Page 60 of Tag (The Golden Team #9)

Tag

T he safehouse lights were dim, the glow from the laptop casting sharp shadows across the table. Intel had worked fast—too fast for my comfort—but time wasn’t something we could hoard.

Aponi sat beside me, leaning forward, her eyes fixed on the screen. Gideon hovered near the door, rifle slung loose, scanning the darkness outside like it might move.

The Intel tech—Callahan—typed with the kind of precision that said she didn’t make mistakes. “The drive’s loaded with scrambled data, but buried inside is a secondary encryption—like a secret file inside a locked vault. Someone didn’t want this found.”

“Can you open it?” I asked.

She gave a thin smile. “Already did.”

The screen filled with names, dates, locations. Graves had been busy—tracking shipments, bribes, and worse. But one name stood out, flashing in red at the top: BLACK HARBOR .

Aponi frowned. “What’s Black Harbor?”

Callahan’s fingers froze over the keys. “It’s not a what. It’s a where. And if these coordinates are right, it’s less than an hour from here.”

My pulse kicked up. “We gear up and move.”

Callahan’s voice cut through the moment. “You should know—this file was meant to be found. Graves wanted someone to see it.”

That hit me like cold water. “It’s a bait site.”

Gideon straightened. “Then why go?”

“Because if he’s there,” I said, locking eyes with Aponi, “we end it tonight.”

We moved fast, loading into the SUV under the cover of night. Desert wind whipped against the side of the vehicle as Gideon drove, headlights off, the glow of the dashboard painting us in cold light.

Half an hour later, we rolled to a stop on a ridge overlooking a cluster of warehouses lit by floodlights.

Something about it was too quiet. Too still.

Aponi leaned forward between the seats, her voice barely a whisper. “Tag… where are the guards?”

The answer came in the form of a single red dot dancing across the dashboard.

Sniper.

“Out!” I barked, shoving Aponi toward the door just as the first shot shattered the windshield.

We tumbled into the dirt, rolling behind the SUV as more rounds chewed into the metal. Above the crack of gunfire, I could almost hear Graves’ voice in my head—mocking, patient, certain.

Welcome to the game.