The other part, the one that hated the way she made him feel, wanted her to keep staring straight ahead. To walk onto that jet and out of his life.
A phone rang just as Trevor and Kane reached the small flight of metal steps in front of the plane. It was Kane’s cell, and he stepped to the side to let Trevor board as he answered the call.
Three seconds later, he called out, “Wait!”
Everyone froze. Trevor shifted around, frowning. “What’s wrong?”
Kane’s features were tight as he searched the crowd before locking eyes with D. Then he held out the phone. “It’s for you.”
Tamping down his growing alarm, D marched up and snatched the phone from Kane’s outstretched hand. “Yeah?” he barked into it.
There was a pause. Then a deep, satisfied chuckle.
“Derek, it’s been a long time,” Edward Bryant greeted him.
D’s spine snapped straight, as if someone had shoved a steel rod into it. Fuck.
Before he could respond, the sound of multiple car engines echoed in the distance. Every man on the tarmac had his weapon drawn in a heartbeat, D included. He took aim at the black SUV speeding up from the left side, but shooting at it would’ve been a total waste of ammunition. The vehicle was armored. So were the other ones that appeared from all directions—two coming in from the right, another from the left, two more up ahead.
In a matter of seconds, the jet was surrounded. The only escape was the gaping entrance of the hangar, where Liam stood with an assault rifle in hand, his profile grim as he pointed it at one of the SUVs. But running toward the hangar would just trap the team inside the massive space.
D bit back a curse and focused on the voice in his ear.
“Tell your men to stand down,” Bryant ordered, sounding far more cheerful than he ought to. “My people aren’t there for them.”
“I guess that means they’re here for me?”
“Of course.” Bryant laughed again. “I have no issue with your little merc pals. Actually, I’d rather not order my guys to engage—I don’t particularly want James Morgan on my back if I massacre his entire team. I just want you, Derek.”
D inhaled a slow breath. “I don’t work for you anymore, Bryant. I don’t owe you anything.”
“Maybe not, but you’re still going to do what I say. Otherwise I will tell my men to engage, and then every person on that runway is going to die. I hear there’s a woman there, too. Is she your girlfriend?”
He gritted his teeth, making a conscious effort not to look at Sofia. She would be able to see the fear in his eyes. She was the only one who ever fucking saw him.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked in defeat.
“Tell your friends to get on their jet and fly home. No harm will come to them. Tell your other friends, the ones in the hangar, to stay put, and no harm will come to them either. And you, Derek, are going to walk over to my people and surrender yourself to them.”
“And then what?” he said bitterly. “They put a bullet in my head?”
“Of course not. Nobody is allowed to touch you until you and I have a little chat. They’re just going to take you to another airfield. My plane will be waiting there for you.”
“And if I don’t surrender?” From the corner of his eye, he saw Kane’s head whirl toward him in surprise.
“I just told you what happens if you don’t,” Bryant said irritably. “Your people die.”
D studied the six vehicles parked strategically on the runway. He couldn’t see through the heavily tinted windows, but Edward Bryant wasn’t the kind of man who fucked around. Not the kind of man who bluffed, either. The men inside those SUVs were no doubt armed to the teeth, and they wouldn’t hesitate to open fire if D didn’t do what their boss demanded.
“So?” Bryant prompted. “What’s your final answer, Derek?”
“I’ll see you soon,” he muttered into the phone.
“That’s what I thought.”
As the other man disconnected, D exhaled a steady stream of air, then addressed his teammates. “Get on the plane.”
Nobody lowered their weapons.
“I’m serious.” He swallowed his frustration. “You need to get on the plane. You need to go.”
Trevor was the first to speak. “What the fuck is going on, D?”
“I have some business to take care of.”
“Don’t give us that vague bullshit of yours,” Kane said angrily. “You just told that asshole you were surrendering. Who the hell was he? And how did he get my number?”
“He’s resourceful,” D retorted, his frustration levels rising steadily. “He’s my former handler, and he wants to meet with me. That’s all you need to know, all right?”
Ethan joined in, his hazel eyes narrowing. “You mean he wants to kill you.”
“Probably, but I can handle myself, okay?” D spared another look at the SUVs surrounding them, then glanced at each of his teammates. “I don’t want you coming after me, understand? I’ll take care of it, the way I always take care of shit. All you guys have to do is get on the fucking plane.”
Nobody moved.
D’s gaze rested on Sofia, just briefly, before shifting to Trevor. “Damn it, just go. Get Sofia back to the compound.”
“We’re not leaving you behind,” Trevor snapped.
“Yes, you are. Because if you don’t, my handler’s men will kill every single one of you.” His throat was so tight he could barely go on. “I’ll be fine.”
Every single pair of eyes remained unconvinced.
“For fuck’s sake, get out of here,” he burst out. “Get on the plane and go.”
It seemed like an eternity before Trevor finally cleared his throat and nodded at the others, but he was visibly upset as he addressed them. “You heard the man,” Trevor said woodenly. “Let’s go.”
Gratitude flooded D’s gut as he met Trevor’s eyes. “Thank you.”
His teammate didn’t answer. Nobody said a word, in fact. Not Kane or Ethan or Luke. They just stared at him in disapproval, as if he’d asked for Bryant’s men to ambush them. As if he were betraying them by trying to save their lives.
Then, one by one, they trudged toward the metal stairs. One by one, they disappeared through the door of Morgan’s jet.
Except for Sofia. Nope, the damned woman stayed behind, ignoring his orders the way she always did. Her eyes bored into his face as she slowly walked toward him.
“You still want to tell me you’re not a good man?”
He blinked. He’d expected condemnation, so the question surprised him. “I’m not,” he mumbled.
“Really? Because it seems to me like you’re sacrificing yourself—again—for the people you care about.” Her expression took on a gleam of challenge. “Or are you still pretending you don’t care about your team? About me?”
He clenched his teeth. “I don’t.”
“Because you’re an asshole, right, Derek? You’re a coldhearted bastard who doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself.” She made a scornful sound. “Go ahead. Keep telling yourself that. Keep pretending nothing matters to you.”
“Sofia—” he started hoarsely.
“No, I’m done listening to your bullshit denials.” She let out a shaky breath. “I’m not going to try to change your mind about this. I’m not going to ask you to come home safe. I’m not even going to tell you I love you. Because it doesn’t matter what I say or what I want. In the end, you’re always going to take the easy way out.”
“Easy?” he hissed at her. “You think giving myself up to Bryant is easy for me?”
“Yes.” She met his angry gaze head-on. “It’s easier for you to go off and die, because then you won’t have to face how you feel or who you are. But I told you back at the motel, I know you, Derek.”
His body went rigid as she stepped closer and pressed her palm directly on his left pec.
“I know there’s a heart inside that big, strong chest of yours. It’s beating and it’s real
and it’s fucking there. And I do love you,” she said fiercely, peering up at him with those big green eyes. “A part of me wishes I didn’t, but I do. I love you, Derek.”
It suddenly got hard to breathe.
“I don’t expect you to say it back. I don’t expect you to say anything, actually.” Her expression was sadder than he’d ever seen it. “You never do, right?”
D took a breath. Opened his mouth.
“Good-bye, D.”
Sofia turned while the words were still stuck in his fucking throat. She didn’t stomp or make a fuss or toss back some bitter parting remark. She just walked away, and watching her do it set something screaming in his head as loud as gunshots at close range.
She just walked away, taking his heart—the heart he hadn’t realized he still had—right along with her.
Chapter 24
The building that had once housed Smith Group headquarters was now in shambles. It was also the last place D expected Bryant’s men to bring him after they landed at the private airport outside of Wilmington.
On the other hand, it made sense that this was the site Bryant had chosen. Bryant’s whole life had revolved around the agency. D had destroyed the man’s career after he’d failed to execute his mission all those years ago. In Bryant’s eyes, it probably seemed fitting for them to face off in the one place Bryant had loved most in the world.
D winced as one of the stone-faced men yanked him out of the backseat. The zip ties dug into his wrists, which were sore as fuck after being bound for the entire four-hour flight.
He hadn’t recognized the men who’d been waiting for him at the airfield back in Mexico. He didn’t think they were former Smith operatives, but maybe they were. It wasn’t like Smith Group had held company socials or holiday parties. D had met only a few other operatives during his time there, usually when he was being debriefed at headquarters.
The four men who’d accompanied him from Cancún flanked him as the group headed for the rear doors of the building. D studied the brick facade with a frown. The exterior was crumbling in some places, and there was an entire section missing near the door, revealing the pipes and beams and drywall that made up the skeleton of the building.
The walls inside were in the same run-down condition, boasting visible water damage from years of neglect, but the floor beneath D’s boots was solid and the stairwell was mostly undamaged, except for the poorly done graffiti spray-painted on the walls.
D climbed the stairs, sandwiched between two of the men. Bryant’s old office was located on the top floor of the building, which had only eight floors in total. Smith Group’s headquarters had been low-key, situated in a quiet neighborhood that had once housed a variety of small businesses rather than in a flashy downtown high-rise that would draw attention. But in the past nine years, the area had deteriorated.
When they reached the set of doors in front of Bryant’s office, D noted in amusement that the gold name plaque on the wall was still there.
EDWARD BRYANT, SENIOR CONSULTANT
He suddenly wondered if some gullible civilian had ever wandered into the building, somehow made it through the Alcatraz-level security, and then shaken his head in dismay when he’d realized he wasn’t in a consulting firm.
“He’s waiting for you.” One of the men eyed D with no expression as he reached for the handle and opened the door halfway.
D stifled a sigh. Fuck. Might as well get this over with.
Having his hands tied behind his back limited his moves, but luckily, his legs were unbound and worked just fine. If he got close enough to Bryant, he could easily kick the man’s legs out from under him. Get him on the ground and scissor his ankles around the bastard’s neck. Snap it.
That would probably alert Bryant’s people, though, and they’d come in, guns blazing. But D would deal with that when it happened. Right now, eliminating Bryant was his only concern.
The moment he entered the office, D’s eyes widened in genuine shock.
What the fuck?
While the rest of the building looked like it was seconds away from being condemned, Bryant’s office was in pristine condition. Utterly unchanged in the nine years since D had stepped foot in it.
Not one measly detail was different. The fancy drapes, the thousands of dollars’ worth of furniture, the thick Berber carpet. Even the wet bar was fully stocked, with rows of liquor bottles gleaming in the soft glow of the desk lamp, which must’ve been running on batteries, because no way was there electricity in this building. All the wiring in the walls outside the office had been exposed, for fuck’s sake.
“Derek.”
He shifted his attention back to the commanding desk, to the man who’d recruited him from Delta and coaxed him into signing away his life to Smith Group.
A silver pistol rested in the man’s hand.
“Stay where you are,” Bryant ordered.
D narrowed his eyes and studied his former handler. Bryant had aged, but not much. His shoulders were still broad, his torso still bulky as ever, and although his hair was now streaked with silver, he still had a full head of it. His hooked nose still seemed too big for his narrow face. His eyes were still the same dark shade of blue.
Absolutely nothing about the man had changed, same way his damn office hadn’t changed.
“What the hell is this?” D finally asked, turning to examine his surroundings. “Jesus, Bryant. It’s morbid.”
Bryant’s eyes flashed. “It’s my office—that’s what it is.”
“Smith Group doesn’t exist anymore. You don’t have an office.”
Now the man smirked. “Just because the government no longer funds or sanctions us doesn’t mean we don’t exist.”
D’s pity deepened. Was Bryant running ops out of this cesspool? Did he actually believe he still wielded any semblance of power in this world?
Bryant waved the gun at the plush gold-upholstered chair in front of the desk. “Sit.”
D did as he was told, his gaze still taking in the pathetic sights all around him. The desktop shone as if it had been recently polished. Christ. This was seriously depressing.
Bryant pursed his lips as he searched D’s face. Then those lips twisted in a displeased frown. “You truly have no remorse for what you’ve done, do you? I suppose that’s my fault, though. I trained you, after all. I taught you how to ignore your conscience.”
D cleared his throat. “This is pathetic. You realize that, right? This office, the furniture— everything. It’s fucking pathetic.”
“It’s my life!” Bryant roared. “My legacy! Do you realize how hard I worked to get to where I am? Do you realize what you took from me when you couldn’t do your fucking job like I ordered you to? Thirty years! I gave thirty years of my life to this agency. Not to a wife or kids or fucking hobbies, because this was my life!”
Bryant rolled his chair back and unsteadily rose to his feet. Then, standing behind his desk like an executive addressing his staff, he straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin. His tailored suit was starched, his tie perfectly knotted at his throat.
And seeing it made D profoundly sad. This was a sad, pathetic man, living in the past, clinging to an agency that had been shut down almost ten years ago.
His legacy.
Bryant had called this his legacy.
D’s throat tightened as another thought flew into his head, one he’d never expected, something he’d never once wondered about.
What would his legacy be?
“I protected this country.” Bryant was still ranting, still spitting out bitter words that D barely registered. “I served it with honor. I took the jobs that every other agency was too fucking scared to touch, and I never demanded anything in return. I didn’t need to be patted on the back or given medals. I didn’t need recognition or phone calls from the president telling me what a splendid job I’d done. I didn’t need any of that, because it didn’t matter. I was already doing what mattered.”
D’s mind continued to s
pin. He was a soldier, a mercenary. He got paid to rescue people from sweltering jungles, he played bodyguard to government agents when they needed protection, he flew into war zones, took down rebel groups. But what did any of that really give him other than a way to pass the time? A way to keep from being bored, to keep from losing his mind over the lack of action.
“And you took it away from me!” Bryant boomed. “All you had to do was find that girl! Find her and then kill the man who abducted her! But no, you had to go and kill the son! You had to blow the whole fucking mission and turn my life into a circus.”
The gun trembled in Bryant’s hand as he seethed in anger.
D’s hands were trembling, too. Seeing Bryant . . . this office . . . the man’s desperate attempt to hold on to the past . . . It had shaken him up. Bryant had nothing. He had nothing.
But D . . . he had something, damn it. He had his team. He had Sofia. He even had a fucking kid, a real legacy.
Except he was too afraid to let any of them in.
“Did you know I had to answer to the president? That I had to stand in the goddamn Oval Office and explain to him why an agency that was supposed to be covert was suddenly being talked about all over Congress? Being debated in the Senate? Because that motherfucker Senator Richardson wouldn’t stop screaming about how we’d failed him?”
Bryant seemed oblivious to D’s inner turmoil. He also seemed oblivious to the fact that he was venturing closer and closer to D’s chair.
D eyed the gun. The safety was still on. Bryant was too caught up in his own resentment, too focused on wallowing in the past, to notice his oversight.
It was a powerful thing, the past. It had turned a man who’d once been a legend in the intelligence community into a blubbering, pathetic amateur.
“And then that asshole tells me someone needs to take the fall in order to shut Richardson up!” Bryant was yelling. “And me, the man who served him for thirty fucking years—I’m the one who’s punished? Because of you! Because of what you fucking did, Derek! Because you screwed up and—”
In the blink of an eye, D dove off the chair and tackled Bryant to the floor.