Justice (Bad Boys of X-Ops Book 2) (2 page)

I frowned. “There’s plot in there.”

They stared at me.

“I need a fucking option-out of this gig, just in case.” Grabbing back the book, I slammed it closed.

Leaning forward, Walker pulled his black braid over his shoulder. “So, if you’re so into this romance shit, you ever read anything by Nicky Love?”

“It’s not romance. It’s a thriller. Suspense.”

“Based on our missions.” Storm still looked unconvinced.

“You know Nicky Love?” Bane peered at Walker, ignoring the rest of us.

“Yeah. Married into Retribution MC. Met him a couple times. And his wife.”

“
Huh.
Cool. That’s some good paranormal romance right there.” Bane nodded.

What in the fuck?

I could barely believe these dudes knew how to read weapons manuals full of illustrations and diagrams let alone full-length books.

“
Should we talk about the real problem before Blaize turns up and busts our nads?” I changed the subject and closed the fucking book on
my book
.

Shuffling his chair forward, Walker stared around the table, suddenly deadly serious. “Yeah. Let’s do that.” He rapped his knuckles on the metal surface. “Anyone got any ideas about who leaked Jade’s and my locations over and over again?”

An air of suspicion hung in the air, thick as cloud cover.

“You suspect one of us?” Storm sneered.

“Actually, I don’t. If I did, the culprit would already be dead.” Walker’s lethal smile was just this side of serial killer.

What a pleasant bunch we were.

“What I can’t figure out”—he continued—“is how we got found out first in Mt. Pleasant, then Hell’s Kitchen, and the reservation if one of you didn’t talk.”

I filtered through all the intel from his off-the-rails mission and came up with nada. The other guys looked blank, too.

“There’s gotta be something we’re missing,” Walker insisted.

“Okay. Who did you contact while you were on the run?” I asked.

“No one but you fuckers. Jade only got in touch with her people once we made South Dakota.” He winced as if that was a painful memory. “Hunter those two times, but he’s as solid as they come, and we’ve already been over that.”

He rubbed a hand across his jaw. Then he sat up like a steel rod had been shoved up his ass.

“Blaize. I’d been avoiding talking to her because I didn’t want to listen to her bitching and moaning about the botched mission, but I got distracted. I answered one of her calls that second day in Hell’s Kitchen.”

It was Storm’s turn to get up in arms. He stood to a towering height, punching his finger toward Walker. “Blaize would never put any of us in danger. Don’t be a jackass.”

“Whoa there, Kemosabe.” Walker held up his hands. “I’m not saying I blame Blaize. But she’s the only other person I contacted.”

My jaw clamped down. “What about the new kid on the block.”

“Baby Spy? The chick with the janky hair?” Walker scowled.

“I like her hair,” Bane mutter-muttered.

“She might be new, but she ain’t too stupid to live or she wouldn’t have even been recruited,” Walker said.

Storm reared his chair back onto two legs. “Baby Spy,
huh
?” He rubbed a hand across his chest, adopting his Thinking Man’s pose. “She’s Blaize’s protégé. She was monitoring coms during your mission.”

“Jesus Christ. Really?” Walker looked none too pleased by the idea.

Couldn’t say I blamed him. It was one thing to have your op compromised by outside forces. It was an entirely different beast to think one of your own crew was leaking insider information.

“Baby Spy,” Bane muttered with a nod, his big biceps bulging as he planted his forearms on the table.

It was probably the first time he and Storm had ever agreed on anything.

“Talk about selling us out.” Pressing his lips together, Walker looked like someone had stolen his favorite blasting caps.

“Baby Spy?” a feminine voice asked.

Ball-Busting

ALL CONVERSATION DRIED UP when Blaize strutted in on mile-long legs ending in clitter-clatter high heels.

She wore a glossy black suit that had no-nonsense written all over it—her own personal body armor. Too bad it fit like a freakin’ glove. She always pinned her Hades-red hair back, but that only served to accentuate her striking features: large cornflower blue eyes, full sensual lips, high cheekbones.

No doubt about it she had a slamming body, but even I knew better than to fuck a superior.

Storm hadn’t gotten that memo.

When we continued to sit around like school boys caught gawking at Hot Teacher, Blaize raised one eyebrow in a perfect combination of haughtiness and hotness. “Well?”

“Kiki Damage,” Bane mumbled, a
stormy
scowl bending his face all out of shape.

Aaand
he’d definitely tipped over his usual two-word conversational limit for the day.

“Pornstar name.” Walker coughed into his fist.

My lips cocked up. “Really? I was thinking superhero name. Can totally see Kiki Damage in a cape, chasing down dastardly villains.”

“Storm. Anything to add?” Blaize singled him out.

Storm, who hardly ever got shook up or shaken down, looked flustered as he fumbled for words.

“That’s what I thought.” Blaize leaned down with her hands flat on the table. “There will be no more discussion of Kiki. She is a colleague. I will not have dissension in the ranks. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.” Walker smartassed.

I kicked his shin.

He yelped.

“Yes’m.” Storm kept his head lowered.

Funny. The way he so visibly hungered after Blaize but couldn’t even look her in the eyes . . . one would think she was a man-eater.

I didn’t doubt Storm—big and tough as he was—could withstand the kind of heat she possessed. Too bad for Storm the boss lady was a no-go zone.

Blaize Carmichael had her files on us, and we had our own intel on her. Unfortunately—for Storm—that didn’t include any online skin shots or amateur porn. No selfies, no social media, no archived history. On the Internet, she simply didn’t exist, just like the rest of us.

That didn’t mean I hadn’t gone virtual dumpster diving as soon as she’d been introduced as the personal point of contact and head of T-Zone teams. There was a reason she was the woman in charge. She’d been in the field, her Middle Eastern stints nothing short of hair-raising. She was capable with weapons. She’d done deep ops on home turf, too. She’d been quietly—under the radar—lauded in the intelligence community.

Blaize didn’t wear medals on a uniform. No one knew who she was. She did her job, always in the shadows.

Respect.

In her early thirties, the woman had risen up the ranks quickly for a solid reason. She knew how to manage, motivate, disseminate the most important information, and she wasn’t a glory hound.

Huge respect.

Of course the motivation part came with a huge amount of ass-kicking.

Starting now.

She had her war face on as she marched to the end of the table. “After the Chehab fiasco and the internal review, you’re all lucky you’re still getting paychecks.” She eased out a chair and sat at the head of the table. “Walker.”

He glared at the ceiling, motioning her to continue with a lazy wave of his hand in her direction.

“Number One Fuck Up,” she said with a nice ice-cold smile.

I stifled the urge to laugh.

“First you bailed on your mission, failing to take the
sheikah
out. Then you dragged your entire team into an international chase that could’ve ended with all of you dead.” Blaize ticked off a few more fingers. “Then there was the whole fraternization situation in South Dakota with Majedah Chehab and with your other mark, Jade Huntington.”

I held my breath.

Storm glanced at Walker.

Walker unconcernedly adjusted the lever on his seat so it reclined another notch.

Bane glued his lips shut. The usual.

“Getting personal is not professional, Walker.” Blaize lost none of the sternness in her voice, but somehow her expression softened. For all of a second.

He rolled his eyes, and we all waited for him to blow.

“Lucky for you Jade proved worthy, and Majedah was innocent.”

“And?” Walker asked.

“You went with your instincts. And you were right.
This time
. Try it again, and you will have no career here, or anywhere else within the reach of the US government.”

“Ouch.” He rested his elbows on his knees. “Good thing I’m Native American, right?” He winked. “Got a long history with how to outrun and outgun the Grand Old Government.”

“Are you still in this team?”

“Yeah. But if I get the wrong information again, I’m still going off-rez with a mission. That’s not
my
fuck up.”

“Noted.” Turning toward Storm and me, Blaize laid in. “The two of you. Where do I start?”

Storm’s cheeks flushed under his swarthy skin. I gave nothing away but the tic in my jawline. Blaize was well known for her tongue-lashings—just not in the way Storm wanted.

“Stole several airplanes—” she began.

“
Borrowed
,” Storm uttered, glaring straight ahead.

“Blew up the hotel in Beirut.” Her blue eyes flamed brighter.

“
Uh.
That was Walker.” I squirmed in my seat.

“Took out two FBI agents—”

“Again. Walker’s fault.” I’d totally throw the man under the bus.

Or a tank.

Or whatever moving vehicle happened to be in the vicinity.

“You set off explosions, made kills that weren’t sanctioned, purloined government
and
private property, and barely got out with your skins intact,” she fired off.

“I really think Walker is to blame here,” I said.

Not for nothing, I’d totally do it all again.

“And you!” Blaize turned her wrath on Bane.

Good. He’d gone unscathed so far.

“Almost let Jade Huntington die.”

He shoved back his chair, gaining his feet. “I saved her
life
. Do you know how much junk they’d shot her up with?” Bane bit out each word like a bullet from between his thinned lips.

Unbelievably, Blaize smiled. “That’s exactly what I expect from each of you, every time you’re in the field.” She peered at us. “I took a lot of fucking heat because of your antics and mission-dissing decisions. Good goddamn thing it all worked out.”

What the huh?

“Now sit your ass down, Bane, and get out of my face.”

And Blaize is back. Thus ends the not-so-touchy-feely moment.

She half-stood, her pointer finger gaged at all of us. “Screw with my directives again and I
will
destroy you one by one.”

Definitely back.

Rounding the table, she slapped a folder in front of each of us. “These files have been uploaded to your accounts. The paper trail ends here, and there will be
no leaks
.”

I flipped through the dossier, scanning top to bottom, left to right.

Blaize hit a button, and our screens went live, showing a building under siege. Bombs lit up the sky and shook the structure on its foundations.

“Sana’a, Yemen. The American Embassy.” Blaize walked around the table, her heels like pistol shots ringing across the room. “All eyes are on this international event, and we cannot afford to fuck this one up. No SEALs, no Rangers, no Delta Force, no SOCON. You will be on your own.”

The footage ran in front of us. The US flag on fire. Missiles launched toward the structure, setting it ablaze. Black clad bodies scrambling over high reinforced walls surrounding the embassy compound. People—dead and dying—on the ground. The screams of the wounded. The percussive bombardment of explosives . . .

I chewed on my pen cap. “How do we even know anyone is still alive in there?”

“Outgoing encoded messages from Ambassador Lawless.” She hit a button to pull up the SOS texts. “They’re barricaded in the safe rooms in the residence. For now.”

“How old is this footage?” Storm scrolled with his fingertip against the monitor.

“Five hours.”

“Fuck. It’s gonna take at least fourteen to reach Yemen.” He kicked his chair back in disgust.

“Transport fueled and ready. Sanctioned”—Blaize sat on the edge of the table—“this time. Think you can handle that?”

Storm was a big black cloud Blaize couldn’t escape from when he rose in front of her.

“I can handle anything thrown in my direction,
ma’am
.” For the first time, he aimed his gaze directly at her.

Blaize’s lips parted, and she blinked slowly.

Five points: Storm. One: Blaize.

We’d be betting on that shit later.

Coming to her senses, Blaize jerked away from him and stalked to the far end of the room.
“Get your asses in gear and get kitted out.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Bane, Storm, and I stood from the table.

Walker slouched down in his seat and crossed his hands behind his neck. “Ambassador Lawless? Name like that? He’s just looking for trouble.”

“Do we have another problem, Walker?” Blaize circuited the room toward him.

“No. Ma’am!” He stood and clicked his heels his heels together in a parody of a salute.

“Good.” Straightening the sleeves of her jacket, she hipped against the table. “Justice. You’re the lead this time.”

“Justice and Lawless?” Walker chuckle-chuckled.

“Shut it, Walker,” she ordered.

Unbelievably, he did.

I pressed a finger down on the closed dossier in front of my chair. “They? You said
they
earlier. Lawless and his wife?”

“Not his wife. His daughter is there. Matilda.”

“Matilda?”

Jesus
.

Did her parents want her to die a lonely virgin or what, giving the girl a name like that?

“You have two hours to pack up and arm up.” Blaize dismissed us. “By the way, Ambassador James Lawless is a personal friend of mine.”

No pressure or anything.

Fuck. Me.