Page 5 of Deceive Me
Jack answered this time. “Martin Diako.”
Elliot froze, even her breath stilling at the name. Martin Diako. She stared at the back of Dain’s head, pinning her composure on her lifeline to the man who’d taken her under his wing.
Martin Diako. Fuck.
Deacon and Sydney Walsh needed protection from Martin Diako. The man known as Mansa in most circles. Ruler. The monster in charge of the biggest modern-day African pirating organization operating today. The monster responsible for ruining an untold amount of lives in the last forty years, including Elliot’s own.
The monster who was her father.
2
“Two years ago my team was responsible for the rescue of Senator Jeremy Ewing and his family.”
“Team?” Dain asked. “That rescue was the responsibility of Global First.”
And high profile; the senator’s arrival back in the US, battered and bruised and grieving the loss of one of his twin daughters, had been televised live. Though Deacon’s team had been responsible for his rescue, they weren’t present for the media circus for obvious reasons—reasons that were coming back to haunt him now. “Yes. I’m still employed with them, though I’m not currently in the field.”
“Why not?”
He had no desire to explain, to relive even through a few words the pain and anger of the last year, but the more the team knew, the better they could protect Sydney. “My wife, Julia, died eighteen months ago. I left the field to be with my daughter, though I still run computer support, mostly from home. I go into the office a few days a week, no more than a few hours at a time. Sydney began a private preschool in August, so I typically use that time for the office.”
Dain nodded, tapping his finger against his jaw. “That was the raid that took out Andre Diako, wasn’t it?”
Deacon’s mouth tightened as memories of that night surged in his mind. For a moment he swore he could actually smell the salt-heavy air—and the blood. “It was. The senator, his wife, and one of their twin daughters were rescued. The second girl, Shannon Ewing, was murdered by Andre before we could get to her.” She’d bled out, naked and so damn scared, in Deacon’s arms. “Andre was also killed.”
“And now it appears that Mansa wants revenge,” Jack stated.
Dain’s intent eyes searched his boss’s face. “How so?”
“Six months ago,” Deacon told him, “one of our team members, Farley, went missing. Since he was on assignment deep in a South American jungle, we assumed it was related to his work. A month later, a second member, Inez, showed up murdered. Tortured.”
Dain flipped through the file. Images of Inez’s body—or most of it—flashed into view. Deacon bit back bile and rage, forcing himself to continue.
“A few weeks later Farley’s body was discovered, buried in a shallow grave near the Bolivian border. He had the same…damage as Inez. Not long after, Trapper was attacked while on assignment in Beirut. He managed to escape before the assassin completed his objective, but he learned enough to know that all of them had been targeted for one purpose.”
“Revenge,” Jack inserted. “Mansa is tracking down the men who killed his son.”
Deacon nodded. “The fourth member of our team, Farley’s partner, Li, was killed during the rescue. That leaves my partner, Fionn McCullough, and me.”
Dain continued skimming the pages before him. “Any direct threats up to now?”
“No.” Frustration sharpened the word to a point. “Trapper has been brought here to GFS’s Georgia campus and put in protective custody. Fionn and I are both stationed here in Atlanta as well. We’re prepared, but Sydney… I won’t risk my daughter becoming a target.” As much as Deacon would like to believe he was infallible, he wasn’t. Soldiers died all the time, especially when they were trying to protect others. Sydney had lost enough when her mother died; he wouldn’t leave her without both her parents, alone. His pride wasn’t worth that.
If he had any pride left after the little woman standing across from him had put him on his ass.
The thought actually amused him despite the seriousness of the situation. He’d have to make sure Fionn didn’t find out or he’d never let Deacon hear the end of it. The spitfire had caught him off guard, something that had never happened before. No doubt she’d succeeded where others had failed because he’d been too busy ogling the perfect breasts under her tight T-shirt. Her white-blonde hair had caught his eye first, then the hard awareness in her eyes, but those breasts…goddamn. Only their slight jiggle had warned him she was moving, allowing him to relax enough that the impact on the plush but not too cushiony carpet hadn’t fazed him.
It was the kick in the pants that had totally charmed him, however. Spitfire indeed.
She’s here to protect your daughter, not tweak your libido, jackass.
Right. He’d have to remember that when she was ensconced in his home.
“So what’s the plan?” Dain asked, pulling Deacon’s focus out of his pants.
“Under normal circumstances, we would go directly to the threat, but we don’t know where Mansa is right now. And with Sydney in the crossfire, I can’t go anywhere. I won’t risk leaving her unprotected.”
“Why not go into hiding?”
