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“Roger that. Give me a few minutes to add to the crew, and I’ll get back to you.”
Decker Ashford was one of the founding partners in a private covert ops firm called the Invincible Intelligence and Security Group. The other partners were former MI6 agents, who I’d worked many ops with over the years. They’d also added former agents, some of whom I’d handled, to their roster of contractors.
While Decker had always maintained contractor status with the CIA, he and I had worked several missions together.
It was on one of those ops that he poked his nose into what Irish and I were doing. I had two choices: blow the whole mission up, or bring Decker into the fold. I chose the latter.
In the same way Irish trusted me, I trusted Decker, and by association, the rest of the Invincibles team. That included Hammer. As far as the CIA was concerned, he was acting as a trial consultant. What he was really doing was watching my back as well as Warrick’s.
Another of Decker’s team, Garrett “Rage” Williams, was currently undercover as Irish’s cellmate, and by tomorrow morning, I knew Decker would have two more men assigned, who would stay in lockup, protecting Warrick as long as he was there. Additionally, I knew he’d send at least two my way.
Fifteen minutes later, Decker called back. “I’m sending Ritter Johnson and Roscoe Wheaton in. They’ll report to you in the morning. Hammer and Rage will keep their eyes and ears open as will the new team members. If any of them feels like you or they need more support, they’ll ask for it.”
“Appreciate this, Deck.” Both Ritter “Rock” Johnson and Roscoe “Buck” Wheaton had once been with the agency but now worked for the Invincibles, just like Hammer and Rage did.
“By the way, I’ve got reports headed your way. Anyone other than the names you’ve already given me that you want me to run?”
Decker Ashford could find anything on anybody. No matter how good their cover, he was capable of going deeper than any other organization, and that included the CIA, the NSA, SIS, and Russian intelligence.
Ali Graham. Her name was on the tip of my tongue. Especially after Stella’s warning. I hung up without saying it, though.
My alarm went off two hours after I went to sleep, but instead of hitting the snooze button, I got up. After a cup of triple-shot espresso, I climbed on the exercise bike that sat in the front of my apartment and loaded up a workout.
Most days, I did the interactive option, but today I just went with one that was pre-programmed. From where I was on mine, I could see the one sitting, unused, in Ali’s apartment. I couldn’t explain why I was so obsessed with her getting on it. I guess I wanted to see her conquer her fear of heights and enjoy the space in the way it was designed to be lived in.
Just as I finished, a light in her place came on. Seconds later, Chloe walked over to the window and waved. I wiped the sweat from my face with a towel and waved back. She put her hand to her ear, mimicking a phone, and I nodded and went in search of mine. When I found it, it was vibrating with her call.
“You’re up early,” I said, remembering she was from the West Coast.
“Ali had a bad night?—”
“What happened?”
“She couldn’t sleep, so I stayed with her. I got back here a few minutes ago.”
“How was she doing when you left?”
“The resident on night duty finally told her that if she didn’t start using the pain-med delivery, he was going to have it given to her.”
“Why wasn’t she using it?”
“You know Ali.” She paused. “Actually, you don’t, do you? She can be…stubborn.”
“She can’t heal if she doesn’t sleep.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why are you so vested in her recovery? Not just her recovery. In Ali?”
That was the million-dollar question everyone kept asking.
9
ALI
My phone was sitting out of my reach on the table where they set my breakfast. If you could call it breakfast. As the morning nurse had said when she came in to introduce herself, chicken broth and cherry gelatin this early in the morning would ruin the appetite of a starving person.
