Going Dark Read online

  “What?”

  “What you’ve been wanting to say for over two months. It was my fault the kid was killed. If I’d followed your orders, Brian would still be alive, and you and the others wouldn’t have been almost killed pulling me out of there.”

  “The kid wasn’t a kid—he was a twenty-four-year-old highly trained, elite operative. He made his own decision to follow you. His death isn’t on you.” The LC’s voice was so tight and angry that it sounded as if he was gritting his teeth. “I’m only going to say this once, so put down that whip for a few minutes and listen up. You didn’t do anything that I didn’t want to do or wouldn’t have done if I were in your position. Damn it, do you think I wanted to leave them there? I wanted to try to warn White’s squad every bit as badly as you did, but as the officer in charge I was responsible for the mission and saving the lives of the men I could. But you go with your gut. You act when most people are still sitting around, trying to figure out what to do. That’s what makes you so good.”

  Dean was shocked. He didn’t know what to say.

  But a whip? Was that what he’d been doing?

  “No one blames you for Murphy’s death,” Taylor continued. “If you hadn’t stopped in the yard, we would all have been in that building and died. Think about that.”

  Dean did.

  “If you want to keep beating yourself up about it, that’s up to you. But if it starts making you second-guess your decisions and affecting your performance, then it becomes my problem. But, Tex?” Dean waited. “Disobey another direct order from me like that again, and I’ll see your ass in the brig. Understood?”

  Dean knew he was getting off lightly. They both knew if they got out of this, Taylor could have his ass. “Roger that, sir.”

  “Don’t fucking start with the ‘sir.’ You’ll make me self-conscious.”

  “Does that mean you are all right with me going back to Lewis?”

  “No, I’m sure as hell not all right with it. But you gotta do what you gotta do, and I’m not going to try to stop you.”

  And he trusted him. That was what he wasn’t saying. But Dean heard it, and it meant more than he’d thought it would. He and the LC would never be best buddies, and undoubtedly they would lock horns again, but they trusted and respected each other. That was what mattered.

  “I’ll call you if Kate has anything. And, Tex?” Taylor paused. “In answer to your question, yes, someone has.”

  The LC had already hung up when Dean realized what he meant. He’d asked him “if anyone had ever . . . ?”

  So the LC wasn’t immune, either. Someone had gotten to him.

  It was nice to know Taylor was human. He was so buttoned up and by the book, sometimes Dean wondered. Distance from the men was part of being an officer, but except for Colt, the LC kept himself apart more than usual.

  Dean had changed his ticket and was waiting at the gate for his 1400 flight to Lewis to board.

  It was thirty minutes delayed, which was why he was in cell range and not thirty thousand feet up when the call came through that confirmed what his gut had been telling him. It wasn’t over.

  • • •

  This was a mistake.

  Annie had spent most of the ninety-minute drive from Stornoway to the small fishing village of Rodel in South Harris trying to have a good time. The seven other protesters in the rented minibus certainly were. But she didn’t feel like humming songs until someone guessed the tune or laughing along with the others at the range of vocal abilities. She just wanted to be alone to think. To gaze at the coastline and the crashing waves from the beach or the privacy of her hotel window, not watching it blow by in a blur from a car window.

  She wasn’t ready for company, she realized. She was still in the licking-wounds stage.

  “You’re very quiet, Dr. Henderson.”

  It took Annie a moment to realize the woman was addressing her. She wasn’t used to her new title. But as proud as she was of all the work that had gone into her PhD, she was going to be the type who only used “doctor” in formal academic or research situations.

  “Annie, please,” she said. “I guess I’m more tired than I realized.”

  “Not surprising,” the woman said, turning from her place in the passenger seat to give Annie a smile. “After all that you’ve been through. But I’m glad that Martin invited you to come along.”

  “Me, too,” Annie lied, returning the older woman’s smile. She’d been surprised to see that Julien and Jean Paul’s friend Sofie was part of the dive group. Annie hadn’t seen her since that night and had assumed she’d left. But apparently Sofie had a thing going with Martin. They seemed an odd pairing, but it was none of her business.

  Annie wondered whether Sofie had been questioned by the police, too, but no one had mentioned it.

  “As the only American in the group, you’ll have to tell us what you think about the latest story,” Sofie said.

  Annie didn’t understand. “What story?”

  “You must not have seen the news today,” Martin said. “It’s all over the papers.”

  “There’s another article about your lost legion,” Marie explained, clearly amused. “What do you think? Is it true?”

  “I have no idea,” Annie said.

  “They even posted a picture of the reporter’s missing brother with a few other men she claims not to be able to locate,” Sofie added.

  Annie tried to act interested when her mind was other places. “Really?”

  Sofie passed the paper back to her. “It isn’t very good quality. You can’t really see their faces.”

  “Who needs to see their faces?” another woman in the van said with a wag of her eyebrows. Annie hadn’t caught her name, but she sounded English. Or Scottish. Or Irish. Annie hadn’t really gotten the accent distinctions down, and she’d learned not to ask. If she guessed wrong—no matter what it was—people tended to get offended.

  Annie understood what the woman meant immediately. The photo was of four men on a beach. They were dragging a sailboat from the water and all wore board shorts, baseball hats, and sunglasses. And nothing else. All four were exceptionally well built. Um. Exceptionally well built.

  She scanned the photo quickly and then slowed as something processed. Her heart stopped and she sucked in her breath as her eyes went back to the second man from the right.

  Oh . . . my . . . God.

  She felt the blood drain from her face as she took in the familiar physique—minus the scars and burn marks. She would know those broad shoulders, muscular arms, and six-pack abs even if she didn’t also recognize the bearded jaw, broad smile, and blue hat. Although this hat was new and still had the Dallas Cowboys star patch on it. She wrinkled her nose with distaste. That explained the beaten-up, old-school-uniform powder blue cap with the missing logo.

  She noted the names below the picture from left to right: Brandon Blake, John Donovan, Dean Baylor, and Michael Ruiz.

  Dean Baylor. Dan was Dean. Her heart squeezed. Finally she at least knew his name.

  Suddenly the rest hit her, and everything fell into place. He was one of the SEALs who’d supposedly vanished. That was why he was hiding. That was why he’d walked away from her.

  It all made sense. He didn’t want her mixed up in whatever had caused him and the other survivors to go into hiding.

  “Is something wrong?” Sofie asked. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Annie shook her head, forcing herself out of the daze although her mind was still reeling. “I was just reading the article. It’s interesting, but I’m afraid I have no more insight than anyone else on whether it’s true.” She forced a lighthearted laugh from a chest that was beating like a war drum. “But it certainly makes a good story.”

  “It certainly does,” Martin agreed as a big gray building—from the sign, apparently a hotel—appeared on t