Page 64 of One Last Stand

“What’s going on?”

“How much do you know about your orders that day in Zermatt?”

“My orders? Um, they were just . . . orders. I don’t understand the question.” And then . . .Wait one doggone second. “How do you know about Zermatt?”

“Sit down, Shep.”

“I’ll stand.”

“Fine.” Mitch went around and sat in the chair.

Ho-kay. Shep sat on the other, in front of the silent hearth. The lunch had started to settle like a clump in his stomach, and fatigue pressed over him. It felt like he’d been up all night and was walking into morning without a cup of coffee, fuzzy-headed and bloated. Like a hangover, maybe, although he’d never experienced one of those.

Frankly, he’d never been the guy to let himself wander outside the boundary lines.

“I know my daughter is a member of the Black Swans.”

Shep just blinked at him.

“And I know you know also, because York filled me in. Said you two talked about it on the plane, so I’m not revealing anything.”

Shep’s mouth tightened. “How long have you known?”

“I worked with a man named Pike Maguire to set up the Swans. And when he died, I took over.”

“You’re the director of the Black Swans? Does London know this?”

“Why do you call her London?”

“It’s a nickname. From summer camp—she had a cute sort of British accent, so . . .”

“Charming.”

He had a feeling that it might not be. Still. “She likes it.”

Her father made a sound, deep in his throat.Sheesh.Shep understood why parents might not have liked the ski-bum version of him as a teenager, but hello, today he had a home, a decent job, and . . . “I get that maybe you disagree with her quitting the Swans—not sure why, as it’s dangerous—but?—”

Mitch held up a hand. “You don’t know Delaney like I do. It’s not up to me whether she quits the Swans. But I do care if she lives or dies.”

“On this we can agree.”

“Which is exactly why I sent you on the mountain that day.”

He sent. . . “What—wait. That was a Ranger operation. And we were there to protect the CIA operative—who I think turned out to be a rogue agent.”

“A man named Alan Martin. At the time, he was just forming his faction inside the walls of the CIA, and he was the one who ordered your operation. But I had intel that suggested a double-cross, and when I heard that they wanted to send a Ranger team to ‘protect the operative’”—he used finger quotes for that last phrase—“I feared that something—or someone—might get caught in the crossfire. My only hope was you.”

Shep blinked at him. “Me?”

“I knew that if you saw Delaney, you’d stop any attempt to eliminate her, so I spoke to the right people, and your Ranger team was tasked with the mission.”

“I was a medic. I had no command authority?—”

“I know you were in the military, and I remember the climbing story from camp. You’re dependable, Shep. In fact, I think it’s your greatest trait, and of course, your Achilles’ heel. And I knew you’d do anything to stop an attempt on her life.” He nodded. “And you did.”

“I . . . yes, okay, I saw her that day—couldn’t believe it, really—and I did convince my team to stand down, but then we almost died together in an avalanche?—”

“From where I sit, you kept her alive.”

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