“Dead.”
Fuck, Lachie slammed his eyes shut. His institution had told him this was the case, but until this man, this Rock, confirmed it, it hadn’t been true. He could hear the other man speaking, but nothing was sinking in. His brain was still stuck on the fact he would never hear Johnno yell out to him, or fondly call him an asshole or a dipshit as they went through their morning routines before heading to the mess.
“Think about it,” Rock said.
What? Think about what? “Repeat that?”
“Shit,” Rock blew out a breath, “You have been officially declared dead. From what I can gather from looking at the aftermath and combining it with the reports I have seen, you were probably blown off the roof by the RPG. There was enough blood and DNA on your friend’s body for the Australian Government to declare you dead.” He studied Lachie, watching for a reaction, “Do you have family that isn’t on your records?”
“No,” Lachie confirmed. “My mother is dead, Johnno too.” Grief slammed into him like a sledgehammer. Chances he’d missed, risks he should have taken. He was too late now. Too fucking late.
“I am recruiting for a team.” Rock said, “New name, new face, totally off the grid.”
“What?”
“It’s sanctioned by my DOD,” Rock said. “Are you interested?”
Seriously, did the asshole not know he had just dropped a bombshell of epic proportions in the center of his world, and he wanted an answer right now? “Why me?”
“Because you have hacked hundreds of people’s information, without stealing from them or fucking up their lives.”
Oh shit? How the hell does he know that?Lachie knew he had been taking a chance in doing that shit, but hell, he had been bored. He already knew as soon as his boots hit the ground in OZ, that he was losing his Spec Ops role. Knew he was being busted down some ranks. He was going to be bored as fuck, if he no longer had the rigorous and demanding lifestyle Spec Ops demanded.Do I need to decide right now? Who the hell can I call to check this dude out?
“I wish I could give you more time,” Rock stated as if, again, he could read what Lachie was thinking. “But I leave for my home base in less than twenty-four hours. If you are in, I can bring you with me.” He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter a fuck either way. “If not, then I will notify the relevant authorities where you are, and you can do a Lazarus, and come back from the dead.”
Think, think, think, what have you got to go back for? Everyone is gone.Lachie carefully picked up the pieces of his heart. Stuffed the pain, rage, and all the pieces which defined him and pushed them behind a door, before slamming it shut with his heart inside. He was done with feelings. Feelings brought unimaginable pain and hurt. He would never forget or stop missing Johnno, but never again would he leave himself open to the soul-destroying possibility that loving someone caused. He did the most impulsive thing he had ever done in his life, he nodded. “I’m in.” But then, life didn’t matter jack-shit without Johnno in it.
“Good, sign here.” Rock held out a bundle of papers and a pen.
Sign here, just like that?Uh, nope. Lachie reached for the papers. He was reading through these suckers first. Had to make sure he wasn’t landing in another shit show. The papers showed him he would have a new identity, plastic surgery to change his face, and his vocal cords would be scraped to change his voice. The people heading this project would provide him with voice training to ensure his Australian accent wasn’t as prominent.
“CIA?”
“No.” Rock paused the pen he had been flicking over and back across his knuckles, as he waited for Lachie to finish reading. “Who it is, is classified until after you have completed your transformation and training.”
“If this is bad juju shit, and you are a tango masquerading as one of the good guys…” Lachie held out his hand for the pen. “I swear to fuck, you better sleep with one eye open for the rest of your life, as you will never see me coming.” He scribbled his name on the bottom of the page.
“Sign each page at the end,” Rock told him.
“You’re careful.”
“Yup.”
“Good.” Lachie held out the papers to Rock. It was done. He had signed his life away. He had no clue if he would regret it or not. Only time would answer that question.
The corner of Rock’s mouth lifted, and he shifted in his seat to pull an envelope out of his pocket. Opening it, he pulled out what looked like an American Passport. Flicking through the pages, he peered over the top. “Welcome to The Ghost Protection Team, Cade Kelly.”
Chapter Two
Near Guadalajara, Jalisco Province, Mexico, July 2006
Felipe Oseguera González lay on his back in the grass. All around him he could hear the sounds of the goats’ bells as they grazed. He knew most seventeen-year-old boys would have hated this job. Not him. He loved living with his mama and grandparents. They lived simply and Felipe didn’t crave the excitement his friends did. He had no desire to run off to town, chasing women and drugs.
He had seen what drugs could do to a person’s mind. He only had to look at his mama to see. He knew she didn’t mean it when she screamed at him that he was the devil. No, he wasn’t, and it wasn’t him she was seeing in her fear-induced craze. It was his father, for he was just the devil’s son. It was his penance for being born, that he was a constant reminder of her worst nightmares. That his grandparents loved him when his mother couldn’t shouldn’t hurt so much, but it did. Their kindness was a stark reminder that she hated him.
And women, they didn’t give him the hard-ons his friends talked about. Nope, a woman’s breasts or pussy didn’t interest him in the slightest. But Joaquín’s naked ass as they went skinny dipping in the river. That was a whole different ball game. Joaquín’s ass should have songs written about it.
Feeling the sun retreating behind the clouds told him his day had passed further than he had hoped it would. The sun going down meant he needed to take the goats down to the house for milking. He tugged the blade of grass out of his mouth and opened his eyes.
