“I know,” Cade muttered. He already knew that, thank you very much. Add in that they lived in two different countries, and a whole heap of other shit, including the fact that his boss had cuffed him in a damn cage, yeah, even if Cade’s intention had not been a one-night fuck, he and Rio would never have worked.
“Seriously, Cade,” Rock scratched the side of his head, “He’s a CIA asset, we cannot be seen interfering in their investigations, or whatever arrangements they have in place.”
“Yup, got it.” He knew he was being short, knew that Rock was laying down the law for the safety of everyone. Argh, he knew the rules, no entanglements, no long-term shit. It was one of the new ones put in place after the fallout of the rescue of Rock, Grif & Allie’s kiddo, Lexi, in the Middle East. He got it, when emotions were involved, the team would put everything on the line, even their anonymity, to save the ones they loved. They had all agreed to the new rules, it was the only way they could go back to active duty. Thank fuck, Grif, Rock, and Allie had gotten their shit together before that rule came into place. Didn’t mean he wasn’t pissed right now, because he might have wanted to do the night over again with Rio. This is how fucked up their lives were.
“Something more with you could get him killed.”
“Yup.” Cade nodded to his boss, “I’ll gather coms gear.”
Closing the door of the bedroom behind him, he spotted the pile of clothes on the bed. A mix of his and Rio’s that someone had gathered from where they had discarded them last night. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled the shirt out of the mix. Stared at the dried blood. He knew Rock probably thought he was an idiot. And in a way, he probably was.
“You need a hand?”
“Shit.” Cade jumped at the sound of Serge’s voice from the safe room. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“Yeah,” Serge jerked his thumb over his shoulder, “I got most of this shit in boxes,” he nodded toward the bed, “You want one for that lot?”
“Thanks.” Cade grabbed the travel box his teammate pushed toward him. Big boy shorts and all that jazz. He got to work, stuffing the small amount of stuff he had brought with him into the large plastic chests they used for storing gear. Stuffing Rio’s clothes into a bag, he added them to the box, before securing the lid.
“Move your asses,” Grif’s voice yelled from what sounded like near the front door. “Wheels up in twenty.”
“Yes, Sir.” That was it, he would revert to what he knew best. Doing his job and locking away the rest of himself. If Ghosts rules were no entanglements, no connections to be made, then that’s what he would do. Wheels up, back to Mexico and lose himself in work… that was a good plan… right?
Two months later
The UAV—unmanned aerial vehicle—raced toward the blinking light on the screen, chasing what Cade knew was the truck his teammates were in, and he couldn’t stop the damn thing. Hacking it wasn’t working, its defense system bounced him out every damn time. If he didn’t crash it in the next five minutes, his team were going to die in that fucking desert, and it would be his fault.
“C’mon, c’mon.”
“Cade, hurry the fuck up.” Rock pounded his fist on the arm of the chair he sat on, his badly sprained ankle preventing him from pacing as he normally would.
Cade was working furiously off the crappy signal in Jalalabad, praying the signal would not drop again, with a few laptops networked together. It pissed him the hell off not to have his normal equipment, the signal in this shitty hotel room wasn’t powerful enough to run his hardware, making what should have been a simple job suck fucking donkey balls.
“Cade, Jesus,” Rock lifted his injured foot off the chair it had been resting on with both hands and placed it on the floor. Tension, fury, and a healthy dose of fear, along with a couple of dashes of pissed-offness poured off Rock. Not that anyone could blame him. On screen, over Cade’s shoulder he could see the UAV’s target locked on the truck his partner drove like a bat out of hell.
“If you stand on that foot, you’ll hurt yourself, and distract me. I swear to fuck, I will shoot you if you do.” Sweat dripped down the back of Cade’s neck while his fingers furiously tapped on the keyboard. Every hash code he entered, every angle he tried, got him fucking nowhere. He couldn’t hack the operating system, and Grif, Lo, Danny, and their captured terrorist were about to die. “Damn it.”
Had Cade known this was what he would be working with, he’d have been prepared. But no. They’d trusted the information provided to them by the CIA. Trusted that the damn safe house they had been offered would have a signal. Never fucking again.
Lines and lines of code crossed the screen of one laptop. Intel being fed to him from Harper in their home base in Mexico. It was too damn slow. “C’mon, give it to me.”
“You sound lik—”
“Shut up.” A new code sequence ran across one screen. He read it and manipulated it into the drone’s system. Screen after screen showed green as he bypassed security and slipped through firewalls until finally his fingers froze over the keyboard. “Dive, damn it, dive.”
“Did you get it?” Rock shifted in his seat trying to get a better view of the screen.
Their eyes glued to the satellite feed, they watched the drone keep flying closer and closer to their men.
“Did it work?”
Cade didn’t dare answer, he scanned that last line of code, it had to work. The alternative was unthinkable. If it hadn’t, that truck was going to explode. Period. On screen they watched Grif throw the truck into a right-hand turn, trying to evade the UAV that hunted him, and speed off toward a wadi.
Crash— motherfucker—die—dammit.
“Confirm—”
“Wait a second.” Cade flexed his fingers ready to jump into the drone’s systems again as it dipped a wing to follow the truck. Whoever was manning that remote navigation system was good. Damn fucking good. Cade blew out a breath when the nose of the drone dipped, then it went into a spiral nosedive, before exploding into flames as it crashed into the ground. “Target eliminated.”
