Page 5 of Renegade (The Santini Assassins #2)

Greystone wasn’t used to answering questions.

Every conversation he had was designed to extract information, yet reveal nothing.

He was a master manipulator at getting people to talk without realizing they were giving away the farm.

It took him years to master, but he could work a convo like a pro.

Small talk, however, wasn’t his jam. This felt like fingernails on a chalkboard.

“How’s the fam?” Greystone asked.

Dakota chuckled. “Not a talker, huh?”

“No.”

“They’re good.”

Twenty-minutes later, Dakota drove into a residential area of Great Falls, took several turns, then headed down a dirt road carved into a woodsy area, beyond a No Trespassing sign. The road became paved, the trees vanished, and an unmarked warehouse building loomed ahead. No windows, no doors.

Dakota drove around back and stopped in front of an oversized hangar door, tapped a button on his phone, and the metal door silently rose. An entire fleet of identical black vehicles waited in neat rows. Had to be fifteen or twenty. Dakota drove down the empty left lane, parking near a glass door.

Greystone shouldered his backpack, exited the SUV. Instead of walking toward the entrance, Dakota pulled a key fob from one of the SUVs parked at the end of the line, and handed it to him. Then, he pulled out his phone, snapped a pic the vehicle’s license plate number.

“That’s yours while on assignment,” Dakota explained. “It’s bulletproof, the license plate number isn’t registered with the DMV, so don’t get pulled over. I’m not bailing your ass out of jail.”

“Got it.”

At the entryway, Dakota stood in front of the scanner next to the door. The light flashed yellow.“Retina scan.”

After Greystone’s eyes were scanned, Dakota said, “Say something.”

“Four score and seven years ago.”

Dakota smiled. “I haven’t heard that. Most times I hear, ‘I don’t know what to say.’”

“People are idiots.”

Dakota laughed. “You’re gonna get along great with the team.”

Greystone wasn’t looking for buddies. He wanted to find out what the hell this assignment was. Something so cloaked in mystery that no one at Langley would discuss it with him.

His life had been nothing but a bunch of secrets. His dad kept stuff from his mom. From what he could tell, his mom had her own secrets. His uncle had a shit-ton of ‘em, and their entire dirty business was nothing but secrets.

Fast-forward to now. He worked for two different organizations, both shrouded in so many secrets, he had security clearances coming out his ass.

Again, Dakota stood in front of the scanner. The light turned from red to yellow, but when Greystone stood in front of it, the light turned green, and the glass door slid open.

Dakota gestured for Greystone to enter.

After the men walked inside, Dakota said, “Welcome to BLACK OPS. The Black Site also doubles as our safe house. ”

A hit of adrenaline powered through him. Now, things were getting interesting.

Dakota led him down a nondescript hallway. No artwork on the walls, no carpeting on the floor. Boring as fuck, but Greystone liked that. Unlike his brother, Luciano, he wasn’t into fancy. Greystone kept things simple, on purpose. Less to keep track of, less to remember.

“This is the work wing.” Dakota stopped. “My office.”

Greystone stopped at a doorway, peered inside at a desk, an executive chair, two guest chairs.

“Simple,” Greystone said. “Gotta love that.”

“If the building was breached, we can’t put anyone at risk,” Dakota explained. “There’s nothing here that could ID us.”

They continued walking.

“Offices in this wing. A break room, two conference rooms, a locker room.” Dakota continued down the hallway, turning left. “This is the residential wing.”

Greystone walked past a large rec room with upscale furniture, a bookshelf filled with books and games, a billiard table, ping pong, a wall-mounted television.

“There are several private suites with bathrooms,” Dakota continued as he paused in front of one.

Next, Greystone was shown the surgery center and recovery room.

“Our mini hospital wing,” Dakota explained. “We’ve had emergency surgeries here more times than I can count. If someone gets shot, and it’s not life-threatening, we’ve got an on-call surgeon and nurse.”

Greystone nodded.

Dakota smiled. “You’ve gotta meet my daughter, Sammy. She does not stop talking… ever. Providence and I have heard her talking in her sleep. And I don’t mean a few words, we’ve heard full-on conversations.”

“She sounds adorable. ”

“You’d just have to show up. She’d get busy with your hair, which is almost as long as hers, and she’d talk to you for hours. You wouldn’t have to say a word. We’ll have you over for dinner. You’ll see.”

“Sounds good.”

Dakota took him outside. “This is where Rebel’s rescue team trains. We’ve got a helo, piloted by Nicholas Hawk.”

With the tour over, they circled back to the break room. Dakota tossed him a bottle of water, heated one of the coffees he brought, and the two men continued on to the conference room. Dakota pulled up a chair, Greystone sat across from him.

“Tell me about BLACK OPS,” Greystone said.

“BLACK OPS is a top-secret organization that falls under ALPHA. Years ago, ALPHA was created by two agents from the Bureau to go after the country’s most wanted criminals and remove them from society when all other methods had failed.”

“Take them out?”

“A lot of times the group makes an arrest, but we’ve completed our share of eliminations.” Dakota sipped the hot drink. “BLACK OPS is a much newer group that I run. It’s a collaboration with the Bureau and the Agency. Since the CIA doesn’t operate in the US?—”

“You don’t believe that, do you?” Greystone cracked open the lid, chugged down some water.

“I assume there are intelligence officers stationed here, but that’s not discussed with me.

” Dakota sipped the coffee. “Recently, three men formed an alliance called the Trinity. Three powerful DC players. My twin, Sinclair Develin. Your cousin, Carrera Santini from the Bureau, and your brother, Luciano Santini.”

That got his full attention. “My brother runs a design company in DC and owns wineries in Italy.”

“He’s also an assassin,” Dakota explained.

Greystone hitched a brow .

“You don’t look surprised.”

Nowadays, very little surprised Greystone.

“Luciano goes after career criminals federal law enforcement can’t touch, but the job you’ve been called back to do is dead-center in your wheelhouse,” Dakota said.

“Haqazzii.”

Dakota nodded. “No one knows that terror cell better than you.”

“Why doesn’t Langley send me back to Karakistan?”

Someone jogged into the room. Greystone jumped up, grabbed his weapon tucked in his pants, hidden by his suit jacket, and pointed it at the intruder.

“Don’t shoot me, brother,” Teddy said.

Reality kicked in and Greystone lowered his arm.

“You’re lightning-fast,” Dakota said. “I’m impressed… and a little scared of you.”

Greystone chuffed out a laugh. “Yeah, when I’m startled, I go for my weapon.”

Teddy threw open his arms. “Heyo, bro, put away the Glock so we can hug it out.”

Grey returned the weapon, then embraced his brother.

“So, you two didn’t know?” Dakota asked. “I thought you were living together.”

“I got my own place,” Greystone said.

“We know now,” Teddy said, as he sat across from Greystone. “I’m excited to be working with you, brother. Damn excited.”

Greystone smiled. He’d missed his brothers, especially Teddy. Teddy came into the world with a big attitude, never stopped talking, and was the happiest kid Greystone had ever known. Trust didn’t come easy to him, so working with Teddy might be a good thing.

“Greystone, you asked why Langley doesn’t send you back to Karakistan?” Dakota opened a tourist map of DC and set it on the table. “The Haqazzii terror cell is here. They’re planning a siege on these buildings and they’re calling it the Day of Destruction.”

Greystone tapped his finger on each of the circled buildings, committing them to memory.

The Justice Department, the State Department, the Supreme Court, and the U.S.

Capitol. An arrow pointed toward Arlington with the word Pentagon scribbled in ink.

The final three targets sent blood whooshing through his veins.

The White House, the FBI, and the CIA.

These were personal.

The terror cell was gunning to wipe out federal law enforcement, maybe even overthrow the government, and create national chaos.

With these locations as their intended targets, the nation was at risk.

A disaster of this magnitude would send the stock market plummeting.

If the terror cell was able to carry out their mission, the country, as everyone knew it, could be destroyed.

A surge or adrenaline had him shoving out of the chair. “When?”

“May thirty-first.”

Greystone arched an eyebrow. “This May?”

“Yeah, that’s why we brought you home.”

“I’m good, but I can’t work this alone.”

“Helllllooooo?” Teddy said. “I’m here.”

Greystone shot his brother a cool stare. He had no idea what Teddy did or how he could bring value to this mission.

“In addition to Tank—Teddy—we’ve got a team ready to assist,” Dakota continued. “When we finish up here, we’ll get you set up.”

“Why the hell wasn’t I briefed on this two weeks ago?” Greystone asked.

“We needed you to establish creds at the restaurant,” Dakota explained. “We wanted to give you time to blend in. We’re concerned that the terrorists who are here are tracking us. They got into the country without any problems?—”

“How? They’re on the No-Fly list.”

“Aliases, provided by a network of corrupt government workers,” Dakota continued. “We’ve got a different team working to isolate those individuals. We just needed you here, then we needed to give you a couple of weeks of being a regular Joe at the restaurant.”

Dakota rose. “Let me grab your laptop.”

Greystone pushed out of the chair. “I’m not gonna be gettin’ much sleep. Is that coffee you brought leaded?”

“Sure is.”

“Teddy, you comin’?” Greystone asked.

Teddy pulled out his phone. “I’ve gotta return some calls.”

Greystone and Dakota walked down the hall. As they got closer, voices from the break room caught his ear. The men entered the room and Greystone’s focus jumped to the group.

All eyes on him.

“Team, this is Greystone Santini. Greystone, this is the BLACK OPS team.”

One by one, the team introduced themselves and Greystone made mental notes to remember their names.

“Sinclair Develin.” Identical to Dakota. Neat hair, not bed head.

“Slash,” said a woman with long, blonde hair. Easy name to remember.

“Addison Hawk.” Petite, muscular. Friendly smile.

“Pilot, Nicholas Hawk. I go by Hawk.” Pilot .

“You two married?” Greystone asked.

“Depends on the day,” Addison replied, and the group laughed.

“She’s taken,” Hawk replied.

Greystone cracked a smile. “I’m lookin’ for ways to remember everyone.” He extended his hand to Hawk. “Yours is ‘pain in my ass.’ ”

The group burst out laughing.

“Prescott Armstrong. Hawk’s brother.”

“The nice one,” Greystone said. “Taller, better looking.”

More laughter from the group.

“I couldn’t get Greystone to say two words,” Dakota interjected. “Turns out, the man needs an audience.”

Greystone cracked a smile.

“Joaquin Dillinger. I go by Rebel. I run the rescue team.” Long blond hair. Easy name to remember.

“We’re a motley group, and we’re here to help. Whatever you need.” Sin eyed his twin. “Has Greystone been briefed?”

“Yeah,” Dakota replied. “I’m grabbing his laptop.”

“Am I workin’ here?” Greystone asked.

“Here or at ALPHA, in McLean,” Dakota answered.

Sin extended his hand. “Welcome aboard. I heard you’re a total badass. Good to know you’re strategic too. That’s probably why you’re alive.”

“My handler gets all the props,” Greystone said. “I’d-a-been a dead man years ago if it wasn’t for her.”

“Who was it?” Addison asked.

Greystone eyed her coolly. No way would he reveal anyone from Langley by name.

“I’m a former intelligence officer, and I was also stationed in the middle east, focused on Haqazzii,” Addison explained.

“Good to know,” Greystone replied, refusing to comment on his handler. “I’ma need that laptop,” Greystone said to Dakota before putting the coffee into the microwave. “I’ve got two months to shut down the Haqazziis.”

“So, you’re in?” Dakota asked.

“Hell, yeah,” Greystone replied. “One-hundred percent. Time to hunt me down some terrorists.”