Iron Willed Warrior (Last Refuge Protectors #5)

8. Cole

CHAPTER EIGHT

Cole

“Why only one a day?” Brynn asked.

We’d been walking for several minutes down a side street. The noise and neon of Main Street still drifted toward us, but over here, it was dark with only a few scattered streetlights. Yet the moon painted Brynn’s black hair with a silvery glow. I could make out the shape of her beside me.

The end of my cigarette burned orange-red.

“My habit used to be a pack a day,” I said. “In the hospital after I was wounded, docs told me I should quit. This is what I settled on.” I didn’t want to get into the rest of that story. My wife leaving. How the bitterness fueled me. It wasn’t that kind of story time.

“You were going to tell me more about the op,” I reminded her.

She nodded. “So, less than a month ago, the task force learned who’s really in charge of Stillwater. The mastermind behind the entire enterprise. His name is Garon Westwick. A businessman and investor who’s secretly building an empire as a criminal kingpin.”

I let that name percolate in my brain. Westwick . The man responsible for so much chaos and suffering .

“Never heard of him.”

“I hadn’t either. Immediately, the task force started putting together a profile on him. Planning possible cover stories for approaching him.”

“You mentioned new intel from a day or two ago.”

“That’s right. We’d already learned that Westwick has attended a wellness resort in Arizona the last few years. Just recently, he scheduled this year’s trip. He’ll be teaching an exclusive business seminar at the resort to a group of entrepreneurs. And we’ve got two tickets.”

“Aren’t those swanky kinds of events usually booked months in advance?”

“Sure, but Westwick decided to set this one up spur of the moment, apparently. The seminar booked up fast. It’ll be a group of about twenty small business owners. Perfect chance for us to get close to him.”

And do what ? I wanted to know, but we’d get to that. Practical considerations had to come first. I took another drag, exhaling smoke through my nose. “You’ve got your cover in place? What about mine?”

“The moment the Protectors gave us your name, the task force got to work on it. I’ve got ID papers for you and me. Social media presence, passport, driver’s licenses. We had to go through back channels, so the ID documents aren’t quite good enough to fool an official scanner. ”

Few fake IDs on the black market were that good. “Then I assume we won’t be flying?”

“Nope. It’s drivable.”

“Right, Arizona. That’s good.” I rubbed my hands together, wishing I had gloves. “I grew up in Idaho, but I’m not used to the cold anymore.”

There was a sign at the end of the street for a pub. Brynn tilted her head toward it. “Want to go in? Looks like they’ve got a fire going, and they’re open late. ”

“I’m not a shivering flower. You don’t have to rescue me.” My lips slid into a smirk.

She pushed my shoulder toward the pub door. “Just go inside. I’m cold too. I don’t have a cigarette to keep me warm.”

This place was far quieter than the lively spot on Main Street where Dean worked. It looked like a converted house. A maze of small rooms, shadowed corners. Flames crackled in a fireplace. Candles flickered on tables, and couples huddled together at the bar. The vibe was pure romance.

I looked at her. She looked at me.

Brynn chose a back room that was otherwise empty. She sat at a tiny, circular table that was hardly big enough for just me, let alone the both of us. Which meant we were huddled together, knees knocking as we maneuvered for space. One of her legs wound up between mine.

We took off our coats, and a server came by. “Kitchen’s closed, but the bar’s open another hour. What can I get you?”

We both ordered sodas. We’d had enough whiskey. The moment the server was gone, I took out my phone and looked up Garon Westwick.

His photo came up at the top of the search results. A man around forty—my age—with sandy blond hair and a wholesome smile, arm around his wife on one side and a couple of teenage daughters on the other. Westwick was a middle-class kid who’d taken some early luck in the stock market and rolled it into a huge investment portfolio. He was a rising star in the business world.

“Known for bringing a kinder, gentler perspective to investing,” I read from the guy’s bio on Wikipedia. “This is the head of Stillwater? An organization that haunts the dark web and helps child traffickers make a buck?”

“I know, hard to believe.” Brynn had scooted her chair closer so she could read along with me .

“Nah, I think the opposite. Figures he’d seem like Mr. Perfect. Hypocrisy doesn’t surprise me.” It disgusted me though. Made me all the more determined to see this guy brought down.

I barely noticed when the server dropped off our sodas. Neither of us touched them. If Brynn was like me, that whiskey wasn’t sitting so well in her stomach anymore. Especially when I scrolled back up and looked at Westwick’s picture again. His daughters. Their pretty blond hair and bright smiles, like they believed the world was a generous place, and they had nothing but happiness ahead of them.

Meanwhile, Westwick was helping ensure that other people’s daughters vanished and never found their way home.

I had to lean back in my seat and stare at the ceiling a moment.

“He doesn’t have a very high profile yet,” Brynn said. “But from everything I can tell, his influence is growing. At the same time, Stillwater is growing too. They want to expand beyond this region. They’re already recruiting moles inside the government more broadly. Foreign countries too.”

That much, I already knew. “I’m aware they operate outside the states.”

“I can show you the other evidence the task force has compiled. If you want to assess it yourself.”

“Not necessary.” I had no doubt River and the Protectors had paid close attention to the evidence before giving the go ahead on this op. What I wanted to know was the when and the where.

How long did I have to wait to get my hands on this guy? A week wasn’t soon enough. Yet also, it was too soon. Ops like this took time to prepare.

I put my phone down on the table. “So we’re posing as resort guests? Attending this seminar? ”

“Exactly. We’re entrepreneurs who want to rub elbows with Westwick and learn from his success.”

I tasted bile in my mouth. “What’s the plan?”

“River’s going to provide me with a flash drive loaded with some kind of virus. Once we upload it to any one of Westwick’s devices, River and his hacker friends will be able to use it to get inside Stillwater’s digital operation.”

I was no computer expert, but I could imagine how that would go. Stillwater was decentralized. Very few people understood the total picture of their operation. As its chief, Westwick would have that bigger picture. Unfettered access. He would want it at his fingertips, so his devices would hold the key.

“Once they’re inside his digital world,” Brynn went on, “River’s hacker network will take over. Gather all the proof they need and dismantle Stillwater’s organization from the inside. River says it’s a playbook he’s run before, though not quite on this scale. They’ll be able to set up stings to arrest Stillwater’s major players and lieutenants from the top down. And they’ll drop a bomb of evidence on the media and law enforcement, all anonymous and with no ties to the FBI.”

“And how long will all of that take?”

“That part isn’t up to us. You know how it is.”

Sure I did. How many times had I been the guy receiving orders without knowing the endgame, or when it would come? But I wasn’t in the Army anymore.

“Wouldn’t it be faster just to make Westwick disappear?” I asked lightly. “I don’t like the thought of having him right there in our grasp, and then walking away.” I wanted this guy to suffer for what he’d done. And I wanted to see it.

She gave me a hard glare. “And allow someone else to take his place? No way. That is not an option. When we’re done, we leave Westwick alone and let the authorities handle him.”

I grabbed my soda and pulled it closer. Sipped the icy, sugary drink. “Tell me more about our cover. Who are we posing as?”

“I’m a social media influencer. You’re my manager.”

“Social media types have managers?”

“How old are you again?”

“Old enough not to give a shit about influencers and their managers.”

Brynn snorted. “Well, you’d better figure it out. This is the cover we’ve got.”

I wasn’t impressed. “And how, exactly, are we going to upload River’s virus onto Westwick’s devices? I assume he’ll have security.”

“I’ll get close. Sweet-talk him. Get him to let down his guard.”

“You’re a honeypot.” Fuck. How had I not seen that coming? “And you actually considered going into this alone?” That was a rhetorical question, so I didn’t need an answer. She wasn ’ t going into it alone. That was for damn sure. So instead, I asked, “Exactly how close are you planning to get?”

“Whatever it takes.”

“If you’re cozying up to that asswipe and he harms you, you can’t expect me to stand aside.”

“I need a partner for this op. Not a bodyguard.”

I sat back, folding my arms. “What about a boyfriend?”

She barked a laugh. “I’m sorry, what ? You want to be my boyfriend, Bailey?”

My eyes lifted skyward. “I’m saying my cover should be that I’m your boyfriend. Then I’ll have all the reason I need to stick close to you. When you’re alone with Westwick, if anything goes sideways, I’ll barge in playing the jealous boyfriend. Perfect diversion.”

“I don’t think so. You’ll be there for support, not to take over if you think I’m the slightest bit in danger. It has to be my call. ”

“And there you go, talking like you’re commanding this mission. I haven’t agreed to any such thing.”

“We’re back to that again?” Pink spots appeared on her cheeks. Brynn was sensitive about being told she couldn’t do something, and I understood that about her now. She didn’t want me looking down on her as weaker, bossing her around. But I wasn’t a fan of taking orders either these days.

“Trace is the leader of the Protectors,” she said through gritted teeth. “He can decide which of us is commanding the op.”

“No, this is between you and me. I only see one way of resolving it.”

“And that is?”

“I’ll arm wrestle you for it.”

She stared at me, mouth dropping open. Then barked a laugh. “I thought you were serious.”

“I am.”

“Right.” She grabbed her drink and pursed her lips around the straw. “Either you’re funnier than I gave you credit for, Bailey, or you’re drunk.”

I’d sobered up, but if this went sideways and anyone asked, I planned to blame the whiskey. “We need some way to work this out. It needs to be fast.”

“But since when does the commanding officer have to be the strongest? I’d prefer the smartest. The wiliest.”

“I agree. You didn’t flip that football player earlier by being stronger than him in terms of brute force. I’d say you were wilier.”

“Therefore, I should be in charge.”

“But you haven’t gone head-to-head against me yet.”

“You want me to take you outside and flip you?”

“I’d love to see you try.”

Mischief glinted in her dark eyes. “I can’t beat up on a one-legged guy. ”

“Oh, now you’ve gone and pissed me off.” I planted my elbow on the table, hand open. “My two arms work just fine. Let’s go, Marine. Prove you can best me. The Corps’ honor is on the line.”

That did the trick. There was no way she could say no.

With a scowl, Brynn mirrored my pose with her elbow on the table. Gripped my hand.

“Three, two, one,” I said.

She went hard and fast from the get-go. Trying to overwhelm me with force in the first few seconds. A sprinter going straight for the finish line. I could see her strategy playing through her head like pieces moving on a chess board. She thought I would underestimate her strength. Or that I would take it easy on her, having some innate hesitation about physically overpowering a woman.

Neither was true.

I was ready for her attack. But instead of pushing back with my own muscle power in opposition to hers, I let go of her hand and grabbed her around the middle with both arms. Yanked her right off her chair and into my lap. She gasped in shock. I had her arms pinned, her body against my torso. With another quick movement, I got her legs wedged under one of my thighs.

“You asshole. Let go of me.” Brynn struggled wildly, trying to break free.

“I will. As soon as you admit I won.”

“You didn’t win!”

The server poked her head into the room, eyes widening when she saw how we were tangled together. “Is everything all right?”

Brynn clenched her teeth into a semblance of a smile, but her eyes glared that she hated me. I’d loosened my grip slightly, and Brynn’s elbow found the opening. I coughed when she jabbed me right in the stomach. Ouch .

“It’s a little game we like to play,” I said. “She’s my girlfriend.”

“ Like hell I am ,” Brynn hissed under her breath.

The server didn’t seem convinced, but she also didn’t look like she wanted to get in the middle of this. “We’re closing soon,” she warned.

“No problem,” Brynn said.

“We’ll be good,” I added.

Brynn waited until the server had gone, then turned another murderous look on me. “You did not win. You cheated. Everyone knows the rules of arm wrestling. Your elbow can’t leave the table. And you definitely can’t do… Whatever the hell that was.”

“See, you’re still thinking like an FBI agent. Garon Westwick isn’t going to play fair. If he feels threatened or if he wants something, he’ll use every dirty trick he can think of. We can’t follow some idealistic set of rules. Not if we want to win.”

“I see your point,” she said tightly. “Now let me go.”

I did, and she scooted back onto her chair. She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I suppose you’re in command now. Congrats.”

“Do I detect a hint of sarcasm?”

“If you didn’t, then your sarcasm detector needs adjustment. Sir .”

I chuckled. Nudged her arm with the back of my hand. “Relax. I don’t want either of us to be in charge. If we’re going to get through this, it will have to be as equals.”

Surprise softened her features. “I thought you said earlier today that equal partnerships don’t work. Somebody always has to come out on top.”

My mind raced immediately to the gutter, thinking of the dirtier interpretations of those words. Nope. I wasn’t going to follow that thread .

“I meant between the FBI and the Protectors. Groups with completely different methods and agendas. Between the two of us, I think we can figure things out diplomatically. Like we’re doing right now.”

“You just overpowered me and pinned me against your body so I couldn’t move,” she deadpanned. “Which part of that was diplomatic?”

I scratched my forehead. “That was only to prove a point. From now on, we talk things through. As teammates. Equals.”

She sat back, crossing her arms. “All right. And if we can’t agree, we defer to River or Trace.”

“Works for me.”

Unless it ’ s about the ultimate fate of Garon Westwick , I added silently. Once he was in front of me, I had no intention of turning that piece of shit loose again, regardless of anything Brynn or the Protectors or any task force might have planned.

But we would just have to deal with that problem when we came to it.