

  “Then, I guess it’s a good thing you’re ex-Delta—can take that kind of abuse. Wake me if your techs discover anything.” She took a step then stopped, muttering something he couldn’t make out before looking at him, again. “And thanks. For getting the meds. Having your buddies keep watch and fix my wound. Just don’t get any ideas that it changes anything between us.”

  “God forbid you might actually look at me without that bloodlust in your eyes.”

  “Someone’s gotta keep you on your toes. Make sure you don’t go soft. Oh, and I wouldn’t mind pizza tonight, if you think you can swing it without breaking our cover, or having to mobilize your e
x-squad.”

  “Hawaiian. Your favorite.”

  She gave him a small, half-smile, then disappeared into the room. A muted creak sounded a few seconds later, proof she’d crawled into bed. The same bed he’d shared with her this past week. That he wanted to spend the foreseeable future curled up next to her, on.

  Wishful thinking. And, god knew, he wasn’t the dreamer type. He’d always prided himself in being action-oriented. If he wanted something, he pursued it until he either obtained it or realized he’d never really needed it, all along. Until Devlyn had stumbled into his life, he’d never thought about forever. About a life outside the service. True, he’d been on loan to the CIA, but he’d still been considered active duty. Had half-convinced himself that he’d go back. Return to his old Delta unit. Maybe head a new one. Then, she’d rocked his world. Had made him see possibilities he hadn’t considered. She’d made him long for something more, until everything had fallen apart, and he’d done the opposite of his training—he’d caved. Taken the easy way out. The one that had guaranteed he’d never see Devlyn, again. Have to face his greatest failure. Atone. Even joining Cannon’s crew had continued that illusion. Allowed him to pretend he was still serving the greater good. And he had been. He’d just also been hiding.

  From her.

  From the future.

  From any chance at a life that involved anything other than work. Than his teammates.

  But that all stopped, now. It was time to reclaim his honor. His dignity. To grow a set and do whatever it took to get through to her. Even if it ended with her walking away—or stabbing him through the heart—he needed to try.

  The old Crow was back. And, this time around, he wasn’t pulling any punches.

  Chapter Six

  Obviously, this was the universe paying Devlyn back for some horrible transgression she’d committed in a previous life, because the past week with Crow had been nothing short of agonizing. Knowing she’d be working with him had been bad enough, but sharing the same space—inevitably waking up in his arms every morning after she’d unconsciously sought him out in the night—that was torture, plain and simple. But what made it worse was the warmth that spread through her core, the damn excited kick of her heart when she stared up into those fucking gorgeous eyes of his before she had the good sense to derail the unwanted thoughts. Remind herself of all the reasons seeing Ryker Ward as anything other than a temporary partner was a colossal mistake. The kind she’d pay for over the course of a lifetime. That would stick with her all the way to the grave—longer, knowing her luck.

  Not that it made Devlyn want him any less. A fact that angered her, despite being true. But it was enough to help her maintain her distance. Curb most of the dangerous images that ravaged her mind. How she wanted to run her fingers all over his muscled body. Relearn every bulge, dip and curve. Every plane and angle. Taste that sarcastic mouth of his until everything had shifted back into its rightful place. Until she’d broken through his walls. Resurrected what they’d had.

  Until she’d made him love her, again. If he ever had.

  Love.

  Definitely not a word she should use in the same sentence as Crow’s name. Not unless she wanted more pain. More suffering because nothing was going to happen. Nothing could happen. Especially, when she’d been too stubborn to listen to his explanations. His reasons for leaving. Devlyn wasn’t sure what she was afraid of. Having Crow change her mind—forgiving him—or hearing the cold, depressing truth that he just hadn’t cared. That she’d been nothing but a distraction for him, and he’d done what had been necessary to complete his mission. Either way, it made moving forward extremely hard.

  He’d told her, repeatedly, that she’d have to eventually let him talk, but until that moment arrived—until she couldn’t put it off any longer—she’d hold on to the anger. The pain. Anything that kept her from falling into his arms, again. From acting on the feelings still threatening to boil over.

  “Hey.”

  Devlyn glanced up from the coffee she’d been drinking, holding back that initial punch of shock every time she looked at him. Seeing him standing there still got to her. And being alone here, it took her back to all those months they’d virtually lived together. It seemed so surreal. As if she’d imagined Slader shooting her—Ryker disappearing—and she needed to remind herself it had all been real. That they weren’t together.

  She nodded toward the burner cell in his hand. “You gonna tell me what the call was about? Or were you checking in with your flavor of the month?”

  Shit. She hadn’t meant for that last part to slip out. And damn if it hadn’t sounded like jealousy talking.

  Crow’s smug grin didn’t help ease the ever-present tension between them, either. “Flavor of the month?”

  She smiled sweetly back at him. “I’m sorry. Do you change more frequently than that?”

  “You know, sweetheart. If it wasn’t for the lethal gleam in your eyes, I’d almost think you were fishing for information.”

  “I am. About whether or not your damn tech nerds have finally broken that encryption. Becca would have cracked the drive, by now, and I’d be home.”

  “I’m sorry the CIA hasn’t lived up to NSA standards, yet. Though, it looks as if that might be changing. That was Jacob Reynolds. He’s the jackass who called me back into action. Seems the IT guys have something. He wants us to meet at your office. I can only imagine Smithers has insisted on keeping tabs after that last joint effort went to hell.”

  “Odd that Smithers didn’t call me.”

  “It’s a CIA joint operation. Reynolds is running the show, a fact I’m sure he’s made very clear to your boss.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Not that it matters who’s pulling the strings. Answers are answers. Though, with any luck, we might be able to wrap this all up in a bow.”

  She snorted. “Right. Because this assignment has been an endless string of lucky breaks.”

  Crow merely shrugged, gathering a few items while she retrieved her service weapon and the bloodied clothes from their first night, in the hopes she might be able to remain at the facility if Crow’s colleagues had good news. She wasn’t sure where Crow had gotten the replacement clothes—didn’t really want to think about it too much, especially if it did involve another woman—then met him at the entrance.

  He checked the camera feeds next to the door, unlocking it when he seemed satisfied the area was clear. “Stay close, just in case.”

  As if she needed him to tell her that. Had he forgotten she’d been with the NSA as long as he’d been with Delta Force? Or was he questioning her competence? Her ability to watch his back? Because she was pretty damn sure she hadn’t been the one to ditch him.

  But, she kept her concerns to herself, following him down the walkway toward the car—constantly scanning the area. A line of vehicles was parked along the curb, the small section of row housing bordering on large warehouses a couple of blocks down. The ones that were hopefully too far away or at the wrong angle for a sniper attack. Which might explain why there was a CIA safehouse in what seemed an unlikely area—and weren’t they only supposed to have those overseas? Or maybe this was Crow’s safehouse. She hadn’t asked, and he hadn’t offered any additional information.

  Either way, it struck her how unfamiliar the area was, even though he’d carried her in from that same car just a week, ago. Had she really been that out of it she couldn’t remember a single detail? Other than the blue of Crow’s eyes. How strongly he’d held her or the steady beat of his heart against her side as he’d gathered her in his arms. Maybe he should be questioning her competence, seeing as he’d had to pull a rescue out of his ass during the first hour they’d been back together.

  Just another reason to get her hands on Slader. Make the man pay.

  A flicker of movement on her right caught her attention, and she glanced over, hand at the ready, hovering above her service weapon. But it was just a cat, scurrying across a small expanse of grass before darting behind a
large bush. She cursed under her breath, hating the jumpy feeling in her stomach—the one that had taken root since Slader had betrayed her on that damn train platform—before her other senses kicked in. The distant slip of rubber across asphalt. The sudden eerie silence that followed, as if everything had paused to listen.

  Then, Crow’s hands on her arms, taking her to the ground as tires squealed close by, a couple of dull pops breaking that silence. A grunt and a curse, then he was firing back. Sweeping his arm to the right as he followed the vehicle’s track. Glass shattered in the distance, accompanied by more squealing.

  “Car, now!”

  She barely got one hand pressed to the walkway before he was heaving her up—pulling her toward his car. They stayed low, Crow laying down a bit of cover fire then yanking open the door and climbing in, still dragging her behind him. Her ass hit the seat a second before he was peeling out, billowing smoke up from the tires.

  A quick one-eighty, and they were heading down the street, skidding around the corner then accelerating up the road. More pops and the rear window shattered—scattered bits of glass throughout the interior. Devlyn returned a couple of trigger pulls, hitting the other car’s windshield before Crow spun them around another corner, clipping a parked car as he gunned the gas, again.

  She managed to brace her hand on the window in time to stop her shoulder from hitting hard, until he banked in the other direction—sent her crashing against his side. Crow didn’t even flinch, pressing her back into her seat as his gaze alternated between the road and the mirrors.

  “Buckle up. This is far from over.”

  She nodded, clipping in a moment before he slammed on the brakes—would have sent her flying through the windshield. Another black SUV swerved in front of them, skidding through the intersection in order to try and swing around. Devlyn inhaled, falling back into the seat when Crow punched it, hard.