Steel Vengeance (Blackthorn Security #6)

Chapter 38

CHAPTER 38

“ I t’s time to come home,” Pat said over the phone. “I’ve explained the situation, and you will be taken into custody when you get here, but I think we can argue your case.”

Stitch leaned against the wall, glancing out the grimy airport window as planes came and went on the tarmac. Islamabad felt too small, too suffocating, now that home was almost within reach.

He’d just got back from seventy-two hours in Afghanistan. It hadn’t been hard to track down Rahul Ghani, the Afghan drug lord who’d helped destroy his village. His life.

Stitch had snuck into his house in Lashkar Gah in the dead of night, moving like a ghost through the heavily guarded estate. Ghani had only been awake long enough to see Stitch’s face and hear him utter one word before ending his life.

Soraya .

The terror in Ghani’s eyes had been brief but satisfying. Justice had been served—or vengeance, in this case. Now, with Ghani dead, there was only one target left. Matthew Sullivan.

Which was why he needed to get on that plane.

“They’re really going to buy that I was undercover for over a year?” He’d seen how the system worked, how unforgiving it could be.

Pat let out a long breath on the other end. “I know it sounds like a stretch, but we’ve got an angle. Classified operations, black ops missions, it all gets murky, especially when they don’t have the full picture. That’s where we come in. You disappeared because you went deep undercover. We make them believe that. They’ll listen because they have to—especially when it comes to someone with your record.”

Stitch let the silence stretch, mulling over the words. A year. He’d been off the grid for over a year. It wasn’t just about him not going back—it was everything that had happened during that time. Things he couldn’t even put into words, things that wouldn’t fit neatly into a report. The government wouldn’t care about the trauma, the sanctuary he’d found with Soraya, the heartache or the vengeance. They only look at the details, the black and white—and his situation was all kinds of gray.

“And what if they don’t buy it?” Stitch finally said, the question hanging heavy between them. “What if I get back, they slap cuffs on me, and throw me into a black hole somewhere?”

“They won’t,” Pat said firmly, but even through the phone, Stitch could hear the undercurrent of uncertainty in his former commander’s voice. “Listen, man. I’ve been talking to some people in the DoD. High-level people. They’re intrigued, Stitch. They want to know what you know. What you saw. You took down Omari, you rooted out a mole in the CIA. That stands for something. They see you as an asset.”

Stitch snorted. “An asset? I’ve been out of the loop so long I barely remember the last time I was in a clean fight.” He paused, lowering his voice. “You’re telling me they’re not pissed off that I just disappeared?”

Pat’s response was quick. “They’re pissed, but they’re more interested in why you disappeared. That’s where we’ve got leverage. I’ve framed it like this—classified black ops. I told them you went dark as part of an assignment that got compromised. It’s believable enough, after the ambush. You disappeared to track down the people responsible. With me and your former commander backing the story, they’ll accept it.”

“Then what?” He knew his Navy career was over. He’d never be an operator again.

“You’ll debrief, you’ll cooperate, and they’ll keep you under watch, sure, but it won’t be a prison cell. They won’t throw you to the wolves.”

“Debrief,” Stitch repeated. How many of those had he sat through in his life. After every mission, every deployment. “And what happens if they want to pick apart every detail? If they want answers I can’t give?”

“We play it smart.” Pat’s voice was low, serious. “Look, they don’t know everything you’ve been involved in. They don’t know Vale is dead, or that you guys took out Omari—and they don’t need to know. Talk about the CIA agent you rescued, and how you bust open the heroine scam. That’ll satisfy them.”

“Sloane will have to be briefed. She knows what really happened. She could blow it for me.” Even though she wouldn’t on purpose, he knew that. He trusted her, but he also knew these people had a way of getting information out of you, and she wasn’t experienced enough to know when it was happening.

“I’ll get Blade to have a word with her before they clear customs. Don’t worry, she’ll cooperate.”

Stitch pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the weight of it all crashing down on him. “You’re putting a lot of faith in them playing nice, Pat. You sure about this?”

Pat’s tone softened, but didn’t lose its edge. “I’ve been in this game long enough to know how the pieces move. It’s not about playing nice, Stitch—it’s about playing smart. They want you alive, talking, and cooperative. And with Commander Mattison backing us, we’ve got enough political clout to push this through. But you gotta come in willing, ready to cooperate. Play your part and we’ll make sure you walk out free.”

It was a gamble, but he was willing to take a chance. He deserved this. Even trauma didn’t excuse what he’d done. He’d deserted the rest of his team, even if it was only Blade who’d gone home. He should have been there, should have taken his brother’s back. It was something he’d have to live with for the rest of his life. Thanks to Pat, he might have a fighting chance.

“Okay,” Stitch growled. “I’ll do it. I’ll get on the next flight out.”

But only because he wanted to be there to protect Sloane. Matthew would be gunning for her, and he couldn’t let anything happen to her. Not now, not after everything they’d been through.

She was his to protect, and he wasn’t going to let anyone else have that honor.

He didn’t know when he’d started thinking about her as his. Maybe after they’d made love in Karachi, after he’d taken out Omari. She’d cleaned the blood off his hands, figuratively speaking, healed the hole in his heart, and made him whole again.

He missed her, and she’d been gone less than twenty-four hours.

“It’s the only way,” Pat said, resolutely.

For a long moment, Stitch didn’t speak. He stared out at the distant runway, the hum of the airport fading into background noise. The idea of setting foot back on U.S. soil, after all this time, felt surreal. Part of him had stopped believing he’d ever make it back.

“Thanks, Pat,” he finally said. “I owe you.”

“I might have a way you can return the favor,” Pat said, and Stitch could almost hear him smirk down the line.

“Oh yeah?”

“More about that when you get back. First things first. Let’s make sure you’re in the clear, and then we’ll talk.”

Stitch frowned, wondering what Pat wanted from him. “Sure, no problem.” Whatever it was, he owed the guy big time, and he’d do whatever it took to repay his debt.

“See you on the other side,” Pat said, and ended the call.

Stitch slipped the phone into his pocket, feeling the tightness in his chest finally ease. It was time. Time to step out of the shadows and face whatever waited for him on the other side of that flight.