So much for pleasantries. The general had never liked him, and after the breakup of Colt’s marriage—which the general probably blamed him for—he had no reason to hide it.
“Information.”
“And why the hell would I tell you anything? You may have fooled my goddaughter for a while, but the best thing she ever did was toss your sorry ass out.”
Colt didn’t bother correcting him, but that wasn’t exactly how it had gone down. He’d done the walking away in theend, although Kate might have said he’d done so from the beginning.
“If you think I’ll let you worm your way back into her life, just when she’s found someone worthy of her—”
Colt ignored the implication and didn’t rise to the bait. Whether he’d been worthy of her had ceased to matter a long time ago. “This has nothing to do with Kate.”
The general’s eyes narrowed. “Bullshit. It would be just like you to take advantage of a tragedy to prey on her kind nature.”
“So you know why I’m here. I want information about Retiarius. And I’ll tell you exactly what I told Kate. Give it to me, and I’ll never bother her—or you—again.”
“Why would I believe the word of a hoodlum?”
“Haven’t you heard?” Colt said sarcastically. “I’m one of the good guys now. All those hoodlum skills have been sanctioned and paid for by the United States of America. Hooyah.”
The general ignored the taunt. They both knew what Colt did, but as with many higher-ups, the general preferred not to acknowledge the part Colt played in implementing their “foreign policy.” Colt did the dirty work so that men like the general could keep their hands clean. The kind of black ops he was sent on gave politicians plausible deniability that couldn’t come back to bite them later. Like, for example, if they were thinking about running for office, as he’d heard the general was considering.
General Murray had the sympathy vote after losing his son—that was for sure. Colt hadn’t liked Thomas Junior (known as TJ) any better than he did the senior. And it wasn’t just because he’d been in the “chair force,” although that didn’t hurt. Naw, Junior was a selfish, entitled prick who had a silver spoon so far up his ass he probably shit quarters.
He’d hated Colt on sight and done everything he could think of to discredit him in Kate’s eyes. Admittedly it hadn’t taken much effort, but Colt always wondered what TJ’s real motivation had been. Had there been more than just god-brotherly love on Junior’s part? They weren’t related by blood. Kate’s mother and the general’s wife had been sorority sisters. Kappa Kappa something or other.
“Just say what you want and get out of here,” the general said.
“I want to know what happened out there, and I need you to help me.”
“How the hell am I supposed to do that? No one knows what happened out there.”
“By telling me everything you know and getting me the clearance I need to see the feeds, files, and anything else that might be relevant.”
“What purpose would that serve? Better minds than yours have gone over those things backward and forward. It isn’t going to tell you anything we don’t already know.”
“Which is jack shit.”
The general didn’t argue.
“How many of those better minds went to Russia afterward to investigate?” Colt asked.
For the first time since he’d entered the room, something sparked in the general’s eyes. “The president has forbidden sending in a team.”
“I’m not talking about a team.”
The spark dimmed. The old man gave him a dismissive laugh. “Go in by yourself? You’re mad. Besides, POTUS would never approve.”
“What’s that old saying?” Colt asked. “It’s better to ask for forgiveness than ask for permission? Besides, I’m on vacation, and I’ve always had a hankering to visit Siberia.”
The general sat back in his big leather swivel chair and stared at him, an appraising look on his face. “It would be a suicide mission, and if anyone discovered you, it could cause problems.”
“Maybe for me, but it won’t for you. I won’t be taken alive, and I’ll make sure none of this ever leads back to you. It’s not as if I haven’t done missions like this before.”
The general seemed to be considering it for a moment, but then he shook his head. “As appealing as the prospect of you not being taken alive makes it, I can’t take that chance. Not now.”
Colt squeezed his fists, unable to prevent the bitternessfrom seeping out. But God, he hated politics. They were talking about men here. Fourteen men who’d given their lives for this fucking nation. They deserved more—a hell of a lot more—than this. “When you intend to run for office, you mean?”
“Nothing has been decided.”
