Page 6 of Deceive Me
“Because terrifying a child almost guarantees they’ll act in ways that aren’t natural for them,” Jack said. Deacon met the man’s look as something in his gut relaxed. Fionn knew Jack fairly well; the two men had crossed paths in Afghanistan more than once, and Fionn had highly recommended him, but trusting his daughter’s safety to strangers had not set well. Jack seemed to understand the situation, though.
“At home,” Deacon added, “I can pretty much predict her behavior, her reactions. We have bugout procedures we’ve practiced before, so she doesn’t see them as unusual, more like a game. She knows what to do and where to go. In an unfamiliar environment, with unfamiliar people, she won’t know what to do. And being on home turf gives us some small advantage.” They needed every one to go up against Mansa and win. “Besides, each of my team members was caught by surprise. Let Mansa come to us, fight on our ground instead of choosing his own.”
The spitfire spoke up from behind Dain. “Mansa isn’t known for doing his own handiwork.”
Deacon narrowed his eyes on her. “You know him?”
She shrugged. “I know of him.”
Something about the look she exchanged with Dain said it was a little more than that. Deacon eyed the team leader. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Jack’s “Dain?” held an inquiry but no suspicion.
Smith met Deacon’s gaze head-on. “Just an old case. I researched an associate of his.”
“Really?” He didn’t bother hiding the bark in his tone. “Because if it’s any more than that, you don’t want me to find out later.”
She stayed relaxed under his scrutiny, something most men, innocent and not, had trouble doing. Her fists didn’t tighten, nor did the skin around her eyes or mouth. Her stare was intent, but that seemed to be normal for this woman. One eyebrow went up as if she was more amused than intimidated. “Really. That’s it.”
Dain cleared his throat. “You’ve been given our files, of course, Deacon. You might not have had time to read them, but rest assured Jack and Con do a thorough job on the background of every member of their staff.”
“Absolutely,” Jack agreed. Resentment didn’t color the word either. They all seemed to understand his suspicions.
Deacon nodded his acceptance of the explanation despite a slight reservation. He would definitely be looking over the files tonight, not to mention running his own background checks. Sydney would be safe; he refused to take anything for granted.
But that was later; right now he needed a plan in place to protect his daughter. “The fact that Mansa usually sends assassins instead of coming himself is what has made this harder, up to now.”
“Why not now?” Dain asked.
Jack reached for the file, flipping to the very back where a still taken from grainy security footage waited. Deacon stared down at the gray-and-white image of the tall white male as anger built in his chest, vying with a fear he hated to acknowledge but couldn’t ignore, not if he wanted to protect Sydney. “Mansa entered the US on a false Visa yesterday. West Coast.” He turned the page, displaying copies of the ticket and the terrorist’s forged ID. “He walked out of Los Angeles International Airport and disappeared.”
“He has an endgame in mind.” Dain’s voice was tight with the realization.
“He does. And I’m very afraid that endgame involves my daughter.” What better revenge than an heir for an heir?
“Why you?” Elliot asked.
“Because I’m the one who pulled the trigger and killed his son.”
Curses filtered from each team member’s mouth.
“Where is your daughter now?” she asked.
“She’s with Lori in reception,” Jack answered.
“You’re not scared, are you, Otter? It’s just a little girl,” the man they’d introduced as Saint said. Deacon had already identified him as the joker of the bunch.
“So is Otter,” the one called King said. The words sounded serious, but he wasn’t too successful at hiding his grin.
A faint blush colored the woman’s cheeks. “Shut the fuck up, you two.”
“Language!” the men yelled in unison, then laughed.
Deacon recognized the joshing the two male team members gave Smith; they respected the woman, obviously. They also weren’t above ribbing her any chance they got. He was the same with his team—or had been. There weren’t many of them left. Trapper would never go back into the field. Though recovering from his injuries, he’d lost power and dexterity in both hands, where critical tendons had been damaged. Deacon would eventually return to active duty, but for now had sidelined himself to stay home with Sydney. That left only Fionn, who’d refused a new team assignment since Julia’s death despite Deacon’s protests.
Fucking Mansa and his revenge.
Dain was shaking his head at the others’ antics. “Can we bring her in?”
