Talon: Combat Tracking Team (A Breed Apart) (38 page)

“I knew there’d be a catch.”

“Just help me understand what is going on in that mind of yours. You never smile.”

“I just did.”

“No, that wasn’t a smile. It’s a smirk. Now, what’s the look that’s haunting you?”

He drew back, surprise etched into his face.

Spurred by that reaction, she knew she’d somehow hit on something. Maybe even something close to home, close to his heart. “Please.”

“Okay.”

Her heart rapid-fired.

“When I get back.”

    Twenty-Six    

W
eren’t we supposed to find something here?” Candyman glanced around, eyes shielded by his sunglasses and the bill of the baseball cap he wore low over his brow. The sun glinted off his thick, sandy blond beard. “Like a body?”

“Should’ve brought the dog.” Watters walked to the end of the alley where the building abutted another.

“That dog don’t go nowhere without his girl,” Candyman countered.

“And I don’t like going nowhere without my girl.”

“What girl?” Watterboy turned from his surveying and scowled at his buddy.

“Timbrel.”

“Dude, you’ve got a long, hard road if you think she’s going to be your girl.”

“I got time. And hard roads—they’re the best kind.”

“You’re begging for trouble.”

“Nah, see, it’s like this—the biggest trouble yields the best reward.”

“That’s some messed-up thinking.” Watterboy patted his shoulder, a big grin ripping through his dark beard.

Ignoring their banter and honing his skills, Cardinal stood at the intersecting paths, examining, studying, thinking. They were both right—Talon would’ve been an asset in tracking down the man. Or the body. Considering the disruption of the molding cardboard, the stench wafting up from a freshly exposed patch of wet earth—no doubt caused by the overturned cardboard—whoever went down, whoever terrified Aspen when he got shot, that person was still alive.

“Thinking we should bug out. Keep our heads and body parts where they belong.”

Cardinal looked at Candyman. “What?”

“He doesn’t want to get shot and lose his chance to win the woman whose head is as thick and stubborn as his.” Watterboy started out of the alley.

Candyman grinned wide through that scraggly beard. “See? I knew you understood.”

“Give me a minute.” Cardinal stalked down the alley, searching the dirt, the cardboard. A rat scurried from one box to another, surprisingly nimble for its fat body. But it wasn’t the rodent or the smell that drew him in. It was the trail of blood. Smeared up and over the seven-foot cement block wall that barred the exit.

Who are you?

Cardinal breathed out in frustration. He knew the answer. Didn’t want to admit he did, but the gnawing in his gut told him he couldn’t ignore this any longer.

Austin. Somehow and for some reason, the only man Cardinal had ever brought under his wing to train and mentor had turned on him.

Which meant when Austin cornered Aspen—the man
knew
she was his sister.

Yet he didn’t tell her.

It was rare to have an agent go rogue and in such a super-expensive way like this. He couldn’t be Austin. Not with the cost of plastic surgeons and experts it would take to create an entirely new identity. It meant Austin wasn’t working alone—he had a handler.

A new handler.

Who was Cardinal’s competition? Who had ripped his agent right out of his fingers?

You’re really reaching with this one, Cardinal
. This was all speculation. Trying to put the pieces together that were dangling in front of his nose. Options…options. What other options were there?

Austin wanted out.

No. He had thrived and excelled. Said he loved getting to take care of things that were otherwise undoable due to laws and such. Cardinal tried to remind him they weren’t necessarily breaking laws. Just bending them. Really far.

Options…Austin…found…something. Or someone.

Okay, that made some sense. One of Austin’s last communiqués mentioned meeting someone. Cardinal had taken it to mean a contact.

What if it was another agent? What if someone turned him, made him a double agent?

Cardinal ran a hand along the back of his neck. That thought had a ring of truth to it. Somehow.

“Hey, Spook.”

Cardinal dragged his attention back to the two soldiers.

“We should get moving. Dark’s coming.” Watterboy thumbed over his shoulder. “And we have an audience.”

Cardinal’s gaze shifted to the narrow space between the two buildings. A small crowd had assembled at the corner of the northernmost building. He nodded and started back. The ride was made in relative quiet, affording him the time to sort out his thoughts. Anything was plausible at this point. Until they had some more facts…

“What’re you thinking?”

Cardinal met the ironclad gaze of Watters just as Candyman slowed and turned into the alley behind the safe house. “Too much.”

“You do remember we’re on your side, right?”

“This isn’t ‘my’ side—it’s a mission.” He flung open the door, agitated with the questions, the ones that had no answers, just more mystery. Inside, Rocket and Scrip pushed from their seats. Both lobbed questions at him.

Cardinal gritted his teeth and kept walking. Down the hall.

Growling announced Talon’s presence seconds before the yellow Lab and Aspen stepped into view at the other end. The sight of her, those blond curls framing that beautiful face, slowed him.
I’m failing her
. The sidewinder of a thought spiraled through his chest and rammed into his heart.

Cardinal lowered his head and banked right. Flung back the door to the stairs. Climbed them three at a time, moving quicker with each advance until he jogged toward the door. Pushed through it. Agitation kept him moving, his mind warring that he had to corral his buzzing nerves.

Sticky, warm air coiled its arms around him. He paced. His nerves vibrated. Nothing was going right. Everything was wrong. The mission. Austin. Burnett. Payne. Aspen—especially Aspen. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This—the way things had changed between them—was the reason he had Cardinal rules. Cardinal Rule
#1—Never work women
. He had others—never stay somewhere longer than you have to, always have an exit strategy, never engage the heart.

The door groaned and creaked behind him.

“Hey, you okay?” Aspen’s sultry voice was as warm as the air. Her shoes crunched over the rooftop as she came closer, trailed by the soft padding of Talon’s paws.

Just give her the facts. Get the game plan established. Move on it. That should be enough to keep his mind active and his heart inactive.

He pivoted and dropped against the half wall that served as a barrier against the two-story fall. Arms folded should send the message he wanted: he was closed to her. Had to be. “No body.”

Aspen frowned. “I guess that’s good.”

“Good? No, it’s not good. It means someone wants that person dead. And if that person tries to contact you again, it puts your life in jeopardy.”

“our
lives.”

He shoved off the wall and turned around. Had he really done that? Funneled down the danger to include only her? Is that where his mind had gone? Not good. Anger tingled through his chest, down into his arms. To avoid fisting his hands, he gripped the ledge. Stared out over the darkening sky.

A devastating realization spread through him. Aspen. He was worried about her. Austin he could sort out. The mission he could handle. Aspen…if anything happened to her…

And the angel flew
.

No! He snapped his eyes closed against the image, against the face becoming Aspen’s.
Oh merciful God! Help me. I can’t go there….I
can’t
fall for her
.

“Dane?” Aspen came to his side and touched his oblique. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he ground out. His mind reared, ordering him to pull away from her.

But he couldn’t. Didn’t want to. Her warm touch soothed the beast within. Made the sun shine in a storm-ridden life. Just as someone else in his life once had. “My mother.”

Aspen gave him a quizzical look.

Worms. A can of worms. But…“She died when I was fifteen.” He slumped against the wall and forced himself to straighten. Look at her. “There are very few amazing women in this world. When she died, the world was one less a beautiful, amazing woman.” Torment smothered him.
Don’t do this. Don’t go there. Not with Aspen
. “I always wondered if I could’ve saved her, stopped her death.” He looked at her. Knowing he was defeated having opened that cauldron of history. “I don’t want to have that regret with you, Aspen.”

No sweeter words could’ve moved her heart more. And yet anchored her life more firmly in his hands. He cared about her. A lot. That’s what all this “don’t trust me” stuff was about.

“Dane, you’re not God.”

The fight seemed to have drained out of him. “Trust me, I’m completely aware of that.”

“But you’re trying to be Him, trying to control the outcome.” Emboldened by his openness, she reached out to brush away the hair from his face.

He caught her hand and held it in midair. “Please, Aspen.” He shook his head. “I’m not…I can’t do this.” He lowered his gaze then tugged her hand to his face and kissed her palm.