Code Name Ghost (Jameson Force Security 5)

Moreover, Jimmy wasn’t the only one who was lost. His teammate, Sal Mezzina, was also killed. Perhaps even worse, their other teammate, Malik Fournier, was captured and held as a prisoner for months.

Malik has been rescued, though—just over two weeks ago—and I’m not sure I can explain what a burden that knowledge has lifted from my shoulders.

For some reason, I became heavily invested in the search for Malik. For months, Jameson put forth hundreds of thousands of dollars into covert trips into Syria. We paid off informants, went against our government’s express wishes to stay out of any rescue attempts, and scoured the country for him. It was only after Kynan offered a million-dollar reward for credible information as to Malik’s whereabouts—dead or alive—that we got solid evidence of his imprisonment.

Kynan made the bold decision to send our own team in, eschewing help—or some might say hindrance—from our government, which has to play by certain rules—and rescued Malik from his captors.

The news made me happier than I can remember being in a long time. I truly felt Jimmy and Sal had guiding hands in our team successfully bringing Malik home.

Malik’s been in Montreal for the last two weeks, recuperating at his family’s home. He enjoys dual citizenship between the United States and Canada with his mother being an American and his father a French-Canadian. I expect anyone in his position would want to be home for a while after what he’s endured. Kynan says he’ll be coming back to work soon, and I can’t wait to lay eyes on him. I need to assure myself that miracles can occur, and perhaps Jimmy’s death wasn’t all in vain.

True to my expectations, there’s a box of donuts on the counter of the large kitchen that bleeds into a living area. This floor of the Jameson building holds a handful of personal apartments, which some of the single guys live in, the kitchen where we have large team meals and get-togethers, and a plush living area complete with comfy couches, recliners, and a big-screen TV. I’ve heard Kynan throws a hell of a Super Bowl party here.

Glancing at my watch, I see I have another fifteen minutes before I need to be downstairs for my morning meeting with Kynan, where we’ll go over his schedule and my duties for the day. I make myself a cup of coffee, nab a maple donut, and sit at the kitchen island, surfing my phone. There are already three texted pictures of Avery from my mom, and I examine them with a grin for a few moments while I nibble at my donut.

The refurbished freight elevator arrives on the fourth floor, and the gate slides open. I don’t even bother glancing up from my phone, figuring it’s Kynan coming up for a donut and some coffee.

“Hey, Kynan,” I say as I flip back to the first photograph of Avery blowing a little spit bubble. “Check this out.”

I lift my head, turn the phone to hold it outward, and gape in shock at the man who just came off the elevator. He’s carrying a large military duffel over his shoulder.

Malik Fournier.

We’d only met once before—the night before he and the team left on their mission—but the changes between that man and the one standing before me now are significant.

Malik was a big man, and he’s still incredibly tall. But he was brawny when I’d met him before. Packed solid with muscle he’d appeared to know how to use. The man before me is much thinner, although I imagine he’s gained some weight back over the last almost two weeks he’s been at his parents. His cheeks are slightly sunken in, and his eyes have dark circles under them. Perhaps it takes longer than two weeks to catch up on the sleep he surely missed while being held prisoner.

I know it was bad for him there since I had asked Cage to give me all the gory details when he returned to Pittsburgh after the rescue. He’d balked at first, but he’d finally caved. That’s because Cage has become an incredibly close friend over the last several months, and he knows more than anyone how much I’ve tied this rescue of Malik to the final peace I need to move past Jimmy’s death.

Cage had told me all the details. After he’d finished, I’d wished he hadn’t. I just can’t imagine how anyone survived that type of experience.

And yet… seeing him standing before me now—not back to normal but still so very strong in his own right for surviving captivity—and it affects me the way I knew it would.

It’s a balm to my soul, knowing what an absolute miracle he is to have survived. While it doesn’t make Jimmy’s death any easier to accept, it definitely replaces a portion of my grief with a genuine happiness that Malik has overcome practically the impossible.