"I can't be the only one who's tired of being dicked around by that frigid bitch," Colin pressed on. "Does Eve Winter have your balls in such a stronghold that you'll listen to her lip service without question?"
Axel's eyes hardened. "There's a chain of command, mate. We've all been in the game long enough to know it. We're here for a purpose."
"Except it's not my country I'm fighting for," Colin said. "Just like you're not fighting for yours. We're all goddamned traitors."
"Bullshit," Deacon snapped, his temper finally pushed too far. "We're fighting for every country. There are times to ask questions, once you know the right questions to ask. But foaming at the mouth because shit isn't the way it always was doesn't do a damned bit of good for anyone. Be smart, Col. If you think Winter won't cut you off at the knees and bury you alive, you're mistaken."
"Easy for you to say. You're the golden boy. The first that was handpicked. And you know The Directors personally. You have a voice."
Deacon rolled his eyes inwardly. That was an illusion, but one that he had no intention of disputing, for the innate sense of power and authority it gave him among the other men. The Directors thought he was as dead as the president and the director of the CIA did. Eve Winter might report to The Directors, but that didn't mean she didn't have her own cards up her sleeve. Deacon also knew the fact that everyone but Eve Winter thought he was dead made him very, very expendable.
Elias hopped in the back and slammed the door, and Deacon took off. The tension in the van was thick enough to choke on, and it seemed everyone would be better off with a little bit of sleep and space.
The cemetery they used as an extraction point was a good twenty-minute drive from Last Stop, where their headquarters were located. The location was strategic, just as everything else about their existence-or lack thereof-was. The Gravediggers might be the heart and soul of the operation-the men who did the dirty work-but dozens more worked in The Shadow, making sure the billions of dollars that never showed up in any government expense report were well spent. It wasn't cheap faking the deaths of elite agents all over the world and transporting them to the United States under cover.
They'd been driving down side streets, staying off the main road, for a few minutes before Axel let out a low whistle. "Shit. You seeing what I'm seeing?"
Deacon let out a slow breath. They were almost to the county line. And just on the other side of it was the town that had become his prison, ironically named Last Stop.
Truth be told they all enjoyed playing the good Samaritan. It broke up the monotony of training and typical missions-and by typical he meant dangerous as fuck, because Eve didn't send them on jobs that other agencies could do. And every once in a while, jumping into the fray and being the hero reminded them of the men they'd been once upon a time. Before their armor had been tarnished.
It wasn't the wisest move interfering in a job so close to home, but they all shared one thing in common-the need for risk in their day-to-day lives. Some would call them adrenaline junkies, but it was more than that. It was a trait all those in special ops had in common. It was the difference between turning down the dark alley just for the hell of it and moving past it safely.
They looked for risk in all things. Even sex. The rush of fucking in a crowded room and wondering if someone would see, or taking sex to its limits with the tightening of a belt around a slender neck. Risk was risk. And tonight the risk was an armed robbery.
Deacon grinned. "Yeah, I see them."
He lifted his foot off the accelerator, but didn't hit the brakes. He didn't want to scare them off.
"What's going on?" Elias asked, sticking his head between the seats.
"Burglary in progress," Deacon answered.
"Oh, good. We're cutting it close as it is. It's almost five o'clock. Sun will be up in another hour."
"Are you suggesting we let them go?" Axel asked, his voice even, as if he didn't care one way or the other. But Deacon knew Axel was the one who'd been left with the most humanity-the most compassion-of all of them. Only a man who felt deeply would still cling to his wife, after all, even though she thought he was dead.
"Of course not, mate," Elias said, mimicking Axel's accent. "But you know Winter will be pissed if she finds out. The mission comes first. Always. No distractions. And right now, our only mission is getting Levi Wolffe back to headquarters."
"In or out?" Axel said, his voice hardening.