Page 13 of Every Last Breath

That’s what Maddox did to him—crept under his skin and fired him up hot as napalm.

“Thanks, Linda.” He clicked off, his blood simmering, his thoughts spinning.

Maddox had killed their chance at happiness. He’d left her behind, so pissed at her betrayal he couldn’t set eyes on her but he had also needed to protect her. He’d been haunted by her every day since. What he wouldn’t give to be free, to purge her from his thoughts, and his heart.

To extinguish her from his soul.

He had to see her, ensure she was safe after cutting him loose, and get answers for closure. That was all. If he got caught up in her mess, allowed himself to get sucked back in for any reason, it would be a one-way ticket from limbo straight to hell.

* * *

Gray Box Headquarters, Northern Virginia

5:20 p.m. EDT

A cold vein of anger pulsed in Maddox’s head.

She’d been set up by her own. Cole Matthews turning out to be Nikolai Reznikov was so far beyond the realm of coincidence, it landed smack-dab in the quagmire of the perverse.

Granted, he looked different. His rebel with a cause charm had given way to something savage. He had a barely leashed readiness for violence running through him like a live wire. But no matter how different he appeared, if there’d been one clear photo, she would’ve recognized his face. The DGB had wanted her going in blind.

Was Castle in on it? Would’ve taken elephant-sized balls for him to look her in the eyes and send her off clueless.

Maddox swiped her badge through one of the electronic turnstiles on either side of the metal detector in the Gray Box lobby. Amanda Woodrow, who’d picked her up from the safe house, was at her side, wearing a trademark pantsuit that telegraphed she didn’t take fashion too seriously. Maddox had recruited Amanda from the Drug Enforcement Agency after a joint operation, where she had worked under the guise of Homeland Security. The DGB didn’t waste any time adding Amanda to his prized collection of flawed elite. He had the vision to tap those once misemployed or disavowed and put them to better use.

They’d become close, fast friends, being the only two women in the Gray Box with operational field experience. Although Amanda had requested desk duty as an analyst after her son, Jackson, was born, that instant bond of mutual understanding had never gone away. As a woman, smaller than the others in black ops and most of the baddies she encountered, she had to be faster and sharper and work twice as hard physically to hold her own.

Undoubtedly, Amanda sensed something awry in the uncommon thick silence between them but knew not to ask about a mission outside her purview.

Maddox lifted a stiff hand hello to the two armed plainclothes security guards behind the curved, richly veined white marble desk. They gave curt nods. Amanda’s heels struck the polished concrete floor in a staccato like gunfire, echoing in the lobby.

An iris scan gave them access to the elevator, and Maddox slapped the button for the operations floor. Green laser beams from a state-of-the-art TSCM—technical surveillance countermeasure—scanner swept for unauthorized devices, from personal cell phones to bugs. Their encrypted cells that they used in the field were allowed in the building, but no mobile phone functioned in the subterranean facility.

Once cleared, the elevator lowered in a smooth motion toward the sixth-floor sublevel, a bunker so protected it could withstand a nuclear explosion. Working here, being a Gray Box officer, had been everything for Maddox. It was the sole thing of consequence in her life. Until today.

Her temples throbbed, the slightest quiver ticking in her leg at the thought of him. Cole Matthews. The man was an epoch-making juggernaut who had defined her life. BNE—Before Nikolai Era. ANE—After Nikolai Era. Now was the fricking Age of Cole.

The elevator hummed to a stop, and the doors whispered open.

“When this mission is done,” Amanda said, “we’ll grab a glass of wine and talk.”

Maddox had been the shoulder Amanda leaned on after her boyfriend had dumped her at eight months pregnant and again three years ago when her son was diagnosed with leukemia. Maddox had stepped up as her birth partner and become auntie to little Jax, but she was nowhere near ready to divulge the secrets buried inside her.

Amanda elbowed her. “Or we could just drink and skip the heavy talk.”

As usual, her friend read her too well. Amanda flashed a supportive smile, making her look ten years younger than forty. The woman never seemed to age, could eat anything without packing on the pounds, and had girl-next-door freckles dusted across the bridge of her nose—attributes Amanda credited to the genetics on her mother’s side. But it was her untiring rainbow optimism, regardless of how harsh the storm, that left Maddox in awe.

She nodded her thanks to Amanda and marched down the carpeted walkway separating the Intelligence side of Operations from Black Ops. Silvery-blue partition walls lined the path. Chatter from the nine TVs in Intel tuned to news networks from CNN to Al Jazeera faded into the background.

She couldn’t wrap her head around why the DGB had set her up. The humiliation of being treated like a mark, denied professional courtesy, pissed her off enough to spit railroad spikes, but she rallied an iron demeanor. Shrouded the wrinkles of angry disappointment behind a calm veil.

Janet Price, the DGB’s executive assistant and right hand, came around the corner. “Maddox, glad I found you. Reece is on the phone for you.” The middle-aged brunette had the disposition of warm syrup and a voice to match. She went out of her way to take care of everyone, from pet sitting when they deployed to bringing in scrumptious home-cooked snacks.

“Mind if I take it at your desk? I need to see the big guy right after.”

“Sure. Castle is in with him, but you can go in once they’re done.”

Great. Kill two birdies with one stone. Maddox steamrolled past her, gunning for the combat zone. The administrative offices divided the expansive floor into two separate sections: operations on one side, and the common areas, such as the conference room, break room, gym, soundproofed range, and supply where they stored their gear and gadgets, on the other.