Page 9 of The Team (The Milvus Files #3)

“Hard to tell,” Jay whispered. Then he put his hand on Rhett’s stomach. “Trust your gut. It’s never been wrong.”

Rhett smiled and wished he could pull Jay against him, kiss him softly for being exactly what Rhett needed. But they weren’t like that on the job. Work was work, personal lives were separate, and they never showed PDAs when in uniform.

They just didn’t.

Even with everyone else asleep, even in the dark, Rhett wouldn’t allow himself the smallest luxury of comfort.

The best he could do was a gentle look and a soft voice. “You should sleep.”

Jay’s bright eyes shone in the moonlight, the soft glow touching only half his face, highlighting his smile. “Yes, Captain.”

It made Rhett smile, even briefly.

And he went back to scoping out the street below. The building half a block up and adjacent was his target. It was all dark and quiet now and had been since they’d arrived.

Intel had told him no one had entered or left the building since Kowalski or Myles were escorted out. They’d been ushered into the waiting green van by two men, presumably armed, a black van following them.

Rhett had wanted to take a look in the building for himself but had been told to sit tight.

Rhett didn’t like sitting tight. And what for? If the place was empty, then what the hell were they waiting for?

He didn’t like it when his instructions went against his training, against his instinct.

They were supposed to be kites, free agents hired for their tactical experience. But they were very much still tethered to their agency.

He recalled what Harry Harrigan had told him once.

I can tell you right now that kind of power is not good. No good will ever come of it .

Rhett liked to believe that the Milvus Division was on the side of good.

He had to believe that. Since the Clive Parrish scandal—when the Australian military leaders and politicians were exposed as traitors, when Harry and Asher had brought the whole operation to its knees—the Milvus Division had been established to counter such threats.

The special counsel, with Directors King and Depraz and their ilk, had powers that exceeded international borders.

That kind of power is not good . . .

Rhett didn’t like questioning their motives. Sure, the tech was state of the art; the weapons, the transport, the secrecy were all the best there was.

Having world-class hackers like Yunho and Yixing also helped.

But Rhett had to wonder... who were they really working for?

He and Jay were still tethered to the Australian government. Each member of the Milvus Division was employed, as such, by their own country.

And those governments each had a say, a stake in the game. Rhett and Jay were two pieces on the chessboard. He knew that. He was fine with that.

But it begged the question—the damn question he couldn’t get out of his mind, thanks to Harry—what stake did the Chinese government have by putting Yin and Chen into the game?

What did they want?

Did it have something to do with Yixing? The genius kid absorbed into the Milvus agency for his hacking skills ?

Was it simply an exercise in diplomacy, as King had said?

Did they want to be included with the international good guys?

Was the Milvus Division the good guys?

Rhett groaned, mad at himself for being too much in his head, and he straightened up, wishing he could do something constructive instead of sitting around waiting for the puppeteers to pull his strings.

But then Yin sighed, more than likely to alert Rhett of his being awake. He stood up, coming over to the window to stand beside him. “Anything?”

Rhett shook his head. “This is bullshit,” he hissed. “Sitting up here like this when every second counts.”

“You want to go and look,” Yin said.

“Minimum. The very least.”

“Then let’s go.”

Rhett’s gaze cut to Yin’s. “Now?”

Yin gave a hard nod. “Why not?”

“Never pegged you as a rule breaker.”

“And I never thought you’d be one to sit here and do nothing.” Then he smirked. “And technically, I wouldn’t be disobeying orders. You would be. You’re the boss.”

Rhett stared at him—the audacity of being called out like that—and eventually, he smiled. “Then let’s go.”

Rhett and Yin took one pistol each—concealed, of course—and put on their gloves and coats. Rhett went to Sid and gently shook him. “Sid, you’re up.”

Sid shot up, blinking, taking half a second to focus. “Where are we going?”

“You’re not. We’re going across the street, and you’re on watch. I’ll have my earpiece. ”

Sid stood up and went to the window, scrubbing his face. “What do we know?”

“Nothing. That’s why we’re going.”

Sid only then seemed to notice Yin standing, ready. He looked back at Rhett and gave a nod. “Okay.” He fitted his earpiece and checked his watch. “If I lose comms with you, I’m sending Azrael over.”

Rhett was sure that was purely for Yin’s benefit. A warning, of sorts, that Rhett was protected and Yin wasn’t exactly trusted yet.

Either way, Rhett didn’t mind.

Because Sid wasn’t wrong.

Rhett gave Yin a clap on the arm. “Let’s go.”

They left the quiet of their loft, made their way down the hall, the stairs, and out onto the street. Rhett was surprised by how quiet Yin was on his feet—stealth, indeed—and tried to make his own footfalls quieter.

And failed, but his competitive streak and his ingrained need to be the best made him try at least.

They went around the back of the block to the alleyway. The walls were stone blocks, three stories up, cobblestones under their feet. There were utility pipes, drains, and trash cans, darkened windows, and no sign of life. It was three in the morning, after all.

A cat scampered from a doorway and Rhett startled, his heart rate kicked up a notch. Yin chuckled quietly.

Rhett shot him a glare. “This way,” he said, entering the doorway the cat had come from. It was an entryway for the apartments in this building. Rhett wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but something had to be better than nothing.

They’d been sent an old blueprint of the floor plan, so they knew the general layout but didn’t know which level.

Rhett stopped at the letterboxes in the entryway.

There were six apartments in this complex, two on each floor.

Each mailbox had a metal number tag, each looked perfectly normal, emptied and used, except one.

Flyers and catalogues stuck out from the mail slot.

Rhett pointed at the number. 1B.

Yin gave a nod and they headed down the hall to the end apartment door.

The old brass 1B on the door was crooked and it smelled as if that cat in the alley had pissed in the hall. Rhett put his hand on the door handle. Yin went to point position. He turned the handle, expecting it to be locked, but it turned.

His gaze went to Yin. Yin took out his pistol, gave a hard nod, and Rhett pushed the door open. Yin went in first, quiet as the wind, and Rhett followed.

The room was dark, and Yin went through an archway, weapon raised and ready. Rhett took the hall, checking the two bedrooms and a small, dirty bathroom.

The place was empty, save for an old sofa in the first room and two dining chairs, one of which was knocked over.

“Clear,” Yin said.

Rhett gave a nod. “All clear.” He relaxed a little, but looking around the empty space, he wasn’t happy. “Nothing.”

Yin took out his scanner; a small black device, and switched it on. He held it up to the air vents, the light fittings. “No surveillance, no bugs.”

Rhett went around the corner into the kitchen. Yin had said it was clear, and he didn’t doubt that, but he hoped to find something .

There was no fridge, the oven door was crooked and ajar, the cooktop broken. He checked the cupboards and found nothing, then the drawers. Empty.

There was no sign of a struggle, no sign of life. No sign that anyone had been there for fuck knows how long.

“Could be another apartment,” Yin said quietly.

That was true. It could be. But Rhett didn’t think so. Either way, there was nothing to do but go back to base.

“Let’s go,” Rhett said. As he walked back into the first room, he noticed something under the sofa. The corner of a piece of paper. He went to it and carefully slid it out with his gloved finger.

A local pizzeria flyer.

Something was written in Turkish across the top. There were greasy fingerprints on the flyer, and although Rhett couldn’t be certain, it looked somewhat fresh.

Rhett tucked it inside his coat pocket and gave Yin a nod for them to leave. Except Rhett didn’t run back down the alleyway. He went to the nearest trash cans and lifted the lids, just as his earpiece crackled to life.

It was Sid. “Ah, Captain?”

Rhett froze, making eye contact with Yin. He pressed his earpiece in tighter. “Go ahead.”

“Eagle Eyes has you and suggested you get your asses back to base.”

Frustration and something close to resentment burned in his gut. Rhett sneered. “Suggestion is noted. Over.”

Sid chuckled. “Roger that. Over.”

“Fuckers,” Rhett grumbled.

“What is it?” Yin asked .

“HQ’s got eyes on us,” Rhett said. He looked down the alleyway, wondering which CCTV camera they had access to. Probably all of them. He looked up, smiled, and waved, then went back to the trash can.

Nothing but garbage, funnily enough. Kid’s cereal box, milk containers, pasta boxes, scraps.

He tried the next one. Same as the first. General household shit.

“What are you looking for?” Yin asked, plucking a lid off the next can.

“That,” Rhett said, lifting a pizza box out of the trash can. Same logo as the flyer in the apartment. There were some half-eaten crusts and scrunched-up napkins and a receipt.

Bingo.

“Let’s go.”

Rhett took the box, and they ran back down the alley.

“Vehicle incoming at your nine,” Sid said in his ear.

Rhett held up his hand, signalling for Yin to stop. He did, pressing himself against the wall, cloaked in shadow. The car drove down the street, noise fading.

“All clear,” Sid said.