Page 18 of A Rhapsody of Ravens and Revenge

The air went out of his chest. Robert Lockwood had been his hero. And now he didn’t know what to think. If anything, it intensified his anger.

“What the hell, Atticus?” he asked. “This isn’t what we do. Or who we are. Our jobs were to complete the mission, but we never sacrificed the innocent. We always found another way. So if that’s your plan you can take my resignation and shove it. Evangeline and I will disappear before you hang up the phone. To hell with Robert if that’s his way of thinking.”

“You’d turn on him just like that?” Atticus asked, his voice sharp. “After everything he’s done for you?”

“I’d turn on him in a second,” Cal said fiercely. “She’s his own daughter.”

“It just so happens I’m on your side. And that’s exactly what I told Robert. He is who he is. That’s why he was named the Director of the CIA. Just because Evangeline is his daughter doesn’t mean he can’t see the big picture. It didn’t take long for him to figure out that we’re dealing with something Senator Biddle was working on with the Defense Committee. We could be talking billions of dollars at stake and countless lives depending on what’s up for grabs. And you know as well as I do that Lockwood would never sacrifice the good of the whole for one person. Not even if that person is his daughter. Lockwood is from the old school of thinking.”

“Cut the crap, Atticus. What happened to Jane was a tragedy, but you can’t tell me if she were still alive you wouldn’t move heaven and earth to keep her safe. You’d do the same for your daughter. You’d lay waste to whoever got in your way.”

“Out of line, Cyph,” Atticus said, his voice harsh.

Cal slammed his fist down on the counter and dropped his forehead against the kitchen cabinet next to the sink.

“I’m sorry, Reaper. I didn’t mean it that way. I’m pissed. And a lot disappointed in a man I thought of as my father.”

Cal deliberately slowed his breathing to get control of the emotions rioting through him. Emotions got you killed. And it had been a long time—ten years in fact—since he’d let his emotions get the better of him while on a job.

Guilt ate at him about what he said to Atticus. His wife and daughter had been collateral damage a couple of years before when gunmen had opened fire in retaliation to an op that had been leaked from an inside American government source. His wife, Jane, had been pronounced dead at the scene. And Anna, his daughter, had died twice on the operating table as they did surgery to repair the damage from the three bullets that had ravaged her small body. Atticus still didn’t know where the leak had come from, but Cal knew he was looking with vengeance in mind.

“I’m sorry, Reap.” Sorrow etched in his voice. “I really am.”

“Forget it,” Atticus said. “I already told Lockwood to stand down and that we’d do this my way. I call the shots for Dynamis. Not Robert Lockwood. And we’re solvent enough where we could still survive without the contracts he gets us on occasion. I never cared much for politics. It’s why I left the CIA.”

Cal winced with regret. He should have known Atticus would do the right thing. He always did. Cal trusted him with his life. He felt like even more of a jerk.

“I know,” Cal said. “So what do you want us to do?”

“What you do best. Find the connection between Senator Biddle and Amir, find out who hired Taber to kill them and see if anyone else is a possible target. And keep Evangeline alive.”

Cal laughed dryly. “Just another day at the office.”

“I’ve got local agents positioned around the area, and Nate and Eden can forgo sleep if you need them in an emergency. Otherwise look for them in a couple of days. And Cyph, don’t get so wrapped up in the woman that you can’t see the weapon pointed in your direction.”

“Yeah,” Cal said with a sigh. He disconnected the phone and went to find Evangeline. It was time they had a talk.

Chapter Seven

The house was unusually quiet. Lockwood kept a small staff on the property, but they’d all been sent away on paid vacation.

He moved through the rooms with his weapon drawn out of habit, checking windows and doors once again before heading upstairs and confronting Evie. It always gave him a bit of a surprise to walk through the private rooms and see pictures of himself mixed in with the ones of the Lockwood family. He’d always had a lot of respect for Nadine Lockwood. She hadn’t batted an eye when Robert had brought him home the first time. They’d been living in DC at the time, on Dupont Circle.

He’d gone from street rat to upper crust overnight. But he’d never quite fit into their world. He’d kept his nose clean where his hacking had been concerned, but he’d found other ways to rebel, to show them that he didn’t belong at dinner parties and glad-handing with politicians.

He’d graduated high school before his sixteenth birthday and had gotten his undergrad by nineteen. No one wanted a sixteen-year-old at their college parties, so he’d learned to find other ways of entertaining himself. He’d discovered his love for weights and exercise about the same time he’d discovered that there was something to be said for older college girls and their experience.

When he wasn’t working for Robert he was partying and drinking in the underground, adding to his tattoos, or finding a warm bed to hone his skills. He was a perfectionist at heart and liked to do everything well. The only rules Nadine had laid out for him were that he was to respect Robert’s position at the CIA, he wasn’t to get in trouble with the law, and under no circumstances was he to be a bad influence on Evangeline. Those had been guidelines he’d been able to work with.

He stopped and picked up a photo from Robert’s desk, his mouth quirking at the picture of the four of them on the shore in Palm Beach. Nadine had insisted they all wear white so she could get a proper photo, but the tide coming in had been stronger than they’d anticipated and a wave coming onto the shore had swept them all off their feet. They’d been drenched and sandy, and the look of incredulity on Nadine’s face that nature would interfere with her family photo was worth the price. The rest of them had laughed until tears poured down their faces.

It was a good memory. One of many he had of the Lockwoods. They’d made him part of their family, despite his determination to keep his distance and bide his time until he could leave when he was eighteen. But he hadn’t left. He’d been drawn into Lockwood’s game of cat and mouse. Which made it even harder to accept that he’d so casually toss Evie to the wolves.

He set the photo back on the desk and headed up the stairs. The sun shone through the high windows and glared off white walls, tables and furniture. He always found it funny that the multimillion-dollar homes in this area were always decorated the same. Apparently being filthy rich meant you couldn’t enjoy color.

When he reached the upstairs landing he made his way toward the west wing where Evie’s bedroom was located. His senses were on high alert, listening for sounds from behind her closed door. But there was nothing. It was rare for Evie to sit in silence. She thrived in noise and chaos, usually choosing to do her work with something blasting in her ears.

He also figured she’d have had plenty of time to work up a head of steam after their kiss in the kitchen. Evie wasn’t quiet when she was angry or upset. She paced, or tossed things around, or muttered under her breath.

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