Black Jack (2 page)

disappeared entirely in dummy accounts. That’s when Elite Ops had become interested in the

case.

No one could track who was doing it, how they were doing it, or who would be targeted

next. Until Lord Harrington had sent a message to MI5 that he had figured it out. Before the

agency could send anyone out to his estate to pull him in, he had turned up dead, and his

daughter had disappeared. However, money was still disappearing, and they had finally

managed to track it to several terrorist accounts and it looked like someone among England’s

very wealthy was involved, which made it a delicate situation for MI5. And though they

might hesitate to investigate England’s upper crust, Elite Ops had no such compunction.

Pulling beneath the wide receiving area of the Marriott, Travis cut the power to the Harley,

unclipped his helmet, and swung his leg over the seat before striding through the electronic

doors to the reception desk.

The tired young woman who checked him in paid a little too much attention to the wet

leather he was wearing. The glint of lust in her eyes assured him that if he needed any

company when she got off her shift, he only had to let her know.

Hell, he should take her up on it, he thought as he strode to the elevator. He would have, if

he wasn’t damned sure that he’d end up disgusting himself. Once a man saw heaven in one

woman’s arms, then nothing else would do. And that scared the shit out of him, the thought

that no other woman but Lilly would do.

Sliding the security key card into the electronic slot, Travis waited for the green light before

stepping carefully into the room, his fingers curled around the butt of the gun holstered

beneath his shirt.

The room was empty. The sense of vacancy that filled it wrapped around him. It was pure

loneliness. Hell, he would have almost preferred an assassin.

Closing the door behind him, Travis tossed his leather bag to the empty chair beside the bed

and stared around the darkened room for long moments before moving to the lamp and

flipping it on.

Turning, he came to a hard stop at the sight that met him in the shadowed corner on the far

side of the room.

“Hell, I didn’t even sense you.” Travis raked his fingers through his hair as Jordan uncurled

himself from the chair next to the small round table. “I thought we were meeting later.”

Jordan was an enigma to him, as well as to the rest of the team. Even his nephew, Noah

Blake, admitted that his uncle was damned complicated. Travis knew he had never worked

with another man as dangerous, nor as completely icy, as Jordan Malone.

“We need to talk before we meet with the commanders from Elite Two. You’ll be

accompanying them to Switzerland, and I wanted to brief you first,” Jordan informed him as

he moved to the tiny kitchen station in the corner and pulled open the door to the box

refrigerator.

“I could have used a nap first,” Travis grunted.

Why the hell Switzerland? The last he heard he was heading to England.

He could have used some time to think about this one.

“You want the nap or full disclosure?” Jordan asked as he pulled free two beers, uncapped

them, and handed one to Travis before returning to his chair.

Full disclosure from Commander Tight-ass? Now that would sure as hell be a change.

Setting the bottle on the dresser behind him, Travis threw the helmet to the bed before

peeling off his wet jacket and throwing Jordan a dark glare.

“Since when do you give full disclosure?” he asked.

Bright blue eyes flashed with a hint of anger as Jordan lifted the bottle and took a long

drink of the beer. When he set the beer back on the table, his expression was once again cool,

composed.

“Since we’re using a noncombatant,” Jordan stated, his voice harder than normal.

Travis watched him carefully now. “Night Hawk isn’t a noncombatant, Jordan,” he

reminded him. “She’s an agent.”

Jordan took a long sip of his beer, his expression thoughtful before saying, “Not any

longer.”

Travis froze. He’d never heard of an Elite Ops agent being released from duty. It was a life

sentence. Try to run, try to hide, even dare to think of revealing the truth about your life, and

it was fatal.

“What do you mean, not any longer?”

The only way she could have managed release was death. And she couldn’t be dead. She

couldn’t.

Leaning forward, Jordan braced his elbows on his knees and stared back at him, his

expression remote, but Travis felt the tension emanating from the other man.

“We believe Night Hawk has been compromised,” Jordan said. “Two months ago she was

shot outside of Elite Two’s headquarters. She was struck in the head.”

Two months ago. She would have just been returning to England. Two months and he was

just now learning what had happened to her.

Travis felt ice form in his veins. For one everlasting moment bleak darkness seemed to flow

through him, to slice into the hardened shield he’d placed around his heart.

Night Hawk. She was tiny as hell, fragile, slender. There were times she appeared almost

broken inside. She was the type of woman that a man wanted to protect, to wrap in cotton

batting and hold close to his heart forever.

The fact that she was a trained sniper with a rating that other snipers would envy never

failed to amaze him. She didn’t look strong enough to carry the rifle he knew had been

customized for her. She sure as hell didn’t look merciless enough to use it, though he knew

she was.

She was filled with regret, with bitterness. There was a dark, overwhelming agony that

lived in her eyes, and a hunger that went far beyond the lust he knew she felt for him.

And now, there was a chance he would never again touch her, never taste her, never know

the culmination of the need that filled her gaze each time she looked at him.

He could only imagine the damage, and the horrific results of those images flashed through

his mind, sending a shaft of pain through his soul that he should have been immune to.

“Status?” He could barely force the words past his lips as he suspected the worst.

Jordan had stated she was compromised, not dead. That left hope. God, he needed hope. He

couldn’t imagine his Night Hawk gone forever, the tiny glimmer of hope that always lingered

in her gaze extinguished.

“Recovering. She moved at the last second, so the bullet just grazed her. She has a damned

hard head, but there are complications.” There was no emotion in Jordan’s tone. He could

have been discussing the weather rather than a person’s life.

Travis had to do something. If he continued to stand there, then he might end up losing his

grip on reality.

Jerking fresh, dry jeans from his pack and ignoring Jordan, he removed the leather riding

pants before pulling the jeans over his legs and securing them quickly. Pulling the damp

jacket from his shoulders, he tossed it negligently to the floor before stripping the moist T-

shirt from his body and tossing it to the floor with the jacket.

Jordan wasn’t talking.

Travis pulled a T-shirt over his head, then turned, lifted the beer, and finished it in one

drink.

“What are the complications?” he finally asked, knowing Jordan was going to draw this

out, to force him to ask, to reveal any emotions he might feel. Any feelings that could

compromise the assignment or Travis’s ability to use Night Hawk however Jordan intended to

use her.

When he spoke, he was deadly serious.

“Amnesia. She’s completely forgotten the past six years. That includes her father’s death.

For all intents and purposes, she’s become a liability, Travis.”

Amnesia. She was once again the woman she had been rather than the woman she had been

trained to be. For a moment, a sense of joy threatened to swell within him, because he

remembered the young woman she had been rather than the agent she had been forced to

become. One he knew suffered from the loss of the life she had left behind.

“Then the operation has changed?” She was alive. She was alive. The words played

through his mind, his heart, as he fought to get his bearings upon realizing that she hadn’t

been killed, that at least he could hold on to the fact that she still breathed.

“The operation’s focus is still the same. But the reasons behind the mission have . . .

expanded a bit,” Jordan informed him. “And we’re still going to use her. You’re still going to

use her.”

Knowing it and hearing it were two different things. Having that knowledge affirmed with

such cool confidence, such lack of regret or mercy, had the power to piss Travis off more than

it should have.

“Now why the fuck doesn’t that surprise me?” Travis bit out, his voice rough, emotion

slipping through his control despite his attempts to hold it back. “Fuck, Jordan, over the years,

has it occurred to you that you’ve turned into nothing more than a governmental fucking

robot?”

He knew the original operation that had been planned. It would have been hard enough for

her to go back to her old life. Doing it with no memory of who she had been for the past six

years would make her a danger to herself, to himself, and to the mission, and that wasn’t

acceptable.

“We suspect that whoever tried to kill her six years ago has somehow found her again. The

Elite Ops could be jeopardized if this is true, Travis. If they found her, then every agent in the

program could now be at risk. We have to find this bastard and find out just how much he

knows.”

“You’ll get her killed if you try to use her now,” Travis warned him, only barely managing

to maintain an air of unconcern now that the initial shock had passed. “If she’s unaware of her

training, then she’s unaware of the danger as well.”

He was surprised at the slow nod of assent he was given in reply.

“We’ve considered this,” Jordan informed him. “Myself and Night Hawk’s commanders

have come up with a viable alternative for the situation. She’s changed, Travis, just as the rest

of you have. She won’t be the same woman no matter what her memories are. However, you

were more involved in her training and she’s closer to you. We suspect she’ll trust you no

matter the situation. You’ll have to guide her through the mission without revealing your true

reason for being there, or her previous agent status.”

“Really?” His lips twisted cynically. “Is that all?”

Jordan gave him a mirthless grin.

“Her closeness with me may not help,” Travis told him. “Actually, it could hurt.”

Jordan watched him closely for long moments.

“I’m confident you can handle it,” Jordan finally stated. “Especially considering the night

the two of you spent together.”

Travis remained silent at the comment. His night with Lilly was between him and Lilly. It

had nothing to do with Jordan or with the Elite Ops. “What do you know about the attempt on

her?” he asked instead.

“The plastic surgeon listed as her doctor was killed in a fire in his office the day before she

was shot,” Jordan revealed. “And Raisa has reports that in the past month someone had been

questioning Lilly’s contacts in Berlin and Afghanistan. We have to find out if they know about

the Ops as well.”

Dragging his fingers through his hair, Travis sat down on the edge of the bed and stared

back at his commander. “What are the chances of her memories returning?”

Jordan shrugged. “Our doctors say no chance. There was too much damage. She’s damned

lucky to be breathing on her own.

“Elite Command is willing to let her go, to allow her to return to her old life as long as her

memories stay buried. She’ll never be safe, though, until her would-be assassin is caught. This

is the second attempt on her life. We have to know if Elite Ops is at risk as well, how she was

found, and who Lord Harrington suspected was electronically stealing and transferring those

funds. It’s all tied together. Find Lilly’s attempted murderer and we’ll solve the rest of the

mysteries.”

“Do we have any suspects?” Travis questioned, his voice rough.

“A whole society full,” Jordan informed him grimly. “Lady Victoria Lillian Harrington and

her father were incredibly social, as her family still is. At this point we haven’t pinpointed

who it isn’t, so it could be anyone.”

“What does your gut say?” Travis demanded.

“Her uncle, Desmond Harrington. He married her mother the second year after Lord

Harrington’s death. He’s my best guess.”

Breathing in roughly, Travis fought to push back the anger that was fraying his control.

He’d learned over the years that it rarely paid to give in to his emotions. The plain and simple

fact was that he had signed up for this willingly, and he had known the rules when he had

done so.

“Any indication Elite Ops has really been compromised?” It was all he could do to force

the words past his lips, to keep his anger at bay that Lilly would now be so damned

vulnerable.

“Several.” Jordan’s jaws clenched together. “There were inquiries into several agencies

questioning any covert status she might have with them. In Afghanistan one of her contacts