Page 7 of Code Name: Tank (K19 Sentinel Cyber #4)

DRAGON

I shut my camp door harder than necessary, the sound echoing across the quiet waters of Canada Lake. The walk from the helipad to Whisper Point should have calmed me down, but Tank’s arrogant assumption that he’d handle the DC interviews alone still burned me up.

Like our partnership was just a polite fiction Admiral had created to make me feel included.

But there was more fueling my frustration. I was missing an obvious clue; I was certain of it. However, since half the time I was focused on my hot-as-fuck partner, I wasn’t catching things I normally would.

I dropped my travel bag on the floor and stalked to the kitchen, needing something to do with my hands before I threw something at the wall. The bottle of Pinot Noir I’d been saving for a special occasion called to me from the counter, promising to dull the sharp edges of my anger.

The wine was a small comfort in the chaos of my emotions. It was honest, straightforward—unlike certain broad-shouldered former military men who talked about partnership while making unilateral decisions.

God, I need to stop this and get my head on straight. My laptop sat on the dining table, waiting. I had work to do. But concentration proved impossible. Every time I tried to focus on the data, I saw Tank’s face when he realized what he’d done. For a moment, he’d looked remorseful.

Then, he’d had the nerve to say it was a figure of speech, which didn’t even make sense.

I finished the wine in my glass and poured more.

The worst part was that, for two days, I’d allowed myself to believe we were building something—respect, connection, maybe even trust. But men like Tank always revealed their true nature eventually.

They made decisions while claiming to know what was best. They disappeared when they were needed most, leaving their partners to face the consequences alone.

My cell rang before I could open the laptop I’d just closed.

I grabbed the device, hoping it might be Tank calling to apologize. Instead, my stomach dropped when I saw a private number on the caller ID.

My gut told me the person on the other end was someone I never wanted to speak to again. My finger hovered over the decline button. Blocking this call would be the safe decision. But intelligence analysts didn’t survive by making safe choices when critical information might be at stake.

I accepted the call.

“Hello, Piper.”

Cory “Flint” Pierce’s voice had me reaching for the nearest thing I could hold onto—the back of my dining chair.

His voice was smooth and familiar, carrying the same confident charm that had once made me believe he was exactly what I wanted in a partner—both professionally and personally.

The same voice that had whispered promises he’d never intended to keep.

“How did you get this number?” My words came out steadier than I felt.

“You always did cut straight to the heart of things.” Flint’s chuckle was warm, intimate. “I’ve been monitoring the defense-contractor situation.”

“I wouldn’t think you’d have access to classified information in witness protection.”

“Some threats are bigger than protocol, sweetheart.”

The endearment made my skin crawl. “Don’t call me that.”

“Piper, you’re walking into something more dangerous than you realize. This isn’t random financial theft—it’s connected to our old case.”

I closed my eyes, fighting memories I’d spent three years trying to forget. The investigation that had almost ended my CIA career and destroyed my faith in partnerships.

“This is a different situation.”

“Is it? Look at the coordination. It’s definitely connected to what we discovered in Prague.”

“Even if that’s true, you’re not supposed to contact anyone from your past.”

“You think I care about protocols when your life might be at risk?”

The protective way he spoke triggered a visceral reaction—part anger, part hurt, part unwanted longing for the man I’d thought he was. “You’re concerned about my life? After disappearing and leaving me to face congressional hearings alone? You chose your own safety then, not mine.”

“I was protecting you.”

“Bullshit.” I stood up, pacing over to the window and looking out at how the moonlight reflected off the lake’s surface. “You were protecting yourself. When our op was compromised and heads needed to roll, you ran. Don’t you dare try to rewrite history now.”

“Piper, what really happened?—”

“I know what happened. Our investigation was blown. Months of work for nothing represented a significant amount of wasted resources. When the inquiries into what went wrong started, you vanished while I nearly had my career destroyed.”

“That’s not the whole truth.”

“It’s enough truth for me,” I spat back.

“You need my help with this investigation. I have intel?—”

“You’ve got to be kidding. You have information I don’t? You’re not in the spy business anymore, Flint. You’re under federal protection because you put yourself there. No one is interested in you playing armchair quarterback now. Least of all me.”

“You’re wrong. And, Piper—the foreign hackers you’re focused on? It’s misdirection.”

“Look, I don’t want your help, your information, or your contact,” I said, my words ice cold. “Stay out of my life.”

“I can’t do that. Not when you’re walking into the same trap that destroyed our previous investigation.”

The controlling arrogance in his voice matched what I’d heard from Tank earlier—men who thought they knew what was best for me, who made decisions about my safety and my life without consulting me.

“I’ve moved on, I have a new career, and I don’t need you trying to insert yourself into it.”

“Your new team—do they understand what they’re really facing? Do they know how these operations work, how they coordinate?”

“Stop this, Flint. Whatever guilt you’re carrying—that’s your problem, not mine.”

There was a long pause, and when he spoke again, his voice had lost its edge of urgency. “I know I hurt you. I know you have every reason to hate me. But I won’t let you walk into this alone, Piper. Not again.”

The familiar cadence tugged at memories I’d tried to bury. Before I learned it was manipulation designed to serve his own interests.

“You owe me nothing. And I’m not alone.”

“Your partner on this investigation—he’s someone you trust?”

The question hit too close to home, especially after today’s confrontation with Tank. “My work relationships are none of your business.”

“Be careful who you trust, Piper. Not everyone has your best interests at heart.”

“Don’t lecture me about trust.”

“I’ll be in touch. Whether you want me to or not, I’m going to make sure you’re safe.”

The call ended before I could reply, leaving me staring at my phone with fury and dread. Flint had always been skilled at saying exactly what he thought I needed to hear. But beneath the charm and concern, I heard something else—desperation, maybe even genuine regret.

It didn’t matter. Whatever game he was playing now, I wouldn’t be part of it.

My phone buzzed almost immediately with a text from the same unknown number.

Intelligence files are available if you need them. - F

My hands shook with anger as I stared at the screen. He had access to classified files from our joint operation. Files that could destroy what remained of my career if they surfaced. But files that might also contain crucial intelligence about the current thefts. Fuck. I had no idea what to do.

I deleted the message and put my phone in a drawer, trying to distance myself from the temptation Flint represented. Finally deciding that whatever intelligence he claimed to possess, the cost of obtaining it was too high.

Before I could process Flint’s call fully, my phone rang again. This time, the caller ID showed a name that made my shoulders relax—Secretary Hartwell.

“James,” I answered, grateful for a familiar, trustworthy voice.

“Piper, I hope I’m not calling too late. I wanted to check on you after today’s interviews.”

His warm, paternal voice was what I needed after Flint’s gaslighting.

“I’m fine. The interviews went well, though Tank and I had some disagreements about the approach.

” I regretted the words as soon as I spoke them.

James owned this investigation. My comment was unprofessional.

“But we’re working through it,” I added.

“Glad to hear it. Get some rest. Tomorrow will bring new developments, and you’ll need to stay sharp.”

After he hung up, I felt steadier. Hartwell’s concern reminded me that I wasn’t navigating this alone—I had allies who’d proven their loyalty when it mattered most.

By zero six hundred hours, I’d made my decision. I was done with men who thought they knew what was best for me. I’d keep my guard up and focus on the work. I couldn’t let my emotions compromise the mission—no matter how much Tank’s actions had stung.

When I arrived at the command center an hour later, Tank was already there, working with Atticus. He looked up when I entered.

“Morning, Dragon. Ready to discuss our next steps?” he asked.

“I need to work with Alice on a new lead. We can brief separately.”

“Wait. What new lead?”

“If it pans out, I’ll let you know.”

Tank’s tone shifted. “Yesterday, you were angry about being excluded. Now, you’re pursuing a direction without consulting me?”

“We’ll work better separately. Play to our strengths.” I turned to Alice, whose brow furrowed as she witnessed our exchange with concern. “It might be best if we worked in your office.”

“Um, of course. We can go up to the main camp.”

“Alice, I need to tell you something,” I said as soon as we were alone. “I received an anonymous tip last night.”

Alice’s eyebrows rose. “Anonymous tip? What did they say?”

“They seem to think we’re being on the wrong path. That foreign hackers isn’t the right direction.”

“How would you feel about discussing this with Tex? His background in financial crime analysis might provide context,” she suggested.

Tex Keegan—Alice’s mentor and one of the most skilled analysts I’d ever encountered.

“Good idea. I’d like his take on this.”

“Interesting. Let’s see what he thinks.”

Alice established an encrypted video link. Within minutes, Tex’s familiar face appeared on the screen.

“Good afternoon, ladies. Dragon, how can I help?”

“We need your take on whether this looks like genuine foreign hacker activity or deliberate misdirection,” I said, pulling up the financial patterns.

“Show me what you’re seeing,” he said.

I shared the key findings—coordinated thefts, systematic patterns, Tank’s discovery of irregularities—so he could see what we were working with.

“Dragon, your tipster might be onto something.” He paused, frowning. “The sophistication suggests foreign capabilities, but the execution doesn’t feel right.”

My stomach dropped. Flint was right.

“It’s almost like someone wants it to look foreign.”

“So we’re looking at deliberate misdirection?” I asked.

“That’s my gut instinct.” He leaned forward. “Your source was right to be suspicious.”

“What’s the next step?” I asked.

“I’ll look into the misdirection angle,” he offered. “Try to figure out who’s planting evidence to make this look foreign. But there’s something else—we need someone who can tell us if what we’re seeing is real or fabricated. That requires CIA-level access.”

“I could reach out to the director. I used to work for Money McTiernan.”

“Good thinking, Dragon,” said Tex. After we thanked him, the call ended.

“Dragon, this anonymous tip—how comfortable are you with the source?” Alice asked.

The weight of not telling her about Flint pressed on my chest. “More so now that you and Tex agree.”

“Then, let’s get busy. We’ll attack from our side while Tex attacks it from his.”

“Alice, I appreciate this. I know I’m wound pretty tight?—”

“Try working with another human growing inside you, stealing all of your energy and brain cells.”

While there was amusement in her tone, she was right. She shouldn’t have to put up with my bad attitude when she was dealing with pregnancy fatigue.

As I was walking from the main residence to the command center, I received another text from Flint.

The window is closing. Theft operation is accelerating. Check PSI’s financials - F

I stared at the screen. Flint was still monitoring the situation, still pushing information at me whether I wanted it or not.

I turned and took a different path that led to my camp. Once inside, I pulled up news feeds on my tablet, searching for anything related to PSI.

The headline made my stomach clench. “Potomac Strategic Industries Reports Financial Irregularities”

The article was barely an hour old.

I grabbed my cell and sent a message to Money.

Money, time-sensitive defense-contractor situation. Can we meet tomorrow? Need consultation.

The response came back within minutes: Langley. 1100 hours. Bring your briefing materials. - M

Request permission to involve Alice Kane.

Bring her.

The timing felt too convenient—Flint’s warning arriving just as PSI was hit. Someone wanted us to move fast on this, but I couldn’t shake the feeling we were being led somewhere.

Set up briefing with McTiernan tomorrow. Langley at 1100. Can you join? Your insights from the Tex call will be valuable , read the text I sent Alice.

Absolutely. Give me an hour to arrange secure transport. 0700 departure should work , she responded.

I set my phone aside and stared out at the compound. Somewhere across the grounds, Tank was probably still working, unaware that Alice and I would be heading to Langley tomorrow. Part of me wanted to tell him, to include him, but I wasn’t ready to explain Flint’s involvement.

Tomorrow, I’d face my past. Today, I’d protect what might be my future.