Steel Vengeance (Blackthorn Security #6)

Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

S titch left the hotel early the next morning. Blade wasn’t arriving until eight, but he needed some space to think. He grabbed a taxi to the airport and got a coffee from one of the pop-up stands outside. As the caffeine hit, he started to feel better. It’s what he needed after a restless night.

How could he have done that to Sloane?

How had he confused her with Soraya?

The CIA agent was messing with his subconscious, playing tricks on his mind. And now his mind was playing tricks back.

But damned if she didn’t feel good.

There was no denying the intensity of that kiss. The way her body had molded to his, her pelvis pressing into him in all the right places.

That soft moan—that’s when he realized she wasn’t Soraya.

Fucking hell.

He checked the digital clock above the Arrivals board: 07:57.

Almost time.

Sloane had still been asleep when he left, thank God. Not only couldn’t he face her after what had happened, but the airport wasn’t safe—too many cameras, too many prying eyes. They’d be monitoring every entry and exit point, watching for her.

He tossed the empty coffee cup in the trash and headed to Arrivals.

The more he tried not to think about last night, the more it gnawed at him. He’d come onto her in his sleep, kissed her in his dream…

And she’d kissed him back.

That’s what really threw him. She hadn’t pushed him away, hadn’t slapped him, hadn’t even told him to stop. She’d kissed him back, like she meant it. Soft, sensual kisses that had stirred his blood.

Up until now, she hadn’t shown any sign she felt anything for him. Their relationship was strictly business—follow Omari, find out what’s going on. At least, that’s what he thought. But she’d kissed him with the same passion he’d had for Soraya. What a mess.

What was he going to say to her when he got back to the hotel?

He checked the time again. At least Blade would be there, offering a distraction. They had to focus on finding Jeremy, anyway. That’s why they were here.

No need to bring up his stupid mistake.

He shook his head, cringing at the memory.

Idiot.

Passengers started trickling out into the Arrivals hall. The flight from Washington D.C. had landed. The crowd thickened, and then he saw Blade, grinning at him with his rucksack slung over one shoulder.

They bro-hugged, clapping each other on the back.

“Good to see you, man,” Stitch said.

“You too,” Blade replied.

“How was the flight?”

“Don’t know. Slept through most of it.”

Stitch laughed. Blade hadn’t changed.

“Pat figured I could use some backup, huh?” Stitch asked. Joe’s dad treated them all like sons after losing his own. He used to be a SEAL commander, but now he ran Blackthorn Security, a private outfit comprised of ex-special ops guys and SEALs. They handled everything from kidnapping and ransom to hostage rescue and black ops for the government and from what he’d heard, they were getting quite the reputation.

“Yeah, you know how he is. Sent me to help you track down this CIA handler, Jeremy Vale.”

Stitch nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got a lead. We’ll check it out tonight. How’s Lilly?” Blade’s wife, a military software designer, was smart and beautiful, and Stitch was pleased they’d finally gotten together.

“She’s pissed I’m here. Too close to Afghanistan for her liking.”

Blade had nearly died in Afghanistan last year, rescuing Lilly from the Taliban. He’d gotten her out, but not before being captured himself. Stitch had tracked him down and helped him escape.

“We won’t be crossing the border,” Stitch assured him. “Vale is here in Islamabad.”

“Glad to hear it. So… how’s Soraya?”

Stitch froze. He’d forgotten Blade didn’t know. No one outside of Afghanistan did. After the attack, he’d gone dark for six months, totally off-grid. When he finally resurfaced, he was too focused on tracking Omari to tell anyone.

“What’s wrong?” Blade picked up on his expression. “Something happen?”

Only Blade—and now Sloane—could read him like that.

“Yeah,” Stitch muttered. “Something happened. Not long after you left.”

Blade stopped walking and turned to face him. “Tell me.”

So Stitch did. He told him about the attack, the fire, and how he’d carried Soraya’s bullet-riddled body out of their burning house.

Blade didn’t interrupt, just listened.

“They shot her,” Stitch hissed. “The bastards broke in and mowed her down, just like they did her father and the other elders. Then they torched the village.”

“Jesus, man. I’m so sorry.” Blade stared at him, shocked. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Stitch shook his head.

He’d been lost in his grief, barely surviving. That wasn’t something you just shared, not even with your brothers in the unit.

“Is this why you’re after Omari? He’s responsible?”

Blade was always quick to connect the dots.

“Yeah, he’s one of them,” Stitch said. “Omari’s running the cartel. His men attacked the village because the elders wouldn’t sanction their smuggling route. Through Omari, I found Rasul Ghani. He’s a lower-level drug lord, keeps the poppy farmers on a tight leash. He met with Omari in Peshawar.”

“And why are these assholes still breathing?” Blade’s blue eyes locked on Stitch’s. They didn’t need to say anything more.

“That’s where Sloane comes in.”

“Ah,” Blade nodded. “The rookie CIA agent.”

“Yeah. I noticed her tailing Omari while I was tracking him. She was watching him, too—taking pictures.” He paused. “So, we had a little chat.”

He didn’t mention that she’d been naked at the time. Blade didn’t need to know that part.

“Turns out, Omari was her target, too. We teamed up on surveillance and figured out her handler, Jeremy, was involved. He and Omari meet every Thursday in an old graveyard outside Peshawar. Nobody knows about it, not even Omari’s bodyguards.”

Blade nodded. “Jeremy’s not his real name, by the way. It’s an alias”

Stitch wasn’t surprised.

“His real name is Jonathan Hill. Pat asked his buddy at the Agency. Hill was part of that specialist unit I told you about. He’s got connections in Helmand. Pat thinks he’s either running the show or working with the Afghans.”

“That’s exactly what I was afraid of,” Stitch admitted. “Until we take these guys down, Sloane can’t go back home.”

“Where is she now?”

“Holed up at our hotel. After the hit on her in Peshawar, she’s better off with me.”

“Damn straight. I still can’t believe the Agency tried to take out their own agent.”

“Yeah, it’s gotta be her boss. He’s the only one she told about it.”

“Matthew Sullivan?”

“I think it was more than just business between them. He seduced her, recruited her, and then tossed her into the fire.”

“Classy guy,” Blade said sarcastically.

“Exactly.”

“Pat said he’d call tonight with an update, but in the meantime, let’s track down Hill, or rather Jeremy Vale, and see what he knows.”

They stepped into a taxi headed for the hotel. Blade handed him a small packet.

Stitch opened it. “A USB device?”

“Sort of. It plugs into his phone and copies everything off his memory card.”

“Nifty,” Stitch said. “If we can get to his phone.”

“We just need a good distraction,” Blade grinned. “How hard can it be?”

Stitch thought about Sloane. Jeremy had to be wondering what happened to her after the failed hit. “I think I’ve got just the distraction.”

He explained his plan.

“You think she’ll go for it?” Blade asked, doubtfully.

“I’m sure she will. She wants this over as much as I do. If this is how we bring these guys down, she’ll do it.”

“Great. Can’t wait to meet Agent Carmichael.”

“She’s not what you’d expect,” Stitch said without thinking. “I think they recruited her just for this job. A one-off. She speaks the language and blends in, but they only gave her ten months of training. She’s way out of her depth.”

“Lucky she’s got you, then.”

Stitch didn’t respond.

Blade changed the subject, filling him in on news from home. “Anna and Cole just had a baby boy,” he said with a grin. “Cole’s over the moon. Already bought him a tiny camo onesie.”

Stitch chuckled. He’d worked with Cole before. He was a damn fine operator. Stitch had never met Anna, Cole’s wife, but he’d heard they used to know each other a long time ago, but had parted ways after an op had gone south in Africa. Eventually, the conversation circled back to Afghanistan.

“Seriously, man, I’m really sorry to hear about Soraya.”

“Thanks. It’s been over a year now, so, you know?—”

Blade wasn’t buying it.

“You should’ve called. We would’ve been there for you.”

“I know, but I had to handle it my way. I’m okay now—or I will be, once I tie up a few loose ends.”

“You mean Omari and Rasul?”

Stitch didn’t need to answer. Blade knew.

“Let me know if you need help with that,” Blade offered.

“Thanks, but it’s something I gotta do myself.”

“I get it. But you might need someone watching your six.”

Stitch looked at him. “It could mean going back to Afghanistan.”

Blade shrugged. “So be it. Just don’t tell Lilly.”

Stitch smiled weakly. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

And he meant it.