Devlin, PLEASE!
Then another ten messages from me to him over the next hour, all ignored. And then he’d blocked me. After six years as my business partner and for a short time more, the asshat had actually blocked me!
I powered down my phone and left it on the bedside table. I secured my backpack over both shoulders, shrugged my large overnight bag over that, and grabbed the handle of my largest and now stuffed-to-the-gills suitcase.
Then I picked up my burner phone and tapped the screen. It jumped to life, revealing the second string of text messages I’d exchanged last night after tapping in the number of the only person I could think of who would know exactly what to do in this fucked-up situation.
Mai and I had barely seen each other since high school, not counting the weekend she and her parents had spent with me for my mom’s funeral. But we texted every month or two, and although she couldn’t tell me the details, I knew about her stellar career in the Army, followed by her current stint in something she vaguely described as “security services”.
Now I texted her again with one word to request for her final instructions for disappearing from my life.
Ready.
2
BEN
Ten minutes after my commuter flight from Southern Cali to San Francisco touched down, my fellow passengers and I deboarded the plane. The young couple who’d been sitting—and hence leaving the plane—in front of me moved off to the side of the carpeted gangway. They juggled bags and a toddler and a fold-up stroller.
I slowed beside them. “Need some help?”
The guy shot me a look, did a double-take, then shook his head. “I’ve got it.”
Maybe it was because I was giving off that intense, soldier-on-a-mission vibe that I hadn’t lost in the two short weeks since I’d left the Army Rangers. Maybe it was the aviators making my eyes and intentions unreadable. But most likely it was the way his attractive wife—petite, dark-haired, pretty smile—grinned up at me.
I nodded to the surly dude, touched the brim of my baseball cap and smiled back at the pretty wife, and hustled past them and out to the main gate area.
I adjusted the duffle bag strapped to my back and switched hands on the handle of my rolling suitcase, not missing a step as I took in my surroundings, including the throngs of people in the busy airport. Old habits die hard,and SA—situational awareness of everyone, everything, and even the slightest changes around me—was by now a honed reflex.
My cell phone rang. That pissed me right the hell off because I hadn’t taken it out of airplane mode. There was only one person in my life who had friends who not only could but also would crack a civilian phone.
Still walking, I pulled the ringing phone out of my jeans pocket. I ignored the call for another few seconds while I scanned my text messages. The first one confirmed my job interview start time on Tuesday morning. It came directly from the private phone of the VP of the Chicago company that was currently at the top of my list for my first post-service civilian job. The perks alone were enticing as hell, from a luxury car with my own driver to a generous expense account to plush trips abroad, where I’d be wined and dined by business associates.
Christ, what a treat that would be, to step on foreign soil and not have someone shooting at me.
I thumbed to the other text message chain, which, of course, was from my sister.
Pick up your damn phone! Is your ringer off? Call me now.
As the phone bleated its fourth ring, I clicked to answer it.
“It’s about time!” Mai said, not bothering with pleasantries.
I didn’t bother greeting her, either. “What the hell, Mai? Hacking my phone?”
“I wouldn’t have had to do that if you would’ve taken your phone out of airplane mode when you landed, like a normal person.”
I sighed. “Did you ever think maybe that was intentional?”
“Oh. I get it now.” Her voice softened. “Mom and Dad are calling you nonstop. They’re just anxious to see you. But hey, I’m calling you on non-family business, if that makes you feel better.”
“Yeah, it does, actually.” Not much, but a little. “What’s the emergency?” It wasn’t an idle question.
“I’m off-soil, and I need backup.”
Off-soil was the way my sister, also a former Ranger, my dad, a retired Navy vice-admiral, and I discussed being out of the country on a mission. Backup was a lot more vague, but Mai didn’t need to ask me twice.
“How do I get to you, and what do you need?”
