Tension eases from my grip, and a glance back to Piper proves she's released her lip. Thank fuck. "Whatever you have to say can be said in front of everyone. We're in this together. Maisie too-she's a trusted friend."
"Oh, yay! What are we talking about?"
"Spy games," Dax says, while pulling out his laptop. "I'm leaving on my honeymoon tomorrow so this is my last opportunity for us to brainstorm before you head to D.C."
Piper and Maisie move around the kitchen, making sandwiches and pushing vegetables that are overlooked for the mound of pastries set in the center of the kitchen island. Beers follow, and then Piper takes JT. Her free hand lands on my back, a subtle stroke of confidence I use to concentrate on Dax and his summary of what we've pieced together.
"This is what we know. Marik leads a terrorist sect seeking to recapture rule over Afghan provinces secured by American troops. From what I've learned, this faction has no moral compass. Without democratic support for their endeavor they use force to gain power. Extreme, grisly force." Dax shudders. "Trust me. They're not holding tea parties with crumpets to gain backing. To do their business they need weapons, and good ones at that. We have photo evidence that Gavin Lawless is alive, at least as of a year ago. We also know the government has identified him as a traitor, working with these rebels to secure state-of-the-art U.S. munitions."
Dax finishes, and asks Bear, "How did you know Cade needed to investigate Marik in the first place?"
"Do we agree information shared here doesn't leave the room?" When Maisie and Piper nod, Bear continues, "At the end of April, two U.S. security contractors were kidnapped from their hotel in Kabul. Two weeks later we were sent in to get them in the Bamyan province. It was supposed to be quick. We took the HELO in for a jump, but as soon as we hit the ground we were met by resistance. It was like they knew we were coming, a lot like they did in the mission that got Cade and Justin. Nothing felt right. We'd plan a move, and it was countered even before we took the first step. It was fucking ridiculous and felt very much like a set-up."
I grab a beer and open my throat, letting more than half of it drain down before I take a breath. Piper slides her arm around my waist, and my pulse calms a fraction and then another, and finally, I can look at Bear again. He's hard, his jaw tensed as he bites out the words. "Three hours in, we got backed in a corner. A ridge on the outskirts of a small village gave us one option to retreat through the center square. When we did, a British guy called us over to a mud house built into the mountain. We had nowhere to go so we took a chance, thought we could regroup and if it was a set-up, we'd use the house as coverage to shoot our way out."
Garrison and Bear share a look, one I've given when we were lucky as hell to escape a mission unscathed. "That fucking mud house had a backdoor leading into a cave," he says. "It opened up on the other side of the foothill. The Brit didn't get into details when he showed us the way, but he did say the province and those surrounding it are owned by Marik, and that he was being fed intelligence by an American with Special Ops connections. The Brit was undercover for M16. He eluded to something serious going down and that we needed to get out."
Anger rips through my chest. I take one deep breath and another, but I can't shake the rage. "Did he say who the American was?" I ask through my teeth. "How would you know to involve me?"
Bear shakes his head. "He didn't. But he gave me this as the HELO was coming in to get us." He fishes in his pocket and then holds out his hand, palm up. In the center is a gold ring.
One I saw every day until I was fourteen years old.
One that fit snug on Dad's pinky finger on the day he left Lilyfalls, the Lawless family crest etched into yellow gold.
My head spins as I take it from him, and then it explodes as Bear says, "The Brit said to find Lockman and Lawless."
Fuck. Stars burst in front of my eyes, an explosion of bullets cracking in the distance.
Three vehicles move across Afghanistan, I'm in the third. Justin sits next to me. Number one is struck by an IED. My pulse skyrockets. Sulfur, diesel fuel, a plume of smoke. A second explosion. Thirteen casualties. Thirteen soldiers. Restore breathing, stop the bleeding, pack the wound, treat for shock. One, two, three to thirteen. Chaos. Shots fired. Pop, pop, pop, back and forth. Where the fuck is the UH-60?
"Where the fuck is the UH-60?" I scream at Axle. "Get it here."