Concerto (North Security 2)

I hate that I can’t protect her from any of it. “There’s no way I can make her stop the tour. She’s got her heart set on it.”

“And you can never say no to Samantha.”

That makes me scowl. “I said no to concerts if they interrupted school for the past six years. She deserves to make her own choices now.”

“Not to mention she’ll be eighteen by then.”

My heart thumps against my chest in useless protest, but I make sure not to show any sign of it to my brother. Christ. I ignore the way my pulse thrums. It would be too easy to rise to the bait. Too easy to take the stairs two at a time and prove to myself that Samantha’s still there, if only for a short time more. “Kiss my ass.”

“You’re really worried about her.”

“Is there actually a reason why you’re here, or do you just love to annoy me?”

“Annoying y

ou is reason enough, in my opinion, but I do actually have something work related. The Red Team has gone dark.” He stands almost at attention, as if we were both still in the navy.

That makes me pause. Three highly trained operatives could handle themselves in the frozen tundra. There were reasons they might go dark in order to maintain cover. “How long?”

“A week.”

Of course. For all that Josh acts like he doesn’t give a shit, he manages the daily operations of North Security with sharp intelligence.

He wouldn’t have brought me this unless it was serious.

“What did their last report say?”

“I’m sending you the full file now, starting with the last entry, but it doesn’t indicate a problem. We have their coordinates to the south of the Ural Mountains. No injuries or major setbacks.”

“And the target?”

“Local intelligence indicated he might be hiding in the wilderness.”

That left a lot of terrain to cover, but that’s why I sent the Red Team. They’re the best. Efficient. Skilled. And goddamn discreet, though that is really a job requirement here.

I stand and pace across the marble floor, something I do when I’m faced with a problem. It would be better if there were music being played by a world-class musician, but she’s not feeling well. Why isn’t she feeling well? Focus, North. “What’s your read on the situation?” I ask because Josh has been with me through a hell of a lot of campaigns.

Those blue eyes are a little darker today. “It’s a long time for what should have been a straightforward task, but they know the stakes.”

The stakes, meaning detection by the local law enforcement agencies. Identify a traitor to the United States with enough survivalist tendencies to last ten years in the forest. All while remaining invisible to Russia’s police and military. Straightforward? Yes, that’s one way to describe it. Fucking dangerous, too. That’s what we do.

“The Red Team is the best,” I say, sitting down again. “We trust them. And if they went dark to stay off the grid, sending in another team could risk the entire operation.”

Josh nods, looking about two percent relieved. He’s a genius at operations, but it takes something different to be in command. The hard truth is that it takes heartlessness. I care about the men and women under me, but I still send them into the line of fire. I still risk their lives so we can all make a few bucks.

That’s the cold and utterly honest reason why I’m the one sitting in this chair.

Neither of us mention that our brother Elijah leads the Red Team.

The three of us are related by blood, but it would be a stretch to call us a family after our upbringing. I’m the one who founded North Security, but I gave both my brothers a stake when they joined the company. Elijah insists on leading the Red Team, with its dangerous missions and its near-constant deployment.

“Oh, and Josh?” I say as he turns to leave. “Put the other men on standby.”

I’m responsible for their lives, which means I’m also responsible for their deaths. It might be a bullet from the traitor or even local military taking umbrage to American mercenaries. It might be tomorrow or in five years, but whenever it happens, their blood will be on my hands.

CHAPTER SIX

A violinist burns about one hundred seventy calories per hour, almost twice as much as masturbating.