Page 10 of How Much For a Life of Lies?

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Taking a deep breath, I knocked, waited for the invitation, and entered. The room was spacious, with a long conference table dominating the center and large windows letting in California sunlight. Three figures sat waiting, their expressions a mix of curiosity and expectation.

And there, leaning by the wall behind them, like some kind of sentry, was a fourth man I recognized: Kai. I’d been right—I had seen him, and my heart skipped a beat as our eyes met, a rush of conflicting emotions flooding through me. Surprise, frustration, and an undeniable undercurrent of desire—all tangled in a single flash.

An infuriating smirk played at the corners of Kai’s lips. “Hey, Petty Officer Frogman,” he replied as if nothing had happened between us. As if I didn’t know he was a loose cannon.

As if we hadn’t gotten off in the dark.

I clenched my jaw, fighting to keep my emotions in check. How could he be here? Did no one know how freaking dangerous he was? Kai’s presence threw me off-balance in a way I hadn’t expected, but I couldn’t let him see how much he’d rattled me.

“Assassin,” I acknowledged.

“Jake Callahan, representing the Sanctuary Foundation.” Jake stood, a tall man with a ready smile and his hand extended, which I shook. “This is Special Agent Llewellyn, CIA, Chloe Archer, Homeland Security. And you already appear to know Kai?”

For my sins.

“Petty Officer… Mr. Reynolds… welcome. Please sit,” Jake said.

“Zach,” I corrected. My former rank was irrelevant in this new team—this was gray ops that went beyond the Navy and being a SEAL.

“Zach,” Jake acknowledged with a smile, and I nodded in return, keeping my expression neutral as he gestured at the coffee on the table. “Help yourself.”

“I’m good, thank you, sir.”

“Call me Jake, please. So, down to business. You accepted our invitation, but how much do you know about what we’re trying to do here?”

I glanced from Jake to the Llewellyn guy next to him, and then to the Homeland Security woman, Chloe, who smiled in encouragement. I had an excellent idea of what Sanctuary wanted to do—create a team that would cross stateside and international issues, do unsanctioned work…gray ops, but on a different scale and not answerable to the government.

“Not as much as I’d like, sir,” I responded, forgetting he’d asked me to call him Jake.

“I own and fund a private foundation tasked with helping where others can’t,” he began, his tone grave.

“Like Knight Rider without the cool car,” Kai remarked, earning himself a warning glance from Jake and a subtle hush gesture. I braced myself for Kai to snarl and snap, but to my surprise, he shrugged.

Jake continued. “Witness protection, US mainland, and the new team that I’m founding—we call it Shadow Team—is something like Knight Rider without the cool car…” He quirked a smile at Kai, then stopped and sighed. “Let’s just say that sometimes my foundation can’t do enough.” He leveled a look at me, and I nodded. “We can’t cross borders or color outside the lines.”

He paused and allowed me to fill in the blanks—black ops, plausible deniability, blah blah, I’d heard all this before. Every private army wanted former SEALs on their books, but something about this man and his Sanctuary Foundation, with the feds sitting next to him, spoke of a very different animal.

“If you accept the offer to join the new team, you’d be working out of a Chicago base.” He waited again.

I realized it was on me to say yes or no. I’d always been military, always measured. Was this right for me without me knowing more? Did I have to answer just on instinct alone? I met Kai’s steady focus, feeling that familiar frustration, and knew we’d never be able to work together if he was on the team.

But maybe that was what I needed. His fire. Sarcasm. Lack of discipline that needed reining in.

Life.

To be pushed out of my comfort zone.

“I’m interested in knowing more,” I said.

“Okay, then,” Jake said. Then he outlined something he called Shadow Team and went into specifics about the kinds of things in their remit. I was right about it being black ops, and yeah, I felt excited as I listened.

Despite my best efforts to stay focused on his overview, the folder he opened in front of him drew me in. It revealed a series of grim photos and one of a couple dressed for some kind of event. “This is Vincent Santoro,” Jake began, his tone grave as he passed that photo across the table to me. “And these are just examples of the humans his organization traffics.” My stomach churned at the sight of young women crammed into the back of a truck, some unconscious, others lifeless. The image of one woman with a bullet between her eyes burned, and I blinked away the emotion of seeing the brutal end to the helplessness in black and white.

Jake continued to explain the scope of the mission. Working to dismantle the organization trafficking humans, drugs, and weapons, funding terrorism, and despite the remit sounding huge, I could see how I could fit into this.

“This network spans multiple countries, with Santoro serving as the primary supplier in LA,” Jake explained, his voice steady as he outlined the details of our mission. “Your task, Zach, would be to infiltrate the organization and gather intel on their operations so federal agencies can dismantle them. There won’t be glory, we won’t take any praise for what we do. There’s a wall around you and your partner that means other agencies have plausible deniability.”

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