Not Without Cause

They were assassins and only a handful of people knew it.

Of those, fewer still knew the whole truth: Every hit they’d ever made had been a sanctioned one, vetted and cleared by the president of the United States himself. The secret was buried so well that even the men on the team didn’t know. At least, not officially. They’d guessed by now, she was sure, but nothing had ever been said about their status.

Haden had not been included in the group who knew these facts. He thought the Operatives were mercenaries, plain and simple. A year or so after she’d been “fired,” she’d run into him at Heathrow. He’d been on his way to the Sudan and she’d been going to Hong Kong. She’d wanted desperately to avoid him, but escape had been out of the question. He’d started straight for her the second he’d seen her.

“I hear you’ve a very rich woman,” he said without preamble.

“I make a living.”

His eyes had turned hard and glittery. “A real killing?”

The double entendre had left her trembling on the inside but she’d smiled. “You could say that.”

He’d shaken his head in disgust and walked away. Watching him leave, Meredith had understood, in a way she hadn’t before then, that her former life was truly over. All she had left was her job. Everything else had been sacrificed for her country.

With the motivation of a higher purpose guiding their actions, the Operatives had proceeded to make the world a safer place. She’d never felt a moment’s doubt about their goals until today when she’d looked in Dean Reynolds’s eyes and heard him say Jack Haden’s name.

Watching a 747 angle into its berth twenty feet from where she sat, she sighed heavily and admitted to the hesitation she’d felt during her meeting with Dean. She didn’t doubt his intel but something just didn’t feel right.

Her doubts plagued her the whole flight home. She knew the Miami airport better than she knew her own backyard but when she got in late that night, she got lost pulling out of the parking lot. Finally, she found the right road and she headed home.

Turning into her driveway at midnight, Meredith parked inside the garage and lowered the door. When it was completely down, she unlocked the car and retrieved her overnight bag from the trunk. Once inside, she flicked on the lights and turned off her burglar alarm, then she went through the house with her blade at her side. Her actions were routine but they weren’t taken lightly. A price had been on her head for years.

She finished her check and came back to the kitchen. Laying her knife on the countertop where her cell phone already rested, she leaned her hip against the cabinet and closed her eyes, her mind occupied with the images and sensations Dean’s proposition had brought back to her.

Haden’s face in the dark, his body, toned and hard, the touch of his fingers along her jaw. She’d hidden her memories beneath a layer of protective armor after their breakup, but Dean’s words had ripped that shield right off.

She’d given up everything for her country; the possibility of a family and a husband, not to mention children, were not in her future and they never would be. She’d traded those things for adrenaline and power—life-and-death power—and it was way too late to go back and make changes.

If she’d ever had a chance at having any of those things, it would have been with Haden, though. He’d been wild, but under the craziness there had been a rock-solid man she’d come to care for more than she’d expected. More than anyone she’d ever cared for before—or since. He’d been special and rare—one of those guys who caught you unaware when you’d decided no one else could possibly surprise you.

For a single second she wanted to walk away and ignore the decision she’d wrestled with for the past five hours, but she knew that wasn’t a real option.

If Reynolds wanted Haden dead, it was going to happen.

If she didn’t take the job, then someone else would. Haden would fall ill. Or get hit by a car. Or drown in a pool.

He was a dead man walking.

Before she could think about it any more, she picked up her cell phone and dialed. It was almost 1:00 a.m. but Dean Reynolds answered on the second ring, his voice deep, his manner alert. “Reynolds here.”

“I’ll call you when I get there,” she said. “Don’t try to contact me. You won’t be able to.” She hung up before he could ask any questions.

CHAPTER TWO

SHE HIT THE END BUTTON then dialed a second number. It was an hour earlier in Peru where Armando Torres lived, but he answered as quickly as Dean Reynolds had.

“I’m taking some time off,” she said. “I thought I should let you know.”

“That’s good.” His calm acceptance of her announcement was typical. Nothing ruffled Armando, except his new wife. They’d met when she’d come to his clinic near Machu Picchu in search of some answers to questions from her past. He’d helped her find them and they’d fallen in love in the process. “Are you going somewhere warm where the water is blue and the drinks are cold?”

“I’m going to Guatemala,” she answered. “Does that count?”

A small silence built. “Since there is no other reason to visit that godforsaken country, I must assume you’re an aficionado of antiquities and I didn’t know it.”

“I’m not, but a friend of mine is having some problems. I’m going down there to see if I can help.”

“You have a friend besides Julia?” His voice lightened. “I don’t believe it!”

Meredith chuckled. Armando had met her best friend, Julia Vandamme when she and Jonathan Cruz had married a short time ago. Cruz had saved Julia from a very bad situation in Colombia before stealing her heart.

“This is a friend I don’t usually claim, but I think he’s gotten himself into some trouble. I can’t walk away.”

Armando’s voice stayed neutral. “Trouble in Guatemala can be deadly. It’s not a nice place.”

“That’s why I wanted you to know where I’ll be. Whatever happens, it won’t be easy.”

“Maybe you should send Stratton instead?”

Stratton O’Neil had left the Operatives, but he still helped them out on occasion. He was very good in tricky situations.

“I’d like to send him,” she said now, “but this is something I have to do.”

“Are you sure?”

She looked out to the courtyard where a late night shower had left diamonds glittering on the leaves of the ferns. All her windows faced the courtyard. There were no openings to the street and the world beyond, a metaphor for her life, she’d often thought.

“I don’t really like Guatemala,” she mused. “I don’t understand the country but yes, I’m sure. I don’t have a choice.”

“Meredith, por favor, we always have choices. You know that better than anyone,” he chided her gently. “You have had to make some hard ones yourself.”

“You have, too, my friend.”

“Maybe so, but that is life, eh?”

“I suppose.”

He hesitated, as polite as ever, but his concern overrode his reserve. “If you have a lack of enthusiasm about this situation, perhaps it is best to reconsider?”

“I’ve already committed myself. That isn’t an option.”

“Which only serves to make my point.”

“You’re right,” she said. “But I said I’d help.”

“I understand,” he conceded. “Some obligations must be met, regardless of their cost.”

“Thanks for listening. You’re a good friend, Armando.”