drummed the chipped metal hood, weighing how much he could trust her. Old habits and their former closeness pushed the whole story forward, but there he couldn’t overstep forces above his pay grade and beyond his control. “This is potentially the biggest threat to national security we’ve encountered since the unit was put together.” He dropped his gaze to her, bracing for the anger about to be unleashed in his direction. “I can’t tell you more, not without authorization.”
Sure enough, Meghan drew away, her face tightening. She smacked the truck’s hood, the dull metallic echo bouncing off the trees. “There’s an order out on me, and you don’t want to tell me why?”
Her voice was shrill, but she had to know this wasn’t personal. National security trumped all. When ops were classified, “trust no one” kicked in.
Still it had to hurt to be on the outside of this. It hurt him to be the one to shut the door on her. His former partner...his former best friend.
Tate pinched his lips together, the action radiating pain into his jaw. If he wasn’t careful, she might throw a punch of her own volition. He focused on the woods behind her, trying to distance himself. She wasn’t his partner. She was an asset. A woman with a secret he needed to uncover if he wanted to apprehend a hacker who had twice come close to causing mass chaos. Working this op meant keeping Meghan at a distance, no matter how much it hurt. “I need my phone. And my gun.”
She flinched, the action so quick only someone who knew her would notice. Pulling the phone from her pocket, Meghan slid it across the hood with a little too much force, then pivoted on one heel and stalked up the porch steps, shaking the entire structure with the force of her anger.
Tate watched her go, thoughts too spun around to do much else. Captain Meghan McGuire. He’d been dead certain he’d never see his former partner again. When he’d hauled her to her feet today and caught sight of those brown eyes the color of Turkish coffee, he’d nearly dropped his cover story in shock.
For four long years, he’d let her believe the story the army had told her. That he was dead, killed in the attack that actually had nearly put him in the grave. Playing dead allowed him to do his job, working in the shadows for an elite military unit tasked with shutting down cyberthreats to the United States and its allies. Still, somewhere in the intervening years, he’d lost count of the number of times he’d wanted to reconnect with her, to find the easy camaraderie that had gotten him through many hard times in the past.
She didn’t know he’d missed her, and if what he knew of Meghan’s less-than-carefree childhood was any indication, she probably viewed his faked death and years of silence as the ultimate betrayal. If she’d done the same to him, he’d be the one demanding answers and working to douse anger. He owed her the real story. Soon. But not until he figured out why she was in danger.
Tate stretched his neck and unlocked his phone, forcing his thoughts into the game. He’d lost ground today, “letting” Meghan get away.
The growing bruise spreading across his cheek had bought him some sympathy...and some nasty ribbing from a bunch of punks who couldn’t believe he’d let a girl get the best of him. At least they’d bought it.
Isaac had been red-faced, screaming furious when he’d discovered Meghan had eluded them, but after a phone call to report Tate’s failure to “the boss,” he’d given the group a knowing look and said it wasn’t his place to deal with the problem.
Which meant it was going over Isaac’s head. Whoever this hacker was, he wanted Meghan, and Tate had lost her. If he was angry enough to deal with Tate himself, then they would finally see face-to-face one of the most dangerous cyberterrorists in the world. It was possible his “mistake” would bring an end to the chase they’d been on for two years and an op that had forced Tate undercover, infiltrating the small band of street thugs who did the dirty work of the mysterious hacker in this area of the country. It was easier to get into Isaac’s good graces as muscle-for-hire in his low-level gang than to go straight for an audience with the king.
He could almost taste the end of a reign of terror for the unnamed criminal who had stolen lives, financed terror attacks and infiltrated the US military. Bringing him to justice would be a pleasure.
Isaac and his crew thought Tate was off somewhere licking his wounds, that he was doing things even his imagination refused to think. He’d make his way to Isaac’s in the morning, probably to find a drug-fueled party in full swing.
He could worry about Isaac later. Right now, he had to call in and report. And, if he could convince his team leader, perhaps he’d get permission to fill Meghan in on the op. Maybe together they could find out why she was targeted and why an international terrorist had hacked something as low level as a Christian school in central Michigan. Tapping into the school’s unsecured network had been the mistake that had allowed Tate’s team to zero in on him. It could all be another elaborate trap, like their last mission. Or it could be a fatal mistake on their target’s part.
He dialed Captain Ethan Kincaid’s number, and the team leader answered on the first ring. “You safe? From our end, it seemed your phone took a joyride.”
“I am, but we’ve got a wrinkle.”
“Not a big one, I hope.” Ethan was never going to be patient with anything that held them back. The hacker they were chasing had nearly killed Ethan’s now-wife and his best friend, Sean Turner. This was personal for Tate’s team leader.
“Meghan McGuire.”
The silence from Ethan’s end of the phone was telling. It was long seconds before he said anything. “Captain Meghan McGuire? Your partner?”
“The same.”
“How did you come across her?”
Tate thumbed his cheek, where a dull ache persisted in the spot Meghan’s fist had met. He needed sleep. Soon. But it probably wasn’t coming. “I wish I knew. Our hacker sent word two days ago for us to grab an asset. No name, just a description and a location to be determined. We were to sit on go until he knew there was an opportunity. This afternoon we got a location and a time. When we went in, it was her.”
“Our hacker wants her bad enough to pull her right off the street? Why?”
“No idea.” Tate gave a quick rundown of the events leading to Meghan’s staged escape. “But I want Ashley to dig into everything Meghan’s done since she left the army.” The request made his muscles tighten. Checking on his former partner was a necessary precaution, though not an easy one. At least Ashley could handle it, and it wouldn’t have to go through any channels that might raise red flags elsewhere.
Ethan’s wife, Ashley, ran Colson Solutions, a high-level technology consultant firm that also employed former team member Sean Turner. Ashley and Sean could do nearly anything with tech, stuff Tate would never understand. They’d been outmatched once, by the very hacker they were currently pursuing. The hacker Ashley had nicknamed Phoenix, like the mythological bird. Every time they thought they’d destroyed him, he showed up again.
And he was somehow always watching, always two steps ahead of them.
“You don’t think she’s working for Phoenix?” Ethan’s voice held skepticism. Back in the day, they’d all worked together in one form or another; the bond formed by their small unit was a strong one.
Tate prayed hard Meghan was still the woman he’d once known, prayed she hadn’t somehow flipped
