Page 3 of Dead Drift

Seeing Katie a couple nights ago—seeing the life he’d once been a part of, a life that could maybe still be his—had convinced him he was done with the Agency as soon as Ebeid was behind bars or dead. Whether that meant he returned to his old life remained to be seen, but he doubted he could just waltz back in. Not after the hurt he’d caused or the man he’d become.

Reaching Malcolm’s door, he knocked, and the man he both loved and loathed answered. Over seven years had passed since he’d set foot in Malcolm’s office, and now he was here for the second time in less than a week.

Malcolm gestured him in, shutting the door behind him.

Luke took two steps in and froze as a blonde on the couch stood and turned to face him. Lauren Graham.

He swallowed, unsure if he wanted to politely greet her or strangle her.

He glared at Malcolm. “What is she doing here?” This was his op. His man. Ebeid was no longer hers. Not since she’d nearly gotten their entire unit killed in Afghanistan.

“Nice to see you too.” She linked her arms across her chest.

Wearing a red turtleneck sweater, gray pencil skirt, and black heeled boots, she had the same allure. Long blond hair hanging straight to the middle of her back, deep blue eyes—cold as ice—five feet seven, one thirty, max. She was a killing machine in a pretty package. A package he wanted absolutely nothing to do with.

“Please sit down,” Malcolm said.

Lauren took instruction. He did not. He remained standing, leaning against the far wall, still perfectly able to hear whatever possible explanation Malcolm had for bringing one of the Agency’s top wet work assets, or assassins, back into his life.

Malcolm sighed but ignored Luke’s positioning and continued all the same. “I brought in Lauren in case we need help with Ebeid.”

“It’s not necessary,” Luke said, knowing that was not the true reason for her presence. He could easily read Malcolm’s lies.

Malcolm looked at him as if he’d anticipated the response. “It may not be, but she’s our contingency asset.”

“Meaning?” If he failed? He hadn’t failed at a single mission yet. Lauren, on the other hand . . .

“Meaning you’re walking back into your past. I want to make sure you don’t get distracted.”

Luke pushed off the wall, anger and frustration flaring through him. “So she’s here to babysit me?” He knew that was the real reason she was here. To run interference. To make sure he didn’t get any ideas about returning to his old life.

“No.” Malcolm shook his head in that flustered way of his, dabbing his brow with his handkerchief. “She’s here to keep another set of eyes on Ebeid. He’s too close to home, and he needs to be stopped.”

“Which is why I’m here.” But there was still a question burning in his mind. Why had Ebeid chosen Baltimore? Because it was a port city and easy to get what he needed transported in? Because the cultural office he worked out of needed a new leader? Or was there a deeper significance to it all? One they didn’t yet understand?

“It’s why I’m here too,” Lauren said, her slender legs crossed and angled slightly off to the side. Such poise for a ruthless killer.

Ebeid wasn’t the reason for her presence. She was here to ensure he didn’t leave the Agency, that his old life didn’t pull him back in. He understood the former, but the latter was none of her business. If she went anywhere near Kate, she’d regret it.

2

Luke stood in front of Charm City Investigations in the chilly October night air, watching them—the woman he loved and the men who had once been his best friends. So much time had passed, so much had happened, so much compromise on his part to protect the country he loved, to protect those he loved. He’d felt it was worth it, but Kate’s stinging slap the other night said she certainly didn’t view it that way, and he couldn’t blame her. He’d gone in with the belief it would only be for a short while, just until they’d caught Ebeid, but the months had quickly grown into years and the years to nearly eight. And now he was back.

Inhaling a steadying breath, he grabbed the door handle. He’d faced down armies, suicide bombers, and spies, but walking back into what had once been his world was far more terrifying.

He strolled inside and through the foyer, the sound of laughter and cheering in the air.

“Thanks, guys, but it wasn’t just me. It was a lot of folks working together,” Declan said as Luke stepped through the doorway.

“You did a great job,” Luke said. All eyes swung toward him, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets, feeling the sting of uncertainty. “But we’ve got a far more lethal threat on our doorstep.”

Kate stood, her gaze wary. “Luke?”

He surveyed the room, especially taking note of the additions to the group. His friend Mack, stationed behind a desk in the Baltimore office because of a permanent on-assignment injury, kept tabs on Luke’s loved ones. If Malcolm knew, he’d be furious, but Mack was gracious enough to keep updates strictly between him and Luke. They had come up with a coded system so Luke’s loved ones stayed safe, and so none of them, or his attachment to them, could be used against him or them. He didn’t check in as often as he wanted to, but in his weak moments . . .

That was how he knew Griffin had married and that Kate never had—which gave him hope. But he was a fool to think she’d ever forgive him or that he could ever again be the man she deserved. He was tainted by his job, by actions taken and choices made. Yes, they’d been in service to his country, but he was finding the assignments harder and harder to swallow.

Declan’s cell rang.