Читать книгу Soldier For Hire - Kimberly Meter Van - Страница 13

Xander kinda wished he could call up his buddy Zak and rub it in his face that a certain level of mistrust in banking institutions had worked out in his favor.

When you were on the run, cash was king. Seeing as Xander had kept his money in weird little stashes around his apartment, when he’d made the decision to cut out and run before Scarlett could bring him in, being able to stuff his bag with cash had been a plus.

It wasn’t like he could’ve waltzed up to an ATM to pull out his money because then his face would’ve shown up on the Big Brother spy network. And yeah, if people didn’t believe that all their shit was on display in some techno-nerd’s deep web, they were naive.

And the government was the biggest techno-nerd around.

But Xander was prepared. He had a wad of cash, a burner phone and a laptop with the latest encryption software that zing-zanged around the globe for IP addresses so if he needed to nose around for intel, he could do so without risking a trip to the city library to use their public terminals.

Still, being on the run wasn’t chill.

It sucked.

Not to be a wimp about it, but he missed his bed. Too many tours on the ground had turned him into a crotchety old man when he didn’t get a good night’s sleep on his expensive Tempur-Pedic.

He chuckled, hearing in his head how the team would’ve busted his balls for being such a baby. God, he missed those guys already.

He’d give his life for any of them. Even Scarlett.

Irony, right?

Xander wasn’t going to hold it against them that they were following orders. Although, he kinda wished they’d given him more of the benefit but that was selfish, and it went against their ingrained training. Soldiers followed rules or people died.

He wanted to shake some sense into Scarlett so she’d recognize that Red Wolf was being used to do someone else’s dirty work.

But until he could show her that he was right, she was going to chase him down. Simple as that.

The neon light of the dive bar beneath the seedy motel gave the room a reddish glow, appropriate for the rattrap but it served his purposes.

The place reminded him of a roach motel he’d crashed in once in a while in DC. At the time he’d found the parallel between the place where self-important men made decisions that affected everyone, except themselves, was a seething cesspit of political bullshit where people smiled right before they plunged the knife in their so-called allies’ backs and the shitty motel amusing. Xander couldn’t take the hypocrisy any longer, which was why he’d gotten out of the Rangers, but found, like most Red Wolf team members, there just wasn’t a place for guys like him in society.

Red Wolf had been his sanctuary, his lifeline.

Once again, he’d found purpose. And, not gonna lie, the pay was pretty sweet, too. But then the private sector had always been superior on the pay scale in comparison to government work.

Unless you were so far up the chain you could sniff what Uncle Sam had for dinner the night before. Xander had known that he’d never be cut out for that kind of work, so getting out and doing merc work with a private company would’ve been his only option.

Until Red Wolf had approached him.

Yeah, Red Wolf wasn’t a place that advertised on Craigslist for job opportunities. No, they sought out their targets carefully and then made a surgical strike, quietly and efficiently.

Xander sighed, giving into a moment of self-pity before reaching into his shirt pocket for his meds.

He grimaced as he shifted in the bed, his back clenching in an angry spasm, reminding him who was in charge. He washed down the potent painkiller with a generous swallow of his beer.

He was no different than most in his position. His body was screwed and tattooed. Literally. But chicks dig scars, right? Yeah, but did chicks dig drug addicts?

His body had been broken and mended back together again one too many times. The pain was just a part of who he was now. The painkillers were part of his management.

That was the story he told the docs and they’d bought into it for a long time, but then government regs changed and the lockdown on narcotics got downright militant.

He’d gone from getting his shit the legitimate way to paying an exorbitant amount to a man named Pablo who sold him Oxy by the tab.

And he needed more and more just to get through the day.

Okay, and maybe sometimes he took a little more than he needed but who didn’t play fast and loose with prescription drugs these days? Hell, college kids lived off Adderall during exams and that was perfectly fine when everyone knew it was just legal amphetamines. But hey, it’s all good...until they get caught and then mommy and daddy throw a fit, demanding to know how little Johnny got his hands on something so addictive.

Maybe the doc should’ve warned Xander how addictive Oxy could be; maybe it would’ve made him look for an alternative.

Hell, there were a lot of what-ifs but what good did they do? Didn’t change the facts of what’d happened in Tulsa.

Scarlett wanted to know why he’d run?

Because he was guilty.

Not of setting that bomb—No, he’d never do something so cowardly as to kill innocent people.

But make no mistake, he was guilty as hell.

And whoever had set him up knew of his little problem.

Former bomb-squad, Army ranger and current drug addict.

Yeah, his life read like a damn play-by-play for how to draw a direct line toward the easiest chump to take the fall.

The evidence may be circumstantial but Xander would make a terrible witness.

They’d take one look at the evidence—Xander couldn’t account for his whereabouts when the bomb went off because he couldn’t remember shit about that day—and they’d lock him up tight.

The people wanted a head on a spike for what’d happened in Tulsa.

And someone had already prepared Xander’s skull for the presentation.

His eyelids started to drag, his head to bob.

First thing tomorrow, he’d...

And he was out.

The team stared, some frowning, some bewildered.

Zak was the first to break the stunned silence. “No. You’re not going alone. We’re coming with you.”

Scarlett hadn’t slept at all last night. She knew what she needed to do, and she didn’t want anyone else to end up as collateral damage if things went south.

She’d spent the night trying to talk her way out of this one decision but by morning, she’d known there was only one way this situation could go down.

“Look, here’s the situation. I can move faster without a detail slowing me down. Xander is on a ticking clock. If we don’t bring him in, the FBI will take over and any chance Xander has of beating this will disappear.”

Zak narrowed his gaze. “You believe he’s innocent.”

“I don’t know that,” Scarlett said, shaking her head. “But there are questions that I can’t answer and my gut is saying... Hell, I don’t know but I can’t let someone else bring Xander in. If he’s guilty, I need to be the one who brings him in. He’s one of our own.”

“All the more reason why we should help.”

“I need you back at headquarters being my eyes and ears. You’re going to need to run interference if too much attention swivels Xander’s way. Trust me, this is going to be a bitch for everyone involved but I can’t deny that something doesn’t feel right.”

It took a lot to admit that to her team when she’d been the most adamant that they weren’t there to uncover any hidden truths about the case.

She’d learned a long time ago that ignoring her gut was a bad idea, which meant she was about to do something either really stupid or really dangerous—either one would probably kill her career or put her in the ground but she knew it was the right decision.

However, she wasn’t going to put her team at risk. “I don’t need any of you in the direct line of fire. If Xander is right and someone is framing him, that means we could have a snake in our home. If Xander is lying and he’s just trying to save his ass, I need to be the one to bring him down.”

“That’s what I’m talking about, let’s shake out the traitor,” CJ said with a gleeful smile because CJ was a little crazy. “Holyyy shit, I’m ready.”

Zak cast CJ a warning look before returning to Scarlett. “We need a timeframe. How long?”

“FBI is going to start sniffing around after a week. If I haven’t found him by then, there’s nothing else we can do. But until then, you’ve got my six here at HQ. No communication through our regular phones. We’ll use burners for any intel on this mission. Any questions?”

Laird piped in. “Yeah, what happens if he’s actually guilty?”

Scarlett allowed a grim smile. “Then, I’ll do what I do best... Bring the asshole down.”

“Simmer down. He’s not guilty,” Zak said to Laird, then to Scarlett, “I don’t like it. You need backup. Anything could go wrong.”

“Xander isn’t going to hurt me.”

“Well, he did nearly crush your skull,” CJ pointed out with a shrug. “I mean, that was pretty savage.”

“He didn’t nearly crush my skull, CJ. He knocked me out to gain time to get away. It was my stupid mistake to let him get the tactical advantage. I swear, I’ll never live this down.”

The team chuckled in spite of the serious situation but that was their MO. Make jokes before heading into a screwed-up situation.

“Fine. I don’t like it but I see your plan,” Zak said, sighing as he straightened. “We’ll get burners and hold down the fort, make it look like business as usual.”

“Good.” Scarlett released a pent-up breath, relieved. With Zak on board, he’d get the rest of the team in line. “So, from now on, this mission is locked down, eyes only. Code name Double Down.”

CJ grinned. “Yeah baby, ’cuz it’s all or nothing in this game.”

“Exactly,” Scarlett said, nodding. “Any questions?”

“Yeah, are you sure you can handle Xander if he’s guilty? I mean, I’m the last person to even want to think that it’s possible, but we’ve all seen people we trust go bad for whatever reasons. I love the guy, I do. But Xander has always been a wild card,” Laird said.

Laird was right. They’d all seen the ugly side of humanity at one point or another because combat situations were hell and greed was an insidious evil. But there was something in her gut that told her Xander wouldn’t hurt her.

Even if he was guilty. “I can handle Xander,” she assured Laird but she hoped to God her intuition wasn’t wrong. She was putting her career and her life on the line for the dipshit and he’d better be straight about the facts or she’d happily throat punch him.

Plan in place, they broke off like a well-oiled machine. Scarlett had been the TL for this team for three years. She knew them well and trusted them more.

Even Xander.

Trust was a funny thing, though. Either it was strong as steel or fragile as glass, but you never knew how well it was going to hold up until tested.

Well, she was about to find out if she was standing on steel or falling through glass.

Time to double down, baby.