Marked for Death (A Gray Ghost Novel, ebook 6)

Chapter One

Keegan

Washington, DC

Five years ago

In the dim light of the hotel room, I trailed my hand along Kara’s bare leg, her soft skin irresistible. The steady rise and fall of her chest indicated she was asleep, and I studied her stunning features in that unguarded moment.

I didn’t regret what we’d done for most of the night. Our paths crossing in the small tavern after my meeting couldn’t have meant anything, no matter how much I wished otherwise. Her thick black hair fanned out against the stark white of the pillowcase, and I fingered a strand as my thoughts drifted.

She’d been beautiful when we’d met as kids in a horrible, fucked-up situation. She’d had someone there for her, though—her father. I’d had no one, no protector. It didn’t matter, though. I’d already planned when and how I would leave. I knew she would be fine. Her stay of execution had always been temporary, but mine had been a lifetime sentence, ending on the day of my planned escape.

The familiar fury that lived and breathed inside me stoked to a virtual blaze at the thought of my past. Kara’s face came back into focus—not the one of our youth, but the one in the present.

I had to get away from her. I needed to think. Seeing Kara again brought back all the old feelings of hopelessness and desperation. I felt trapped, but I hid it all behind a wall of muscle, power, and rage. No one knew what I was truly capable of. Maybe Kara had a sense, but not even she had gotten a full glimpse of the monster within.

The guys—my teammates, whom I’d gotten to know when I was a teenager—didn’t have the whole story. I never offered, and they never demanded it. They had their own demons, and for that I was grateful. I had planned to take my secrets to the grave, which was a possible scenario, or they would all come tumbling out. And if that were to be my fate, I would do everything in my power to keep them from detonating at my team’s—my family’s—doorstep.

Some of my history would see the light of day if we stepped into the hornet’s nest. At some point, I would have to open the door and beckon the guys inside at least enough to keep them safe. That’s all that mattered to me. I would die for them. And there was a possibility that would happen.



* * *

Present day

I leaned against the rough bark of a tree, unable to shake the sense that the truth would catch up to me. A life built on false pretenses had only one likely outcome: it would inevitably come crashing down. A blast of hot wind whipped from the south, far too reminiscent of the nightmare that’d followed me from sleep and left my eyes gritty and dry as if I’d been in the actual desert instead of a comfortable bed in Maine.

Such omens demanded attention.

Too hot to run with a shirt on, I used it to wipe the sweat from my brow. It was early yet, and the day promised to be scorching. August often was, even in the back of Liam’s yard, overlooking the cliffs in Maine. Whitecaps rolled, and the morning sun sparkled off the water’s surface.

I hadn’t committed to living there, as most of our team had. Instead, I bounced between Maine and California. Trev hadn’t made the move yet—nor had Connor, Hayden, or Matt. It was only a matter of time until I put roots down in Maine, unless my past caught up with me. A part of me worried someone, one of my team or their wives, wouldn’t want me here if it did, which is what held me back from relocating. I couldn’t blame them.

The stakes were different now.

I shook my hair from my face. The longish mess was a necessity, one I’d decided on some time ago as part of my disguise. It was a far cry from what I used to look like, and I would keep it that way. I checked the time again then pushed off the tree to head to the scheduled meeting.

“Keegan, hold up!” Stella yelled from not too far behind.

I shut my eyes for a moment against what I knew was coming. She skidded to a halt.

“Oh God, what happened?” Her words were whispered, thickened with horror.

I felt the heat of her hand, centimeters from my back before she pulled away. I turned and offered her a reassuring grin. “The scars are old. They happened in another lifetime.” She was the only one of my teammates’ wives who hadn’t seen them. While I didn’t want to have the conversation, at least it would be over with. I would put an end to it immediately. “Did you need something, Red?” I pulled my shirt over my head, concealing the map of scars on my back.

Stella tugged on a piece of her fiery hair, and the worry darkening her expressive eyes cleared. “Yeah, sorry. There’s a call for you. Can you take it before the meeting? The guy’s persistent and only wants to speak to you.”

The day was already going from bad to worse. I felt it in my bones. I walked with her into the main house. She handed me the cell, and I took it upstairs to the room I was staying in so I could change and jot down any notes I needed. After shutting the door, I unmuted the call.

“Keegan here.”

“Ah, good. Hello,” the melodic cadence of a man’s voice murmured. “Before we go any further, I must verify that you’re the same person who knows Ankara.”

My hand tightened on the phone, and I forced myself to relax before I cracked the device. “The city?”

“No.”

It was a gamble. My pulse kicked up a notch as a memory of her long, dark hair sprawled across my pillow flashed through my mind. “Yes, I know her.”

“I’m sorry, but I need confirmation before I tell you the reason for this call.”

“I don’t have time for this.” Games within games. “Either say what you called for or stop wasting my time.”

“It’s important. I want to hire you to rescue someone, but I need to make sure you’re the person she told me about.”

She. It had to be her. Ankara was not her name, but it was where her mother had come from and the nickname I used to call her when we were alone. A growl crawled up my throat, but I pushed it down. “Kara.” That was all I was willing to say, no last names. Is she in trouble?

“Finally. I had a hard time tracking you down, as the name she gave was Max, but you matched the physical description. I’m Samir, and I’d like to hire you to rescue my four-year-old daughter.” A slight tremor ran through his voice. “She isn’t in danger yet, but it’s coming.”

I needed more information but didn’t have the time. Plus, he’d said his daughter wasn’t in immediate danger. I had to get to the conference room, so we set up an appointment to talk over Skype.

I disconnected and headed out, blocking the call from my mind—there would be time later to get lost in memories. It didn’t take long to reach the meeting room, a large, warehouse-like structure between Liam’s and Jack’s properties. I pushed open the metal door and fell into a chair at the long table. Jack, Liam, Mike, Chris, and Hayden were waiting.

“Needed your beauty rest?” Hayden snickered at me just as Hawk slipped through the door behind me.

I returned Hayden’s grin with a glare. “Just taking a page from your playbook.” Everyone called Hayden pretty, and he didn’t mind one bit. We looked alike, which was only a coincidence. His high cheekbones and brown hair that fell in loose curls almost to his shoulders mirrored mine. The physical difference between us was our eye color. Mine were hazel, more green than brown, and dripping venom regularly, or so I’d been told. Forged in hate, my demeanor was second nature.

Hayden was a happy-go-lucky kind of person who didn’t take himself too seriously. Raised by his grams, he’d had a decent childhood for the most part. They’d been poor, and our school and surrounding neighborhood were not easy places to exist in without acquiring a fair share of bumps and bruises. Even so, his general good nature hadn’t suffered. He’d grown on all of us from the first time we’d helped him out of a tight spot back in high school.

I’d lived several lifetimes of hell before I’d researched and joined the crew in California when I was sixteen.

“I’ve got Rich on the line,” Mike announced.

Rich Stevens, our CIA contact, was someone for whom we performed rescue and recovery missions on occasion, among other jobs, through our company, Gray Ghost Security. Most of our team had known one another since our high school years.

“Good morning, gentlemen.” Rich’s deep voice sprang from the speaker and filled the room. “I received a call yesterday from a friend, George Hammond, who needs help. I suggested he utilize your team’s skills. My hands are tied. The government will not intervene in ransom situations, and the police in Caracas have their hands full.”

Caracas, Venezuela—where Kara lives. Dread sat heavily in my gut. The dream from last night reeked of premonition, of prophecy. I would be going back.

The country had been getting worse since I’d been there. There were dark zones, ruled by gangs and criminals, that the police avoided. The kidnap rate averaged five victims a day, regardless of the victims’ wealth, and the police force there had an elite anti-kidnapping squad, but it seemed their plate was full.

“Why won’t their police get involved?” Mike tapped a pen on the tabletop. “What do you know?”

“Not enough, unfortunately. We had a last-known location when one of the employees tried to call George. We know that the government seized George’s company, GH Envirotech, some time ago, but the four American men who remained behind were extracting vital components to take home. They never made it.”

“What vital components?” Jack asked.

“That hasn’t been disclosed to us. George’s partner, who ran the Venezuela branch, had a heart attack and passed away the day before the company was taken. Before his death, he’d messaged George some vague notes but not enough information to understand what they were working on. George is digging. As soon as I hear anything, you’ll know.”

“Have demands been made?” Mike asked.

“Yes. George was contacted, and the price is fifty thousand each for release.”

Jack leaned forward. “Do we have proof of life?”

I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back in the chair. It sounded like a quick mission, once we established where the kidnappers were holding them. The tension between my shoulders eased. I was worrying unnecessarily.

“Not visual, but we have audio from the phone call for ransom,” Rich said.

“So we start with that.” I wanted this mission—and the meeting—over. “Who’s going?”

“A small team, three or four, should get the job done,” Rich said.

Jack stood. “I’ll go with Keegan and Hawk.”

In and out, and hopefully, the past will stay where it belongs.

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