Only now did he fully understand what he must lose to save them.
Liam called Luther on the radio.
When he picked up, Liam said, “I need you.”
51
Liam
Day One Hundred and Fourteen
Liam geared up.
This mission required speed and agility. He planned to leave his go-bag behind, but he strapped on his chest rig and did a weapons check, counted his ammo and magazines.
He kept his everyday carry case with the folding knife, paracord, tactical pen, and multi-tool in his jacket pocket.
He’d borrowed Hannah’s sewing kit for a couple of last-minute alterations and a couple of items from Reynoso’s home as well. Reynoso didn’t know—he was busy on night patrol.
It was time to go.
Liam had thought out every contingency and back-up plan, every move and countermove until it solidified in his mind.
He was prepared for a one-man war.
Ghost was on his feet, watching him intently with those intelligent brown eyes, ears pricked. He knew something was about to happen.
Liam scratched his floppy ears and rubbed beneath his muzzle. “Take care of them for me.”
Movement in the shadows of the hallway.
Adrenaline shot through him. Liam spun, Glock in hand.
Quinn spoke in the darkness. “It’s me.”
Liam lowered the pistol. “What’d I tell you about sneaking up on people?”
“To get better at it. Looks like I did.”
Her glassy eyes sparkled in the dim moonlight trickling through the living room window. She wore red flannel pajama bottoms, a Metallica T-shirt, and Hannah’s pink slippers. She looked so young.
He holstered his pistol. “You should be sleeping.”
“So should you.”
“Touché.”
Ghost trotted up to her and sniffed her hand. She scratched him behind his ears. He snorted in pleasure and pressed the top of his head against her thigh.
Her gaze slid from Ghost to his face to the M4 on its sling, the chest rig bristling with gear. “You’re leaving.”
“I am.”
“Why?”
“There’s something I have to do.”
“Does Hannah know?”
“She will.”
“Which means she doesn’t know.”
Truth was, he couldn’t bear to tell her. He knew what her reaction would be. He didn’t want to say goodbye. Not that she couldn’t handle it—he couldn’t.
Their last moments together were perfect. He wanted her to remember him like that. He wanted his last memory of her to be that one. The way her hair looked spilling around her shoulders, the depth of her eyes in the firelight, how dark they turned when she kissed him.
“No,” he said. “She doesn’t.”
Quinn stared at him steadily. She wasn’t taking silence for an answer. “Where are you going?”
“To cut the head off the snake.”
“What if there’s more than one head?”
She always was a smart one. Cunning and quick-thinking. It would serve her well.
“I don’t think there is.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“It’s a risk I have to take.”
“You’re going to kill the General.” She said it flatly. A statement, not a question.
“I’m going to try.”
“How are you going to get close to him?”
“Anyone ever told you that you ask too many questions?”
She snorted. “All the time.”
“As long as this man lives, Hannah and Charlotte will be in danger. For them, I have to do this.”
She took a step forward. The strap of her AR-15 was slung across her shoulder. She practically slept with the thing. “I want to come with you.”
“I have to do this alone.”
She scowled. “I thought you said that lone-wolf stuff was stupid thinking.”
“It is. But in this case, it’s the only way it’ll work. Believe me, I’ve thought it through. This is the only way.”
“That’s why you’re sneaking out. Because Bishop and Hannah won’t agree to it. This isn’t a good idea.”
His stomach somersaulted. “Quinn.”
“Are you coming back?”
His knee-jerk response was an obvious of course, but he hesitated. She wasn’t a little kid. She’d been through too much for him to lie to her. He owed her that much.
“I don’t know,” he said. And then, “Probably not.”
Dismayed, Quinn’s mouth opened, then snapped shut. She shook her head fiercely. “No.”