Chapter 6 - NO HEROES
The first burst struck the metal wall six feet above my head.
I dropped behind a concrete barrier before the sound finished echoing.
“Warren!”
No answer.
Another burst.
Different angle.
Not random.
Suppressive fire.
Whoever was shooting knew exactly where Warren had positioned himself.
That meant surveillance.
Thermal.
Drone.
Or someone had followed us.
I crawled toward the rear wall.
My knee screamed.
Eighteen years disappeared.
The old instincts returned without permission.
Listen.
Locate.
Move.
Two shooters outside.
Maybe three.
No rounds entering from the south wall.
Likely dead ground.
I found a steel maintenance door and pulled.
Locked.
No time.
I kicked beside the latch.
Pain shot through my leg.
Again.
Metal bent.
Third kick.
Door opened three inches.
I forced myself through.
Gravel.
Darkness.
Railcars.
A muzzle flash flickered near the loading platform.
I stayed low.
“Warren!”
A voice came through the dark.
“Stop shouting. I’m old, not deaf.”
Relief hit me.
“Status?”
“Angry.”
“Injured?”
“Pride.”
“Shooter northwest.”
“I know.”
A suppressed rifle cracked.
Someone grunted.
Not Warren.
I moved toward his position.
He crouched behind a rusted forklift holding a rifle far newer than anything a retired chief should legally enjoy.
“You hit him?”
“Scared him.”
“I thought you were observing.”
“I observed him shooting at you.”
“Fair.”
Another round struck the forklift.
Warren looked offended.
“That was rude.”
“We need to move.”
“You always say that.”
A vehicle engine started beyond the railcars.
Headlights appeared.
Then a black SUV accelerated toward the exit.
“Ross,” I said.
“You saw him?”
“He was on video.”
“Alive?”
“Voice.”
Warren’s expression hardened.
“We follow?”
“No.”
He looked shocked.
“Who are you and what have you done with Daniel?”
“They want us to chase.”
“Exactly why we should.”
“Exactly why we won’t.”
Sirens sounded in the distance.
Agent Chen’s team.
The shooters disappeared before authorities reached us.
Chen was forty-something, compact, calm, and visibly unimpressed by retired operators improvising tactical operations inside abandoned industrial property.
She stared at Warren’s rifle.
“You bring that everywhere?”
“Only grocery shopping.”
She looked at me.
“Is he always like this?”
“Worse.”
Chen examined the laptop.
The hard drive had been removed remotely somehow, leaving only a basic operating system.
“No video saved.”
“I saw him.”
“Ross?”
“Yes.”
“You’re certain?”
“About the voice.”
“You saw his face?”
“No.”
“Then we’re not certain.”
I appreciated that.
Evidence before emotion.
Chen photographed shell casings.
“Professional ammunition.”
“That’s not a thing,” Warren said.
“You know what I mean.”
“Just checking.”
Chen ignored him.
“Your unknown party knew your overwatch location. That suggests you were compromised before arriving.”
I looked toward Hale.
He stood beside an unmarked vehicle speaking to another agent.
“Or someone knew the plan.”
Chen followed my eyes.
“You suspect Hale?”
“I suspect everyone until I don’t.”
“Healthy.”
“No. Necessary.”
By dawn, federal investigators had secured the yard.
No arrests.
No weapons.
No useful fingerprints.
One shooter had left blood on gravel, but not enough for immediate identification.
I returned home at six.
Claire was asleep on the couch.
She woke when I entered.
“You’re alive.”
“Apparently.”
She stood.
“You could have called.”
“They had my phone.”
“Then borrow one.”
“I was busy.”
“Daniel.”
Something in her voice stopped me.
Not anger.
Fear.
Real fear.
She walked toward me and touched the torn sleeve where metal fragments had cut my arm.
“You’re bleeding.”
“Scratch.”
“You always say that?”
“Usually.”
She fetched the first-aid kit without asking.
I sat at the kitchen table while she cleaned the wound.
It was strangely intimate.
More intimate than anything between us in years.
“I cheated on you,” she said.
I looked at her.
“I’m aware.”
“I know this isn’t the time.”
“There probably isn’t a good time.”
She taped gauze across my arm.
“I need you to understand something.”
“You don’t owe me another explanation.”
“I owe you the truth.”
I waited.
Claire folded the wrapper from the bandage.
“I didn’t leave because you were boring.”
“That was literally the reason you gave.”
“I left because being with Ryan made me feel like a version of myself I hadn’t been in years.”
“That sounds like boring with extra words.”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“I felt invisible.”
I nearly laughed from exhaustion.
“You felt invisible?”
“Yes.”
“I worked sixty hours a week to keep us afloat while you changed careers twice.”
“I know.”
“I came to every family dinner.”
“I know.”
“I sat through your mother’s surgery.”
“I know.”
“I never missed your birthday.”
“I know, Daniel.”
“Then what exactly was invisible?”
“My fear.”
I stopped.
She continued.
“I was terrified we were becoming roommates.”
“So your solution was Ryan.”
“No. Ryan was the cowardly solution.”
That honesty surprised me.
“I should have told you I was lonely. I should have demanded counseling. I should have left before touching another person.”
“Yes.”
“I know.”
She swallowed.
“But I kept waiting for you to notice.”
“I’m not a mind reader.”
“No. And I kept punishing you for failing a test I never told you about.”
The kitchen went quiet.
Finally I said, “That doesn’t excuse it.”
“I’m not asking you to excuse it.”
“Good.”
“I’m asking you not to rewrite our marriage as fourteen years of nothing because of what I did at the end.”
That hurt.
Because it was true.
There had been good years.
Great years.
Cheap vacations.
Burned Thanksgiving turkeys.
Snowstorms.
Inside jokes.
The tiny apartment where we started.
The afternoon Claire drove six hours because my truck broke down and I refused to pay for a tow.
Her sleeping in a hospital chair when I needed my knee reconstructed again.
Betrayal did not erase history.
It changed its meaning.
“I don’t hate you,” I said.
Claire’s eyes filled.
“That almost makes it worse.”
“I know.”
My phone rang.
Agent Chen.
“We got a DNA match on the blood.”
I sat straighter.
“Who?”
“Private database cross-reference from a prior federal contracting investigation. Name is Marcus Vale.”
I looked at Warren, who had just entered the kitchen.
His face changed when he heard the name through speakerphone.
“You know him?” Chen asked.
Warren answered.
“Yes.”
“From where?”
“Blackstone Strategic.”
Chen paused.
“Specifically?”
“Vale was one of their field coordinators in Iraq.”
I remembered him.
The civilian who tried to take Yusuf.
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Vale was at extraction.”
Chen said, “That’s not all.”
“What?”
“He currently owns a security consulting firm outside Baltimore.”
“So?”
“One of his listed employees is Andrew Ross.”
Silence.
Claire stopped breathing.
Warren whispered, “He’s alive.”
Chen continued.
“Or someone using that identity is.”
I stood.
“Address.”
“Daniel.”
“Address.”
“I’m not giving you an address so you can drive there.”
“Then you go.”
“We are.”
“When?”
“Warrant application is underway.”
“How long?”
“Hours.”
Warren shook his head.
“They’ll be gone.”
Chen heard him.
“If we move illegally and blow the case, they walk permanently.”
“She’s right,” I said.
Warren looked at me.
“You feeling okay?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve become responsible.”
“Age.”
Chen added, “There is another connection you need to know.”
“What?”
“Marcus Vale attended Ironhaven MMA.”
I stared at the phone.
“When?”
“For approximately eight months.”
Claire went pale.
“Ryan’s gym?”
“Yes.”
“Did Ryan know him?”
“We’re finding out.”
I thought back to the black SUV outside Meridian.
To Ryan standing beside me.
To the challenge.
To the viral video.
What if none of this had begun because Claire cheated?
What if someone had been waiting for an opportunity to drag me into public view?
I looked at Claire.
“When did you meet Ryan?”
“About eight months ago.”
The same period.
Warren understood first.
“Son of a bitch.”
Claire shook her head.
“No. Ryan didn’t plan our affair.”
“I’m not saying he did.”
“Then what?”
I picked up my keys.
“Someone may have seen it happening and realized they could use him.”
“For what?”
“To make me visible.”
The five-minute fight had not exposed my past by accident.
Maybe it had been designed to.
May you like
And if Marcus Vale had spent eight months training inside Ryan’s gym, there was only one question that mattered.
How much of Ryan’s challenge had actually been Ryan’s idea?
