Page 47 of Kane (Ghost Ops #4)

Chapter Thirty-Four

Jackson called at seven-thirty-eight. Daphne was ready. Blaze and Chance hadn’t found anyone at Warren’s place. Ethan had nothing to report from the drone flight over old buildings and farms. Not that she’d expected any of them would.

Jackson had spent the past several years doing her father’s dirty work. He might not have the tactical know-how of Kane and his friends, but he knew how to hide and how to pick a good defensive location.

“It’s time, JoJo. Bring the goods, come alone.

None of those fuckers you work for better show their faces or they’re dead.

I’ve got eight of my hand-picked men with me and we aren’t playing around.

You fuck me over, those friends of yours die.

I know where they all live, and even if you’ve warned them, they won’t be able to hide for long. ”

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you. Where am I going?”

“You always were a bitch, you know that?”

“I’m very clear on how you feel about me. It’s mutual. What are my guarantees you’ll let Warren go?”

“You give me what I want, he’s free to go. Word as an O’Malley.”

She believed him. He was a bastard, but the O’Malley word was sacred. Her father had drilled that into them as well. They had all kinds of tricks not to give it, but when it was stated that plainly, it was meant.

“And what about me?”

If she didn’t ask, he’d be suspicious. But she knew he didn’t intend to let her go.

“Same. Give me what I want, you can go with him.”

And there it was. The trick. He hadn’t said the words, just tried to append her freedom to Warren’s. Wasn’t the same at all, but she wasn’t about to call him on it.

“Dad’s people will still be coming after you,” he said. “But that’s not my problem.”

“So you’re trying to orchestrate a coup, huh? Good luck.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Whatever. There better be internet where you want me to go. Can’t magic up a connection to these accounts without it.”

He rattled off an address. She wrote it down.

“Twenty minutes, Josie. Or I start cutting off fingers.”

“Shit,” Kane said when the call was over. “That’s an old warehouse on the way to the airport. It’s at least a twenty-five minute drive.”

“Then there’s no time to waste, is there?”

Daphne shouldered the bag with her computer and a copy of the memory stick. She’d changed into a pair of baggy cargo pants and a tank top, all black, and she’d tucked her gun into a holster at her back. Her hair was wound into a tight bun and she had on a ball cap.

Jackson would have her searched and he’d confiscate it, but he’d expect her to show up armed. It’s what O’Malleys did.

She was also wearing a small wire that he hopefully wouldn’t find.

It was inside her bra, between her breasts, and it was tiny.

She’d had to remove the crystal necklace that Colleen had given her because it would make too much noise moving around and clanking the microphone, but she’d stuffed it into her computer bag at the last minute.

Kane had put the mic in place with the seriousness of a monk. He hadn’t joked about her assets or tried to caress them or anything. Even now he looked serious and not in the least bit approachable in his black tactical gear bristling with weapons.

But she knew why. He was working to control his fear.

Whatever helped him cope was fine with her.

She was going to survive this and then she was going to sleep in his arms, secure in the knowledge they’d moved beyond pretending not to want more than a fling.

The future was in front of them—provided Diana Corbin held to her end of the bargain and kept Daphne from testifying or getting charged with being an accessory to her family’s crimes.

They went outside and Daphne turned to him. “You sure you want me to take your Yukon? It could get damaged.”

He gripped her chin in his fingers and tilted her face up, kissed her firmly. “I don’t fucking care about the car, Sunshine. I care about you .”

“Aww,” Rory said. “Good answer.”

Everyone had gone outside with them. Even Nikki.

The women watched her and Kane with a syrupy kind of happiness written on their faces.

They weren’t worried she wouldn’t come back.

They’d each been on the receiving end of the kind of help Kane and his teammates specialized in and they believed the outcome would be no different this time.

“I love you all,” Daphne said. “Thanks for being my friends, for taking care of me, for giving me a job. I?—”

She choked up and couldn’t get the words out.

“We love you, too,” Emma said. “Now go and kick your brother’s ass. We still have cake to eat.”

Daphne laughed and climbed into Kane’s Yukon as Ethan fired up his truck so the team could follow. He kissed her again. “I love you. We’ll be right behind you. Just follow the plan, and we’ll take care of the rest.”

“I love you, too.”

Kane stepped back and closed the door. Daphne sucked back a sob and squeezed the gas. If she never saw any of them again. Never saw Kane again….

But no, she wasn’t thinking that way. She ground her jaw, turned on the radio, and pressed play on her phone.

Five Finger Death Punch’s version of Bad Company burst from the Yukon’s speakers.

She sped along country roads, mindful of time ticking away, and sang the words at the top of her lungs when they got to the chorus.

Jackson had no idea what was about to hit him.

Daphne drove up to the old warehouse with one minute to spare.

The building was dingy white with windows up high, some of them broken, and the concrete lot inside the fence was mostly empty.

There were a couple of rusty shipping containers, but no movement.

She left the Yukon running and got out, shouldering her bag. Then she waited.

A door set into the giant warehouse doors scraped open. Her phone rang.

“Yes?”

“Come inside. Hands up. Try anything and the dweeb loses a finger. Keep trying and he loses his head.”

Hatred swirled in her belly. Was it normal to hate your sibling so much? Maybe not, but she didn’t think many people had a brother like hers. Or a family like hers.

Seth had tapped her phone so they knew what was being said on both ends.

They’d also be able to hear what was said inside the warehouse through the wire she wore.

She was supposed to narrate what she saw, as best she could, in order to give them an idea where things were.

She knew they would have pulled up a schematic of the building, but who knew how old it was?

Daphne stepped over the metal lip and entered the building. There were a few shipping containers inside, but the building was mostly empty.

A man approached, weapon pointed at her heart.

“Hello, Tim,” she said. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Hi, Jos. Need you to hand over the phone. And I gotta check you for weapons.”

“Of course.”

She gave him the phone and then lifted her arms while he patted her down. Predictably, he found the gun and took it.

“Can’t blame me for trying,” she said. He kept patting. When he reached her cleavage, she thrust her breasts out. “Go ahead. Feel me up while you’ve got the chance. Somebody might as well get their jollies.”

She didn’t want him to feel her up at all, but the words worked the way she hoped.

All her father’s men had it impressed upon them early on that she was untouchable.

John O’Malley didn’t care if she had boyfriends outside the organization before he arranged a marriage for her, but his men were required to respect the hierarchy and treat her like the princess she was.

The programming paid off because Tim barely skimmed her breasts. The microphone was safe.

He stepped back and motioned for her to go in front of him. “To the back of the warehouse?” she asked.

“Yes. He’s inside the office.”

Thank you, Tim.

“Where’s everybody else?” she asked, looking around. “I’d like to see who intends to stand with my brother while he takes over the family. Y’all know if he fucks it up you’re all dead, right?”

Tim didn’t reply, but she hadn’t expected he would.

Something clanged overhead and her head snapped up. It was dark in the warehouse, but a glint of light from outside flashed off something metallic. “Wow, Jackson must really think I’m dangerous if he’s putting two men on the catwalk to watch me walk across the floor.”

“Don’t know,” Tim said. “I just do what I’m told.”

“Like break into my apartment?”

“Wasn’t me. Manny did that.”

“He wasn’t very thorough. Jackson might need to send him for remedial training.”

Tim grunted. “Don’t know anything about it.”

They reached the office at the back of the warehouse and Tim opened the door. Jackson stood, undisguised glee on his face. There were three men with him. One stood behind the chair Warren was seated in. The other two flanked it.

She only knew one of the men. None of them looked very friendly toward her.

Warren’s face was bloody and bruised, but his eyes flashed with hope when he saw her. Her stomach curled into itself as guilt shook her to the core.

“Wow, you need three men with you to do your dirty work, Jackson? That’s unlike you.”

That was six men accounted for. Two must be outside, watching the approach to the warehouse. She hadn’t seen them, but she hoped Kane and the guys would. And she hoped her narration had been clear. Should she find a way to say there were six men plus Jackson? Or did they understand?

“It’s called delegation, JoJo.” His gaze dropped to the computer bag. “You better not be planning a con, baby sis. It won’t go well for you.”

“Honestly, I don’t expect any of this to go well for me.”

Tim handed over the Glock she’d been carrying. “She came armed.”

Jackson studied the weapon, then placed it on the desk nearby. “Did you think to shoot me, huh?”

“I don’t go anywhere unarmed. You know that. Rule number one in our world.”