Chapter 13
Rixey stepped into his apartment, and three sets of eyes swung toward him. Man, this was gonna suck before it got better.
Almost a year ago, they’d barely limped back to base when it had become clear someone had been spinning the ambush in a way that had buried the knives so deep in their backs they weren’t ever coming out. From that moment, they’d existed in a state of collective outraged pissed off—one in which Rixey still lived. As if their friends’ deaths and their own injuries hadn’t been bad enough, the realization that the commander they’d respected and admired had lied to them and betrayed them for a little green had poured salt on the wounds.
Worse, when the shit had hit the fan, Mother Army hadn’t had their backs. No one had believed their version of the ambush, that it had been the result of some sort of underhanded black op gone bad on Merritt’s part. No fucking sir. Instead, their fitness reports had suddenly included marks for “needs improvement” and low ratings that hadn’t been there before. Records of fighting and disorderly conduct and other disciplinary infractions had materialized out of thin air in the personnel files of the team’s survivors, discrediting them piece by piece until blame for the ambush had stuck to them like white on rice. It had been like falling down a fucking rabbit hole. The only way to stop the free fall had been to choose between a dishonorable discharge, which had included an all-expenses-paid vacation to Leavenworth, or an other than honorable discharge, where they might live to fight another day.
They’d packed up their corroded reputations—because that shit wasn’t just tarnished—and chosen the latter. Not because they’d feared a trial but because some brass inside the Army—or possibly higher—had to have been pulling strings, making prison all but a done deal. The who and why of it was a complete mystery. And the NDA the Army had required as part of the deal had made it so they couldn’t talk to anyone outside the team without risking their freedom. But maybe, just maybe, Charlie had found a string they could pull to unravel that motherfucker once and for all.
It could be the chance he’d been yearning for all these long months to restore his name, his reputation, his honor. He just hoped the team saw it that way, too.
As Rixey approached the group, a part of himself flickered back online. He’d missed the company of these guys the way an amputee missed an appendage. Being with them again both eased the phantom ache and worsened it, because they could never really be whole again. Not with six of them cold in the ground. Seven, if you included their commander. Nick didn’t.
Beckett and Easy—Edward’s nickname after his initials, E.C.—sat on stools at the breakfast bar making small talk. Shane stood at the far end, arms crossed, his expression a stone wall.
“Thanks for coming,” Nick said, mirroring Shane’s position at the opposite end of the bar. The metaphor was a kick in the ass—them facing off instead of standing together as they had for so many years.
“What happened to Merritt’s daughter’s face?” Beckett asked, being his usual hard-ass self. He knew her first name, and Rixey had no doubt he’d phrased it that way to keep their CO front and center in everyone’s minds. Like they could ever forget. And like Beckett wasn’t convinced he wanted to help her.
Then again, hadn’t his own first reaction been the same? “Attempted abduction today. She fought the guy off. Got the goose egg on her forehead and four stitches from a stab wound to the ribs for her troubles. The scratches by her eye were an accident.”
Beckett stared at him a long moment, surprise and appreciation flickering through his gaze. Second to appealing to their bone-deep desire to redeem their honor, Becca was probably his strongest asset in getting through to these guys. They were pissed and wary—and rightly so. But the urge to help, serve, and do the right thing was also stamped into their DNA.
“Why don’t you start from the beginning,” Shane said.
Nick gave a tight nod and resisted the memories of how many other times he’d given briefings and orders to these men. This wasn’t the Army. He wasn’t their second in command. And he wasn’t the same man he’d been then. Goddamnit. “Becca came to me two days ago. Her brother was missing, and the last communication she’d received from him told her to find me. I turned her away.” That got their attention. Shane uncrossed his arms and braced himself against the counter. Easy sat up straighter on his stool. “I didn’t want anything to do with the Merritts or whatever trouble they had. But I couldn’t shake wondering why her brother Charlie, who I’d never met, would tell her to seek my help. Why he’d specifically tell her in a note that I was a member of their father’s Special Forces team.”
“How’d he know who you were?” Beck asked.
“Not sure. Maybe Merritt talked shop with them at some point? Or something in his personal effects?” Nick shrugged, and the small movement revealed how much tension had settled into his shoulders. The air was heavy with it. “What was even more interesting was why, once he found me, Charlie thought I’d be able to help with whatever trouble he’s in.” He still couldn’t shake the feeling there was something there. “So I kept an eye on Becca to see if there was really anything going on. Last night, I chased an intruder out of her house. He’d been digging around in her office, by the looks of things. That’s when she told me Charlie’s house had been tossed a few days before.”
Easy clasped his big hands in front of him. “Sounds like some bad juju, but I’m not seeing a connection.” Around the bar, heads nodded.
Rixey glanced between the men and hoped his next information was the same money shot for them as it’d been for him. “After the break-in, Becca mentioned that she and Charlie fought before he went missing. He’s a hacker, and he told her he’d found something that proved their father wasn’t who she thought he was.” Rixey paused, giving that a beat to sink in. “Since he said that, he’s gone missing, someone’s broken into and searched both their houses, and someone tried to grab her today. Whoever this is came back and took a second swing at Becca’s place sometime last night. Turned the place upside down. Somebody’s clearly looking for something from the Merritts and not finding it. Yet.”
“Jesus,” Shane bit out.
“Merritt wasn’t who any of us thought he was,” Easy said. His tight monotone belied the white-hot anger flashing behind the man’s dark eyes. Rixey wasn’t the only one still existing in that state of outraged pissed off, apparently. But that’s what happened when someone tried to strip a man of his honor.
Nick met each of their gazes, looking for the smallest evidence that he was getting their buy-in on this. So far, that was about as clear as mud. “Exactly. So, the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question is, what did Merritt’s son find that led him to the same conclusion?”
“Any idea how good a hacker he is?” Beckett asked in a low, calculating voice.
“Good enough that companies pay him to test their cybersecurity measures by attempting to hack in. Beyond that, dunno.”
Shane heaved a deep breath. “There’s a lot of circumstantial bullshit here, Nick. It’s like if times maybe divided by could be to the hundredth power. If Charlie found something that related to Merritt’s black op, and if someone found the info had leaked, and if they nabbed Charlie and were actively investigating what he found and how he’d found it, then maybe there’s a connection to what happened to us.”
“Easiest way to know if all that’s true is to find Charlie. He sounds like the key to all this.” Beckett shrugged. “That’s a job for the police or a PI.”