Avenged (Hostage Rescue Team Series) (Volume 5) (2 page)

In the few seconds of silence that followed DeLuca’s announcement, he was aware of both his commander and Tuck watching him. He forced himself to take a slow, even breath, uncurl his fingers to lie flat on the armrests.

“Given the number of supporters he’s attracted here and abroad and all the media attention on this case, we’ve been tapped to provide extra security at the trial if necessary,” DeLuca added.

“What about the others?” Nate asked, relieved that his voice sounded normal and didn’t betray the way his heart rate had shot up. His three remaining teammates were involved as well.

DeLuca’s green gaze cut to him. “They’ll be briefed separately. You three,” he pointed to him, Vance and Cruz, “are going to be working together if we get the call.”

Nate and the other two looked at each other, Vance and Cruz appearing as surprised by the news as he was. It was rare for the team to be split up during an assignment.

DeLuca grabbed a couple of files from a pile on the corner of his desk. “We won’t know for a few days yet, but let’s go over the basics.”

Nate’s mind raced as DeLuca reviewed Qureshi’s history. A rich Yemeni national who’d first funded AQAP before attending one of their training camps in eastern Africa and then going on to lead one of his own cells. Within a matter of a few years, he’d controlled millions of dollars’ worth of equipment and called the shots on attacks throughout the Middle East and south Asia.

Including Afghanistan, where Nate had seen the results of his sick, sadistic work firsthand. It still had the power to make his gut twist.

The ghosts swirled in his mind again, making his heart pound and his palms clammy. He could hear the rattle of the AK fire they’d taken that day, see that last image of O’Neil alive in front of him, burned so clearly into his memory.

Nate shook it away, focused on what DeLuca was saying.

A few minutes later, after he’d outlined the charges Qureshi faced, DeLuca fell silent for a moment and arched a dark eyebrow at them. “Any questions?” When no one said anything, he nodded. “Cruz and Vance, you’re dismissed.”

Nate froze in the act of rising from his chair and met DeLuca’s gaze. Not him or Tuck?

DeLuca indicated him and Tuck with a jerk of his chin. “You two stay.”

Ignoring Cruz’s and Vance’s questioning looks, Nate lowered his weight back into the chair, a sense of foreboding sweeping over him. When the door shut behind Cruz, Nate spoke. “Something wrong?”

“Not exactly.” DeLuca shifted his gaze to Tuck. Nate followed suit, watching his team leader study him for a long moment.

“Tell me straight, Nate. You up for this?” Tuck asked.

Nate nodded, heart knocking against his ribs. “Yeah, of course.”

Tuck shared another glance with DeLuca before focusing back on him, and Nate’s stomach muscles grabbed. “We reviewed the latest evaluation reports last week.”

Oh, shit. His most recent psych eval had been in there
.

Nate kept his expression blank, but inside he was panicking. What had the results said? Had he not been able to cover up what was happening to him?

“What’s going on with you lately?” DeLuca asked calmly.

Nate automatically shook his head. “Nothing. Nothing’s going on.”

Reaching over to grab a folder from the pile at the side of his desk, DeLuca dropped it in front of him. “This evaluation says otherwise.” He tilted his head, his relaxed expression and tone making it clear that this wasn’t an accusation. He was willing to give Nate the benefit of the doubt, no matter what the Bureau shrinks said about him. “I wanna know what you think.”

“What does it say?” He couldn’t help the defensive note to his tone. Thankfully his commander didn’t take offense.

“It says you’ve been pulling off an Oscar worthy performance to bury whatever shit’s going on in your head.”

Nate swallowed as a flash of panic swept through him. They couldn’t sideline him by taking him off active duty. The team, the guys, were everything to him. They were his family, the only family he had, and he’d die for every last one of them. If DeLuca pulled him… “I don’t—”

“Stop. Before you insult us by lying to our faces,” Tuck interrupted, his expression flat, “anyone looking at you can tell you’re not sleeping, and I’m betting that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Am I right?”

He couldn’t get pulled from the team. “I’m…” What?
Fucked up and trying everything I know to hide it
.

“Tell me you’ve at least been talking to someone about whatever’s going on,” DeLuca said quietly.

Nate pulled in a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. He hated to admit that he needed help, but even he’d realized he couldn’t beat this by himself. “Yeah. I’ve been seeing a therapist for a couple weeks now. Privately.” He’d paid for it on his own dime strictly because he’d wanted to avoid the Bureau’s shrinks and having it wind up on his permanent record.

“And?” DeLuca prodded.

God, this was humiliating. DeLuca had been a decorated Marine Scout/Sniper for years before joining the FBI, making the HRT and rising to command it. And Tuck, shit, the guy had served with Delta for years before coming here, becoming team leader within two years of making the HRT.

They’d both served multiple combat tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. Both had dealt with serious personal shit in the past few years. DeLuca had lost his wife and Tuck had lost his dad. On top of that, they’d both recently gone through scary shit with the women they loved, yet they were both functioning fine.

What the fuck was wrong with Nate that he couldn’t deal with his own shit, which was minor by comparison? It made him feel weak. He hated it. “And…I’m working on it,” was all he could say.

DeLuca gave him a level look. “You’re being straight with whoever it is? Full disclosure?”

Nate hesitated. “I’ve only seen her a few times.” And no, he hadn’t been a hundred percent truthful with her about his unresolved issues so far. He’d been working up to that.

DeLuca sighed. “That’s not cutting it, is it?”

He didn’t know what to say to that, except, “Look, I’m dealing with it.” He frowned at his commander, unable to shake the worry inside him. Had he messed up somewhere and not realized it? “Have my performance scores slipped? Have any of the guys said I’m not cutting it—”

“If any of the guys had complaints about you, you’d have heard it from me a long time before now,” DeLuca said. “Your test scores and evaluated performance are all solid, except for this.” He tapped the psych eval in front of him.

When Nate didn’t say anything else, DeLuca leaned forward, placing his forearms on his desk. “Look, I’m well aware of what’s in your personal file, and I know what tomorrow’s date signifies for you.”

April second. A day that would haunt him until the day he died.

DeLuca’s expression softened. “Look, it’s understandable that things would get tougher around the anniversary of something like that. Ever since my wife died, every year I dread the Fourth of July, and I probably always will. I get it, and all of us know what PTSD looks and feels like. That’s not my issue here. What I need to know is whether you or any of my guys are at increased risk by having you beside them on an op right now.”

“They’re not.” The words came automatically out of his tight throat. He was desperate for DeLuca to believe him. “I would never let anything distract me on the job. I’d never do anything to jeopardize one of the guys. If I didn’t think I could handle myself out there, I’d come to you and pull myself before putting any of them at risk. You gotta know that.” He stared at his commander, willing him to believe it.

DeLuca glanced over at Tuck. “Your team. Your call.”

Tuck held Nate’s gaze for a moment, then gave a satisfied nod. “Okay.”

Nate blinked. Okay? Just like that? They must know he had every reason to lie just to safeguard his position on the team.

Tuck shrugged. “Like Matt said, your scores are solid. I haven’t seen anything in your performance that concerns me in regard to the team’s welfare. But I am concerned about you, Nate. We’re family here, yeah?”

Nate nodded. “Yeah.”

“And so we look after each other like family. We look after our own. But whatever’s going on with you, you need to deal with that shit immediately, understand? I’d hate like hell to lose you, you’re one of the best assets on this team, but I won’t hesitate to pull you if I think for even one second that you’re a liability. I’ve gotta be clear about that.”

Relief flooded him. He nodded again. “I understand.”

“Good.” Tuck’s gaze shifted to DeLuca. “Gonna tell him the rest?”

The rest? Nate watched as DeLuca pulled a different file from the pile and dropped it atop the psych eval. “This is the other reason I wanted the others to leave,” he said, and opened the folder.

Nate leaned forward as DeLuca turned the papers around and pushed them toward him.

“I said we’d potentially be called in for added security at the trial. What I didn’t say is that we’d be pulling protective service detail for some of the key witnesses. Here’s the list of potential candidates.”

Nate scanned the list of names. A few were vaguely familiar. Then he came to one near the bottom and his heart careened in his chest.

Unbidden, her face flashed into his head, her gunmetal-gray stare locked onto him, piercing his soul. The face he’d been struggling to forget these past five years.

Taya Kostas.

One week later

You’ll be just fine, sweetheart. You’ll be glad when all this is behind you.

Taya kept her father’s parting words firmly in mind as she gathered her carry-on items from beneath the seat in front of her. Being “glad” to have this behind her once and for all was an understatement. And yeah, she
would
be fine. She was a different person now, stronger than she’d ever been and ready to face this on her own.

More than anything, she wanted this final chapter of her nightmare over with so she could go home to take care of her father and truly be free for the first time in five years.

“You ready?” the federal marshal who’d accompanied her from Raleigh asked beside her. He hadn’t said much since showing up at her father’s place that morning, where she’d been staying for the past few weeks during his convalescence.

Don’t really have a choice, do I?
“Yes.”

Already her hands were growing damp and her heart was beginning to beat faster. She had an aisle seat because it lessened her sense of claustrophobia, but being wedged in such a tight place with all her fellow airplane passengers as they waited to deplane wasn’t her favorite thing. She’d worked long and hard the past several years to conquer the anxiety disorder she’d developed during her time in captivity. It hadn’t been easy—it
still
wasn’t easy to control her innate reaction to stressful situations. But she wasn’t going to let it stop her from doing what needed to be done.

Gearing up for another round of stress at being stuck in a crowd, Taya took a steadying breath and let it out slowly before ducking out into the narrow aisle behind the marshal. Once she got out into the airport waiting lounge it was better, but being surrounded by noise and people in this kind of setting was never going to be easy for her after what she’d been through.

Stay centered. Just breathe.

Traveling across North America and even Europe for speaking engagements on behalf of Amnesty International had severely pushed the boundaries of her comfort zone enough. What she was here to do in D.C. was a whole other ballgame, and it had her stomach twisted into a giant knot.

The marshal—Rick Duncan—stayed right at her side as they walked through the terminal. His left hand lifted to his ear and tapped, activating the earpiece he wore. “Package is on its way,” he murmured. “We just left the waiting lounge.”

Taya hurried alongside him, taking comfort from his presence even though being referred to as the “package” made her uneasy. She had some lingering trust issues with government employees because of what she’d been through, but Duncan had been thoroughly vetted and introduced to her by his boss before this assignment, so that helped ease her mind. He was dressed in jeans and a collared shirt so he didn’t stand out, the shoulder holster he wore concealed by his dark jacket. The way he moved and the way he kept scanning their surroundings made it obvious he was highly trained and taking her safety seriously.

God, she was so sick and tired of having to look over her shoulder everywhere she went, needing guards to accompany her whenever she traveled. But she wasn’t stupid. She didn’t have a death wish, either, so when the Department of Justice had assigned federal marshals to act as bodyguards on this trip, she hadn’t argued.

“You need a pit stop before we move downstairs?” he asked without looking at her.

“No, I’m good.” She just wanted to get to the hotel and prepare for her meeting with the prosecution in a couple hours.

He nodded. “All right, just stay close.”

Duncan stepped in front of her, acting as a human battering ram to make a path for them through a crowd at a bottleneck in the terminal. Taya stayed within a half step of him, willing her heart to slow down as the wall of people closed around them, making it seem harder to breathe all of a sudden. It had been crowded like this that day in Kabul. She’d been there on a short assignment with the Red Cross and had gone to the U.S. embassy to file some paperwork.

When the gunmen had burst in and taken her captive, she’d been thrown into a living nightmare instead.

You’re fine. You’re fine.

She focused on drawing even breaths, the past few years of relentless meditation and other calming exercises allowing her to stop her busy mind from spiraling out of control and into full-blown anxiety.

Duncan pushed through the large knot of people, got them into the clear, and picked up speed. Taya held her head high and lengthened her stride to keep up. She wasn’t a victim anymore, she was a survivor, and damn proud of it. Her father had wanted to come with her, to lend moral support and be a familiar face in what would no doubt be a packed courtroom once she took the stand, but she’d refused to let him. He was only six weeks post heart attack and though she knew he’d do anything to help her, the stress would only set back his recovery. She wanted him home and safe, as relaxed as possible.