Page 57 of Resurgent
Chapter Sixteen
Liam
“Do you remember the plan?”
“I feel like I’m in some alternate universe hearing that come out of your mouth instead of mine.” Charlotte smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“I’m serious. Tell me again.”
She rolls her eyes. “I go inside the consulate, ask to speak to the consular agent, and tell her who I am and that I was kidnapped from the U.S. Then I tell her that Agent Martin Gray is expecting me and has arranged a plane for me back to Charleston. And if she has any questions, to contact him or Agent William Rummel at the CIA office at the number you gave me.”
“Good girl.” She sticks her tongue out at me, but I’m too focused on what I’ve got to do today to react. My first priority is to make sure Charlotte’s safe. Only then can I carry out the rest of my mission. “When I called Martin Gray last night, I told him the only way I’ll complete this now—while everyone thinks I’m dead and we have that edge—is if I know you’re safe. He assured me his boss, Rummel, will take care of everything and make sure you get back to South Carolina today. I double-checked with the airport this morning to make sure he’s holding up his end of the bargain. Gray has a military plane waiting.” I give her a small smile, which is more than I figured I’d be able muster this morning. Somehow, she always has a way of lightening my mood. “It won’t be what you’re accustomed to, now that you’re spoiled by flying in a fancy private jet.”
“At least I’ll know how to maneuver in a small bathroom for the future.” I know she’s just teasing, but the thought of her fucking some other guy on an airplane—or anywhere for that matter—makes me want to kill the faceless bastard.
I push the thought, and the resulting emotions, to the back of my mind where the memory of my parents and my younger self reside. They are safer there, hidden, unexamined. I can’t have Charlotte, even if I am in love with her.
Fuck. The realization hits me like a sucker punch. Over the course of our week on the run, I’ve fallen in love with Charlotte—with her smart mouth and her mischievous streak and her plans and the way she believes in me and how easy it is to be with her. The way her smile lights up the room and makes me feel like I can do anything in the goddamn world as long as she’s there by my side…
It doesn’t matter. She wants a picket fence and a guy with a pension, not some crazy-ass Navy SEAL whose life is a mess and who’s gone all the time, trying to prove he can save the world single-handedly. She was right. I’ve created a life for myself where I don’t have to rely on anyone or get too attached. But somehow, I did.
But it’s too late for me, and certainly no time for sentimentality. I’m a Navy SEAL. And I have a job to do.
“You better go. I’ve got to meet Gray in an hour at the warehouse.”
She reaches for the door handle of the rental car, then hesitates. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to have El Gato meet you there by yourself? I know your CIA contact will be there, too, but you said the U.S. government can’t be involved and—”
“We’ve been over all this. And I meant to thank you for you helping me talk it out and think it through last night.” I reach over and tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “There was a lot to work out at the last minute, and I was glad to have that obsessively organized mind of yours help me sort it all out.”
She smiles wanly. “But you’re still going to do it your way. Alone.”
“I have to, sweetheart. Don’t worry. I’m used to it. It’s the best scenario. The only one. Gray needs to see the guns to know I’m still committed to the mission and not double-crossing the CIA. And my odds are better for taking out El Gato in a warehouse than at his compound. Besides, Gray was the one who suggested it and offered to back me up! Who knows…maybe at this point, he has orders to see the job completed himself. It will be fine. And if not…” I shrug. “You know my motto.”
She takes a deep, steadying breath. “Right. Thank you for teaching me that.” She twists the diamond solitaire off her finger, puts it in my hand, and closes my fingers over it. “See you around, Prescott.”
There’s something vaguely familiar about her words, and the look of hurt in her eyes, but of course, that doesn’t make any sense. I’ve never seen a girl more commitment phobic. She’s said half a dozen times how she can’t wait to get back to her life. How I’m not her type. Before I can say anything, the passenger door closes with a thud and the girl who rocked my world for eight amazing days walks right out of it.
…
With Charlotte safe and on her way back to her perfectly ordered life, I can focus on preparing to take down the head of the drug cartel. When we set up our plans yesterday evening, Gray promised to equip me with whatever I needed, from a programmable UGV with a bomb attached to a sniper rifle and a bulletproof vest, but I don’t like to leave anything to chance. Especially my life. As luck would have it, I have an entire armada of firearms at my disposal.
Early this morning, I’d left Charlotte sleeping, rented a car, and driven to the shed where I’d chosen my weapon of choice—a small but powerful handgun favored by the Iraqi military. Now, with the gun tucked into a holster hidden beneath my vest and my knife strapped to my ankle inside my boot, I drive to the warehouse, parking the car in a grove of trees where it can’t be seen from the road, but where I can watch the warehouse. I’d given Gray the location, but not the combination to the lock.
Martin Gray arrives fifteen minutes early. I hadn’t recognized him when I looked him up the CIA directory page on my mobile, and seeing him in person doesn’t spark any memory either. It’s no wonder; there’s nothing memorable about him at all. He’s the perfect CIA operative—average height, average build, close-cropped dark hair, who no doubt has the uncanny ability to blend in anywhere. I get out of the car and walk over to him.
“Gray.” I nod.
“Liam! It’s good to see you.” He clasps my hand, and I realize thereissomething about him that stands out. He has the distinctive cold, dead eyes of a snake. However, his tone is warm as he says, “I wasn’t sure if you’d recognize me. You still don’t remember our meeting?”
“No. I still don’t remember much. I’m glad I had the presence of mind to leave myself a trail so I could find the guns and finish the mission.”
“Me too.” He claps me on the shoulder. “I’d like to see the guns.”
“I’m sure you would,” I say dryly. “But first let’s go over the plan again.”
“Sure, sure,” he says agreeably. “Here’s the AUV.” He pulls out a small, compact, foldable drone equipped with a missile from his backpack. They’re considered “kamikazes,” unmanned UAVs that can crash into their target with an explosive warhead to destroy it. “As I said when we spoke yesterday, this one’s programmable and can operate for longer than most of the ones currently available to the military.
“We’ll take a look at the guns, and then I’ll stay out of sight but nearby. When El Gato and his men get here, open the warehouse and let them go ahead of you. When the last one’s inside, we’ll lock it up and let the AUV do its work. Kabam!” He makes an outward burst with his fingers, mimicking an explosion. “El Gato’s dead and there’s no evidence of the guns or any U.S. involvement. You wait a few days and then show up, having fully recovered from your injuries. Hold a press conference, give some recognition to the guy in India who saved you. Should make for good PR.”
