The Art of You

The elevator doors opened and Alfie stood between two of the hotel’s security officers Roman had requested to escort him to our floor.

Alfie’s green eyes immediately locked with mine. He’d aged, same as me, since I’d last seen him in his twenties. God, that was forever ago. “I’m armed. Knife at my ankle. A nine mil at my side. Another at my back.”

“One of those mine?” I stepped to the side, gesturing to the two security officers to let him out into the hall.

A hesitant look crossed Alfie’s face before he joined me. “The one at my back, yeah.”

“Love to know how you wound up with my Glock.” I did my best to keep my shit together, and instead of waiting for an answer, I turned and went to our suite.

I ordered the hotel security to hang back in the hall and ushered Alfie inside, closing the door behind us.

“He’s carrying,” I let Constantine and Alessandro know, not taking my eyes off my current target. “My nine mil?”

Alfie showed me his palm while reaching around his back with his other hand.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Constantine coming closer with the short-barrel rifle meant for close-quarter combat.

“We’re on the same side,” Alfie said while returning my Glock. “I’m hoping we are, at least.” I released the magazine to check it as Alfie added, “Missing one.”

I side-eyed him while returning the magazine in place. I arched my brow, waiting for him to continue. It was hard for me to believe Triple A was really in front of me and not a figment of my imagination.

Alfie scanned the room, saying, “Just removing my phone from my pocket. Easy with your trigger finger.”

That was more than likely meant for Constantine. The man could intimidate even the most skilled operators on the planet.

“How’d you even find us?” Alessandro asked.

“My teammate tracked you. Should be more careful.” Yeah, that kind of remark wouldn’t win any of us over, even if he was right. Although, I’d thought we’d covered our asses leaving the airport.

“Just tell us what’s going on,” Constantine hissed. “Talk.” He let the word hang low and flat in the air.

Alfie turned his phone around and showed us two images of Chris and Eduardo—the ambassador’s security detail—from before they were killed. “These two men were turned by terrorists who are responsible for multiple attacks around the world. I now know that Chris and Eduardo were tasked with getting information from the ambassador. Specifically, the location for a black site here in Spain where their boss was being held,” he cut to it. “My team’s working with the theory that the terrorists realized the only way to get the ambo to give up the address was by having her daughter taken. They must’ve concluded torturing Ambassador Aldana wouldn’t be a viable option to get her to talk. The terrorist cell outsourced and hired American mercenaries to take her daughter, keeping themselves clean of the hit.”

“How in the hell do you know this? You’re not CIA. Where do you fit in?” I asked, stumbling my way through shock as he casually pocketed his phone.

“I’m in the private security business now. My guess is you are as well, and that’s how our paths crossed Friday.”

I wanted to believe him, fuck did I ever. But I’d need more to go on before I felt comfortable enough for Alessandro and Constantine to lower their weapons.

“I was hired last week to take down the assholes responsible for a terrorist attack at a U.S. embassy in Algeria last year that killed a man’s wife.”

Alfie’s words were both a punch in the face and a gut shot. “I’m sorry, but what? He’s the one who hired you? Green?” Rose Green’s husband?

“You know about Peter Green?” He scrutinized me for a long moment, attempting to put two fucked-up pieces together.

All I could do was nod.

He stroked his red beard. “Yeah, well, Green hired my team. Works at the Pentagon. He had access to a ton of intel to help expedite our search, leading us to the ambassador. We discovered too late the ambo’s daughter had been taken. We used aliases to get into the party, and⁠—”

“Green was with you at the party?” So, my gut feeling we had other eyes on us that night had been spot-fucking-on.

“He came late, but yeah, he was there,” he confirmed.

“What happened next?” I didn’t need to fill in the details. Not yet. But I did have to find a way to calm my racing heart pumping up into my ears so I could better hear him.

He cleared his throat, coughing into a closed fist, and I caught the gold band on his wedding finger.

I wasn’t sure why, but knowing he was married somehow made me feel, well, better. Like maybe his life didn’t suck after leaving the Navy.

“My team was hoping to help find the ambo’s daughter, as well as figure out who was corrupt on her team to interrogate them. We wanted a location for the terrorist cell, as well as to determine their plans to free their boss.”

I tore my free hand through my hair, trying to wrap my head around how disgustingly but expertly we’d all been played.

“Your name wasn’t on the party list when my team checked it, and although it was your old man’s event,” Alfie continued, “I didn’t expect to see you there. I was actually shocked to see you, to say the least. I did my best to keep out of sight after we made eye contact.”

No damn way was it a coincidence my former teammate was hired for an assist by the man causing chaos in our lives. We really had been playing a game of Clue all this time with Mr. Green of all fucking people like some sick joke.

“My team was already tracking everyone connected to the ambassador. We had their vehicles tagged, including Chris’s truck, which had been parked at the gas station,” he resumed his explanation. “We saw your pal here,” he added while eyeing Constantine, “take out multiple men outside the party, including the one down the street in the van. That’s when I realized you were probably there for the ambo’s daughter.”

I was a second away from revealing the truth, but I opted to keep my mouth shut and let him continue. I needed to know how he ended up with my Glock and why I was down a round.

“Go on.” Constantine’s command cut over my shoulder to Alfie.

“We still had concerns that someone on the ambo’s team was an insider, so when I saw Chris’s truck on the move, going the opposite direction of the city, we followed him. I didn’t expect they’d lead me to you,” Alfie shared. “Realizing the tracker had stopped moving before we had visual contact, we parked on another road and made an on-foot approach with night vision. Eduardo was in the middle of removing a tracker from the Porsche while Chris took the gun from your hand. You were unconscious. Realizing too late they had company, Chris fired off a round, and it caught my teammate, Keith, in the arm. We’d wanted Chris and Eduardo alive to question, but I couldn’t run the risk they’d hurt you. Sirens were in the distance. We were short on time.” He’d whipped out the play-by-play so fast, I had to slow down his words in my head to really absorb them.

I closed my eyes, bowing my head. You saved Bella. He really did deserve the name Triple A. He’d been my insurance that night. Come to my rescue.

“We took Chris’s and Eduardo’s phones, your Glock, and the tracker Eduardo removed from your Porsche. I also made sure you and Isabella had a pulse. We had to take off after that, covering our tracks.”

That also made me look guilty of murder. I let that slide and kept my thoughts to myself as I looked up at him. “So, what are we doing in Spain? Why’d you ask me to come here? Clarity could’ve come over a secure line.”

“Because the terrorists had a backup plan. They already hit the black site yesterday,” he revealed. “Based on that wide-eyed look of yours, you’re not aware their boss is now free?”

I turned to put eyes on the Costas. “The Spanish government must’ve lied to POTUS. Didn’t want him to know they’d been compromised and lost the terrorist.” I could see that happening. Lie after lie in a big game of CYA. Cover your asses. The resounding theme to our problems.

“We have a fix on the terrorists’ current safe house, and we’re going after them ourselves. The chatter suggests they’re moving during daylight today, presumably because no one would suspect them to roll out in the afternoon,” he let us know. “Since we’re after the same people, I thought it’d be best to join forces rather than get in one another’s way. Prevent any unintended casualties and provide each other an assist.”

I swiveled around, facing him. Was he really asking me to go on a mission with him?

“We were hired by the ambo to save her daughter,” I finally admitted, cluing him in to how we were involved. “My guess is you were hired for two reasons.” I lowered my eyes to the Glock still in my hand, everything finally clicking together. Everything except why Green was after us for the death of his wife.

“And those reasons are?” Alfie asked.

“I don’t doubt that Green wants revenge against his wife’s killers, which also means he more than likely masterminded this whole plan to get the terrorist leader free from the black site. He wanted him to escape. He probably spoon-fed the terrorists the intel they needed when he was ready, knowing what they’d do.”

“Green couldn’t kill the boss as easily if he was behind bars,” Alfie said, not questioning me, but seemingly following along.

I set aside the Glock, deciding I believed Alfie, and he was no longer a threat. He’d saved the woman I loved after all.

“What’s the second reason my team was hired?”

“Your connection to me,” I said bluntly. “Green’s out for my blood, too.” I gestured toward the Costas. “Maybe theirs as well.”

Alfie jerked his head back. “What the hell did you do to him? You weren’t responsible for his wife’s death.”

I squeezed the back of my neck where pain lingered. “That’s the question we still don’t have an answer to.”

“Something seemed off with this, and then with that reporter leaking the intel about our operation from fifteen years ago . . . it felt too coincidental,” Alfie acknowledged. “I should’ve dug deeper. But we were short on time, and since he worked for the Pentagon, and all that checked out, I just thought⁠—”

“We were all played,” I cut him off. “He’s been pulling the strings for a long time. Orchestrating everything. You couldn’t have known. I sure as hell didn’t understand much of anything until five minutes ago,” I admitted. “Green wants the truth exposed about what happened to his wife, but he can’t make it just about her. It alone won’t garner attention from the media, and it will pull scrutiny of who leaked it solely his way as well.”

“Which is why there were twenty files he’d planned to have that reporter share when the time was right,” Alessandro tacked on. “Including the one he discovered about your op to really screw with our heads, too.”

But Kit and Clarke pulled the trigger early, just targeting me.

“One problem at a time.” Constantine lowered his rifle. “Even if Green maneuvered us like chess pieces to get us here to do his bidding, we still need to stop these terrorists from escaping before they kill more people.”

“I also don’t think we can turn this over to the government here to let them step in,” Alfie said. “We run the risk they’ll sit on the intel too long and get caught behind more red tape. They may miss the chance to get them.”

I was in agreement with him on that. The Spanish hadn’t even fessed up to POTUS that their black site was already hit when President Bennett called them.

“Green didn’t just bring us here to be his tool against his enemy. He sees us as one, too,” Constantine remarked before setting his sights on Alfie. “But we can’t let these terrorists get away with murder. So, we’re in.”

I checked my watch. Fucking daylight op, not ideal. “When do we spin up?”

An uneasy look crossed Alfie’s face, and yeah, we were all in the same confused-as-fuck boat. “We need to hit their safe house once they try to roll out. Based on the intel we have, they plan to advance in ninety minutes, give or take. They’re fifteen kilometers outside the city on the border of a park. My team still has them in their sights.”

Alessandro came up alongside me. “How many tangos are we up against?”

“Thermal heat imaging suggests nine inside the safe house. A few on the perimeter. Overwatch tower with two snipers. Four SUVs parked there.”

At least he’d done his homework. Decent start for the op.

“So, as they’re loading up the vehicles, we take out their guys in the tower and disable their front and back SUVs to box the other two in. Then we move in on the target,” I said in agreement, and he nodded. “How’s the terrain around the safe house? You said they’re near a park. I assume they’re not in a civilian-populated area?”

“No other buildings or homes nearby. Isolated and wooded area. Only one dirt road in and out. Gated and fenced property sitting on two acres. There’s a shed on the edge of the property, about five hundred meters away from their parked vehicles, that has a decent vantage point for overwatch if we can breach the property without being caught. A skilled sniper could handle that location as overwatch.”

I didn’t miss how Alfie’s eyes narrowed on me, as if curious if I still had my magic touch on the long gun.

Yeah, yeah I fucking do.

“We can’t let them drive away from their property, or we run the risk of civilian casualties or getting detained by the police ourselves,” he went on. “But it’s doable. We have an infil plan mapped out we’ll go over with you all.”

“Still out in the open, but they will be, too, I suppose,” Constantine said, inserting himself into the conversation again.

“We’re down to only three on my team aside from me. Keith’s our best sniper, but he’s the one who was shot Friday night. He’ll sit on comms for us. He’ll be our eyes with the drone we have up, and our ears as well.”

I let go of a deep breath. “Yeah, okay.” I’d still need my people to check into Alfie and his team before we rolled out, and he had to know we’d be doing that.

“We’ll communicate the plans over a secure line. I don’t want to risk us being together until it’s go time.” Emotion caught in his tone for the first time since he’d arrived. “I’ll call in about thirty. We’ll map everything out then and meet up a mike out from our infil spot.”

All I could do was nod, still trying to wrap my head around the turn of events.

“And, uh, just so you know, you made the right call fifteen years ago. No one on our team blamed you for what happened, or for . . . Matt.” He locked eyes with me. “I have a wife and two kids. A good life. The others do, too. We’re better. I mean . . .” He paused for a moment and cleared his throat. “I won’t lie and say I don’t suffer from PTSD here and there, but that has nothing to do with that one op. You know how it goes, dodging trash on the road while driving, worried about a hidden IED. But, uh, that’s standard shit most of us will always deal with after serving.”

Another pull of emotion from him, was followed by a heavy sigh that didn’t sound entirely defeated.

“All in all, man, I’m good,” he continued, clearly needing to get this off his chest. “Just thought you should know that before we head out.”

I bowed my head, accepting just how much I did need to hear that.

“Alfie,” I called out without looking up. “Thank you for saving our lives on Friday. I owe you one.”

“Just have my back out there today,” he responded in a firm tone, “and consider us even.”