“You were shot by a woman?” She arched a brow.
“She was my partner,” he growled, his eyes dark and murky. “A traitor to the agency.”
“Which agency?” Tomas leaned over the table. “No more secrets, Cole.”
“Those aren’t my secrets. It’s classified, and sharing classified information is punishable by law.”
Tiago’s dark laugh turned all heads toward the corner of the kitchen, which was darkened merely by his presence and the deadly look in his eyes. “You can’t scare this group with threats of your law.”
“It’s not my law.”
“Who the fuck cares? The only law we follow is our own. You’re one of us. Now tell us what you were involved in.”
“Espionage.”
“We need more than that,” Liv sang in an eerily melodic voice that crashed into a spine-tingling command. “Trust us, Cole.”
Cole paced to the windows and laced his fingers behind his neck. The entire room seemed to strain toward him, tense with anticipation.
He made them wait, building the silence into a volatile, rumbling thunderstorm. Fingers drummed. Shoes tapped. Molars sawed. Patience thinned.
At last, Cole turned and faced them, decision made.
“I retired from a special unit, a clandestine group, that goes by many names.” He folded his hands behind him, feet braced apart, voice monotone. “OGA, ISA, Optimized Talent, Gray Fox… Whenever there’s a classified spill, the designator changes. But those inside refer to it as the activity. I was a deep undercover operative, deployed to foreign nations to collect information. Crucial information. The kind that changes the outcome of wars. Or prevents them, as it were.” He rolled his neck, cracking it. “I was the eyes and ears in the shadows, and I was fucking good at it. Until Thurney.”
Tomas’ head pounded as he came to terms with what they were dealing with. The Freedom Fighters had taken down some scary motherfuckers, solidified a trusted relationship with the Restrepo Cartel, and learned the ins and outs of the criminal underground. But top-secret espionage and government corruption? This was way out of their league.
“What happened on Thurney Bridge?” he asked.
“I was embedded deep within the enemy’s ranks. But the enemy, as it turned out, was my partner. She was ambitious and power-hungry and turned her back on her country to make some money.” He gripped his neck. “Everyone connected to her was apprehended. No stone left unturned. The activity was thorough in this.”
“Not thorough enough,” Van drawled. “Someone knows about Thurney and put a hit on Rylee, who happens to know everything there is to know about us.”
“I can’t even begin to guess who it is or what they want.” Cole’s gaze swept over the laptops and gear that littered the long table. “I need to sit down, pore through the findings, and make decisions on how to proceed.”
“We need to do that.” Tomas pointed a finger around the room. “We’re not from your world, and we don’t know shit about your tech. But we’re your team now. Train us. Put us to work.”
“All right.” Cole nodded, his expression thoughtful, maybe even relieved. A split-second later, he snapped into full-on work mode. “We need to scrape through every detail of my last mission. Identify the actors—enemies, allies, informants, and everyone in between—and run a cross-connection between those actors and Mason Sutton, Paul Kissinger, and Daniel Millstreet.”
“Daniel Millstreet?” Rylee asked.
“The cunt you killed in the motel room. I received confirmation on his identity an hour ago.” He strode toward the mess of food he’d dropped on the floor.
“I’ll get it.” Tomas held out his hand, itching for something to do. “You’ll tell us how you found his name?”
“I’ll show you everything.”
CHAPTER 25
Over the next two weeks, Tomas sat side by side with his team, absorbed in congressional documents, private phone records, and handwritten reports of Cole’s undercover missions. Handwritten by Cole. Godawful penmanship. The scrawl was so terrible it made Tomas’ eyes cross. It was also really goddamn impressive.
Under U.S. law, Cole couldn’t make copies of briefings or anything related to his job. But on the heels of each operation, he’d written everything down by memory, filed it meticulously, and kept the notes in his armory.
Cole hadn’t just given them the key to his entire life. He’d literally put details of national security in their hands. In the filthy hands of vigilante criminals.
If that didn’t say trust, nothing did.
The first week of digging through reports was an eye-opening experience, the entire team engrossed in their newfound knowledge of government inner-workings.
The classified intel didn’t interest Tomas, but it opened a portal into Cole’s extraordinarily unique skill set. Bottom line, Cole was a master at milking information. He knew how to talk to informants, manipulate dangerous adversaries, and use social engineering to obtain what he needed.
He no longer had access to government systems and confidential records, but he never needed that access. He only had to identify who had the access and massage them into unknowingly leaking the information he was after.