Shadow Target (A Shadow Target Thriller Book 1), page 4
The squeak of a drawer pulled him back to himself, his training kicking in again.
“Hey. No funny business back there. I can promise you that you’re not quick enough, so don’t even try it. Get the thumb drive and hurry up.”
“I’m working on it,” Snider replied. “It’s in the bottom left drawer and there’s no light, so I’m trying to find it blindly.”
“Try harder. Work faster.”
“Do you know what’s on this drive? It contains data on some powerful men that could ruin their world.”
“Not my problem. Hurry it up.”
“Of course, it isn’t. It’s never anyone’s problem. That is the problem.”
“Less talking.”
Another ten seconds passed before Snider dumped the small device on the desk pad. “There. That’s what you’re after. Please take it and go.”
That’s not how this goes, Brad thought with a tinge of unfamiliar dread. As he reached for the black thumb drive, the door to Snider’s office opened.
Brad whipped around and aimed the pistol at the shadowy figure standing in the doorway.
“Andrew, are you…” she said, then froze. Pure panic washed over the woman as she lingered in the doorway. “What’s going on?”
“Valerie. Sweetie. Don’t move or say another word,” Andrew replied in a strained, worried voice. “Everything’s okay. Just stay calm.”
“You lied,” Brad said as he grabbed the thumb drive from the desk pad and shoved it into his pocket. “Damn it!”
“I know and I’m sorry,” Snider replied, fear-stricken. “Please, don’t hurt my family. I beg of you. You’ve got what you wanted. There’s no need to go any further with this. We have no idea who you are.”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Snider, that’s not the way this works.”
Brad pointed the gun at Valerie, hesitating, trying to think of another way. But he knew she would talk, risking his crew, his family. He knew in his gut that there wasn’t another way. He glanced at the picture, the happy family moment memorialized on film. Seconds passed. The room froze as if the entire world was holding its breath, waiting to see what he would do next.
Then everything happened at once.
Valerie launched herself toward her husband, the sudden movement causing Brad to flinch. The HK fired a single round, the bullet spiraling through the air and finding a new home in Valerie’s head, killing her upon impact. She stumbled back into the hallway and collapsed to the floor.
“Valerie!” Mr. Snider sprung from the chair in a fit of grief and rage. “You damn son of a bitch!”
Brad pivoted on his heels in one fluid motion and placed two rounds into Snider’s torso as he bolted around the desk.
He crumpled to the floor and hit it with a heavy thump, face first.
Brad stood in the silence. It was too still, too quiet. No more whimpers or pleas, no panicked breaths or furtive movements. Only Brad and the thrumming of his own heart, beating an accusing rhythm– Murderer… Murderer… Murderer…
With the thumb drive secured in his pants pocket and the target down, Brad didn’t know why he did what he did next, but he couldn’t just leave the family photo staring out over the carnage. He rushed to the desk, and with shaking gloved hands he fumbled with the back of the picture frame. Finally, he freed the backing and removed the photo. Folding it in half, he slid it into his back pocket and headed toward the door. He stepped over the woman’s dead body and rushed down the hallway.
By all accounts, his mission was complete.
As Brad neared the cavernous living room, a figure moved about on the stairs to his right. Instinctively, Brad leveled the barrel of the HK at the figure. It ducked back behind the wall’s edge as he approached, whimpering and afraid.
Cloaked in shadows, a frightened young girl huddled on the steps and pressed into the wall. She was barefoot and had a nightgown on. Her arms cradled both bent legs. She glanced up at him through the murkiness, her messy hair flailing in every direction.
Brad closed his eyes, his traitorous heart punching a hole through his chest. This was the moment, he knew, that would define every consecutive moment for the rest of his life. Would he become someone who could kill a child? Or would he be a failed assassin, willing to put the only family he’d ever known at risk?
She cowered before him; her whimpers and cries sounded vastly different from those of adulterous men and their hookers.
The training that was drilled into him from an early age battled inside him.
Eliminate all witnesses.
The family’s smiling faces burned a hole in his mind.
No loose ends.
No exceptions.
Brad did the unthinkable.
He lowered the pistol and stuffed it back into the front waistband of his jeans. If hesitating to kill the parents was him cracking, then this was his snapping point. Everything inside him broke loose, and he couldn’t be in that house for another minute. He retreated from the hallway and across the dining room to the French doors.
The young girl vanished from the stairs as he threw open one side of the door and ran outside. He fled around the corner of the home and down to the sidewalk, then to the street.
His boots hammered the pavement like a race horse on the run. He leaped over the grass and the curb, after which he sprinted the length of the walkway toward his car.
None of the homes he flew by showed activity from the glances he gave them. For now, it seemed as though he was in the clear.
Brad followed the curved walkway to his car and skirted the back bumper. His gloved hand fished the keys of the Corolla out of his pocket as he advanced on the driver’s door. He threw it open, ducked inside, and slammed the door shut behind him.
Firing up the car, Brad peeled away from the curb and down the street. He ripped the ski mask from his head and tried to control his panicked breathing, his body refusing to believe that it was getting enough oxygen. Black dots jumped around the edges of his vision. He had to pull himself together or this night was going to get a whole lot worse.
He removed his right glove with his teeth while navigating the streets of the upscale neighborhood.
After taking several deep breaths through his nose and releasing them slowly, he was able to force himself to focus on the task at hand. Switching the phone on and applying his thumbprint, Brad hesitated on penning the two words that he’d grown used to sending. It was a partial lie and one that he wasn’t sure he’d get away with. If push came to shove, he’d find a way out of the hole into which he had now dug himself.
Exiting the community from the opposite way he entered, Brad typed Mission Complete in the text box. He then fired off the message as he merged onto the two-lane road. Brad dumped the phone into the passenger seat and punched the gas, leaving Lone Grove East behind him.
Chapter 9
The following day was a mess of confusion shrouded in a sense of failure. It stole Brad’s ability to think straight, but at least no one had questioned him about the mission– yet. Still, he had a massive weight tied to his shoulders that he couldn’t shake and thus he needed the council of his instructor and mentor.
Brad made his way to Ronan’s office early in the morning. It was before 7:00 a.m. His head pitched downward and he avoided eye contact with the few people he passed. Brad tried to act natural, but fracturing at the seams last night had thrown him off his axis, and Brad didn’t know how to deal with it.
Visiting Ronan and divulging such a blunder was a risky move. He had no idea how his mentor would respond since he was an instructor, and loyalties ran deep. But Brad had to get what happened off his chest. He would accept the consequences, whatever punishment came down on him, if Ronan decided to pass it along.
He knocked on the closed door three times. There were no windows to Ronan’s office so Brad had no clue if he was inside or not.
“Yes,” a muffled voice replied from within.
Twisting the doorknob, Brad opened the door and poked his head inside. Ronan sat in his chair behind his gunmetal gray, steel desk. No one else was with him.
“Do you have a second to talk?” Brad asked.
“Of course. Come in and have a seat.”
Brad entered the chilled room and shut the door behind him. His heart ran at a gallop. Nervousness twisted his stomach and his palms were clammy. His mouth was dry and tacky. He licked his lips and took a seat in front of the desk.
“How’d everything go yesterday?” Ronan asked. “I heard you were delayed a bit.”
“Yes. There were a few bumps in the road but the job was completed.”
“That’s good to hear.” Ronan paused for a beat; then he asked, “How are you doing since our talk? Any better?”
Brad said nothing.
The question made Brad want to writhe in his seat, but he remained still. His hesitation wasn’t lost on Ronan, however, who knew Brad well enough to know when something was on his mind.
“What is it? You know I can read you like a book, right? Always have since you were a pup.”
With his eyes downcast, Brad leaned forward in the seat and said, “I think I might have messed up last night.”
“How so? From what I heard the mission was a success. The thumb drive was retrieved and all targets were neutralized. That sounds like it went off without a hitch. Case closed.”
Brad looked up and met Ronan’s gaze, wrestling with whether or not he should fully commit and unburden himself of the lie, but there was no going back now as Ronan knew something was up, and he’d press until he uncovered what it was.
“Well, not all of the targets were…handled.”
Ronan inched forward on the edge of his seat, closer to his desk. “So, then, you didn’t complete the mission as reported?”
“That’s correct.”
“What loose end was left untied?”
He gulped. “The daughter.”
“Did she evade you somehow, or were you interrupted before you could finish?”
“Not exactly.” Brad ran his fingers through his grungy hair that hadn’t been washed in days and sat back in the chair. “I froze. No. I didn’t just freeze, I panicked. I’m not sure why. I had her dead in my sight but couldn’t pull the trigger. She was right there.”
The image of the girl trembling and her voice quivering had haunted Brad since the encounter. He couldn’t shake the sadness inside that went against the upbringing he had.
There was no room for emotion.
No sadness.
No remorse.
No fear.
A mindless killing machine was what they trained him, and the other operators, to be. Now, in the early days of his career, Brad felt like he had failed the family who had raised him.
Ronan remained calm and didn’t unload on Brad. Not that he thought he would but he figured he’d at least lecture him on protocol and how he’d botched his op, even if by an insignificant portion.
“Okay. Let’s work this out.” Ronan scooted his chair back and stood. “The girl didn’t see your face, did she?”
“No. I had my ski mask on.”
“Good. That’s good. So, she can’t identify you, then?”
“Correct.”
“Just so we’re clear, both parents are dead?”
“Yes.”
“All right. Here is what we’re going to do,” Ronan said while pacing his office. “We’re going to keep this under wraps and between the two of us. No one else is going to know. Do not say a word to anyone.”
“How is that going to work?” Brad asked. “Won’t they know from news reports once the story breaks? We both know it will.”
“Perhaps, but we can play it off that you didn’t know she was in the home. Hidden somewhere out of sight and you were forced to leave before you could search the home. I don’t know. We’ll figure something out.”
Brad asked, “So, you’re not going to pass this up the chain then?”
“No. I’m not.”
“Why? Won’t you get in trouble if they find out you knew about it ahead of time and didn’t say anything?”
“Because the organization doesn’t take kindly to failure, much less lies, and I don’t want anything to happen to you,” Ronan answered. “I’m more forgiving than they are. And don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
“Perhaps I should go to Morgan and explain what happened before they find out from the news or the folks who hired us. He might understand,” Brad said, desperately searching for a favorable result. “Somehow, I seem to have gotten in well with him. He wants to speak with me about some new opportunity.”
Ronan was quick to shut down the suggestion. “No. Under no circumstances do you do that. This stays between us. Stick to the plan and this will pass. I’ll make sure of it.”
“I can’t believe I botched this so bad. I’ve never frozen like that. Even on my first solo op, I was flawless, precise. No hesitation. What’s wrong with me? Why did I do that?”
“I’m not sure.” Ronan made his way to Brad and sat on the lip of the desk in front of the confused young man. “I think, for now, you should stay out of the field until we can get to the bottom of whatever is bothering you. Again, I’ll work it out. If anyone asks, you’re not feeling well and I have removed you from active duty. Leave it at that. Your mind has to be clear and free of distractions. Right now, it’s not. I should have spotted this sooner, and for that, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault but mine. The blame rests on me alone.”
“Don’t beat yourself up.” Ronan consoled Brad as best he could by patting his shoulder. “We’ll get you straightened around and back in the game before too long. You probably just need some rest, is all. They’ve been using you a lot lately. That’s what happens when you’re the best.”
Brad got up from the chair and made for the door, pausing before he exited. “And what if resting doesn’t fix it? What if there’s something else going on with me?”
“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. And Brad…”
“Yes?”
“Off the record, I think you made the right call. There’s no room for sloppiness in this business, but God help us if there is no longer a place for mercy.”
Chapter 10
Days had passed since Brad’s admission of failure to Ronan. No swift punishment came from Morgan or the other instructors. The mission he’d willingly lied about hadn’t been brought up again, much to Brad’s surprise.
After spending the majority of his time in his housing unit “not feeling well,” Morgan finally summoned Brad to his office on the evening of the third day. The leader cared not about any such illness as he had business to discuss with the up-and-coming assassin.
Brad headed to Morgan’s plush office located in his mansion-like residence on the west side of the compound. It was decorated with lavish paintings and priceless artifacts Morgan had procured from around the globe. He enjoyed spending money and living large.
A hint of trepidation sprouted inside of Brad as he closed in on the double doors leading into Morgan’s office. The meeting was expected considering how he’d wanted to speak with Brad about plans he had for him. Still, that knowledge didn’t resolve the angst boiling in his gut.
He fought tirelessly to master his emotions and to present a confident front that wouldn’t give away his deceit. Before walking in, Brad knocked on the door and waited for a reply.
“Enter,” Morgan said from inside.
With a deep breath and a slow exhale, Brad entered the lion’s den. He was not only greeted by Morgan, but by Asher, and a few other instructors as well, gathered around the huge conference table. Ronan was nowhere to be seen.
“Sir. You wanted to see me?”
“Yes. Come on in, Brad, and have a seat.” Morgan gave a jovial smile, stood from his chair, and waved him over to the empty seat next to him.
Brad shut the door behind him and marched past two of the instructors to the plush black leather chair.
Asher eyed him the entire time. A resting scowl burned a hole through his head as he slouched in his chair and tapped his fingers against the top of the conference table.
“How are you feeling?” Morgan asked as he took his seat. “Ronan informed me that you were under the weather after returning from Chesapeake.”
Sitting down and rolling his chair forward, Brad said, “I’m doing better.” He didn’t want to offer too much information. Men like these were keen on catching lies, and the more Brad talked the more he risked making a slip.
“I know I’ve been running you ragged, but with the amount of work we’ve received, it’s been a necessary evil,” Morgan offered. “All that matters is that you're back to form and ready.”
Brad nodded as if he had no other recourse but to do so. “I am, sir.”
“Good.” Morgan then faced the instructors and Asher, who looked miserable and said, “For the past few months, I have been thinking of the future and what it means for the Cobalt family. What we do here is important work. This well-oiled machine is a marvel in and of itself, one that I’m proud of and hope that each of you is as well.”
Asher smacked the table’s top, interrupting his father’s speech. “I’m going to stop you right there, Pop.”
Disgruntled, Morgan said, “We discussed this already. I’ve made up my mind. You will sit down and shut up, or–”
“I will do no such thing,” Asher shot back at his father, raising his voice. His malevolent glare flared with rage while locking horns with his father. “He lied to us and you’re allowing it to slide? That’s not how we operate or how you’ve handled such matters in the past. You know that since you set the rules.”
Brad’s throat moved. A lump formed. He swallowed and remained silent as Morgan glowered at his now-standing spawn who had hijacked his meeting.
“This has been resolved and explained by Ronan,” Morgan said. “One cannot kill what they do not see, can they? Do you have that magical power to be able to do that? If so, then why haven’t you?”
Asher guffawed and pointed at Brad. “Don’t tell me that your golden boy over here couldn’t locate a helpless girl in a home. Please. I’m not buying that, and neither is anyone else.” He cut his hard gaze to Brad and continued his rambling. “Do you know what I think? He went soft. Choked, even. After all, for some, putting down an adult is easier than, say, killing a kid. What I think is that he knowingly let her go, and then he lied to us, his family. That cannot and will not stand.” He turned back to his father, an imperious grin on his face. “Per your rules, of course.”
“Hey. No funny business back there. I can promise you that you’re not quick enough, so don’t even try it. Get the thumb drive and hurry up.”
“I’m working on it,” Snider replied. “It’s in the bottom left drawer and there’s no light, so I’m trying to find it blindly.”
“Try harder. Work faster.”
“Do you know what’s on this drive? It contains data on some powerful men that could ruin their world.”
“Not my problem. Hurry it up.”
“Of course, it isn’t. It’s never anyone’s problem. That is the problem.”
“Less talking.”
Another ten seconds passed before Snider dumped the small device on the desk pad. “There. That’s what you’re after. Please take it and go.”
That’s not how this goes, Brad thought with a tinge of unfamiliar dread. As he reached for the black thumb drive, the door to Snider’s office opened.
Brad whipped around and aimed the pistol at the shadowy figure standing in the doorway.
“Andrew, are you…” she said, then froze. Pure panic washed over the woman as she lingered in the doorway. “What’s going on?”
“Valerie. Sweetie. Don’t move or say another word,” Andrew replied in a strained, worried voice. “Everything’s okay. Just stay calm.”
“You lied,” Brad said as he grabbed the thumb drive from the desk pad and shoved it into his pocket. “Damn it!”
“I know and I’m sorry,” Snider replied, fear-stricken. “Please, don’t hurt my family. I beg of you. You’ve got what you wanted. There’s no need to go any further with this. We have no idea who you are.”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Snider, that’s not the way this works.”
Brad pointed the gun at Valerie, hesitating, trying to think of another way. But he knew she would talk, risking his crew, his family. He knew in his gut that there wasn’t another way. He glanced at the picture, the happy family moment memorialized on film. Seconds passed. The room froze as if the entire world was holding its breath, waiting to see what he would do next.
Then everything happened at once.
Valerie launched herself toward her husband, the sudden movement causing Brad to flinch. The HK fired a single round, the bullet spiraling through the air and finding a new home in Valerie’s head, killing her upon impact. She stumbled back into the hallway and collapsed to the floor.
“Valerie!” Mr. Snider sprung from the chair in a fit of grief and rage. “You damn son of a bitch!”
Brad pivoted on his heels in one fluid motion and placed two rounds into Snider’s torso as he bolted around the desk.
He crumpled to the floor and hit it with a heavy thump, face first.
Brad stood in the silence. It was too still, too quiet. No more whimpers or pleas, no panicked breaths or furtive movements. Only Brad and the thrumming of his own heart, beating an accusing rhythm– Murderer… Murderer… Murderer…
With the thumb drive secured in his pants pocket and the target down, Brad didn’t know why he did what he did next, but he couldn’t just leave the family photo staring out over the carnage. He rushed to the desk, and with shaking gloved hands he fumbled with the back of the picture frame. Finally, he freed the backing and removed the photo. Folding it in half, he slid it into his back pocket and headed toward the door. He stepped over the woman’s dead body and rushed down the hallway.
By all accounts, his mission was complete.
As Brad neared the cavernous living room, a figure moved about on the stairs to his right. Instinctively, Brad leveled the barrel of the HK at the figure. It ducked back behind the wall’s edge as he approached, whimpering and afraid.
Cloaked in shadows, a frightened young girl huddled on the steps and pressed into the wall. She was barefoot and had a nightgown on. Her arms cradled both bent legs. She glanced up at him through the murkiness, her messy hair flailing in every direction.
Brad closed his eyes, his traitorous heart punching a hole through his chest. This was the moment, he knew, that would define every consecutive moment for the rest of his life. Would he become someone who could kill a child? Or would he be a failed assassin, willing to put the only family he’d ever known at risk?
She cowered before him; her whimpers and cries sounded vastly different from those of adulterous men and their hookers.
The training that was drilled into him from an early age battled inside him.
Eliminate all witnesses.
The family’s smiling faces burned a hole in his mind.
No loose ends.
No exceptions.
Brad did the unthinkable.
He lowered the pistol and stuffed it back into the front waistband of his jeans. If hesitating to kill the parents was him cracking, then this was his snapping point. Everything inside him broke loose, and he couldn’t be in that house for another minute. He retreated from the hallway and across the dining room to the French doors.
The young girl vanished from the stairs as he threw open one side of the door and ran outside. He fled around the corner of the home and down to the sidewalk, then to the street.
His boots hammered the pavement like a race horse on the run. He leaped over the grass and the curb, after which he sprinted the length of the walkway toward his car.
None of the homes he flew by showed activity from the glances he gave them. For now, it seemed as though he was in the clear.
Brad followed the curved walkway to his car and skirted the back bumper. His gloved hand fished the keys of the Corolla out of his pocket as he advanced on the driver’s door. He threw it open, ducked inside, and slammed the door shut behind him.
Firing up the car, Brad peeled away from the curb and down the street. He ripped the ski mask from his head and tried to control his panicked breathing, his body refusing to believe that it was getting enough oxygen. Black dots jumped around the edges of his vision. He had to pull himself together or this night was going to get a whole lot worse.
He removed his right glove with his teeth while navigating the streets of the upscale neighborhood.
After taking several deep breaths through his nose and releasing them slowly, he was able to force himself to focus on the task at hand. Switching the phone on and applying his thumbprint, Brad hesitated on penning the two words that he’d grown used to sending. It was a partial lie and one that he wasn’t sure he’d get away with. If push came to shove, he’d find a way out of the hole into which he had now dug himself.
Exiting the community from the opposite way he entered, Brad typed Mission Complete in the text box. He then fired off the message as he merged onto the two-lane road. Brad dumped the phone into the passenger seat and punched the gas, leaving Lone Grove East behind him.
Chapter 9
The following day was a mess of confusion shrouded in a sense of failure. It stole Brad’s ability to think straight, but at least no one had questioned him about the mission– yet. Still, he had a massive weight tied to his shoulders that he couldn’t shake and thus he needed the council of his instructor and mentor.
Brad made his way to Ronan’s office early in the morning. It was before 7:00 a.m. His head pitched downward and he avoided eye contact with the few people he passed. Brad tried to act natural, but fracturing at the seams last night had thrown him off his axis, and Brad didn’t know how to deal with it.
Visiting Ronan and divulging such a blunder was a risky move. He had no idea how his mentor would respond since he was an instructor, and loyalties ran deep. But Brad had to get what happened off his chest. He would accept the consequences, whatever punishment came down on him, if Ronan decided to pass it along.
He knocked on the closed door three times. There were no windows to Ronan’s office so Brad had no clue if he was inside or not.
“Yes,” a muffled voice replied from within.
Twisting the doorknob, Brad opened the door and poked his head inside. Ronan sat in his chair behind his gunmetal gray, steel desk. No one else was with him.
“Do you have a second to talk?” Brad asked.
“Of course. Come in and have a seat.”
Brad entered the chilled room and shut the door behind him. His heart ran at a gallop. Nervousness twisted his stomach and his palms were clammy. His mouth was dry and tacky. He licked his lips and took a seat in front of the desk.
“How’d everything go yesterday?” Ronan asked. “I heard you were delayed a bit.”
“Yes. There were a few bumps in the road but the job was completed.”
“That’s good to hear.” Ronan paused for a beat; then he asked, “How are you doing since our talk? Any better?”
Brad said nothing.
The question made Brad want to writhe in his seat, but he remained still. His hesitation wasn’t lost on Ronan, however, who knew Brad well enough to know when something was on his mind.
“What is it? You know I can read you like a book, right? Always have since you were a pup.”
With his eyes downcast, Brad leaned forward in the seat and said, “I think I might have messed up last night.”
“How so? From what I heard the mission was a success. The thumb drive was retrieved and all targets were neutralized. That sounds like it went off without a hitch. Case closed.”
Brad looked up and met Ronan’s gaze, wrestling with whether or not he should fully commit and unburden himself of the lie, but there was no going back now as Ronan knew something was up, and he’d press until he uncovered what it was.
“Well, not all of the targets were…handled.”
Ronan inched forward on the edge of his seat, closer to his desk. “So, then, you didn’t complete the mission as reported?”
“That’s correct.”
“What loose end was left untied?”
He gulped. “The daughter.”
“Did she evade you somehow, or were you interrupted before you could finish?”
“Not exactly.” Brad ran his fingers through his grungy hair that hadn’t been washed in days and sat back in the chair. “I froze. No. I didn’t just freeze, I panicked. I’m not sure why. I had her dead in my sight but couldn’t pull the trigger. She was right there.”
The image of the girl trembling and her voice quivering had haunted Brad since the encounter. He couldn’t shake the sadness inside that went against the upbringing he had.
There was no room for emotion.
No sadness.
No remorse.
No fear.
A mindless killing machine was what they trained him, and the other operators, to be. Now, in the early days of his career, Brad felt like he had failed the family who had raised him.
Ronan remained calm and didn’t unload on Brad. Not that he thought he would but he figured he’d at least lecture him on protocol and how he’d botched his op, even if by an insignificant portion.
“Okay. Let’s work this out.” Ronan scooted his chair back and stood. “The girl didn’t see your face, did she?”
“No. I had my ski mask on.”
“Good. That’s good. So, she can’t identify you, then?”
“Correct.”
“Just so we’re clear, both parents are dead?”
“Yes.”
“All right. Here is what we’re going to do,” Ronan said while pacing his office. “We’re going to keep this under wraps and between the two of us. No one else is going to know. Do not say a word to anyone.”
“How is that going to work?” Brad asked. “Won’t they know from news reports once the story breaks? We both know it will.”
“Perhaps, but we can play it off that you didn’t know she was in the home. Hidden somewhere out of sight and you were forced to leave before you could search the home. I don’t know. We’ll figure something out.”
Brad asked, “So, you’re not going to pass this up the chain then?”
“No. I’m not.”
“Why? Won’t you get in trouble if they find out you knew about it ahead of time and didn’t say anything?”
“Because the organization doesn’t take kindly to failure, much less lies, and I don’t want anything to happen to you,” Ronan answered. “I’m more forgiving than they are. And don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
“Perhaps I should go to Morgan and explain what happened before they find out from the news or the folks who hired us. He might understand,” Brad said, desperately searching for a favorable result. “Somehow, I seem to have gotten in well with him. He wants to speak with me about some new opportunity.”
Ronan was quick to shut down the suggestion. “No. Under no circumstances do you do that. This stays between us. Stick to the plan and this will pass. I’ll make sure of it.”
“I can’t believe I botched this so bad. I’ve never frozen like that. Even on my first solo op, I was flawless, precise. No hesitation. What’s wrong with me? Why did I do that?”
“I’m not sure.” Ronan made his way to Brad and sat on the lip of the desk in front of the confused young man. “I think, for now, you should stay out of the field until we can get to the bottom of whatever is bothering you. Again, I’ll work it out. If anyone asks, you’re not feeling well and I have removed you from active duty. Leave it at that. Your mind has to be clear and free of distractions. Right now, it’s not. I should have spotted this sooner, and for that, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault but mine. The blame rests on me alone.”
“Don’t beat yourself up.” Ronan consoled Brad as best he could by patting his shoulder. “We’ll get you straightened around and back in the game before too long. You probably just need some rest, is all. They’ve been using you a lot lately. That’s what happens when you’re the best.”
Brad got up from the chair and made for the door, pausing before he exited. “And what if resting doesn’t fix it? What if there’s something else going on with me?”
“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. And Brad…”
“Yes?”
“Off the record, I think you made the right call. There’s no room for sloppiness in this business, but God help us if there is no longer a place for mercy.”
Chapter 10
Days had passed since Brad’s admission of failure to Ronan. No swift punishment came from Morgan or the other instructors. The mission he’d willingly lied about hadn’t been brought up again, much to Brad’s surprise.
After spending the majority of his time in his housing unit “not feeling well,” Morgan finally summoned Brad to his office on the evening of the third day. The leader cared not about any such illness as he had business to discuss with the up-and-coming assassin.
Brad headed to Morgan’s plush office located in his mansion-like residence on the west side of the compound. It was decorated with lavish paintings and priceless artifacts Morgan had procured from around the globe. He enjoyed spending money and living large.
A hint of trepidation sprouted inside of Brad as he closed in on the double doors leading into Morgan’s office. The meeting was expected considering how he’d wanted to speak with Brad about plans he had for him. Still, that knowledge didn’t resolve the angst boiling in his gut.
He fought tirelessly to master his emotions and to present a confident front that wouldn’t give away his deceit. Before walking in, Brad knocked on the door and waited for a reply.
“Enter,” Morgan said from inside.
With a deep breath and a slow exhale, Brad entered the lion’s den. He was not only greeted by Morgan, but by Asher, and a few other instructors as well, gathered around the huge conference table. Ronan was nowhere to be seen.
“Sir. You wanted to see me?”
“Yes. Come on in, Brad, and have a seat.” Morgan gave a jovial smile, stood from his chair, and waved him over to the empty seat next to him.
Brad shut the door behind him and marched past two of the instructors to the plush black leather chair.
Asher eyed him the entire time. A resting scowl burned a hole through his head as he slouched in his chair and tapped his fingers against the top of the conference table.
“How are you feeling?” Morgan asked as he took his seat. “Ronan informed me that you were under the weather after returning from Chesapeake.”
Sitting down and rolling his chair forward, Brad said, “I’m doing better.” He didn’t want to offer too much information. Men like these were keen on catching lies, and the more Brad talked the more he risked making a slip.
“I know I’ve been running you ragged, but with the amount of work we’ve received, it’s been a necessary evil,” Morgan offered. “All that matters is that you're back to form and ready.”
Brad nodded as if he had no other recourse but to do so. “I am, sir.”
“Good.” Morgan then faced the instructors and Asher, who looked miserable and said, “For the past few months, I have been thinking of the future and what it means for the Cobalt family. What we do here is important work. This well-oiled machine is a marvel in and of itself, one that I’m proud of and hope that each of you is as well.”
Asher smacked the table’s top, interrupting his father’s speech. “I’m going to stop you right there, Pop.”
Disgruntled, Morgan said, “We discussed this already. I’ve made up my mind. You will sit down and shut up, or–”
“I will do no such thing,” Asher shot back at his father, raising his voice. His malevolent glare flared with rage while locking horns with his father. “He lied to us and you’re allowing it to slide? That’s not how we operate or how you’ve handled such matters in the past. You know that since you set the rules.”
Brad’s throat moved. A lump formed. He swallowed and remained silent as Morgan glowered at his now-standing spawn who had hijacked his meeting.
“This has been resolved and explained by Ronan,” Morgan said. “One cannot kill what they do not see, can they? Do you have that magical power to be able to do that? If so, then why haven’t you?”
Asher guffawed and pointed at Brad. “Don’t tell me that your golden boy over here couldn’t locate a helpless girl in a home. Please. I’m not buying that, and neither is anyone else.” He cut his hard gaze to Brad and continued his rambling. “Do you know what I think? He went soft. Choked, even. After all, for some, putting down an adult is easier than, say, killing a kid. What I think is that he knowingly let her go, and then he lied to us, his family. That cannot and will not stand.” He turned back to his father, an imperious grin on his face. “Per your rules, of course.”
