Going Dark Read online

  Dean filled him in on the two professionals on the beach, the boat ride to Coll, the ferry to Oban, and the attack near the train station. He didn’t get halfway through before the LC started letting off a string of curses that would do Miggy, who swore every other word, proud. As Taylor didn’t usually curse, it was even more impressive.

  Dean wondered what the hell Ruiz was up to. But the LC had insisted that none of the guys know where the other survivors had gone. Taylor was the only one who could reach them. Dean understood operational security, but he didn’t always like it. They were used to working in teams; this solo bullshit sucked. It felt as if he’d lost the entire platoon. Dealing with eight deaths was bad enough. All seven of Lieutenant White’s squad and the kid. Brian. The death that was on him.

  Although Annie had filled in well enough earlier. He still couldn’t believe that shot she’d made—or how cool and calm she’d been afterward. Weren’t women supposed to fall apart at things like that?

  Okay, so maybe that was a little sexist.

  Shit, she was already getting to him. Pretty soon, he’d be quoting Gloria Steinem and buying his future daughters GI Joes and Power Rangers rather than Barbies. Or maybe he’d buy them both and let them choose.

  Fuck. He was losing his damned mind. Most little girls liked pink and Barbies, and most little boys liked trains and trucks. What was wrong with that?

  Nothing. He could almost hear her voice. But what about the kids who don’t?

  Shit, shit, double shit. He didn’t want to be evolved. He was fine primordial. He liked primordial. Liberals were too serious and uptight—they couldn’t joke about anything. Everyone had to be “the same.” But no matter how much you leveled the playing field, equal opportunity wasn’t going to bring equal results. Some people were smarter, some people worked harder, and some people were just fucking luckier. Dean hadn’t gotten a hall pass. He’d pulled himself out of a shit hole; why couldn’t other people be expected to do the same?

  Life wasn’t fair, and you couldn’t make it so. Kids died of cancer. One kid is born in Africa to a life of starvation while another is born in England a prince. He didn’t understand why so many people fought against that incontrovertible fact. You had to play the hand life dealt you.

  The LC paused his litany of swearing long enough for Dean to tell him the worst of it. “That isn’t all.”

  “What? Do you have more dead bodies to tell me about? Five this week isn’t enough?”

  “Five?”

  “I’ll tell you in a minute. First you tell me what else I need to worry about.”

  “They got a picture of me.”

  The silence that followed was worse than he had anticipated. Dean had been a SEAL for twelve years, chief for three—senior the last year of that—and had been downrange on some of the most high-risk, no-fail missions in the world since 9/11, and he still felt like squirming. He’d blown it. Big-time.

  “It wasn’t very good,” he added. “The cell phone was crap and it was taken from a distance, but if they hack into the right database, good facial recognition might be able to make a match.”

  Finding pictures of active SEALs wasn’t easy, but Dean didn’t fool himself that someone who was determined—or lucky—might not be able to find something. He was careful about photos, but they existed.

  “You got to be fucking kidding me.”

  As that was rhetorical, Dean didn’t respond other than to apologize.

  “It’s a little fucking late for that now. I can’t believe you fucked up like this. Dynomite, Miggy, Dolph, Jim Bob—especially Jim Bob,” he said, referring to Travis Hart. “I can see one of them doing this but not you. You don’t act stupid over women.”

  Well, apparently he did. Annie was different, and Dean suspected he could act plenty stupid when it came to her.

  “I hope to hell she was worth it, because you just put all of us on the clock,” the LC finished angrily.

  “She was,” Dean said without hesitation. “Is.”

  He’d finally succeeded in shutting the LC up. He didn’t say anything for a long minute. “I’m sorry to hear that,” the LC said.

  “Why?”

  “Because you have to cut her loose and get the hell out of there. Now.”

  Dean’s reaction was visceral. He rejected it with every bone in his body. The hand holding the phone tightened to stone. “I told you I wouldn’t do that until she’s safe.”

  “She’s safe.”

  “How can you say that after what I just told you? There were two guys after her—two professionals. Jean Paul must have hired them to shut her up.”

  “Well, he won’t be hiring any more men. That’s what I was calling to tell you. I heard from Kate. You and your girlfriend are in the clear. The Stornoway police still want to talk to her, but she isn’t a suspect. Kate gave them enough information to point them in the right direction and away from you. They think you are CIA working covertly over here, which they aren’t happy about, but Kate got it all worked out. They were suspicious of Jean Paul already. His story started to fall apart as soon as they started questioning him, and the doctors were able to examine his ‘injuries,’ which appeared to be mostly self-inflicted. He fled the hospital before they could arrest him.”

  Dean hoped the LC hadn’t heard his sigh of relief. “Then Annie is still in danger if he’s out there.”

  “She might have been, but in a spark of divine intervention, Jean Paul was hit by a car a couple blocks from the hospital. A tourist got confused, turned onto the wrong side of the road, and plowed into him as he crossed the street. The officer said the woman was beside herself with guilt until they told her he was wanted for murder.”

  In other words she’d done them a favor.

  “Oh,” Dean said. What else could he say? “That’s great.”

  Of course it was. He and Annie could go their own ways. That was what he wanted, wasn’t it?

  “So you see, she’s safe and doesn’t need a protector anymore. You can cut her loose with a clear conscience.” When Dean didn’t respond, he added, “And if it makes it any easier, that’s an order.”

  It didn’t. Maybe it should, but it didn’t.

  “Maybe if we get really lucky,” Scott continued, “Jean Paul’s phone was destroyed in the accident and the text with your picture never arrived. Give me the number, and I’ll have Kate check it out.”

  Dean repeated the number he’d memorized. He’d pull out the SIM cards, destroy the phones, and toss everything in different trash bins before going back to the room to say . . . what? Good-bye? Nice knowing you?

  Fuck.

  “Where are you going?” the LC asked.

  “I have someone in Glasgow who can get me a new ID.” They all had contacts. People who didn’t ask questions and didn’t care what his name was as long as he could pay. “Then fuck if I know. But Russian subs in the North Sea is a dead end.”

  “I’m beginning to agree with you. Hang tight when you get to Glasgow, and we’ll figure something out.”

  “You better figure all of this out soon, Ace,” Dean said, with a rare use of his code name. “I’m not going to live a secret life forever.”

  Dean could hear the surprise in the LC’s voice. “Damn, this girl really got to you, didn’t she?”

  She did. But there wasn’t a damned thing Dean could do about it. Annie was the first woman he’d ever wanted a relationship with, but he was going to have to let her go.

  • • •

  Annie was lounging on the bed in her comfy robe and slippers when “Dan” came back into the room. Her hair was still damp, and her skin had been rubbed with almost the entire bottle of lotion.

  Right away, she could tell that something was wrong. He hadn’t brought her back that drink he’d promised, and his expression was grim—even for him. He’d stopped at the end of the short hall