Nope. Not signing up for that tour of duty. Not when his personal best could get his entire team killed. Besides, his interests lay in the opposite direction of theirs. The CIA wanted Jonas Johnson left in play until they figured out what he was up to and who his backers were.
For now, the JTT was playing along, biding their time until they could make their collective move against the man who’d betrayed them all.
Not good enough for Jamie. He wanted Johnson dead. Now. A slow, painful death would be preferable—but given the level of security he kept around him—not an option. The next best thing? A bullet to the head at close range.
A suicide mission for the trigger man, but worth it to see justice done.
“Your pity fuck is a party of one,” Adam said. “Nobody here pities you. We hurt for you, and we hurt with you. We also stand by you. You want Johnson dead. Retribution for Kosamina’s murder. I get it. He killed my father and made multiple attempts on my sister. I want his rotting corpse pushing up daisies as much as you do. The whole team does. But we’re not sacrificing anyone to get it done. So, drink your rum if you need to, then get some rest because your rehabilitation starts tomorrow, and according to Eve, it’ll hurt like a motherfucker. But the faster you get back on your feet, the faster that bastard dies. We’re doing this together. The JTT as one. And until I say otherwise, you’re a member of the team. We clear?”
Well, shit…awe clearfrom Adam was a no room for interpretation, follow the chain of command, and get your ass on board order. Could he live with doing things the JTT way when it came to killing Johnson? Was it possible for Eve to physio his knee back into useable shape? Did he want a chance to come back from the edge, or was he already too far gone?
“Debrief. Zero seven hundred,” Adam said, answering the questions hovering on the tip of Jamie’s tongue. “Physio with Eve at eleven and a therapy session with Dr. Christina at two, non-negotiable. You want a real chance at taking down Johnson; this is how it happens. You in?”
Despite his reservations, and the fact he sported little more than a towel, Jamie felt his spine straighten at the command in Adam’s voice. “Yeah. I’m in.” He could do things their way if it meant an end to Johnson sooner rather than later.
Sooner being the definitive factor. If he had to betray his team and cut out early to get the job done, he’d do it and suffer the consequences.
Adam cocked a brow but didn’t challenge the lie. “Anything else you want to know before I go?”
“The baby?” he blurted, curious about Kosamina’s daughter but unsure about what he was asking. “How is she?”
“She’s perfect,” Adam replied. “She’s well cared for, healthy, happy, and one of us. Whatever you decide your relationship with her will be, we’ll support you. But if you think our Little Miss JTT needs to go to another home, good luck trying to pry her from her aunts’ and uncles’ hands. Halia has her tiny fist wrapped around everyone’s heart, and we’re not about to let her go. Not without a fight.”
“Halia?” Jamie’s chest squeezed tight at the meaning behind the little girl’s name. In remembrance of a loved one. The perfect tribute to the mother she’d lost on the day of her birth.
“Yeah, Summer named her. It means—”
“I know what it means,” Jamie interjected, clearing his throat when it clogged with emotion. “Who’s Summer?”
“Summer Summers is the nanny we hired. You’ll meet her tomorrow.”
A nanny? The JTT hired a professional to look after Kosamina’s daughter? Not something he’d anticipated the leader of the special operations unit would do. They stayed alive by sticking together, keeping their group small, and flying under the radar.
Bringing the baby home had been risky enough. But inviting another adult into their inner circle? Dangerous as fuck. For them. For her. And how did it all work anyway? The addition of Gray and Eve he could understand, they’d needed the JTTs’ protection, but a black ops team with a baby, a nanny, a teenager, a dog? What if something happened? What if—
“You’re thinking too hard,” Adam said. “For now, we’re taking things one day at a time around here. So get some sleep, and we’ll catch you up on the rest in the morning. Sound good?”
No. Nothing sounded good. Too much had happened. Too many had suffered. And with every breath Johnson took, the dead count kept rising. “Yeah,” he said, his grip on the bottle in his hand tightening. “Sounds good.”
Adam snorted. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a terrible liar?”
“All the time.”
“Well, don’t do anything stupid before morning, or Jay’s going to pummel your ass, and I’m going to let him.” Threat delivered, he nodded sharply once, turned on his heel, and left Jamie to face his demons alone.
CHAPTERTWENTY
Drunk.A little bit more than a little? Not enough? Plenty enough to skew rational thinking and hinder decision-making? Absolutely. The last one. Not the first. Or had it been the middle? Nope. The last one. Decision-making fuckery.
Jamie stared at the half-empty bottle of rum on his desk.
Or was it the half-full bottle of rum on his desk?
Whatever. Didn’t matter. For the first time in a long time, he had no desire to finish it. Or more to the point, he had no desire to be punched in the jaw. Again. A definite possibility if he didn’t show up on time for the JTTs’ morning debrief.
Chilled to the bone, he sat back in his office chair, the fake leather offering about as much warmth and comfort against his bare skin as an embrace from a dead fish. When was the last time he’d felt warm?
On the inside. Not the outside.
