Clarity (The Admiral's Elite Book 3) (26 page)

Reese held up a hand and took a few moments, glancing at notes that may or may not have existed, until the only sound was a throat clearing and cameras snapping.

“By now most of you have heard of the tragic assassination of my colleague, my friend, the senator from the great state of Pennsylvania, Bill Jordan.”

“Assassination,” Michael repeated flatly. “He’s going to martyr him.”

“Senator Jordan was a war hero, a champion for veterans, and a dear friend.” Reese hung his head, for dramatic purposes or genuine grief one couldn’t be sure in this town where men didn’t piss without posturing first. “His passion and commitment were without compare and his presence has left a gaping hole that will not easily be filled.” He took off his glasses, taking another moment to rub the bridge of his nose, maybe to capture a tear or two before they rolled.

“We will bury our friend, comfort each other, and grieve our loss.” Glasses went back on, bland brown eyes zeroed in on the camera and up came the pointer finger. “Then we will root out the cowards who committed this act of terrorism not just on American soil but in the very heart of our country.”

“Think he knows who’s responsible?” Ryan asked casually, sitting on a corner of the far bed.

Kenneth made a rude mouth noise. “Not a chance but when has that stopped these d-bags?”

“Our country faces enemies abroad as well as domestic, more now than ever before. This administration has shown a lack of leadership leaving us adrift and without direction in a sea of uncertainty.” Soft fist pounded the podium. “Some of us are tired. Tired of watching our president appear on late night tv. Tired of seeing our president share his social reform through social media. Tired of seeing tweets from our president around town instead of seeing him where he belongs; out front, leading. There have been over fifteen separate acts of domestic terrorism right here at home in the last year alone. We have been waiting for our president to show us he is willing to protect our home, the people who put their faith in him as leader, protector, defender. Well, I for one am tired of being tired. I am tired of waiting. There is a time to act and that time is now!” Fist slammed the podium again. “I am personally forming a committee.”

“Oh great, a committee,” Becca coughed.

“A committee of equally tired men and women ready to do what it takes to find and eradicate these enemies on our home soil. It has recently come to my attention there is a faction in our own military, a faction funded b
y
you
r
tax dollars and allowed to operate outsid
e
ou
r
federal laws with no oversight whatsoever. No one to call them on the carpet for their actions, no one to question why they command a sizable portion of our military’s budget while they are clearly no
t
ou
r
military. They are the rabid attack dogs of a few men who have abused our trust far too long. It is time to show them that every one is accountable for their actions. No one is exempt. No one is outside the law. Everyone is accountable and the
y
wil
l
answer for their sins.”

Cameras whirred and snapped, reporters fired off questions too fast to follow. Didn’t matter, their questions were answered. Their enemy was no longer hiding, he was loud and proud, demanding heads roll
.
Thei
r
heads.

Michael’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn’t bother stepping away, they all knew what this would be about, question was how to handle it. Defense or offense?

A few brief moments of low hums of conversation, the phone slid back in his front jeans pocket and Michael faced his team. A grim expression creased his careworn features.

“We have our assignment.” He turned to Becca. “You and I are on Reese.” Blue eyes rimmed with jet lashes met Gabrielle’s. “You have yours. The Unitarian.”

Did Michael know of her thirst for Almohad’s blood? What secrets did Black keep from his second? A silent nod was her response. Let him lead this one, she had no interest in bringing them in now. Especially with Ryan here, the first thing that giant hearted man would do is demand he go with her and get his fool self killed.

“You have Kenneth.”

“Wait, where’s that leave me?” Ryan was on his feet.

“Black has Kyle monitoring the usual channels, he wants you on this end receiving and keeping us in the loop.”

“Are you fucking with me?”

Michael’s poker face gave him nothing. A few steps and he opened the armoire that should have held a television. Instead it had been replaced by two rows of monitors, a keyboard, a headset lay across the keys.

“I’m playing Cindy, the Time Life operator? Seriously?”

Kenneth tittered.

“We need you and Kyle watching our backs.” Michael put a hand on his friend’s big shoulder. “We’re running two ops in a city on high alert. We’ll be dancing between Secret Service and operators from every branch of the military amidst the political spin machine this town never shuts down. Kyle on his own is good, so are you, but there i
s
a lo
t
of information to sift through. Each team needs eyes and ears dedicated to bringing them home safe.” An unspoken exchange and Ryan’s shoulders dropped. He would do it. As much as he hated to stay behind he was the best of them at it. Before Kyle, it was Ryan who handled the eyes and ears of their ops. The two of them together were their best bet with so many moving parts and two very powerful men in a town each owned in his own right.

“Twenty minutes and we meet out front.” Michael opened the door and stood back, his message clear
.
Get out and get your shit, we’re hitting it
.
Ryan took the key card Michael held out as he passed.

Outside the door Ryan waited. “Gabs.”

Her guts clenched painfully at the helplessness in his plea. “Ryan.” So many things to say.

Don’t worry about me.

Don’t follow me.

Don’t let me go.

Don’t leave this room and do something stupid.

All she managed was an inadequate “Don’t.”

Strawberry brows peaked. “Don’t? Don’t what, Gabs? Huh? Don’t worry? Cause I can’t not worry about you, I love you, Gabrielle.”

I love you too
.
“You’re keeping us safe, Ryan.” She touched a fingertip her ear where her com device would be shortly. “You’ll be with me the whole time. Stay on point and we don’t have anything to worry about.”

He shifted, nervous energy firing through him was contagious. “I can’t trust Kenneth to have your back out there, Gabs.”

She made herself remain still while her insides hopped and jumped
.
I’m gonna throw up
.
“You have it, it’s all I need.”

Ryan’s face said he was still unsettled. He wrapped a gentle hand around her arm. “Come back to me.”

So sweet, so tender, this big man. Leaving him was never going to work
.
I’m fucked
.
“I will.”

Chapter 23

“Drop me off at Mario’s.”

The driver raised his eyes to the rearview mirror. “Craving a steak tonight, Sire?”

Shining rims flashed in the street lights as the black SUV changed lanes.

“I do have a taste for a cut of meat, yes.”

Several blocks up pale blue neon announced they had arrived at their destination.

The vehicle pulled up and the valet opened the back door. “Sir.”

Young male, tender, budding with masculine potential wafted on a barely discernible breeze. Broadening chest shrouded in a white polyester shirt and blue vest tied off with a cheap blue bow backed away and pale cheeks came into sight. Pale neon backlit an Irish fro, illuminating orange-blonde stubble on youth rounded cheeks.

“David, I’ve changed my mind.”

“Sire?” The driver twisted in his seat.

“I prefer something a little more lively.” Tanned, perfectly manicured fingers flicked where they rested on charcoal Hugo Boss suit pants. A man of subtlety, if one weren’t familiar he would miss the signal. He was excited, he wanted to hunt.

Closing his eyes to take in the symphony of youth and body soap that washed over him, he heard the door whoosh closed and sighed.

“K Street, David. I believe it suits my mood better.”

“Of course, Sire.”

They eased back out into late night traffic. New York might be the city that never sleeps but Washington was no slouch. A town where deals were made and broken over linen tablecloths and martinis, the dinner crowd lingered long into the evening hours.

The waterfront not far from the National Mall. For as close as it was to the seat of government and law makers, was the place to go to get a taste of the taboo.

“Pull over here, I feel like walking.”

“Of course, Sire.”

Outside, sensitive nostrils picked up smells, too many to sift through. No matter, he knew what he was looking for and it didn’t take long to pick up the scent.

Half a block down he caught sight of him. No more than sixteen, smooth cheeks with only a faint hint of dark stubble showing on his long upper lip and pointed chin.

Almohad’s fingers danced, then stilled as he forced himself calm. Funny, in all the places and all the times in the world he’d been paying for flesh, it was always the same. A meeting of the eyes, lift of the chin, and diversion into the shadows.

Walking slowly ahead, he chose the spot that suited his needs. The backside of a building, there were dumpsters and loading docks aplenty meaning low spots leading to underground parking and, yes, there. A box truck parked for the night, tail backed up tight to the dock. The heads of the tallest men would be impossible to see, the green dumpster on the near side hid feet, or bodies. He stopped. Facing the light stone side of the building he closed his eyes and waited. Senses heightened. The smell of sweat, too much cologne, and semen closed in. Worn sneakers scuffed concrete when the elevation changed and the child failed to navigate it. He was tired. There was money to be made in this district, but it came at a price. 

The youth’s feet stopped. His heart beat steadily, he was not scared. The reason this was easy prey for hunters through the ages? Who else would follow a stranger away from safety without making a sound?

Finally, he turned slowly, letting his eyes savor his bounty. The prostitute blinked, heart rate picked up. Humans found him attractive. The child would be thinking this to be one of his more pleasant transactions. Almohad’s full lips pulled into a satisfied smile.

***

“Here we go.” Ryan flipped a switch and was live with Kyle, his counterpart back in California supplying Michael and Becca with intell support.

Kyle groaned. “What, a fiery death wasn’t enough, he’s got to nuke his reputation too?”

“It’s how they do it at the top; destroy the reputation, destroy everything with the guilty party’s name attached. The guy’s trashing Jordan’s career and legacy. Give it a week and nobody will even acknowledge the guy, and he isn’t here to defend himself.” He snorted, shook his head. “Brilliant. Shitty, but brilliant.”

Flip. That line cut off. Another flip. He opened up communication to his team.
“
The Pos
t
is leading the early edition with a story on Senator Jordan. Sounds like they have everything on the heroin but the way they’re spinning it he pulled the trigger himself in Vietnam.”