The Art of You

Long Island, New York

With the six-hour time difference, we managed to make it to the Costas’ family home in Oyster Bay around midnight Eastern, which officially put us at day 365—the anniversary of Rose’s death. There wasn’t a chance in hell we’d let it be the day Bella and Callie died.

We fought hard with everything we had in us to remain mission-focused and to think like operators en route back, not like men who’d had our hearts ripped from our chests. It hadn’t been easy, though. I’d be lying if I denied I’d thrown up twice on the flight home. Alessandro hadn’t bothered to hide that he’d done the same. We’d both cycled through the stages of grief, landing on anger more often than not.

Resting my elbows on the desk, I bowed my head into my palms, unable to watch his parents’ security footage anymore.

Alessandro had replayed it a dozen times, watching the men fast-rope in and knock out most of the security with gas as his father had tried to get his mother and Callie to their safe room.

Eyes remaining closed, I listened to Alessandro’s repeated mouse clicks as Constantine conversed in Italian from somewhere in the office. He was getting another update about his father from his mom. His dad was out of surgery but still in ICU, and not yet awake.

“I promise, I’m bringing them home,” Constantine finished in English before ending the call, and I lifted my head and swiveled the chair around to look back and forth between him and Alessandro.

Feds were still there and swarming the property, combing through the evidence of our failure. We should’ve seen this coming. These assholes had been ahead of us at every turn.

“She was in the bathroom when my father tried to get to her and pull her to safety,” Alessandro said in a daze. “I’m going to retrace her steps.”

“That won’t bring her back.” Constantine shook his head. “Never mind. Do what you need to do,” he added as his phone rang. “It’s Enzo.”

Alessandro remained seated as Constantine placed the call on speaker.

“I’m taking Maria to the hospital,” Enzo rushed out. “She’s in labor. The stress . . .” He let his words trail off before picking up in a new direction. “This is my fault. Actions have consequences, and I killed that man, setting off the chain reaction. And now everything is fucked, and I’m just . . .” He switched to Italian, and Constantine hit him right back with something in his native tongue.

We needed a target. A fix on their location so we could stop feeling so damn helpless sitting around. My worst fears of losing Bella were happening in real time, and if we didn’t get actionable intelligence soon, I’d officially lose my goddamn mind.

Frustrated with their Italian back-and-forth blame game I was sure was happening, I finally spoke up. “Be with your wife and daughter. Just focus on protecting your family.”

“I’m so sorry,” Maria whispered over the line between deep breaths. From the sounds of it, her contractions were getting closer. “You’ll get them both back. And Dad will be okay, too. No one is dying today. It’s going to be a celebration of life, you hear me?” she added between her labored breathing. “My babies are going to be born on the day we finally put the past behind us once and for all. There will be only happy moments to look forward to.”

Alessandro slowly stood, holding the top of his chair, catching my eyes.

“I need you to confirm you heard me loud and clear,” Maria remarked. “Do not piss off a woman in labor. Tell me everything will be fine.”

“You have my word.” Constantine spoke for all of us while I grappled with trying to not lose it all over again.

I squeezed my eyes closed, and memories of my time with Bella over the years flipped through my mind. We’re meant to be together, and so help me . . . Bianca, please watch over your sister. Keep her safe until we can get to her.

“I’m so sorry.” Enzo’s broken voice hauled me back to their father’s office, and I opened my eyes. “This is my fault. Green must’ve found the statement I gave to the CIA when we signed the deal, right down to where we tortured Keith’s brother and how I took his life. If I hadn’t opened my mouth, Keith wouldn’t know what really happened.”

“You should never have tried to sacrifice yourself in the first place, throwing yourself on the sword like that,” Alessandro said in a somber tone. “Because we were all there. All complicit. But regardless, Keith would’ve found out about this some other way. Don’t you dare blame yourself.”

“He’s right. I need you to compartmentalize and focus on your family. We have it covered here.” Constantine continued to remain in command of his emotions, trying to keep us all focused and in line. “Keith’s brother was a killer, just not Bianca’s. If we didn’t take his life, he’d have hurt more women. So, this conversation is over. Guilt won’t bring Izzy and Callie back. End of story, you hear me?” He looked at me, then to Alessandro, for confirmation. “The only assholes to blame for what happened are the men we’re going to kill today when we save our family.”

Alessandro stroked his jaw, eyes on me, the rage once again simmering behind his grays. He was ready to go. The beast was back, and we needed him. Now I needed to wake the fuck up, too.

“Just . . . keep me updated.” Enzo sounded as lost as I felt. “I’ll have my phone on me. Let me know when Dad wakes up.”

“We will.” Constantine swapped a few more words with him and Maria before ending the call, turning his attention to a new problem standing in the doorway.

Special Agent Clarke, of-fucking-course.

Clarke lifted his hand as a request to hear him out, then locked his arms over his blue-and-gold FBI raid jacket. “Dean’s house was broken into an hour ago while he was asleep. He was stabbed before his security detail could get to him. He’s in surgery. A different hospital from your father since he was in Manhattan.”

“What?” The word barreled fast from my mouth, but honestly, I shouldn’t have been surprised by this. Dean was the AG who’d helped arrange immunity for the Costas after killing Keith’s brother, orchestrating the deal between their father and the CIA.

Clarke pushed away from the doorframe. “Listen, Maverick told me what happened, and why I was really given those files. I shouldn’t have handed Kit the AAR from your op, and she won’t be getting the other nineteen reports. I also didn’t know Maverick’s kid was at risk, or I’d never have . . .” He cleared his throat. “Now I know what’s really going on. Well, some of the story. I can draw a conclusion as to why this house was hit, at least.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “We’re not doing this now.” If he planned to try and stop our rescue mission, he’d wind up in the hospital, too. No fucks or regrets given.

Clarke met my eyes, and I saw something there that had been noticeably absent in the hospital. Compassion?

“Look, while we may not see eye to eye on how you conduct your, uh, side business, it’s clear to me who our enemies are, and they’re not in this room.” He turned to the side, patting the doorframe. “I won’t be stopping you from doing what needs to be done, but if you can keep those fuckers alive so the FBI can have a go at them, it’d be appreciated. And if not . . . just be sure Adelina’s nearby, and leave before more badges show up.”

Yeah, I didn’t expect that. “One less obstacle to deal with is fine by me,” I said after Clarke left.

“Same.” Alessandro turned toward his brother. “Holler the second Echo Team and the others are here and we have a location.” He started for the door, presumably resuming his time-killing mission until we could save Bella and Callie.

Constantine checked his watch. “Roman and his team are en route. Adelina picked up Sydney from the airport twenty minutes ago. They’re on their way. All we need is a location, and we’re spinning up.”

At least we had a team of SEALs prepared to step up, along with a real-life Lara Croft wanting her own vengeance against these assholes for threatening her son. And while Alfie’s team had to hang back in Spain to wrap things up, he’d flown with us to have our six here. Since Rose’s brother—Keith Oberland, not Keith Jenkins—and her husband clearly had an arsenal and their own militia at their disposal, we’d take all the help and resources we could get.

As Alessandro left the room, I removed my phone from my pocket, hating playing the waiting game as much as he did. Opening Instagram, I checked to see if there were 365 posts yet. The friend request hadn’t been accepted, and we’d yet to convince anyone to unlock the account for us because of privacy laws. But what was more concerning was the fact Falcon Falls and Echo Team, who had some of the world’s best cyber experts, couldn’t crack the account.

“Follow him, will you?” Constantine tilted his head toward the hallway. “I have a hunch I want to check out.”

I stowed my phone instead of chucking it at the wall like I wanted to do. “What kind of hunch?”

“Something Enzo said got me thinking. If Keith read Enzo’s statement from the CIA and knew where we killed his brother . . .”

I walked back a step as it clicked. A possible location. Thank fuck.

“That factory is still owned by my family. That whole row of properties down by that port, actually. All still abandoned because of what we did. My father decided not to sell off the properties, so they’re sitting there desolate and empty.”

“And you think he took them back to where this all began for him, where we killed his brother?”

“Gut feeling.” He unlocked his phone, preparing to make another call. “I’m going to divert Echo Team there to do some recon. I’d suggest we jump on a helo now and head over, but I don’t want us going the wrong way if we need to be elsewhere.”

I nodded, feeling like that was all I was capable of doing, still stuck between two modes: extreme worry and rabid rage. “I’ll let Alessandro know.”

I left the office, walking fast, fueled by adrenaline at the possibility we might finally get one step ahead of the architects of this madness.

Upstairs, I found Alessandro on his knees in one of the hall bathrooms, holding on to something.

“What is it?” I asked him, barely registering the notification sounding from my pocket.

“It’s positive,” he said in a strained voice while unfurling his hand. “My wife’s pregnant. She was taking a test when those assholes . . .” He lifted his chin to the ceiling, breathing hard and fast.

I wasn’t sure what the hell to say or do. The only thing that’d help this man was to save his family. That was the only way I’d survive this, too.

“We’re getting them back today. I swear to God we are,” I said while reaching for my phone.

Slapping a hand to the counter, my breath froze in my lungs when I saw my friend request had finally been accepted.

I clicked on the notification, and at the sight of all 364 images there, I collapsed to my knees in front of Alessandro. Blistering heat shot through my body as I processed what I was seeing.

“They’ve been watching all of us,” he rasped. “My wife and I in Nashville. Maria and Enzo in Charlotte. You at the bar. And Izzy . . . fuck, they must have cameras inside her house.”

The blood drained from my face. I had to swallow back the bile rising up in my throat.

Images of Bella in a towel inside her bedroom. Several of her in only her underwear and bra. One of just her bear on the bed, and why in the hell . . .

I let my thoughts go as it dawned on me. “The gas leak. That’s when he planted the cameras to take these photos.” Fuck. “I guarantee he planted a tracker in her bear. Hell, any number of things at her place could have trackers or listening devices.”

“She had the bear in Spain.” He muttered something in Italian, then bit out, “Alfie said Keith was the one to track us to the hotel. That’s probably how.”

“Keith couldn’t take the chance he’d lose track of us if we didn’t play ball and meet Alfie. He’d have contingencies in place.” The post of the bear is to fuck with us. Consider him successful. This guy had been five steps ahead of us at every turn.

“I’m going to kill them,” Alessandro said steadily in a dark voice, echoing my thoughts as a new image was posted.

It was of Bella and Callie, tied up in chairs, eyes closed, heads hanging forward.

My stomach dropped all over again as I stared at them.

“He has them at our factory.” Alessandro abruptly stood, becoming mission-focused, while pocketing the pregnancy test.

I forced myself to stand as well. “Constantine was right.”

Alessandro’s pupils were dilated, the darkness smothering whatever humanity was inside him. He didn’t have to say anything else, I was already on the same ready-to-commit-murder page.

“They want us there where it all started.”

Alessandro snarled, “Then that’s where this ends for good.”

“Pull him back,” Echo’s team leader ordered, eyes on the small screen on Echo Three’s wrist. “They’ll bloody kill him if they see him,” he remarked, his British accent pushing through. “And we’re not losing anyone today.”

Echo Three gave the order, and his canine about-faced and immediately left his current position. He’d sniffed out explosives and confirmed our fears. Enough C4 to take out the entire building was rigged to blow inside the garage, directly below the room where Bella and Callie were tied up.

We only knew they were alive, as well as their exact location, thanks to impressive tech Echo Team came equipped with, including a drone the size of a bee that gave us an inside view of the factory. All that intel boiled down to deactivating a weapon while engaging with twenty armed tangos without letting Keith or Green turn this into a suicide mission. I had to believe they were fine with going down as long as we went with them, and that was our biggest obstacle—fighting an enemy willing to die.

“You clear the room for me, and I can defuse the bomb. I’ll have my wife in my ear walking me through it,” Roman said.

Echo One turned his attention to me. While killing the power and jamming the cell signals was a good start, the assholes inside still had the advantage. They had the women we loved in direct danger. One wrong move, and we’d lose them.

“I say we have a mad minute,” Echo Two, the Teamguy with the deep Southern drawl, offered, standing alongside his leader. “We go in quick and dirty in those first sixty seconds. Shoot every threat possible in the kill zone.”

As their Belgian Malinois padded up to us, Echo One nodded. “I agree. My guys will provide cover for Roman so he can defuse the explosives. That means you’ll need to deal with the tangos on every other floor.”

Constantine shifted my way, adding, “Delta Team will handle the breaching points for a quick entry for Alpha and Echo.”

Alfie, Adelina, Malik, Marc, and a few of our other operators were on Delta, while Alessandro, Constantine, Sydney, and I were Alpha tonight.

“I can mount the 249 and set the rest of the line for the ambush,” Alfie offered since he had the M249 SAW at his side. It wasn’t as heavy duty as the 240, but it’d serve its purpose. The belt-fed machine gun could quickly and easily take out a large number of tangos, clearing a path to get us to Bella and Callie within that mad minute.

And we really only had one fucking minute. Any more than that, and these assholes might shoot to kill before we could get there, or set off the charge and take down the whole building.

“What’s our ROE?” someone on Echo asked, deferring to his team leader.

Echo One and Constantine swapped a quick look before the Brit answered. “They shoot first, then defend your position and open up on them. Neutralize every threat without killing them if you can, but use your best judgment.”

“Once Echo Four confirms the bomb has been defused,” Constantine said, knocking his night-vision goggles in place, “we move in for the rescue.”

“Roger that.” Echo Three patted his dog’s head, then resecured his brain bucket on him. “We’ll get them back. Don’t worry. We run these kinds of ops all the time.”

“We need to step on it,” Echo One announced, showing me the small screen on his wrist that gave him a view of Bella and Callie from our small drone.

I leaned over to look just as Keith stretched his arm out, a 9mm in hand. My body locked tight, and I went for my M4, tipping my head so my NVGs fell into place. “Move out. Now.”