Steel Vengeance (Blackthorn Security #6)

Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

S titch was angrier than she’d ever seen him.

Sloane walked into her apartment to find him pacing, fists clenched, his face stormy.

“Why did you stop me?” he snapped. “I had him. I was about to take the fucker out.”

Right now, he looked like Thor, god of thunder—bulging biceps and pure, pent-up rage. If she didn’t know him better, she’d be scared to death.

“And get yourself killed in the process?” She tossed her bag onto the bed and unwrapped her headscarf.

“That was a risk I was willing to take.”

“Well, I wasn’t.” She turned to face him.

He stormed toward her, blue eyes flashing fire. It took everything she had not to flinch.

“That’s not your call!” he growled. “It was my decision. Now I might never get another shot. My wife’s murderer is going to walk free.”

She froze.

He must have realized what he’d said because he turned away, running a hand through his wild hair, looking more agitated by the second.

Silence hung heavy in the air. Tension crackled between them. Her skin prickled, the hairs on her neck standing on end.

Did he just say his wife’s murderer?

“Omari killed my wife,” he rasped, his voice rough. She could see the veins in his neck. “He burned our village to the ground. He deserves to die.”

Sloane stared at him, horrified.

“I–I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

She’d guessed something bad had happened—maybe his unit was ambushed or his friends killed in some drug-related mess. But his wife?

That hadn’t even crossed her mind.

“Now he’s gonna tighten his security, be even more careful. Don’t you get it? You’ve ruined my one chance at avenging her.” He punched the wall, and she flinched. “You’ve blown it.”

The plaster cracked under the force, leaving a fist-sized hole in the wall.

“It’s not your only chance,” she whispered.

Don’t go there, Sloane, she told herself. But she couldn’t help it.

“It’s not your only chance to get him.”

He spun around, ignoring the hole he’d made, ignoring the pain that must be throbbing in his hand. “What?”

“There’s a better way.”

He stared at her, eyes narrowed.

She sighed. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but every Thursday afternoon, Omari visits a graveyard on the western side of town. His driver drops him off at the entrance, and he goes in alone.”

Stitch blinked. “He goes alone?”

She nodded, eyes downcast. Well, now she’d done it. By giving him the perfect opportunity, she might have just tanked her career with the CIA.

No Omari meant no target, which probably meant no job.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

She raised an eyebrow. “So you could kill him?”

His voice dropped. “Then why are you telling me now?”

She huffed, sitting down at the table near the window. “Good question. I’ve been asking myself the same thing.”

“Seriously, Sloane.”

She looked up. “Because I know you. You’re stubborn. You’ll try to take him out anyway, and in the graveyard, there’s less chance of return fire.”

Their eyes locked.

God, when he looked at her like that… with those icy blue eyes. She’d slay dragons for him—if she knew how. Omari was the closest thing.

“I don’t want to watch you get shot to pieces in front of me,” she added, breaking the intensity of the moment.

He snorted. “I had an escape route, you know.”

“Still too risky. His guards had you in their sights. If you’d opened fire, they would’ve taken you out before you could get away. Plus, there were too many civilians around. You don’t want collateral damage.”

He gave a small nod, acknowledging her point.

“My way’s better,” she added.

He sank into the chair across from her. “Tell me about this graveyard.”

“It’s in the foothills, west of here. About a thirty-minute drive. I’ve followed him there for the past three Thursdays. Every week, same time.”

“That’s tomorrow,” he said.

Their eyes met again. “Yeah.”

“Thank you,” he said softly, and then did something he’d never done before. He reached out and touched her hand across the table. Her heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t the touchy-feely type. “I mean it. You didn’t have to…”

“No, I didn’t.” She pulled her hand away, feeling too much in that brief touch. If he left it there, she might like it a little too much. “But it’s better than the alternative.”

He tilted his head, studying her. She couldn’t meet his gaze, so she stared at his hand. Big, rough, scarred. Not the hands of a doctor, but a fighter. A tattoo snaked out from under his sleeve, and she couldn’t wondered how far up it went.

“What are you gonna tell your handler?”

She shrugged. “No clue. Maybe nothing. I never hear from him. He doesn’t reply to my emails. Honestly, I’m not even sure if he reads them. I assume he does. Otherwise, why am I here?”

“He never replies?”

“Nope, not a word.”

“What about your boss? Matthew?”

She frowned. “I haven’t heard from him either.”

Stitch raised an eyebrow. “Well, if you want my advice…”

She frowned. “Who says I do?”

He grinned. That rare, fleeting grin that almost made her forget what they were talking about. “Doesn’t matter. I’m giving it to you anyway.” His blue eyes sparkled for a second, and her stomach did a little flip. “Don’t mention this. There’s no benefit to you. Just act like you don’t know anything.”

“You mean don’t tell them I handed Omari to you on a silver platter? That I’m complicit in a murder?”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. That was exactly what she’d be doing.

Just to keep him from getting himself killed.

She sighed. No point getting worked up about it now. It was done. She couldn’t take it back. “I wasn’t planning on mentioning it anyway.”

He drummed his fingers on the table. “I know you’re risking your whole assignment for me, and I get how hard that is.”

“It’s not just my assignment,” she said. “It’s the drug deal. Will it even go ahead without Omari?”

“Probably. There’s too much money at stake to cancel it now. Omari’s got people in his organization who can handle it. He’s not a one-man show.”

“So, the CIA can still intercept the shipment?”

“If that’s their plan, yeah.”

She felt a flicker of hope. “Then we need to figure out the details.”

Silence hung between them as his fingers kept tapping. His face gave nothing away, but she saw warmth in his gaze. “Sloane, let’s make a deal.”

“Should I be worried?”

He laughed, deep and gravelly, and for a moment, she didn’t even realize it was him. “When I get back from the graveyard tomorrow, I’ll help you figure out the shipment details. I owe you that much.”

“Really?” Her breath caught.

“Yeah. It’s the least I can do.”

“How?”

“We’ll go to Islamabad, talk to the port officials. Someone’s gotta know something.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Money talks. And we’ve got U.S. dollars.”

She hesitated.

“If you want to get to the bottom of this, that’s the way.”

She thought for a moment. “You could ask Omari before you kill him. He’ll know.”

He hesitated. “That’s not exactly the conversation I was planning to have with him.”

“I know,” she whispered. “It’d just save us time.”

He was silent for a beat.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said finally. “No promises, though.”

Sloane gave a little nod. “That’s all I ask.”