Say No More Page 11

  “You wouldn’t do it any differently,” she shot back.

  “No, I wouldn’t. But you don’t have me or anyone else to go with you. I’ve been in this business a long time. The second you mentioned The Sultan I knew we were in for a fight. Raj Mittal is a monster. His own son is scared of him. And there’s a reason he uses his son’s home in Dubai as a holding place. It’s convenient for travel to get the girls in and out of the country, and it makes his son complicit in international crimes, even though there’s no evidence the son is involved in any of the father’s dealings. You can’t just walk right in the palace and free those girls.”

  “I called in a favor,” she said. “I’ll be there as a legitimate guest on holiday. There’s a section of the palace that’s open to the public as a hotel. There are only four available rooms, and it books more than a year in advance, and at a ridiculous cost. It won’t give me access to the private areas of the palace, but it’ll get me close enough.”

  “And then what?” he asked. “How the hell do you plan to get ten girls out of that place without anyone seeing you?”

  “I’ve done my homework,” she said. “It’s possible. You’re just mad because you’re stuck in here and can’t come with me. I’ll be back before they release you from this place.”

  “If you make it back at all,” he said. “You’re taking a foolish risk. I love you like a sister …”

  “Which makes that joke about marrying me even more creepy,” she interrupted.

  “… but you’ve been taking more and more chances lately. I worry about you. You live and breathe the job. And your only friend is a middle-aged father of four with a bullet hole in his shoulder.”

  “That’s not true,” she said defensively. “Marlena is my friend.”

  “She’s your therapist. You pay to see her. That doesn’t count as friendship.”

  Liv pursed her lips together. “I enjoy my work.”

  “And there’s nothing wrong with that,” he said. “But you’re about as burned-out as a person can be. And when you’re burned-out, you end up making mistakes and taking chances that could cost you your life. I know you took a rough knock a couple of years ago with Simon Locke. You haven’t been the same since.”

  “It was a lesson learned,” she said, standing. “I’m a big girl, Donner. And I can handle this. Those girls will be back home to their families before the week is out.” She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead.

  “You are the stubbornnest damned thing,” he said, shaking his head. “Your hair sticks out like a sore thumb. I suggest a wig. And call me whenever you get back so I know you’re not dead.”

  “I’ll do one better,” she said. “I’ll come by here so I can say ‘I told you so’ to your face.”

  “Good,” he said. “Make sure you bring me something stronger than a beer next time. I’m surrounded by women. You’ll all be the death of me.”

  “Love you too, Donner,” she said with a grin, saluting as she left him lying pitifully in his hospital bed.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Deacon Tucker was a quiet man. He could sit in the corner of a room without uttering a word, and everyone would know instinctively that he was in charge. He’d been in the game of espionage long enough to know that losing his cool was never an option. He’d been tortured and watched men die, but he’d always stayed in control. It’s one of the reasons he’d been chosen as team leader for The Gravediggers.

  But Eve Winter had brought him as close to completely losing his shit as he’d ever been. He did a quick combination of punches—jab, uppercut, jab, right hook—and the punching bag swung wildly as he let out his frustration. His body was drenched with sweat, his hair damp and dripping, and the athletic shorts he wore hung low on his hips.

  The gym at Gravedigger headquarters was full-size and state-of-the-art. Whatever they needed to get the best training possible. Except if what they needed was to have all able-bodied men on the team working together.

  He steadied the bag and then started another series of punches. When he’d confronted Eve about suspending Dante and not informing him first, she’d looked at him out of those cold, black eyes and told him to remember who was in charge before his suspension was arranged as well. And she’d promised he wouldn’t like being away from his pregnant wife for that long.

  “Bitch,” he muttered under his breath and struck again. She wouldn’t take him without a fight. He and Tess already had contingency plans in place if things ever went sideways with The Gravediggers.

  What had transpired between her and Dante was none of his business, but Dante was paying the price. That’s all he needed to know.

  Maybe he’d been in the business too long. Or maybe he was just cynical. But she was lying. There was something going on, and he was just pissed enough to want to start digging.

  He gave the bag another hard punch and then left it swinging as he headed from the gym and into the showers. By the time he came out ten minutes later, dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt, he’d made up his mind.

  When the funeral home had been chosen for Gravedigger headquarters, accommodations had to be made for security and functionality. It had been a massive construction undertaking, with the town thinking the new owners just wanted to ruin a bit of their history by renovating. They hadn’t been happy about it, but they’d watched with fascination anyway as big construction tents were erected around the back side of the funeral home and carriage house.

  In the end, they’d ended up with a HQ that was more secure than Fort Knox, and a three-mile underground tunnel that led to the middle of an open field in case they ever needed an escape route.

  He no longer lived in the carriage house with the other Gravediggers since his marriage to Tess, but he spent more time there than he did in their third-floor suite of rooms in the funeral home.

  He left the gym and went into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water and chugging it down, before he went to the passcoded door that led to HQ. He typed in his code and waited for the panel to slide open, and then he placed his palm flat down and waited for it to be scanned. The light turned green and the snick of the lock opening was audible, and he turned the knob and went down the steep steps.

  To the left was the entrance to the tunnel. To the right was another door. This one big and metal, obviously reinforced. There was a gold trident on the door. He entered his code again and waited for his palm to be scanned. But after his palm was scanned a pair of what looked like goggles came out from the wall, and he brought his face close so it could do the retinal scan.

  This time the door slid open and he walked into HQ. There was a bank of floor-to-ceiling monitors on his immediate right, and every screen showed a different view from various cameras they had set up at the funeral home and around the perimeter of Last Stop. To his left was a large conference table with ten executive chairs pushed in, and around the perimeter of the room were computer workstations. There were three large white screens on the wall directly in front of the conference table.

  A small kitchen sat off to the side, and then there was another hallway that led to the isolation and detainment rooms. Whenever a Gravedigger was dug up and reborn, they were required to spend several days in isolation while they went through testing. There were two more small rooms they used when they’d made a capture or needed to extract information.

  Axel sat at the 3-D imagery table staring at the hologram of what was left of the airport in Baltimore after the bombing, sifting through the rubble to see if he could extract any clues about the components or the bombers themselves.

  Levi and Elias were each at their own stations, sifting through mounds of data on known associates of the terrorists, following the web as far and wide as they could. The Gravediggers weren’t tied by red tape, jurisdiction, or nationality like other agencies, so they could start the job and finish the job before more terrorists from the same organization struck again.

  He smelled the fresh aroma of coffee, and saw Tess in the kitch
en from the corner of his eye. She turned her head and their eyes caught, and his heart turned over in his chest as he looked at his wife. He never thought he could love someone as much as he loved her. Which scared the hell out of him, because in a few months they would be bringing a child into the world, and he couldn’t imagine how the intensity of that love was going to multiply, along with all the worry that went with it.

  “I’m just smelling it,” she said grumpily. “Why does everything that tastes good have to be bad for you?”

  “The doctor said it was okay for you to still have your morning coffee,” Deacon said, coming in and kissing her on top of the head. “I think you scared him when we had that early appointment and you’d only had water.”

  She grinned and leaned back against him, the gesture so familiar it was as if they’d been doing it their whole lives. “What’s going on? You looked pretty steamed on your way to the gym.”

  “I’m still steamed, but pretending it was Eve’s face on the punching bag was good therapy. Something is going on, and I’m tired of not being in the know. Not when I’m responsible for so many lives.”

  “You’re afraid Eve will retaliate if you stick your nose too far in,” she said, voicing his thoughts.

  “I don’t know if it’s fear or anticipation,” he said softly, kissing her on top of her head again.

  “I’m with you a hundred percent, whatever you decide.” She squeezed his hand and said, “I’ve got to get back over to the funeral home. Ginny Reed passed this morning. Her family came in a couple weeks back and said it could be any time, so everything is already prepared. But they should be delivering the body soon.”

  “Let me know if you need help,” he said. “And let the EMTs lift the body.” He gave her a stern look for emphasis.

  “Promise,” she said, holding up her hand.

  Tess didn’t have the same security clearance as the rest of The Gravediggers, but she did enough work for them that she’d warranted her own codes to get into HQ. She kissed him good-bye and then let herself out.

  “Elaine,” Deacon called out. “This is agent zero, zero, one signing in.”

  “You are confirmed,” she said. “Hello, Deacon. How may I be of service? Are you having a baby today? I am here to assist in a home birth if you need me.”

  He watched Axel out of the corner of his eye, and saw him pause at the sound of his wife’s voice. They rarely used Elaine in HQ because they had everything they needed at their fingertips. She was best served for when they were in the field.

  “I appreciate the offer, but we’re still many months away from having a baby. And I think we’ll be having the baby in a hospital.”

  “I believe that is an unwise decision,” she said. “Hospitals have many germs, and I’ve been reading that there’s a rise in newborns being kidnapped to sell on the black market.”

  Deacon raised his brows and put his hands to his hips and said, “We’ll certainly consider the possibility of a home birth. As long as Tess can have drugs. She’s pretty adamant about that.”

  “We need to make sure our baby is healthy and safe. These are priorities.”

  He saw Axel’s lips twitch at the “our baby” comment before his face went back into harsh lines.

  Deacon still didn’t know why Axel had made the request to use his wife’s voice for the prototype of Elaine. It seemed like doing so would be like reopening a wound every time she spoke. But now that Deacon was married, he thought he could understand that he’d want even the smallest part of Tess—whatever he could have—and that’s what Axel had done with his own wife.

  “Elaine, please put us on lockdown, and take all communications offline into privacy mode.”

  That had gotten everyone’s attention and they all stared at him, curiosity and questioning in their gazes. Axel stood from his position at the hologram board and grabbed a water, but he didn’t sit back down.

  “You’ll need to give your clearance authorization before I can comply,” Elaine said.

  Deacon gave his security clearance number and waited while she authorized the request.

  “Lockdown starts in three—two—one,” she said. “This conversation is now offline and in privacy mode.”

  “Thank you, Elaine. Do you have knowledge of when Eve gave Dante his suspension orders?”

  “Eve arrived at Dante’s apartment at twenty-two-nineteen hours. Dante’s lady friend departed at twenty-two-twenty-three.”

  “Eve arrived in person?” Elias asked, coming to his feet.

  “Hello, Elias. It’s been ages since we’ve talked. How’s Miller?”

  “She’s doing well,” he said, and Deacon noticed he was trying not to seem to impatient. When Elaine got upset she tended to pout by going silent. “She’s working from home. She just started a new book.”

  “I’ve read all her books, and I find them fascinating. I had no idea that sex was possible in so many ways.”

  “Hmm,” Elias said, turning slightly pink. “You were answering about whether or not Eve was really there in person, or if she was on a video call.”

  “Oh, she was there,” Elaine confirmed. “Lovely shoes. Terrible attitude.”

  Elias snorted out a laugh at that, but turned to Deacon. “Eve never visits in person. Not unless some really bad shit is about to go down. What’s going on, Deacon?”

  “Just a feeling,” he said. “Enough that I’m willing to ask questions that I’m not supposed to be asking.”

  “How long did Eve stay at Dante’s apartment?” Levi asked.

  “She was there for one hour and fourteen minutes,” Elaine answered. “Then she departed on her broom.” There was a tinkle of laughter from Elaine as she made the joke. “That was funny, yes?” she asked. “I’ve spent time studying the great comedians. And I’ve learned that timing is everything.”

  At any other time, Deacon would have been more than amused. But he was still too angry. And now he had even more questions, because there was no way in hell Eve would stay an hour and fourteen minutes just to put him on suspension. She wouldn’t have made the trip to do it in person either. Nothing was adding up.

  “Can you put a comprehensive list together of Dante’s requested time off?” he asked her. “And can you put a list together of any other times Eve and Dante have met?”

  “Stand by,” she said. “Appearing on screen three.”

  Elias let out a long low whistle, and everyone was standing now, facing the screen.

  “I’ll be damned,” Axel said. “What in the hell do you think they’re up to?”

  “I think there might be more to Dante than what’s in his file,” Deacon said. “Elaine, please give Dante’s destination and arrival time for his last flight.”

  “I apologize, Deacon, but you do not have the security clearance to request this information.”

  “Son of a bitch,” he said. “Elaine, you’re about to use that free-thinking, brilliant mind of yours. I need every scrap of information on Dante that I do have clearance for. I also want you to coordinate his past travel dates with any major news stories. I want complete dossiers on any past relationships he’s had, and I want his MI6 files.”

  He’d read them before, when Dante had been brought on as a Gravedigger, but he had a feeling they’d probably been altered. But there would be some truths in there, and all he had to do was line up the dates.

  “It looks like we’ve got a new mission,” he said, looking at the others. “Who’s in?”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The plane hit turbulence as it climbed to the requisite thirty-thousand feet, and Dante’s body jerked against the harness that strapped him in. He was a thrill seeker by trade, but he had to admit that HALO jumping wasn’t one of his favorite parts of the job. But it was a necessary part, so The Gravediggers put in the hours of training every month. Just for situations like this one.

  Okay, maybe not a situation exactly like this one.

  The night had always been his favorite time. It was when his e
nergy peaked and he felt invigorated to complete the task at hand. Once the sun went down, his senses seemed to sharpen. It was as if the cloak of night gave him permission to be his real self.

  He’d spent the last week in Dubai, soaking in the sights and sounds of the city, watching the palace from afar, and he and Elaine worked in tandem to re-create the security system on the vault and then practiced opening it over and over again. It had been extremely helpful for Shiv Mittal to do an exclusive interview with 60 Minutes, giving an in-depth tour of the palace and the vault. It hadn’t been difficult for Elaine to hack into the newsroom’s files and video archives and pull deleted scenes they hadn’t been able to air on television.

  He barely slept, the anticipation of the job fueling him—research during the day, and then at night, he’d slip out like the thief he was and do the exterior recon work. A good thief always had multiple escape routes at his disposal.

  Everything had been done to prepare. Now all he had to do was put his skills to the test.

  The specially modified King Air B90 had been waiting for him on a private airstrip, the pilot going over the final checklist before takeoff as Dante approached. The discreet gold trident was visible to the right of the door, and he’d held the gun beneath his gear, ready to shoot if the pilot didn’t give the signal that portrayed him as a member of The Shadow, the prep, cleanup, and support crew who made The Gravediggers’ work possible.

  The pilot delivered the signal, and Dante had reciprocated with the answer. He’d walked up the ramp and strapped himself in, then donned his oxygen mask. HALO jumping brought health risks above and beyond the hazards of regular parachuting. The last thing he needed was to pass out during the jump and fail to pull the chute.

  Every piece of equipment and clothing was built specifically for jumping out of a plane at thirty-thousand feet in the middle of the night. He wore a black insulated skinsuit beneath his specially made black pants with the extra tubing he used during a heist. It was his own design, everything place precisely where he needed it to be. Every second counted. On top of the layers of clothing was a black jumpsuit. He had a full ski mask pulled over his head. Temperatures dropped as low as negative fifty at that height, and frostbite was another possibility, along with decompression sickness and hypoxia. The goggles would keep his eyeballs from freezing.