Maya Banks - Shades of Gray

Steele sighed. “I don’t know.”

Dolphin held up his hand, his head shaking in disbelief. But Cole beat him to the punch.

“Let me get this straight. P.J. came to you. She quit the team. And you just let her walk out of here and you have no idea where she is or where she was going?”

“I told her I wouldn’t accept her resignation,” Steele said. “She was adamant. She gave me this bullshit story about not wanting to bring the team down and that she needed time.”

“And you bought that load of crap?” Cole asked incredulously.

Everyone else had quieted and looked between Steele and Cole with apprehension. Steele was their commander and he was afforded the respect due that position. Always. Until now. He wasn’t ever questioned. Until now.

“I didn’t say I bought anything, but I couldn’t force her to stay. I can’t force her to make decisions we think are for the best. She asked for time and space. I couldn’t not give it to her.”

“Jesus,” Dolphin muttered. “You blew this one, Steele. It’s fine to pull that ice man routine on the job and on a mission. But this is a goddamn teammate we’re talking about here. No one gives a fuck about being fair and evenhanded in this situation. She needs us, and you let her walk away.”

Steele rounded furiously on Dolphin. Before Cole could blink, he had Dolphin against the wall, his forearm across Dolphin’s neck.

“Don’t you fucking talk to me about being an ice man. I was there, remember? I heard every goddamn thing that happened to her. She’s mine. Just like every one of you are mine. If you don’t think I’m furious over the entire situation then fuck you.”

Dolphin stared back unflinchingly, and finally Steele loosened his hold and stepped back. Just as quickly, Steele collected himself and the cool facade was back in place. But now they all knew just how close he was to the edge.

Cole turned and rammed his fist into the wall. He couldn’t even think for imagining P.J. alone, feeling God knows what. She’d quit the fucking team. They were family. And she walked away.

He drew back to hit the wall again and was nearly tackled by Baker and Renshaw. They took him down, pinning him to the floor.

“Get off me!” Cole roared.

“Chill your ass out,” Renshaw barked. “None of this is helping.”

“Enough!” Steele bellowed.

Cole flipped Baker off his chest and then swung at Renshaw. Renshaw ducked the punch, but it was enough to unbalance him, and Cole was back on his feet and staring a hole through Steele.

“I agree with Dolphin on this one, ice man. You blew it.” He advanced on Steele until it was virtually only the two of them. The others faded into the background as Cole faced his team leader down.

“Goddamn you, Steele, you knew I was looking for her. You knew I’d been all over Denver. You knew how fucking worried I’ve been. And you just let her go and you get around to telling us two days later? What the fuck, man?”

Steele’s jaw tightened. “I hoped she’d change her mind.”

“Yeah, well, how did that work out for you? What the fuck are we supposed to do? Pretend nothing happened? Move on? Take another mission? Hell, why don’t we just replace her since she’s so goddamn expendable?”

“Enough, Cole,” Steele said, his voice as cold as ice.

“Enough is right,” Cole said, fury rising, sharper, harder with every breath.

He turned and stalked toward the door.

“Whoa, wait a minute,” Dolphin said. “Where the hell are you going?”

Cole turned and looked at his team,that was no longer the same. It never would be. It wasn’t a team without P.J.

“I’m out,” he clipped out. “I’m going after P.J. I’m not leaving her to shoulder this alone. She needs us.”

“Don’t be so damn hotheaded,” Steele growled.

Cole’s lip curled in disgust. “Yeah? Why don’t you stop being so fucking coldhearted. What you did was wrong and you damn well know it. You should have sat on her if you had to until we could hash this out as a team.”

“She came to me,” Steele snapped. “Not you. Not the team. She came to me, so I can only assume she wanted it that way.”

Steele’s words dug deep because he was right. It was obvious P.J. had no intention of facing Cole, and it gutted him.

“I don’t give a damn what she thinks she wanted,” Cole said softly. “She’s not thinking straight and we all know it. Sometimes doing the right thing is all wrong. Giving her space and time and all that other bullshit is great on paper, but you and I both know that the very last thing she needs is to be alone. We’re her family. Her only family. We’re supposed to give a damn. We’re supposed to stand up for her when no one else will. And we’re damn sure supposed to call her out when she’s making stupid choices and fucking up. That’s what family does. Live and die as a team, right? Well, you hung her out to dry, Steele. And you hung the rest of us out right along with her, because now we all look like a bunch of uncaring assholes who just let her walk away without a fight.”

“Hooyah,” Dolphin said quietly.

Steele looked like he wanted to hit somebody. Cole stared challengingly at him because right now he’d love a good fight. Steele was rattled, and he didn’t often get rattled, but Cole didn’t give a shit.

“Her last team did the same goddamn thing we’re doing,” Cole said in disgust. He shouldn’t break P.J.’s confidence. She’d opened up to him when she hadn’t opened up to anyone else. But right now he’d fight dirty if that’s what it took. Steele and the others needed to know what they were dealing with.

“You talking about S.W.A.T.?” Renshaw asked.

“Yeah. She walked away because they hung her out to dry. She did the right thing and turned in a dirty cop. They turned on her and made her look like a vindictive ex-lover out for revenge. Not one of them fought for her. Over my dead body is that going to happen this time. We’re fighting for her. She deserves that much.”

“I’m with Cole on this one,” Baker said in a low voice.

“Me too,” Dolphin said.

“And me,” Renshaw echoed. “She’s one of us. When she goes down, we go down. We’re not picking up and moving on without her.”

“Hell no,” Cole snarled.

Cole stared at Steele for a long time before finally turning away. “I’m going to be gone. If you need me, I’ll have my cell.”

Then he turned back to Steele once more when he reached the doorway.

“Consider this my request for vacation time.”

SIX MONTHS LATER . . .

COLE stepped out of his truck and inhaled the crisp air, trying to shake some of the fog from his mind. Steele had called him and tersely told him to report to the KGI compound. He hadn’t waited for confirmation. He’d just issued the order and hung up.

Given what little Cole had given his team since P.J.’s disappearance, Cole was surprised Steele bothered. He was even more surprised that he found himself here.

Cole had spent the winter alternating between searching for leads on P.J. and secluding himself at his home in Camden, just a short distance from the KGI compound.

P.J. had vanished. It frustrated him to no end. He’d spent a lot of time canvassing her neighborhood, talking to people about her. The problem was, no one really knew her. The bartender and waitress at the pub where he’d gone to see her that first night said she had been a regular but kept to herself and never talked to other customers.

Cole had even gone so far as to see the commander of her S.W.A.T. unit. It had taken all he had not to lose his temper and get some payback on P.J.’s behalf, but getting information had been more important than his fury over her betrayal.

It had been like hitting a brick wall, though. At the mention of P.J.’s name, the commander had clammed up and refused to discuss anything having to do with her. Cole told the asshole what he thought about him and his team of dickheads before taking his leave.

Six months of no sleep and endless frustration were catching up hard with him. He walked to the entrance to the war room, punched in the pass code and then entered. As he walked down the short corridor into the main room, he rubbed at his eyes and then scuffed a hand over his short-cut hair in an effort to look somewhat presentable.

Everyone was present and accounted for, which meant Cole was late. Not that he gave a shit. He grunted in the general direction of his teammates and slouched into a chair.

“Glad you could make it,” Steele said, a hint of anger in his voice.

“You said it was important. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here at all,” Cole snapped.

He glanced around, frowning as he noticed new faces. There was a guy standing close to Swanny and Joe, arms crossed, his stance stiff, like he was expecting a fight at any time. He was about Garrett’s size with tattoos running up both arms, disappearing behind the short sleeves of his T-shirt.

He looked like he’d been in a few too many bar fights. Cole pegged him as a boxer or perhaps a mixed martial arts fighter because he had the telltale beginnings of the cauliflower ears and his nose looked like it had been broken at least once.

Cole tensed when he noticed the female standing between Nathan and Swanny. She was about P.J.’s size but with honey blond hair and deep blue eyes. She looked young. Far too young to be working on a mercenary team.

Then he was struck by a terrible thought. His stomach churned and a knot formed in his gut.

What if they’d called him in to announce that they’d hired someone to fill P.J.’s position on the team? What if this was some stupid meet and greet? A “let’s make the new recruit feel welcome.” Bullshit. He wasn’t going there.

He glanced at Steele, looking for some clue, but Steele’s expression was hard and cold. Cole could get a chill just from looking at his team leader.

“You didn’t hire her to replace P.J.”

He didn’t make it a question, and his disgust was evident for everyone to hear. He didn’t care. He was in a surly, piss-poor mood and he didn’t really give a fuck who knew it.

He didn’t want to be here. Especially if he was going to be told he had a new teammate. This chick couldn’t hold a candle to P.J. Cole didn’t care what her qualifications were.

Steele’s eyes narrowed, and then he glanced back at the woman before turning back to Cole.

“She’s a recruit for the new team,” Steele said.

Cole’s eyebrow went up. “What new team?”

“If you’d spent any time with your team over the last few months, you’d know that KGI has formed a third team comprised of Nathan, Joe and Swanny and two new recruits, Skylar Watkins and Zane Edgerton.”

Cole dismissed them in a glance. He wanted to know what the big, hairy deal was that made Steele call him up. Two new recruits for a team that wasn’t his own couldn’t have been what made Steele call him in.

Donovan, who’d been on the phone in the corner, stuffed the cell back into his pocket and then walked over to where everyone else was gathered.

“We have a lead on Brumley,” he said. “We know where he’ll be in three days’ time. He has another deal going down, one important enough for him to resurface.” Donovan took a breath and leveled a serious stare at the others. “This one’s big. Much bigger than past ones. He’s gotten a hell of a lot bolder. It’s thought he has well over thirty girls. A mixture of nationalities and all under the age of fifteen.”

There were grimaces and noises of disgust. Skylar’s nostrils flared and her eyes burned with anger.

Cole’s pulse accelerated, and his stomach churned. He’d dreamed of having that son of a bitch at his mercy. He’d conjured up some pretty harsh images of all the ways Brumley would die a long, painful death.

He glanced up at Steele, noticing the savage glint in his eyes.

Cole sat forward, propping his elbows on his knees. Yeah, he wanted in, but his first priority was finding P.J. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by revenge. Killing Brumley wouldn’t bring P.J. back, as satisfying as seeing the bastard die would be.

He started to get up, his intention to leave. Being here with all the members of KGI just highlighted P.J.’s absence even more.

The entire idea of a mercenary group was to be detached. Do the job. Don’t get emotionally involved. Their success hinged on being able to turn off their emotions.

But KGI—his team, headed by Steele—was different. It was a hokey bunch of bullshit, but the entire KGI organization wasn’t the average gun-for-hire group. They had a conscience. Their missions were righteous. At least from their perspective, and that was all that was important. At the end of the day, if they could look at themselves in the mirror and not flinch away, it was all good.