And now, she’s headed to jail for a long, long time.
What this means for my team, I’m not sure, but I know that, no matter what it is, I can face it head-on with Tessa beside me.
I wrap an arm around her shoulders, and she leans against me.
After being treated for multiple cuts and scrapes, we’d received a police escort here to the Savannah FBI Field Office. Though we’ve yet to see Jack because, the moment we got here, we were ushered into this room and left staring at the woman who tried to kill the both of us and everyone we cared for.
According to the team member who cracked, she and Martin had been working together for a long time. The French diplomat’s daughter was the first in a long string of coordinated attacks on members of an environmental agency trying to stop the destruction of protected land for the drilling of oil.
She and Martin worked with Karver and Alara Benson to open Southeast Environmental Commission, a front for their movements. After all, who’s going to look at an environmental agency for terrorists pushing back against a movement they should have stood for?
Things went sideways, however, when the Bensons decided they didn’t want any part in harming the daughter of the French diplomat who was spearheading the movement. A man who was in town for one day, attending a conference at the building right beside the Southeast Environmental Commission’s building. An event that was moved because the original building went down due to what they’re calling a gas explosion—with me and my team inside.
Tessa told us what Martin had told her. That she was merely an opportunity to get back at me. It boils my blood knowing how close she got to losing her life, all because Martin wanted vengeance against me.
Maybe I should have killed him six months ago when I had the chance. Except I couldn’t have known this would happen, and if I had, I would have been taking a life just to take it.
“You okay?” I ask Tessa.
“I can’t believe it’s over. I mean, I’m so glad, but it feels like I’m sitting here, waiting for someone else to come after us.”
I nod because that’s a feeling I know quite well. “I’m sorry you got pulled into this.”
“I’m not,” she replies, tipping her face up to look at me. “Because it brought me back to you.”
I grin, unable to help myself. “Maybe next time, you can just send me a postcard.”
“There won’t be a next time because I can’t live a day without you, Zane Knox. And I hope you feel the same.”
“More than.” Warmth spreads through my chest as my heart practically grows three sizes just hearing her declaration. Before I can say anything else, though, the door opens, and a middle-aged man wearing a black suit and bold yellow tie strolls in, carrying a manila folder.
“Lieutenant Commander Knox. I have to say, it’s quite a pleasure to meet you face-to-face. Though I am sorry it’s under such vile circumstances.” He offers his hand, so I take it.
“Not in the Navy anymore. Who are you?”
“Richard Caldwell,” he says. “Brenda worked for me.”
“So, you’re the guy behind the strings.”
He chuckles. “No, not quite. Brenda had an opinion all her own when it came to how things should be. We just hadn’t realized how far she was willing to go to get things done.”
“What does that mean?”
He offers me the folder he carried in. I open it and am greeted with images taken by drone on that day six years ago. The day that changed the entire course of my life and those of my team. “You should know that Brenda orchestrated that entire event. She fed information to the enemy in an attempt to get you right where she wanted you.”
Rage burns hot and fast through me, and my hands tighten on the folder. “People died that day. Good people. Innocent people.”
“I know. I was unaware of her involvement until only a few hours ago. Just as I was unaware of the arrangement she had for you. In our systems, you were listed as an independent contractor, but according to Jack Weathers, the arrangement was more forced than that. Is that true?”
“She told me prison was waiting if I didn’t accept.”
Anger flashes over Richard’s face, and he crosses his arms. “That’s not how we do business.”
I lift the images and see a DD214 with my name on it. An official proof of the time I spent in the military.
Beneath it, there’s also one for Weston, Ryker, Sawyer, and Garrison.
All with honorable discharge listed for each of us.
