Page 4 of Thorn

The car came to a stop and two men in plain clothes jumped out, rounding toward her.

Juliette smiled. “Hello, there.” And that’s when she had her first flash of a memory. A real memory, not a picture-memory. These men she recognized. They were the men who had attacked her at the conference. They had tied her up. The conference? She stepped back. There was more. There was more about the conference. There was more about her past life. It bubbled up along with a giddy laugh that was pure terror.

Each man had a gun in his hand.

Juliette swung her head to make sure the boy was safe.

The father reached out, grabbed his child around his waist, and leaped up his stairs and through his front door.

“Get in,” the man growled in Russian.

Chapter Three

Thorn

Brussels, Belgium

Monday, Twelve Twelve Hours

“Gentlemen, your plane delay is working in our favor.” Commander Titus Kane’s voice crackled from the cell phone Thorn was holding out. Three Panther Force operators stood shoulder to shoulder in a tight circle, heads bowed. They huddled around the commander’s words, protecting them from intrusive ears.

“I need you in a secure location ASAP to receive orders. Stash your bags. You won’t be heading home today.”

Panther Force had been in Europe on a protection detail for a group of United States diplomats. Half the negotiation team had moved on to London and were covered by their fellow Strike Force team members.

Thorn, Honey, and Gage drew the short straw. For them, the security mission was over.

They’d already put their principals on the government jet, here at the Brussels International Airport, and were waiting for their own commercial flight home when the call came through from Headquarters.

The three men hefted their duffels to their shoulders and moved in lock step toward the exit, spooling up for their next assignment.

“I think our best move is to rent a couple of cars. We can store our bags in them and pull up the encryption site on a laptop.” Honey lifted his chin toward the car rental signage. “We’ll be ready to move if need be.” At six-foot-eight, Honey Honig always had the best vantage point for locating things. He was also the most easily located. Six of one, half-dozen of another. It either served them well or it sucked to be him. There was rarely an in between.

The three brushed past the preoccupied passengers flowing through Brussels International. It was newly renovated from the 2016 dual bomb explosions in the terror attack on the airport. That weighed on Thorn’s mind. All that glass. Tons and tons of glass. He imagined, as they jostled toward the car rental booth, what would happen to the people underneath the glass walls if the panes shattered, splintered, stabbed through the air toward those underneath. How would he protect himself and the people around him? Where could he go in an instant to find cover? His head on a swivel, taking it all in, Thorn processed through the options. Those kinds of thoughts were part of Thorn’s job. He plotted this kind of information as a habit. Assessed each change in the dynamic. Where was he in the space? Who was near him? What needed to happen?

Thorn worked as an elite operator for Iniquus, a private for-hire protection and operations group, which signed contracts with the US government and, on occasion, with corporations or the hyper-wealthy. Iniquus was an organization populated by the best of the best as they left the US Armed Forces. The Deltas, like Honey, the Marine Raiders, like Gage, and the SEALs, like Thorn. Battle hardened. Battle ready.

They made their way up the short line to the rental agent, signed contracts for two high performance cars, and walked away with two sets of BMW keys. They had no idea what they’d be involved with, but rarely was it a good idea to have access to only one vehicle.

The unpredictability of their work always gave Thorn a shot of adrenaline. He liked that about his job. The risk. The challenge. This was his world. There was no such thing as nine to five. He was always in go mode.

The rental cars were parked on opposite sides of the deck. Thorn tossed his duffle in the trunk of one of the cars and jogged through the rows to join up with his teammates.

When Thorn popped open the back door, Gage already had his laptop fired up. His fingers tapped through the encryption protocol to bring up a secure line.

“Gentlemen.” Titus’s gravelly voice filled the car’s interior as Thorn pulled the door closed with a bang that echoed down from the cement ceiling. “We’re lucky to have you positioned at exactly the right place at exactly the right time.”

“Sir,” the men answered in unison.

“We’ve signed a contract with an alphabet for a new case.”

“They need their hands that clean? They’re not even giving us their letters?” Honey asked. There was a reason why the US government sometimes preferred hiring a private brand instead of putting their necks out, especially if things went sideways in an allied country.

“Let’s just say, they’d like to keep a low profile.” Two photographs appeared on Gage’s screen, a woman and a child. “Memorize these faces. Chances are you’ll never see them, but if you do, you need to intervene by whatever means possible. They were kidnapped this morning in Toulouse, France.”

Toulouse was in the south of France and a long distance from Brussels.

The picture on the screen changed to just the woman’s face.

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