Falcon: The Quiet Professionals Book 3 (18 page)

A squawking noise snagged his attention.

The phone!

Sal snatched it from the ground and pressed it to his ear then gave his location. He got Hawk to safety then glanced up in time to see the intruder stumbling to his feet.

“Hey!” Sal shoved forward.

Bullets sliced through the air. Pinged off the hull of the vehicles. He leapt backward, out of visual range. He tugged his weapon from his leg holster. Took aim at the fleeing intruder. And fired.

The
thwat
hit his ears the same time he saw the guy pitch into the dirt.

But the bugger climbed back up.

Sal tightened his lips. “Stupid—” Maybe if he was fast enough. If he dove ahead, like an obstacle course, beating the bullets. He was not letting this guy get away. They’d already lost a witness, an enemy combatant to a spook’s skills. He was not losing this guy. Though Sal had no idea what this man wanted or what he’d done, the guy clearly didn’t want anyone to ask those questions.

Sal again lurched from the protection of the truck. Fire trailed across his arm. “Augh!” He dropped back, cursing and banging the ground.

Fine. Want to play dirty? Sal lined up the weapon again. He didn’t want the guy dead. But he couldn’t let him get away. He fired in his right leg.

Scaling the wall, the guy howled in pain now. But didn’t stop.

Realigning his sights, Sal eased back the trigger again. Hit the back of the man’s left thigh.

The intruder lost his grip. Dropped.

Roaring engines and shouts joined the fray. Sal turned his attention to Hawk. His buddy lay with his eyes open, brow knotted in pain.

“Falcon!” came a shout from behind and to his left.

“Here,” he said, peering out, perpendicular to where the sniper hid. Just beyond the hull, Sal spotted Dean striding toward them. “Down! Stay down!”

Dean immediately complied, as did the two MPs with him.

“Shooter—north wall. Stop him!”

With a nod, Dean and the MPs ran in that direction. A hollowness swept through Sal, realizing they were alone again. But more vehicles pulled up—and one eased right up to the MRAP. Two soldiers hopped out and rushed over, one wielding a med kit, the other a stretcher.

“Stay low!” Sal said, shifting backward. “There’s a shooter.” He knelt beside Hawk, whose eyes were hooded in pain. A sheen of sweat made him look sickly. “Hang in there. Help’s here now.”

With a smirk, Hawk slowly blinked. “I’m thinking this is your way of getting out of coming clean about Walker.”

“Thinking’s not your strong suit.” Sal smiled. “Stick to looking pretty.”

The medics had the driver bring up the armored vehicle on the other side, effectively blocking them from the shooter The four of them ushered Hawk out of the hot zone and into the rear of the MRAP.

With his buddy secure and getting the best possible help, Sal focused on the intruder. Needed to help Dean take care of this scum. He pivoted.

Two MPs scurried back toward them, running in a bent posture to protect themselves and the prisoner held between them from more shots.

Dean trotted up and slowed next to Sal. “He has a few extra holes in him.”

Sal nodded.

“I’m guessing that’s not from the sniper.”

“He had a partner, whose job was to make sure he got out alive and unharmed.”

“One out of two ain’t bad.” Dean nodded toward the ambulance rushing away. “How’s Hawk?”

“Bullet wound to the chest. Lost a good amount of blood, but I think he’ll make it.”

“Means he’s out of commission.”

“Don’t tell him that.”

Kandahar Airfield, Afghanistan
31 March—0915 Hours

She could handle a lot of things. Being made a fool of was not one of them.

Cassie stood at Brie Hastings’s desk, humiliated as she held the phone to her ear. “Seriously? There’s no meeting?”

“Sorry,” Brie’s voice came through the line. “Even if there was, it would’ve been canceled after last night.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh.” Brie’s voice held levity. “I thought you would know. There was another incident on the base. Falcon and Hawk were involved—Hawk was shot.”

“Are you serious?” She sounded like a glitching MP3. “How is he? Is Sal okay? Who shot him?”

“They don’t know. Falcon saw someone lurking around the base and gave chase. They pinned him down at the northern perimeter, but the guy had a buddy working with him and started shooting our guys.”

Stunned at the news, Cassie nodded. Another attack. Sal—Sal was in danger. Again. Of course he went after the intruder. He had warrior in his blood. Protector. When she’d first met him, first saw his thick biceps and quick smile, she’d been smitten. Until he told her he was Special Forces. They didn’t just toe the line of danger—they crossed it and demanded it respond. Not because they were bloodthirsty but because they were sheepdogs.

“Okay… thanks.” She had to see Sal. Had to verify with her own eyes that he wasn’t hurt. “I–I’d better see how things are.”

“You mean how Falcon is doing?” Brie had a knowing smile in her voice.

“He won’t even talk to me.”

“Give it time.”

“Yeah.” There wasn’t enough time in the universe to change things between Sal and her. He’d made that perfectly clear. “Thanks, Brie. Bye.” In a daze, she wandered back to her cubicle. She rounded the corner—and a blur of brown collided with her. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t—”

Hands cupped her shoulders. Her gaze collided with warm brown eyes—eyes that more than once warmed Cassie to her toes.

“Sal.”

Determination etched through his dark brows, he shifted her to the right and kept moving. Without a single word.

She watched as his broad shoulders receded down the hall. Hated herself for not ripping the bars from between them. Time to muster up. “How’s Hawk?”

Sal paused and shifted toward her. “Recovering.”

“And you?”

A ripple of confusion wormed through his dark brow. His stare rammed her pulse into a solid right cross against her breastbone. “Me? I’m fine.”

Acute relief rushed over her shoulders like warm butter. “Good.” Seconds thudded off the clock as he stood unmoving.
Say something!
“Oh, that AHOD—the one you told me about last night?—got canceled.”

His expression flickered as his lips parted.

No, she wouldn’t give him a chance to drive another dagger into her heart. “I just thought I’d mention it. In case you didn’t know,” she said, her voice unnaturally calm and soft. Deliberate. “I wouldn’t want you to show up and look stupid when you find out there isn’t one. That’d be cruel.”

His expression went wonky-weird. Like he felt bad. Like he’d wanted to apologize. As they held each other’s gazes, a smile worked its way up from her heart to her lips.

He turned and left.

So did her smile. “Right. Give it time,” Cassie whispered, repeating Brie’s admonishment. If they couldn’t withstand a two-minute conversation, they’d never be able to talk through real problems. The ones that kept them bound in tight boxes of hatred and resentment.

Back at her desk, she pushed her mind into work. Into figuring out what was going on with the entirely-too-accurate attacks. When she’d had lunch with Kiew, a revelation coursed through her. But she needed to be sure.

Cassie powered up her agency-issued laptop and coded in. She scanned the documents. Spent hours poring over them. Verifying information. As she stared at the Venn diagram she’d scrawled across three taped-together pieces of paper, the wretched truth stared back, mocking. They are using me!

How could I have been so stupid?
She shoved her hands through her hair and gripped her head. History had a way of repeating itself, especially bad history, no matter how hard she tried to change its course.

The agency knew she’d stayed with Kiew Tang in China a decade ago on a high school exchange program. They knew they had been fast friends, and they were using her to get to Kiew. They expected her to betray her friend.

Ripping up the pages, she made her way to the shredder. No satisfaction came in watching the blades shred the paper. They couldn’t shred the truth. But there was some psychological satisfaction in watching the machine eat the painful facts. Her realization called everything into question, right down to her very worth. She’d wanted to believe this assignment had been given to her on merit. On her success with other missions. But it wasn’t. Things were clear to her now. The timeliness too convenient.

By the time lunch rolled around, the only appetite she had was one for physical activity. Frustration pushed her out of the chair. She headed over to the showers, changed into PT clothes, and worked out in the makeshift gym until her limbs ached like her insides. She had this glorious idea of how things would work here—she’d show her mettle and through it or in conjunction with that accomplishment, win back Sal. Live happily ever after.

Ha. Just call me Pinocchio
. She’d lied to herself as much as apparently her superiors had.

After a shower, she donned her pants and tank top. She brushed out her hair then tied it back with an elastic and rolled it into a tight knot at the base of her neck. Adding deodorant, she mulled what she should do about the lies her handler had spun around her. Options were few: confront them. Play along. Ignore it.

She was too mad to play dumb, and she had too much invested in making a reputable name for herself. If only she could ask Burnett. He wasn’t her CO, but he’d always shot straight. Given her the facts, whether she wanted them or not. He was about the only person she knew who would.

So they wanted to play with her life? Treat her like some dimwitted blond? Well, time to let them know she was on to them, wise to their scheming. And maybe, just maybe, she could turn this for her benefit. Yes—she was friends with Kiew. Yes, they had a connection. So her bosses wanted her snooping in Kiew’s business. No doubt because of Daniel Jin. And though the U.S. government wanted to use their friendship for their means, Cassie had another plan. Help Kiew escape.

It would give Cassie a lot of joy to help her friend, whom she suspected was innocently involved with the wrong man, but also on the receiving end of his anger and fists. Cassie had seen her own mom take more than her hits from losers. She wasn’t going to watch a woman she once considered closer than a sister suffer that horrible fall into victimhood. Kiew was too strong. Too smart.

It just didn’t make sense. What had happened in the seven years since they’d seen each other to make Kiew so subservient? What was she doing with Daniel Jin anyway? Maybe it was his power. Weren’t Chinese girls pretty much auctioned off at the whim of their fathers? Mrs. Tang had always pushed Kiew toward the sons of the rich and powerful. Was this what was happening with her and Daniel Jin?

What if Cassie failed—then Daniel Jin would be ten times worse the abuser. She stuffed her feet in her boots and laced them up. When she straightened, Cassie felt a warning prickle her neck—someone was watching! She lifted her shirt from the locker and slid her arms through it, glancing around.

Brown eyes collided with hers. Sal stood on the other side of the showers, staring at her. His head cocked to the side. Brow knotted.

Cassie slid her shirt over her tank. “Something wrong?”

He scratched his thick black beard—she still wasn’t used to that thing—then swung around and left.

What was that about?
She added a light touch of makeup while at the mirror. Then her reflection screamed back at her. Not just her reflection, but the one in the other mirror that exposed her shoulder tattoo.

Oh no…

Sal would’ve had a perfect angle to see the heart-shaped tattoo with Mila’s name in it. Dread spilled through her stomach. She was being careless and that could open the box of secrets too-many years in the making.

But right now, she had bigger fish to fry. And Sal… he hated her too much to even consider the possibilities.

Back at her desk, Cassie grabbed her phone and headed for the bathroom. Concealed in a stall, she coded in. Demanded a meeting.

N
OT POSSIBLE
.

Frustration tightened her muscles. The response even seemed to speak the truth—she’d been used. If they could play this game, so could she.

N
OW OR
I’
M DONE
, she texted back, her fingers nearly pushing the keys through the phone.

The phone rang.

Her heart thudded as she answered and pressed the device to her ear. “Hello.”

“I think we need to establish some rules, Walker. You work for us. We don’t work for you.”

Hearing his flat, curt tone chased away her courage. What if she was wrong? They’d fry her and her career. She couldn’t let that happen. No way would she be like her mom, working at Pick N Pack and the Bueno Nacho just to pay the bills and put food on the table for her kids.

“I thought something was urgent. You were ready to quit,” his voice jogged Cassie out of her thoughts.

“What do you know about the asset?” It was the closest she could come to the mention of Kiew without divulging her suspicions.

Hesitation thickened the line. “I gave you the information on her.”