HOT Valor (Hostile Operations Team - Book 11) Read online

  Mendez glanced at his watch. “A couple of hours if we’re lucky.”

  “Copy, sir.”

  “Ghost?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I think you should call me Viper now, don’t you?”

  “Yes, sir. Viper, sir.” Ghost cursed for a second. Then he laughed. “Goddammit. Been thinking regular Army protocol for too damned long.”

  Mendez chuckled too. They needed something to laugh over, if only for a moment. “Even though we aren’t regular Army. But it’s been a while since we’ve been in the field instead of wearing the rank and doing the glad-handing to keep HOT running. Time to jump back in with both feet, I think.”

  “Whatever you need from me. I’ll follow you through hell if I have to.”

  Mendez frowned. He hated involving his deputy—or any of his men. But he had no choice. “I don’t want that. I’ll take care of it myself—but I want to know HOT’s in good hands when I do.”

  “It will be. I swear.”

  Chapter 2

  General Comstock arrived precisely at nine a.m., a retinue of aides and military police trailing in his wake. Mendez watched their arrival on the closed-circuit cameras that were focused on the entrance to the compound. If he weren’t so pissed, he’d be impressed with Ian Black’s accuracy.

  “Doesn’t look good,” Ghost said with a frown.

  “Nope, not at all.”

  “You should go, sir—Viper. Go out the back and keep on going.”

  Mendez ground his teeth together. He was about as pissed as a man could be. “Not doing that. Not until I hear what they want and what they think they have on me.”

  A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Still being polite, were they?

  “Enter,” he said, and Lieutenant Connor opened the door with a nervous smile on his face. Comstock didn’t wait to be announced before barging into the room. The MPs filed in behind him and spread out. Their sidearms were holstered but unsnapped and ready to be drawn.

  Mendez took everything in with a trained eye and smiled broadly. “Welcome, General. What can we do for you at HOT today?”

  Comstock’s expression was dead serious. He didn’t look like a happy man in the least. “I’m sorry, John, but I’m here to relieve you of your command.”

  “On what grounds?”

  Comstock frowned. He wasn’t going to say what the crime was. Mendez knew it, but he liked to push these motherfuckers when he could.

  “You’ve overstepped your authority, Colonel. If you’ll accompany these men, they’ll take you to the vice president. He’ll explain.”

  “Are you here to stand us down?” Mendez asked.

  Comstock hesitated a moment too long. “Not precisely. But your missions are on hold as of now. We’ll be recalling all operators until a thorough investigation can be done. There have been… irregularities in your operations.”

  Fury was a whirlwind in his gut. “This is bullshit, sir, and you know it.”

  Because to not point it out wouldn’t be normal. And he had to be normal right now. He couldn’t alert them to the fact he had his own plan. Or that he knew what they were really accusing him of.

  Comstock spread his hands. “I don’t know anything. All I know is what I’ve been ordered to do. Your men will be in fine hands with me, I promise.”

  “And women.”

  Comstock nodded. “That’s right, you do have some of the first female Special Operators. Yes, your men and women will be in good hands.”

  “And my deputy?”

  The general glanced at Ghost. “I’ll need him to advise me for now.”

  Which meant that Ghost wasn’t implicated in the murder of the ambassador. Or not yet anyway.

  “Be happy to, sir,” Ghost said.

  Mendez attempted a smile. It didn’t feel very natural, but no one reacted, so maybe he’d pulled it off after all. There was nothing more he’d learn here. And he wasn’t willing to risk being in DeWitt’s power. Ian was right. He had to get out if he stood a chance of finding the truth. He didn’t know how he was going to do that yet, but he’d figure it out.

  “Well then, guess we’d better get on with it. If I may be permitted to use the restroom first?”

  Comstock nodded. “Of course. But first one of these young men is going to check it out. Don’t want you shimmying down the drainpipe or anything.”

  Mendez laughed. “Too old to shimmy anywhere, General. Just need to drain the coffee before hopping into a car headed for the city. Can never tell about traffic. Don’t want to piss myself before we get there.”

  Hell, he could run a marathon and do more push-ups than the majority of his soldiers. But he’d play the age card if it made him seem harmless. The less they expected from him, the better.

  “Probably a good idea,” Comstock said.

  “Besides, why would I need to shimmy anywhere? Am I under arrest?” Because he couldn’t stop himself from poking the bear just a bit.

  The general sighed. “If you don’t go willingly, yes.”

  “Then I’ll go willingly.”

  Comstock gestured to one of the MPs, who went in to search the bathroom. When he was satisfied, he returned and nodded.

  “Thanks,” Mendez said as he walked in and shut the door.

  Time was of the essence now. He turned on the taps and opened the medicine cabinet, pulled at the false door, and a cipher lock appeared. He punched in the code, shoved the doors shut again, and stepped through the opening that appeared in the wall. Another cipher lock and the door swung shut behind him. Then he was inside a narrow passageway. He strode down the cramped enclosure until he reached a ladder that went down to the lower level of the building. He jumped onto it and slid to the bottom like a firefighter on a mission.

  He had about three minutes to get out to the parking lot where a car waited. That was also about as long as the general would wait before ordering the MPs to break into the room. Mendez traversed the tunnel to the end where another lock waited. He punched in the code and stepped out. The cameras in this hall were conveniently on a loop right now, thanks to Billy “the Kid” Blake. The hack would be untraceable, so Kid wouldn’t get in trouble. Mendez wouldn’t allow any of his operators to take the heat for him.

  When he’d gathered Matt, Dane, and Cade together, he’d told them very quickly what he expected to happen. Then he’d told them they were welcome to refuse to help. Not one of them had. His chest had swelled with pride in his men even while he hated that he had to ask them for help. He didn’t like asking anyone for assistance. Ever.

  But it was the kind of help that couldn’t be traced to them. Kid and the cameras. A black SUV running near the east wall. A burner phone from the stash in the equipment room. Mendez had gotten his own weapons from the arsenal, and Cade Rodgers had taken them to the SUV. Matt kept Kid running interference with the cameras, and Dane took care of the phone and a few other tasks like clearing this hall and the way to the parking lot.

  Mendez stalked down the corridor and slapped the door open. He popped on his sunglasses and strode for the SUV. Once inside, he gunned it out of the parking lot and through the gate. He had to stop and show ID, which was a critical moment in the op. If the general had sounded the alarm, this could be a movie-style bust through the gate. But the guard sharply saluted and the mechanical arm went up. Mendez was out of the compound and halfway toward the access road to the main gate when a military police car appeared with lights whirling.

  “Goddammit,” he growled as the car sped toward him. He reached onto the passenger seat and pulled his Sig from the holster. The last thing he wanted was a gunfight as he tried to get off base, but he was committed now. No turning back.

  A strange kind of resignation pumped through him, filling him with determination. And yeah, even the excitement of operations that he’d missed for so long.

  New Orleans flashed through his mind. Who the hell was Kat really, and why did she want to meet him? Was she involved in this somehow? Was Ia
n setting him up? How did they know about Valentina’s locket?

  Anything was possible—but Mendez trusted his gut, and his gut told him that Ian Black was a friend. He’d had too many opportunities to screw HOT over, and he’d never done it. He’d helped, often at considerable risk to himself. Dude was a jerk sometimes, but he was on the right side of things. Mendez would bet his balls on that fact.

  Fresh determination blasted through him. He had to find out who Kat was and what she knew about Valentina. And how this was connected to what was happening right now—because he had little doubt that it was.

  The police car flew toward him. He braced for evasive maneuvers… but then it shot past him in a blur of blue and white, rocketing toward HOT HQ. Relief pounded through him. He stepped on the gas and prayed he made it through the gate before the base went on lockdown. He didn’t have long to get there, but he trusted that Kid would make the phones go down for a few minutes.

  The gate came into view. The guard stood on the incoming side, armed with an M4 slung across his chest, checking IDs as cars pulled up. The outgoing side was normal. Traffic was slow but steady. But one panicked phone call to the gate, one press of a button, and the Active Vehicle Barrier would pop up and turn this day into more of a shit storm than it already was.

  Mendez drove over the barrier and through the gate. He was on the other side, sitting at a stoplight, when the guardhouse door opened and an MP walked into traffic and stopped the cars trying to leave. The barrier went up and nobody moved.

  The light turned green and Mendez squeezed the gas pedal. Obstacle number one cleared. Now to make it to New Orleans.

  Chapter 3

  New Orleans, LA

  The Court of Two Sisters was a New Orleans legend and tourist hot spot. Mendez arrived an hour early and scored a table in the courtyard. It perched near the aged brick wall and gave him a view of people arriving from both the Royal Street and Bourbon Street entrances. He moved his chair until his back was facing the wall and studied the patrons. He tugged the ball cap he’d bought last night down over his eyes and sipped at the coffee the waitress brought him. It was strong, laced with chicory, and hot.

  He waved off the suggestion he hit the buffet and kept his eyes on the diners. No one seemed suspicious or out of place, yet he still performed the mental checks that were second nature to Special Operators.

  He scoped out possible escape routes, potential trouble spots, and noted precisely how many doors there were as well as the winding iron staircase leading to the gallery above. The wall behind him was artfully crumbling, with plants and vines growing along its faded bricks. It could be scaled, however, and quite easily. There was a fountain in front of him that tinkled musically. The pool at the bottom of the fountain was big enough to become a weapon if necessary.

  There was also a canopy of blooming wisteria vines overhead. They weren’t held up with magic but with wire. Wire could be useful.

  He stifled the urge to yawn. It had been a long drive and he’d barely made it in time to find a spot and catch some z’s in the car before heading into the city. He’d changed plates three times on the way down, and now it was time to ditch the SUV. He’d have to wipe it clean before he dumped it, and then he’d have to find another way to travel.

  But where was he going next? That he did not know. He had some ideas, but nothing fully formed as of yet.

  He’d lurked in a diner early this morning that had a television blaring a news channel. The assassination of the ambassador and speculation as to who did it was story number one. No word of a missing Army colonel, or indeed of a man named John Mendez. Then again, he didn’t expect that DeWitt would orchestrate a public manhunt.

  The people coming for him would not announce they were doing so.

  Still, he didn’t need to stand out more than he already did as a tall, muscled man with a military high and tight. He’d bought the ball cap. He’d also bought jeans and T-shirts, though he kept the Army combat boots. They were comfortable, and he could kick some serious ass with them if necessary.

  He hadn’t shaved since yesterday and he had a nice scruff going. Another couple of days and he’d have the beginnings of a beard. In the old days, when he’d still been an operator, he’d had longer hair and a beard. You didn’t have to have a regulation haircut in Special Ops because they made you stand out too much. Grow that shit long, get scruffy, blend in.

  But it had been a few years since he’d been in the field. He’d been in charge of HOT for about eight years now, building it into the elite organization it was. You didn’t do ops when you were begging Congress for funding and overseeing the program.

  He’d missed ops, but he’d also known that it was time. He didn’t necessarily believe it was a younger man’s game—and hell, he wasn’t quite fifty yet—but it took a seasoned warrior to build the unit. That had been him.

  Had being the correct word. He was no longer commander of HOT. He was a fugitive with a price on his head. He was also a man with a past waiting for the answers to a mystery he’d never stopped thinking about.

  And maybe that was a dangerous thing. Dmitri Leonov knew how to lure him. This Kat did too, whoever she was.

  Mendez felt the locket burning a hole in his jeans. He wanted to take it out and look at the portrait, but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t take his eyes off the entrances.

  She arrived fifteen minutes early. He knew it the instant she walked through the gate from Bourbon Street. Recognition clocked him like a hammer to the brain. It took everything he had not to jump to his feet and go to her. Kat—Ekaterina—had shoulder-length hair the color of onyx rather than red, but in every other regard she was Valentina’s twin. The ice-blue eyes, the way she carried herself, the shape of her nose and mouth. She was twenty-one years older than the woman he remembered, and just as stunning.

  She stood in the entrance and let her gaze slip over the courtyard. Confusion and anger punched him in the gut. She looked like Valentina, but she didn’t act like her. Valentina understood how to size up a room immediately and how to avoid bringing attention to herself. This woman seemed oblivious.

  Perhaps she literally was Valentina’s twin, though Valentina had never mentioned her. Then again, that wasn’t so unusual considering how perilous Moscow had been in those days.

  He debated whether or not to tip this woman off to his presence. It turned out to be unnecessary. She smiled at the waiter and then strode his way. When she reached the table, she pulled out a chair and sat down without a word. Her pulse thrummed in her throat.

  Interesting.

  “Are you certain you’ve come to the right table?”

  Her chin notched up. “I am. You are he. You are Mendez.”

  Her voice stroked against his memories. So familiar, and yet not.

  “How do you know?”

  “She described you.”

  “It was over twenty years ago. Things have changed.”

  “Not so many things,” she said, her blue eyes that were so like Valentina’s glistening with a hint of tears.

  What kind of surreal hell was this?

  His jaw was granite. “What do you want from me? And how do you know Ian Black?”

  Her tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip. He cursed the flare of interest that sparked inside him. She’s not Valentina. Is she?

  “I want to help you, John Mendez. I want to help you because my sister would have wanted me to.”

  Chapter 4

  Kat was nervous. This was turning out to be far harder than she’d thought it would be. But how could she have possibly thought it would be otherwise?

  She was in danger of messing up so many things. It was risky to be here, risky to have any contact with him. She’d thought she could do it because she’d given him up once before. She’d reinvented herself, become someone new, and he’d lived. So had she.

  She’d never thought she would see him again. But nothing ever turned out the way she wanted it to.

  So here she was, sitting a
cross the table from this man she’d loved so wildly once, pretending to be someone else even while she drowned in a flood of memories. Memories that made her want to wail against the unfairness of life. The price had been too high. Too damned high.

  She swallowed and studied him as evenly as she could. She’d changed her hair a long time ago—once she’d left Russia for good—but she couldn’t change her features. Oh, maybe she could have, with surgery, but she’d never quite gotten that far.

  Instead, she’d become Ekaterina Kasharin this time. Kat. She liked the name. It helped her to remember that she needed to be a cat—flexible, silent, adaptable. Deadly.

  Cats did not put themselves in danger though. She was doing that right now. Coming out of the shadows to talk to him. Taking a risk that she would be seen by more than the predator sitting opposite.

  The predator who studied her intently. Taking her apart like a jigsaw. Looking for weakness. He was confused for now, but that wouldn’t last. She’d gone against her instincts when she’d arrived and stood in the entry, letting herself be a target. She’d pretended to be searching and uncertain.

  It hadn’t been easy. She’d known him the instant she’d walked in. She could have floated to him like a bee to a flower and never wavered in her course. But she’d gone against her training because he would see through her ruse if she didn’t.

  He needed to believe she was someone else. For both their sakes. Because if she had to tell him the truth, she didn’t think she could survive it. She wasn’t free and never would be. Sergei was still out there, still dangerous. She couldn’t ever be complacent where he was concerned.

  Perhaps she’d made a mistake in taking this on. Ian knew her past, though not quite all of it. He’d come to her when he knew Sergei and Dmitri were involved in the plot against Johnny. How could she say no? How could she let those two harm him after all they’d done?

  Johnny had changed in nearly twenty-one years. They both had. He’d always had a little bit of gray in his night-black hair, even in his twenties. He’d told her it was a family trait—what he called salt-and-pepper hair. She’d thought it beautiful. She still did, though what she could see of it peeking out from the ball cap was much grayer than it had been back then. The lines around his eyes were more pronounced now, but they made him more handsome rather than less. He was one of those men who became even more gorgeous with age. Like the American actor George Clooney, or Sean Connery of James Bond fame. Men who’d been handsome when younger but then turned into stunners when they hit their fifties.