Code Name: Disavowed (Jameson Force Security 8)

Glancing at my watch, I know Kynan’s team is in place. They had wanted me to wear an earpiece so I could be part of the communications, but I knew I’d be getting physically close to Mejia, and I don’t want him to have any clue that I’ve come with support. So I’m going in deaf to what the rest of the team will be doing once they enter.

While we have a carefully orchestrated plan, anyone who knows anything about these types of ops knows you must have contingency plans. Something will inevitably happen that you didn’t see coming, and you have to adjust on the fly. Having everyone able to communicate with one another is essential, but I’ll be in the dark during much of the mission.

Movement up at the house no more than thirty yards away catches my eye—the mansion’s front door is opening. Mejia steps out with two armed guards, but no Ladd. The door remains open, but no one else comes out, and I watch warily as Mejia heads my way. Interestingly enough, the two guards stay on the porch, which says they don’t view me as a threat.

When Mejia enters the radius of my headlights, he’s wearing a smug smile. He knew I’d show up, and here I am.

He stops about five feet from the fence separating us, and I’m an equal distance away on the other side. “Where’s Ladd?” I demand.

“I told you, you don’t make the rules,” Mejia replies easily, stepping up to the gate latch. It has an electronic panel on it, and he enters a series of numbers prompting a lock to open. As he rolls the gate slowly to the side, I take a step back.

Not because I think I’m in imminent harm’s way, but because I want him to think I’m skittish. I want him to think I’m docile and not here to fight.

But man, am I here to fight.

“Come,” he says, motioning with his hand.

I don’t move a muscle. “We agreed you would take me in exchange for Ladd.”

“No,” he growls in annoyance. “I never agreed to that. You offered it, but I never accepted. I merely gave you my address, and you assumed I’d trade.”

“That’s a shame,” I reply, reaching behind my back and pulling out the gun I’d tucked there. In a two-handed grip, I level it right at his head. “Now, bring Ladd out.”

Mejia’s eyes glitter with malice in the glow of the Range Rover’s lights, and he shakes his head slowly—a denial of my request.

And then I feel something hard press against the back of my head.

The barrel of a gun, and I know one of Mejia’s men was out here in the shadows, ready to intervene if I pulled a gun.

“Put that weapon down before you get hurt,” Mejia orders, and then laughs at himself. “I mean… you’re still going to get hurt, it just won’t be out here.”

I refuse to lower the gun, keeping it trained on Mejia’s face.

“We can play this little game if you want,” Mejia snarls from deep within his chest. “But it delays you finding out what happened to Mr. McDermott.”

Fear jettisons throughout by body, making my bones feel brittle with hopelessness. His tone… it suggests…

I can’t even think about it, but my hand shakes slightly. Mejia and I stare at each other and within his eyes, I see he’s holding something back.

Something he’s dying to tell me but won’t while the gun is on him.

I need Ladd more than I need to put a bullet in Mejia’s brain, and besides that, I’ve got a gun at the base of my own skull that could quickly decide my fate.

I lower my weapon.

“Toss it away,” Mejia orders.

My hesitation costs me a hard jab to the head with the barrel of the gun behind me, but I dare not turn to confront the man. He could have an itchy trigger finger, so I toss my gun to the side.

“Now, if you will join me, Ms. Hathaway,” Mejia says, once again motioning me to walk through the open gate.

I don’t hesitate because Ladd is somewhere on these grounds, and my job right now is to keep Mejia distracted. I take a few steps and glance over my shoulder, but whoever had the gun on me has melted into the shadows. I feel sorry for him, actually, because the area around the fence line is swarming with Jameson agents who will be in the process of breaching as I’m moving toward Mejia.

When I reach him, he doesn’t lead me to the house as I expected but just stands there with a Cheshire grin. I’m annoyed at what must be a cat-and-mouse game that delights him, and which I don’t want to play.

“Where’s Ladd?” I growl. “I want to see him now.”

“You do?” he asks slyly.