Fatal Honor: Shadow Force International (10 page)

An assortment of luggage lined one end of the closet. She found a duffel and filled it with a couple days’ worth of clothing changes, including some long underwear.

Back in the bathroom, she rinsed the dye from her hair, combed it out and used the blow dryer on it.

The color came out darker than she’d anticipated, but the guides on the side of the box were rarely accurate. With the new blue of her eyes, the light brown with red highlights worked well.

Her face devoid of makeup, and the So. Cal sweatshirt providing context, she appeared younger than her twenty-nine years. She could easily pass for an undergrad. She grabbed a pair of fake designer glasses with heavy frames and added them for good measure.

A knock sounded from the bedroom door. “Charlotte?” Miles said.

“Yes?”

“You ready? We need to get your picture for the passport.”

Smoothing down the sweatshirt, she took a deep breath, giving herself one more glance in the mirror. Ridiculous as it was, she hoped Miles still found her attractive in her disguise.

Stop acting like a schoolgirl and get on with it
.

Slowly, she walked out of the bathroom and saw Miles standing in the doorway of the suite. His eyes did a double take but she couldn’t tell if it was because her appearance was so different or because he liked it.

“That’ll do,” was all he said, before turning on his heel and walking out.

Irritation burned in her stomach. Passing his inspection should have made her happy. Instead his casual remark made her feel as if something was lacking.

So he prefers blondes. Get over it. This is a deadly mission, not a lovers’ reunion.

Snatching up the overnight bag, she followed him, reconsidering leaving him behind out of spite.

Chapter Six

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striking as a blue-eyed brunette as she was a brown-eyed blonde. Miles couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

You’re horny. That’s all.

He hadn’t wanted a single other woman since he’d left Romania. Not even a twitch when he saw a sexy woman on the street or when one handed him her phone number in a restaurant or bar. Not one fantasy that didn’t have Charlotte and only Charlotte starring in it.

All the lonely nights, missing her and wondering if she were even real. Like a starving man in need of comfort food, he couldn’t stop flicking his gaze over to her where she sat for her passport picture in front of a generic, off-white background.

Shinedown, a former SEAL who’s real name was Colton Bells, adjusted the lighting, then touched her chin. “A little more to the right.” He lowered his face close to hers, scooted her fake glasses a bit higher on her nose. “Perfect.”

She smiled up at him and he smiled back and Miles’ blood pressure went up twenty points.

His phone rang, the readout telling him it was the last person on Earth he wanted to talk to.

“Take the damn picture,” he growled at Colt, and then barked, “What?” into the phone.

“Rory tells me we have a new client,” Beatrice Reese, out in Washington D.C., said without preamble. “Tell me why I have no paperwork for her in my inbox.”

Word traveled fast. Colt still leaned over Charlotte, saying something too soft for Miles to hear and making her chuckle. Her eyes met his across the room but then skittered away.

Gripping the phone, Miles gave it a squeeze, knowing he needed to get control of his sudden jealousy as well as his ongoing obsession with the woman in the chair. He wanted to run his fingers through her newly dyed hair and make her blue eyes go hazy with lust. “I’m working on it.”

“Who are you assigning her to?”

Colt finished primping Charlotte and moved behind the camera. Miles could finally take a decent breath. “I’m handling this one on my own.”

“You’re now head of the West Coast division of Rock Star Security. You no longer work assignments, you assess clients and assign other team members to their cases.”

“This one is…different. Special.”

Charlotte must have realized he was talking about her. Her eyes met his, an intensity in them that nearly sucked Miles’ breath away again. At that same moment, Colt snapped her picture.

Beatrice’s voice cut through the white noise in his head. “Is this the woman Rory said was stalking you?”

Breaking eye contact, Miles had to step away. Carrying on a coherent conversation with Beatrice while Charlotte stared at him like she wanted to hug him was impossible.

Colt moved to the office computer-printer setup and fiddled with both.

Miles cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “She needs help. I’m going to give it to her.”

“Not until she signs our contract and I’ve cleared her.”

Beatrice was no stranger to traitors and spies. Not only had she worked for NSA, she’d been handpicked for a secret intelligence group called Command & Control and knew her way around the political landscape as well as anyone. Betrayal and honor were two sides of the same coin she understood well. She’d been labeled a rogue agent at one point and escaped execution by an assassin who now worked for her.

Second chances. That’s what Shadow Force International was all about.

But there was a fine line between helping those in need who deserved it, and helping those who’d betrayed their country for real and didn’t.

Miles still wasn’t sure which category Charlotte fell into.

“She’s filling out the paperwork right now,” he lied, motioning Charlotte to a chair next to the desk. He dug a computer tablet out of the drawer, brought up the client contract and handed it to her. “You’ll have the contract in a few minutes.”

“Good. I’ll run the background check once I receive the papers.”

“You already have. She’s the agent you helped me look into.”

There was the squeak of a chair in the background. In his mind, Miles saw Beatrice rocking in her leather office chair, thinking, calculating.

Beatrice was labeled a genius. Her intellect and cunning were off the map; hence, her past career with the NSA and now running Emit Petit’s dual organizations. “I assumed as much. Should I be expecting a call from the Queen, then?”

“Not if I can keep this on the down low.”

“How is our new client paying for services rendered?”

Miles shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “I’ll cover it.”

“How?”

Sarcasm wasn’t part of Beatrice’s repertoire. Neither was incredulousness. She was logical to a fault and knew she had him on this one. The men in SFI were paid handsomely, but fees for Rock Star Security were astronomical. Which was why only the very rich and very famous hired them. “I’ll work pro bono, and you can dock my future pay until the bill is paid in full.”

Charlotte was staring at him, a frown knitting her forehead. Miles turned away.

“What I’m wondering,” Beatrice said, “is why you would put your life and career on the line for her?”

“Been wondering the same thing,” he muttered.

“If MI6 catches up to her and you’re with her…”

“I know. Aiding and abetting. Prison. I’ve got the picture.”

“Do you?” Another squeak of her chair. “Because if you get caught with her, I may not be able to get you out of jail. MI6 and the Queen may bury you so deep, I can’t even find you. You’ll be rotting in some South African prison or working the coal mines in Wales.”

Miles turned back, watched as Colt stamped the passport with some foreign country’s stamp and blew on it. Charlotte used the stylus on the tablet to sign her name. She looked up at Miles and gave him a hesitant smile.

She’d never been hesitant about anything during their time in the mountains. She’d been wanton and direct, doing what she felt like when she felt like it. Bourean had done more than leave scars on her back. He’d beaten some of the spirit out of her as well.

“She’s worth it,” Miles found himself saying into the phone.

A beat of silence went by. “I’ll find someone else to take charge of the West Coast Rock Stars while you’re gone. Now, get me that paperwork.”

Beatrice was tough, but she had his back. Every one of the men working for SFI, whether they did security details for the rich and famous, or ran covert ops in foreign countries, took their cues from her. They were all a team. “Thank you.”

“I assume you’re heading back to Romania. I have contacts there. Let me know what you need and I’ll find someone to help.”

He sent up a second, mental thank you to her. “I need a plane.”

“I’ll make sure one is fueled and ready at Greenbow.”

Greenbow was a small, private wing of the Van Nuys airport that Rock Stars and SFI used for clients. “Shinedown can handle things until I get back.”

“Hmm.” Her pause suggested she had serious doubts about that. Colt, however, looked thrilled. “Have him call me.”

She disconnected.

Colt held up the passport and showed it to Miles. “All done.”

“You’re sure it will pass inspection?”

A hurt look passed over the former SEAL’s face. “Homeland taught me well. I’m the best at this and you know it.”

Colton had unique skills and had worked for a brief time for DHS before the SEALs, tracking the often fake passports of terrorists. “Thanks, man.”

Miles took the tablet from Charlotte, closed out the form, and emailed it to Beatrice. Colt locked a Rock Star bracelet on Charlotte’s arm, giving her the rundown about the high-tech piece of jewelry. “GPS, the tiniest wire saw in the world, a pick for locks.”

“All in this?” Charlotte held up her wrist and examined the gold bracelet. “Handy.”

“Ready?” Miles said.

She stood and pocketed the passport. “Lead the way.”

“Call Beatrice,” Miles told Colt. “Everything you need is here in this house to run things. Schedules, assignments, etc. Anything you can’t find, ask Rory.”

They shook and clapped each other on the back. “God’s speed,” Colt said.

In the living room, Miles handed Charlotte her coat. He grabbed her go bag and his—he kept one ready to go in his truck—and headed for the doors on the ocean side of the home.

“Security cameras show no activity,” Colt said. “Clutch and Chevelle are outside keeping an eye on things. You’re clear.”

As Miles walked ahead of Charlotte, heading for the wooden boardwalk that would take them to the dock, she snagged his coat sleeve. “Where are we going?”

“To the boat.”

“I thought we were going to the airport.”

The crashing waves of the Pacific echoed in the night air. The normal fog was already rolling in. “We are, but it’s safer if we take the boat up to Greenbow. Trust me.”

Her face, already in shadows, tilted down. “Miles, you really don’t have to do this.”

He took her chin between his finger and thumb and lifted her head. “Yeah, that’s just it,” he said. “I really do.”

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now? The SEAL and Carstons had snuck out the back of the house. They were headed for the boat.

He hadn’t been able to eavesdrop on them, the safe house protected by electronic interference. The neighborhood had grown quiet, the late nighters finally giving up and going to bed. Another man had arrived at the safe house and the three of them had been tucked inside one room for the past hour. Two more had set up guard around the perimeter of the house outside.

Carstons followed the SEAL down the boardwalk to the boat. Where were they headed? He’d lose them if they got on that boat.

Back in the day, drone technology had been in use by the military but mostly used to spy on America’s enemies. He’d been all in favor of arming the things and using them to take out those enemies. It was the first thing he’d proposed after 9/11 when he’d been asked to present his plan to find bin Laden to the president. The president had liked the idea; Norris’ boss hadn’t.

Eventually Predator drones were armed, and these days, every Tom, Dick, and Harry had some camera-only version they’d bought at the local big box store.

He had one too. Smaller than the ones on the consumer market, with a high-powered camera equipped with night vision lenses. Firing it up, he smiled at the low hum from the engine. Tapping a couple of buttons on his smart phone, he watched as the app linked with the drone’s onboard computer and gave him the all clear.

Another check on the two people moving to the dock, and he pocketed his binoculars. He patted the drone and took it downstairs and outside.

Flying was freedom. He envied the drone as it lifted off and hovered, waiting for his command. The engine purred, the camera engaged its night vision. MI6 had plenty of toys. Using the digital joystick on his phone’s app, he guided the drone toward the boat.

As the boat left the dock and sped north, Norris locked the drone onto his target. Then he went back inside to make himself some coffee and watch the images the camera fed back to his phone.