Agent U7: Keegan (The D.I.R.E. Agency Series Book 7) (9 page)

His blue eyes darkened beneath furrowed, blond eyebrows.

“Your kids, Jim. Do you remember your kids?”

“I don’t have any children,” he growled, as he picked up the knife. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but you made a mistake coming here.”

Holding up his hands in surrender, Mitchell said, “I’m Mitchell Jacobs. We served in the Teams together for years.” His voice softened. “We were best friends, Jim.”

Shaking his head adamantly, Jim twirled the blade in his hand. “No…”

“Aidan,” Mitchell said in a rush. “You don’t remember your son, Aidan? He was a SEAL, too. Now, he works for D.I.R.E.”

“D.I.R.E.” He glared at Mitchell from beneath his brows, his look lethal, menacing. “D.I.R.E. dies today.”

“You started D.I.R.E., Jim. Don’t you remember?”

Jim sucked in a breath and straightened, his eyes wide, his body still.

Nodding, Mitchell said, “You sold weapons technology to fund it. You wanted to make the world a safer place.” Mitchell lowered his voice. “Now, your family is a part of it.”

Jim squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers rubbing across his brow.

Mitchell continued. “Your daughter—”

Jim’s head perked up, his eyes wide again. “Daughter?”

Mitchell gave a slight smile. “She’s one of the women you kidnapped, Jim. Rachel—she’s engaged to my son, Tristan.”

Jim’s nostrils flared, his blue gaze glued to Mitchell’s face, searching for truth. “So that’s why you’re here, concocting all of this.”

The blade flew across the expanse. Mitchell leaned away quickly. It narrowly missed its mark.

His voice continued in a new rush. “Jim, it’s the truth. Ask Carol.”

Clint stiffened. The mention of his mother’s name made his skin crawl. He wanted to puke again.

“Carol?” Angela looked around at each of them. “Jim’s old girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend?” Clint whipped around to stare at Angela.

“He dated her before he met Kate. They both served on some top secret, Naval committee. She was the physics advisor on…” She looked away, deep in thought.

“On what?” Keegan whirled her back around.

Angela’s dawning gaze held a note of shock. “Time travel.”

Jim’s eyes narrowed to small slits as he started toward Mitchell with a determined gait. “How do you know Carol?”

“I met her years ago, when we were in the SEALs. Angela and I used to go out with the two of you.” Jim stopped in front of Mitchell, his reluctant gaze showing signs of belief. With a white-knuckled fist, he hauled back and struck Mitchell across the face. Mitchell fell back against the wall, breathing hard. Angela gasped.

“I won’t fight you, Jim. We’re friends.”

Jim’s bitter grin reminded Clint of Aidan. “Good.” He hit him again.

“
No
,” Angela cried at the screen.

Blood trickled from Mitchell’s nose and into the crevice beside his mouth. His jaw clenched as he stared at Jim. “Let me show you pictures. I have them in my pocket.”

Rustling ensued as Mitchell reached into the cargo pocket on the leg of his olive green pants. Clint spotted a photo of Aidan on top, with two other photos beneath it. Mitchell handed them to Jim.

“The top photo is a picture of you with your son, Aidan.”

Jim stared at it before he squeezed his eyes shut as if in pain. Clint knew the two of them had not spoken in years before Jim…died. Was it possible for Mitchell to get through to him, despite the serum?

Monica’s voice burst into the tension. “He’s feeling the headache—like I did when the serum started to wear off.”

Austin grinned. “It’s working.”

“You’d be proud of him, Jim,” Mitchell said. “He’s a damned fine agent. One of the best.”

Jim’s eyes sprang open, a storm of confusion.

“The second one,” Mitchell said, pointing at the stack in Jim’s hand, “is Rachel. Your daughter.”

Although they knew Rachel was Robert Naylor’s biological daughter, Jim had raised her as his own and had made it known he’d loved her beyond words.

“She was devastated when she thought you’d died.”

Jim looked up quickly, his eyes wide. “Dead?”

Oh, shit. How Mitchell handled this could be detrimental to the progress he’d achieved.

“Yes, we all thought you were dead.” A moment of silence ensued. “I’m glad it wasn’t true.”

Jim looked back at the photos in his hand, shuffling to the third. “And this?” he said, glancing back up at Mitchell.

Clint frowned at the screen. Jim only had two children. Had Mitchell brought a photo of the two of them? Of he and Kate?

“Carol didn’t tell you?” Mitchell said.

Narrowing his eyes, Jim stared at Mitchell with caution. “Tell me what?”

“You and Carol. You have a son.”

A collective gasp filled the room as dread sunk to the bottom of Clint’s stomach.

“Cyrus,” Keegan breathed.

“Our son?” Jim said, his confusion now laced with anger.

“Yes,” Mitchell said with a patient nod. “His name is Clint. He works for the agency, too.”

Chapter 9

He would’ve bolted from the room if Keegan hadn’t placed her hands on his shoulders to keep him grounded. This had to be a dream—make that, a nightmare.

Then again, he’d always lived with nightmares, hadn’t he? He should be used to their impact.

Yet, as much as he wanted to reject it, it all made sense. How Jim and Mitchell had found him for the agency, why Jim and Mitchell had selected he and Tristan to run the agency when they retired.

Why the tracker only showed Cyrus as a half brother.

“So, let me get this straight,” Jim gave a caustic laugh. “You came here today to tell me Carol, the woman I love, has lied to me. I have another life away from her and the farm. That I’m the father of three children and…the D.I.R.E. Agency. Our enemy.”

“Oh, Mitchell,” Angela said in a worried voice. “Please tread lightly.”

A rumbling sound carried from behind the wall Jim had emerged from earlier.

“Yes,” Mitchell said with a nod. “I came to convince you to come home to your family.”

Jim’s response was immediate. “Carol’s my family.”

“Perhaps. But, you have another family, too.”

Clint watched, in horror, as Mitchell removed first his Kevlar vest, then the t-shirt he wore beneath. “Mitchell, what are you doing?” he told the screen.

“Jim, we’ve been brothers since we went through BUD/s.” He turned his back to Jim. “We have the same tattoo. Look at the dates.” Mitchell held his arm behind his back, revealing Jim’s dawning expression.

“If that’s the case,” came a female voice behind Jim, “why doesn’t he recognize you?”

Clint’s mother stepped out from behind Jim. Carol Robinson looked much older than the last time he’d seen her, beyond her years in fact, her blonde hair up under a wide-brimmed, straw hat. Her thin, translucent skin looked like crushed tin foil, her frame boney beneath her loose-fitting clothes.

Her appearance shouted weakness, yet her pale blue eyes were as hard and resolute as ever.

“There’s your Madam,” Austin told Monica. “Looks very ordinary to me. Kinda like the Wizard of Oz. You expected a mighty, powerful person but she’s just a woman.”

“A sick woman,” Angela added, watching the screen with rapt attention. “A very, sick woman.”

Nodding, Clint said, “Yes, she has breast cancer.”

Carol touched Jim’s back with familiarity, with an ease born of considerable time together. He gave her a small, concerned grimace before turning back to Mitchell.

Worry gnawed at Clint’s insides. His mother had forced Jim to choose between them. While Jim appeared to be skeptical, he’d never choose Mitchell this early in the game. His boss was on the verge of losing all of the ground he’d gained.

“I have my hypotheses on why he doesn’t recognize me, Carol.” Mitchell turned around, his shirt dropping to the ground, the vest in his fisted grip. “But, perhaps, you want to explain it and save us all some time?”

Pulling a small revolver from her skirt, she pointed it at Mitchell. Clint jumped up from his chair. Angela grabbed his arm.

“Mitchell, the vest. Hold up the vest,” Clint cried.

“I don’t have to explain anything,” Carol said.

And, fired.

Angela’s cry resonated in the silent room, the lead in a chorus of stunned outcries. They watched in horror as Jim and Carol fell from view, Mitchell’s body hitting the dry dirt with a thud, billowing up a cloud of dust. The video feed showed nothing but the brown fog, while Jim argued with Carol in the background. The feed cleared to reveal a bundle of yard tools that leaned against the wall, a shovel lying horizontally at the base.

Clint yelled at the screen, his eyes scouring the visible surroundings. “Mitchell.
Mitchell
. Answer me, dammit.”

If he were an agent, they’d receive readings on all of his vitals. With the armband strapped to Mitchell’s arm, they were dependent on him and his video feed communication.

Jim’s voice came closer with no visual. “Jacobs.”

“Leave him, Jim,” Carol said, her voice unsteady, betraying the strength behind her words. “We have to get downstairs. They’ll be here soon.”

“Downstairs?” Monica glanced at the screen with narrowed eyes.

“I’m not leaving him.”

Jim’s loyal tone surprised Clint. Perhaps, Mitchell had penetrated the serum somehow.

Silence followed before Carol spoke in a reserved voice. “We are not going to ruin this by getting soft. We’re too close, Jim.”

Jim squatted down and lifted Mitchell onto his shoulder. Carol appeared a horizontal image on the screen, Mitchell’s arm dangling down Jim’s back.

“I’m taking him with us,” Jim said.

Angela spoke through gritted teeth, anger and fear heavy in her shrill voice. “Where are they?” She turned Clint around to face her. “
Where are Tristan and Dar
?” She studied the panel before him, her movements frenzied. “How do I call them?”

He glanced at Rose and nodded. “I’m sending the feed to the team.”

He patched in the video feed to all of their armbands. Verbal communication was nonexistent as they all watched Jim and Carol walk down a short flight of stairs, Mitchell on Jim’s shoulder.

“Damn, he’s all muscle.” Jim’s voice sounded amplified in the small space.

Aidan’s faint gasp carried in the background. “That sounds…?”

“You wanted to bring him.” Carol’s spite grated on Clint’s nerve endings. If he were in the same room, he’d kill her himself.

“What he told me…” Jim’s voice held an edge of potent irritation. “It’s the truth, isn’t it? I have children? Another life?”

“What the hell is this?” Aidan said over the airwaves.

“We have a plan, Jim,” Carol said. “This is no time to get sentimental.”

“Sentimental? How can I get sentimental about my children if I don’t
freakin’ remember them, Carol
?”

Aidan’s breath came in loud gulps. “
Holy shit
.”

They couldn’t break off the feed to talk. Not yet. A green fog, followed by a bright flash of light lit up the room. Tristan stood beside Angela, his gaze on the big screens. Angela wrapped her arms around his waist and held him tight. Tristan’s arms rose to shoulder height before they settled on her back tentatively.

She stared up at her son. “Go, Tristan. That’s Mitchell on his shoulder. She shot him.”

His wide-eyed gaze darted to Clint for confirmation. He gave a brief nod. Tristan set her away from him and moved to teleport.

“Where?” His glare held an absolute promise of retribution to come. Clint would not wish that on anyone—except his mother and brother.

“The farm,” Austin said. “But you can’t go alone.”

“The farm?” Tristan said. “What is Mitchell doing at the farm alone?”

“Why weren’t we told?” Riordan chimed in.

“We had orders—” Austin said.

“Screw orders.” Dylan’s growl sounded like the rumble of an earthquake over the room’s sound system.

Jaydan said, “We should’ve been told.”

“Mitchell was adamant,” Clint said.

Grunting, Jim carried Mitchell down a narrow, dim hallway. Stopping at a door, Carol did something off-screen and it opened. Jim lowered Mitchell to a cot in the corner. His arm hung off the side, revealing a large, glass wall that separated the other half of the room. The D.I.R.E. women rushed up to the window, their hands against the glass, as they stared at Mitchell with panic and worry. They pounded on the glass, speaking, but their words didn’t carry.

A soundproof chamber.

Jim squatted to lean over Mitchell. “He’s still alive.”

“I can fix that.” They heard the rustle of clothing just out of view.

“
No
.” Jim’s arm shot out. “Get one of the medical clones.”

“No,” her tone a blanket of malice. “I’m not wasting my time or people on Mitchell Jacobs.”

“Jock and Harold sent plenty of men. You can spare a clone, Carol.” He rose to his feet. “
Now, do it
.”

“Don’t take that tone with me, Jim. This is my family’s plan and I’m in charge. Don’t forget that.”

“You made me forget my family. I’m starting to wonder if you made me forget my own plans, too?”

“We’ve been together for years, Jim. How can you let that man walk in here and make you doubt me?”

The D.I.R.E. women watched the couple with rabid interest. The couple was out of sight but their words rang loud in the hollow chamber.

“Because my gut tells me he’s telling the truth. I always listen to my gut, Carol. What I have to wonder is why you would betray me like that?”

“I need to get down there,” Tristan said, tearing his gaze from the screen.

Aidan said, “I’m going with you.”

The other agents spoke up, all begging Jacobs to pick them up and teleport them.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner, Robinson?” Aidan said, in a tone of frustration.

Angela’s low voice seemed to boom in the silence. “Maybe Mitchell was right to doubt him.”

Keegan shoved her way between Clint and Angela. “You
bitch
. You, of all people, have no right to accuse him of deceit. You have no idea what he’s been through today.”

Clint gripped Keegan’s arm from behind. She snatched it away. Angela glared at Keegan, hatred and anger glittering in her violet-blue eyes.

“He followed orders,” Keegan said. “Your husband’s orders.” Her glittering gaze went to Tristan. “The same man that lays dying in some godforsaken hole while you fuel anarchy.” She stepped back, against Clint’s side.

Turning away, Tristan spoke into his armband. “Send me your coordinates. I’ll pick you up. We wait to go in together. Understood?”

A chorus of rogers rang over the airwaves.

Angela grabbed her son’s arm and turned him around. “Kill that bitch.”

Tristan’s brief nod would’ve shown a lack of conviction if it weren’t for the fire blazing in his blue eyes. It burned like the bowels of Hades.

“Rose,” Tristan said to Jaydan. “Pack up the carbohydrates. We’re going to level that freakin’ place once and for all.”

* * *

Clint’s usually calm voice blared with unquestioned authority. “Austin, Monica, escort Angela to one of the security cells.”

Keegan’s heart leapt with glee at Angela’s cry of outrage. Clint was doing the right thing. The last thing they needed was more suspicion.

Angela glared at him, her drawn brows too perfect to take her fury seriously. “I will not. My husband is the head of this organization. He won’t tolerate it.
I
won’t tolerate it.”

Clint turned back to the panel. “He’s not in charge at the moment. I am.” Glancing over at Austin, he said, “Take her now. Make sure she’s comfortable and has access to Mitchell’s video feed.” Glancing over his shoulder at her, he added, “But, under no circumstances is anyone to free her unless I say so.”

“
You bastard
.” Angela spat the words. “When Mitchell gets back, he’ll fry you for this. You’ll never work again.”

“Give it your best shot, Angela.” He spoke with a note of bored distraction. “After this, I may not
want
to work again.”

Austin stood in place, unmoving. Monica glared at Angela with a look her victims had surely fallen victim to over the years.

Clint said, “Do you have a problem escorting the boss’s wife?”

Keegan smiled to herself. She really liked this new side of Clint.

Monica grabbed Angela’s arm. “I don’t.”

With a glare at Monica, Austin took Angela’s arm. The two of them escorted her out of the room, the door falling shut with a soft
whoosh
.

The room fell quiet. Keegan stared at Clint’s back and took a deep breath.

“I want to teleport.”

Clint released a bitter bark of laughter. “Don’t we all?”

Moving to stand by his side, she gazed up into his handsome face. “I mean it, Clint. I want to become a super agent.”

He moved so quickly she caught her breath. His tempestuous eyes brewed with unleashed fury, wild and threatening. Arousal, wild and threatening, exploded inside her, heating her from the inside out with molten intensity.

With barely controlled patience, he spoke low. “Now is not the time, Keegan.” His gaze scrutinized her face, his breath blustery through his nose, before he released her.

She stumbled back as his gaze returned to the panel. Shoving her way in front of him, she stood between him and the panel, her hips brushing against his in a brief, fluttering touch. He sucked in a breath, his glittering eyes narrowed.

“It’s exactly the time, Clint. Cyrus and your mother would never expect it. I could go in without incident and save them all.”

His condescending snort ticked her off. “If it was that easy, Tristan would do it.”