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“Where is he?” she asked, boots kicking up gravel as she all but skidded to a halt outside the shooting range. Soap stood on the opposite side of a chain link fence with his back to her, shoulders hunched as he aimed down the sights of an SP-X 80 sniper rifle. Dressed in his fatigues and a tightly fitted army green t-shirt, the man was drenched in sweat despite their tepid German surroundings. It was still early Spring in Darmstadt, with climate that swung wildly from burning hot to downright freezing; a mild day like today was a welcomed blessing. But, despite the nice weather and rare opportunity to slack off with permission, MacTavish and other members of their team went out of their way to exert themselves. The Dagger Complex was an American training facility and the current home of Task Force 141 while they dealt with the Russian-Ukrainian conflict on the other side of the continent. With the Ukrainian President missing in action and Russian terrorist cells popping up all over the globe, One-Four-One was pulled in to handle the more prominent threats. They were idle until the next leg of their mission and while the boys were bored and ready for action, she was growing more wary by the day. “MacTavish!” she called again after he released a shot that left her ears ringing. Soap looked up at the sound of her voice, pulling off his head gear and giving her a roguish grin.
“Hello to you too, lass. You look well for someone who’s supposed to be on psych leave. What can I do for you?” he asked, his accent thicker than usual as his chest heaved. He looked and sounded like he’d run a mile and, knowing the intensive way the man liked to train, she wouldn’t be surprised if he had sprinted around the facility a few times before lining up that shot.
“I was cleared to return to active,” she grunted, and he grinned. “Tell me where he is. I know that you know, you and Gaz are the only people I haven’t asked and if he told anyone, it’s you. So where is he?” she asked again, watching his charming gray eyes darken with mischief.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he teased and she growled, drawing a surprised laugh from the aggravating Scot. “I’m so glad there’s a fence separating us right now,” he said, pausing to arch a brow at the top of the metal barrier, “and I’m almost ninety-percent sure you can’t make it over that barbed wire.” She gave him her best evil smile, propping a boot up against the fence as if she were going to climb it. “…Ehh, seventy-percent.”
“Just tell me where he is, Johnny!” His laughter was infectious as he threw his head back.
“If the Ghost wanted to be found, you would’ve already found ‘im sweetheart. But keep running around here looking for ‘im, bonnie lass, yer fun to watch.” He leaned away from the fence with a wag of his brows as he retrieved his ear and eye gear. Stupid men and their stupid bro codes. She’d spent most of the morning searching for their enigmatic Lieutenant, only to be turned away by literally every single member of One-Four-One. The moment the on-site Psychiatrist cleared her to return to duty she’d taken off in search of Simon, only to be met with opposition every step of the way. If the man suddenly developed a primal kink and wanted to be chased around, he could’ve at least warned her first. Digging the toe of her boot into the dirt she turned, intent on taking another lap around the facility in hopes of finding him. She didn’t make it very far down the path when Gaz approached. He looked like he’d been out for a jog, offering her a friendly smile as he fell into step beside her.
“Morning, Corporal,” he greeted and she sighed.
“I’m not even going to ask,” she returned, crestfallen. The man laughed.
“He’s in administration talking to Price,” he said, giving her a friendly smile. “I’m not playing his games—too old for that shit. Just don’t tell him I was the one who gave him up.”
“I promise. I’ll blame it all on Soap when he inevitably asks,” she said, glancing up at him. “So, did he tell all of you to pretend you haven’t seen him today or are you just psychics?”
“He told every single one of us, on threat of a painful death, to basically tell you to piss off and go back to bed. Said something about the Psychiatrist not having the authority to clear you and that it was up to him to decide when you could go back to active.” She sighed again. He’d been adamant about getting her in front of a shrink the moment they were out of Ukraine and back on the ground. Even though, for whatever reason, he said you couldn’t trust them as far as he could throw them, he wouldn’t take no for an answer when it came to her talking to someone about…the incident. Or, at least that’s what she’d taken to calling the brutal murder of two foreign dignitaries right in front of her. And, so she had. She’d spilled her guts. Told the doctor everything she could about what she witnessed, what she’d felt and how she’d felt after Ghost applied his fix. The woman went on about coping mechanisms and the grief process, prattling off a lot of scientific mumbo jumbo that hadn’t really meant anything. But what she’d realized on her own was that Ghost, for as big, brutish and sometimes scary as he could be, his love and attention was exactly what she’d needed to deal with her emotions. He grounded her, reminded her that she was alive and that she mattered, that it meant something for her to still be here drawing breath, despite everything she’d gone through. For as much as the man distrusted therapists, he sure as shit was good at their mental games.
“Yeah, that sounds like Ghost. Thanks, Gaz, I’m going to go yell at him now.” The man laughed, stopping to wave his goodbyes as she switched directions and headed towards admin.
“Good luck with that!”
“She’s not ready,” Ghost’s booming voice met her ears as she pushed open the main door. The administration building was in the center of the reasonably sized training center, a small space primarily used for conferences between higher ranking officials and any visitors brave enough to make the trek out to Darmstadt from Frankfurt. Inside the main door was a small, sparsely decorated reception area, the front counter luckily devoid of life as she pushed inside. It looked like any middle American doctor’s office; the walls were painted in faded pastels that were meant to be calming, the furniture was outdated and cheap. Even the decorations—army recruitment posters and dusty fake ferns—were borderline depressing as they rounded out an otherwise unassuming room. It was obvious the place didn’t get much use. She found it funny that, despite her job description, the United States Army didn’t really get to do much talking nowadays. “Don’t know if she will be anytime soon. You read that report like I did, but you didn’t see what I did. You didn’t watch all the light go out of that woman’s eyes.” She followed the sound of his voice, making her way down a short hallway that led to a door that was firmly shut. A large window flanked it, but the blinds were drawn tight.
“It’s still not your call to make!” Laswell responded, her voice harsh and digitized. Ah, a poor WI-FI signal—the bane of even the most important military official’s existence. They must’ve been on a video call, discussing her of all things. “If the Psychiatrist cleared her, we’re obligated to go by their word. Besides, we need her. She’s the only interpreter we have who’s already been involved in negotiations and speaks Chinese. Who else would we send?”
“Anyone. Anyone but her,” he rebutted and someone, who she assumed to be Captain Price, cleared their throat. “You can’t tell me she’s the only translator in the entire US Army. And if she is, that sounds more like a staffing issue than anything else.” She could almost feel Laswell’s anger boiling to a head in the silence that followed that sentence. Ghost was playing a dangerous game, and for what? To protect her? Why was he so adamant about dying on this hill?
“I believe what Simon’s actually trying to say, Kate, is that maybe we’re being a little too loose throwing the Corporal back into active conflict, yeah?” That was definitely Price, the voice of reason in most situations, but more often in situations where Laswell was being Laswell and Ghost was being…Well, Ghost. As quiet as he sometimes was, Simon wasn’t the type to bite his tongue, and when those two butted heads things got ugly, fast. “What happened no doubt shook the girl, and I’m not saying our Psychiatric professional isn’t good at their job but, for obvious reasons, I think we’d be better off deferring to Simon’s judgement on this one.”
“He doesn’t just get to decide whether or not she gets to do her job, John.”
“I’m her direct commanding officer,” Ghost interjected, knowing it technically wasn’t true. The military had very specific rules about fraternization and unfair relationships between its members. They were only allowed to be together because he wasn’t her direct commanding officer. Just like every member of One-Four-One, she was on loan from another battalion, chosen for her strengths and pulled together to form the most impressive multi-national team on the planet. But good luck telling Simon that. “Look, all I’m saying is to give her a little more time. Whatever gormless Muppet you got to clear her probably knows his shit, I’m not doubting that, just saying I know the woman better than any of you,” he grunted.
“Maybe we should just get her input on the situation, eh?” Price asked and she went still, noticing the approaching smell of cigar smoke a full second too late. He pulled open the door, the taller man grinning down at her, a fat stogie clenched between his teeth. “Fancy weighing in on this conversation, Corporal? Or do you just like being a fly on the wall?” he asked and she choked. Just past him, Ghost sat at the end of a short conference table surrounded by uncomfortable looking chairs. A laptop computer perched on a stack of books displayed Laswell’s perturbed countenance. She supposed the woman wanted to be on eye-level instead of looking up at her subordinates during the call. Speaking of looking, the look Ghost was giving her by right should’ve dropped her dead on the spot.
“Good to see you’re doing well, Corporal. Come in and have a seat,” Laswell said. It took her several long seconds to restart her brain before her feet finally decided to move, and when they did, she nearly tripped over her own boots. Price closed the door behind her, taking a seat to Ghost’s right as she grabbed a chair on the left. “I take it you overheard our conversation? I would make a comment about eavesdropping but we reward that here.”
“I…heard the tail end of it. It wasn’t my intention to intrude or eavesdrop, I was…reporting to my commanding officer,” she said, the last part trailing off as she once again met Simon’s gaze. He wasn’t angry, but his eyes were frosty, brows pulled taut behind his mask. The man wasn’t happy he’d been found. And now she understood why.
“What are your thoughts on returning to active duty? I got the report this morning clearing you, but if you feel you’re not ready to take that step, I’ll take that into consideration, barring any possible risk to national security,” she said, her eyes drifting to Simon. “But that is your call to make. Don’t let any of us influence your decision.” She sat up straighter in her seat. What a way to be put on the spot. She didn’t know what to say. Things went well with Dr. Bardot and she legitimately felt better—a lot better than she had several days ago when she was still picking skull fragments out of her hair. But Ghost’s words carried a lot of weight. If he didn’t think she was ready…If he didn’t think she could handle herself…
“The Corporal is good at her job, best in the damn field, I’d wager my life on it,” he started, as if he could read her thoughts, “no one here’s questioning your ability to perform.” Simon looked at her, holding her gaze. “I just want to be sure you’re alright. That you’ll be alright in the future. But I trust your judgement more than anything.” Of course he did. How could she ever think he wouldn’t? There was no one in her life who supported her more than Simon. No one who cared about her like he did. She understood that he was just looking out for her, that having her back in every way possible was important to him. But, in that moment, what mattered was how she felt. Laswell, Ghost, Price—they were all looking to her to make a decision on how best to move forward with her life. With her career.
“Things were…tough for me…during the last negotiation,” she said, trying not to let her mind wander back to the dark, terrifying place it had wound up in after the summit. She’d dealt with her emotions, put things into perspective and learned to accept that there was absolutely nothing she could’ve done to produce a different outcome back in Kyiv. But…who was to say it wouldn’t happen again? Could she handle things going to shit twice in a row?
“Perhaps it would be easier for you to make a decision once you had more details?” she asked. They could see her turning in her chair, rapidly typing something on a secondary keyboard before a new image displayed on their screen. It was a debrief detailing a meeting scheduled to take place in China in three days. America was trying to influence relations between Russia and president Xi Jinping, and they needed her to relay the message. A simple enough task. If you were fucking suicidal. US-China relations were already tense as it was; what the hell were they thinking trying to strong arm Xi into publicly renouncing the war in Ukraine? If they threw a monkey wrench into Sino-Russian relations, they could destabilize the entire continent!
“She’s speaking with Xi himself? Fucking Christ, Kate, that could be a death sentence,” Price said. From the way Ghost went completely still in his chair, she could tell he was thinking the same thing. “We drop her off in China and things go bad, we may never see her again.”
“Relax, John, it’s China not North Korea. I wouldn’t bring this to your team if I didn’t think you could do it. You and I both know the overall impact One-Four-One is going to have on the Russian-Ukrainian war when things inevitably boil over. For now, we have a rare opportunity to have a say in how history is going to form. That’s where you come in, Corporal.”
“Why not send in CIA? You have plenty of translators, negotiators and the lot. Why does it have to be her?” Simon asked and she heaved a sigh.
“You punched our last negotiator in the mouth, fracturing most of his front teeth I might add. I’m asking this of your team because there’s a stark difference between CIA and military training, not to mention protocol and clearance. If things go south, if the negotiator or anyone else makes a wrong move and inadvertently starts a war, one of you will either know how to fix it or get out of dodge before things get rough. I’m not just sending in an interpreter; I’m sending in Bumblebee, a soldier who knows a helluva lot more than just how to use a gun. If I just needed a spy, I’d go my damn self.” Both men in the room turned to look at her and she resisted the urge to smile nervously. Covert operations weren’t something she participated in often, but she played her part whenever she was required to. Her codename started as a joke but stuck around the longer she’d worked alongside the Task Force. When she wasn’t interpreting, she was squeezing into tight places, collecting intel from foreign threats and stinging whoever was stupid enough to get in her way. The very first mission she was involved in took her to Iran where she and Ghost ran point to find the location of a small terrorist cell who’d kidnapped the wife and daughter of a British soldier. They got the coordinates, Simon went in for the kill, and she picked off one of the insurgents from her position in a vent before he could lay a finger on her Lieutenant. The rest was history. Yet another reason why she felt so stupid after what happened in Kyiv. She wasn’t some wilting flower who needed saving, who crumpled at the sight of a dead body. But…seeing them the way she did, the suddenness in which they were just…gone…it did something to her. It changed her in a way she never would’ve expected. Human bodies aren’t made for war, skin too soft—organs rupture—he’s bleeding! You did this, you did—his eyes, god, don’t look at his eyes!
“You’d trust me with this? After…what happened?” she asked, blinking away the images and ghostly whispers that assailed her. She was fine. She was fine. Everything was fine. After a short second of thought, Laswell nodded her approval.
“I do. I’m sure we all do. The question is whether or not you’re ready for the responsibility. You’re not just an interpreter, you’re a soldier, and a damn good one at that.”
“You won’t be alone this time either,” Simon said and she looked up at him. “If you’re going, I’m going. That’s the only deal I’m settling for no matter what you say.”
“Hold on, Ghost—” she started but Captain Price cut her off.
“—We might need you here, Simon. There’re a few heads on this snake that need cutting off. We can’t afford to have both of you in China working this,” he explained but Ghost didn’t seem to care. The man shook his head once and the other parties went dead silent. He was a mountain in every sense of the word; big and immovable. Once he made his mind up, orders, rank, duty—it could all go straight to hell.
“That’s the deal. The last time you sent her off with that negotiator prick and that troop of sorry yank sods she almost died. This time, if you want a member of One-Four-One you’re going to give her the backup she deserves,” he said, turning his head to address Price. “We work in pairs, always have, always will. She’s every bit one of us, no use treating her different.”
“He…has a point, Kate. We’ve always worked as a team and that mission to Kyiv would’ve gone a lot differently had she been dispatched with one of her mates,” he said, taking a long drag from his cigar as he considered Ghost’s demands. She was used to high stakes hostage situations and negotiating with terrorists but fuck if Simon wasn’t a stubborn bastard.
“I suppose. But it’s still going to come down to the Corporal,” Laswell said. Her eyes were piercing as she stared into the depths of her soul through that laptop screen. “Are you in?” Simon glanced over at her in a show of support, letting her know that it was her choice, and like always he would be right behind her every step of the way. This was China, a whole new beast she would have to tackle. She had to admit, the idea of just being in the same room as someone as important as President Xi was mildly terrifying. But this was a chance for her to redeem herself. To secure a win, not only for herself and her team, but for her country. She released the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. —oh god don’t look…his eyes!
“I’m in.”
Fifteen-hundred hours, Chaoyang District, Beijing. What was effectively the equivalent of the Chinese World Trade Center was scheduled to be their meeting place. The entire city was a bustling, crowded metropolis that would provide the necessary cover for them to have their conference without alerting civilians or anyone else to what was actually going down. Get in, complete the talk, get out alive—regardless of the outcome. When they arrived at the massive hotel just after three PM the lobby was filled with socialites and tourists from all over the world, dragging heaps of luggage and even screaming children as they marveled at the impressive structure. It was just like any other day for the lot of them, but for her the risk of starting another war hung delicately in the balance. Thankfully, no one seemed to pay much attention to them as they passed through reception, only stopping to show the woman working the desk their online check-in details. She chatted casually with her in order to avoid raising suspicion, only to get a strange look when Ghost leaned against the side of the counter.
“Business or leisure?” the woman asked in Mandarin, eyeing the giant of a man at her side. Well, if they hadn’t before, people certainly noticed him now. The Lieutenant just couldn’t avoid drawing attention to himself no matter how hard he tried. Because of the nature of their visit, they were dressed as civilians—no gear, only equipment they could conceal beneath plainclothes with the intention of staying as covert as possible—but that didn’t mean Simon was getting rid of his mask. Between the skull printed fabric covering the lower half of his face and the dark hood of his jacket concealing the rest of him, he looked like he was there to plant a bomb, not act as her bodyguard as he was assigned. Not to mention the man was six and a half feet tall, broader than a linebacker with the enraged aura of a grizzly bear. People noticed him, alright. The moment she drew attention to his presence the entire room all but turned to gawk.
“Definitely leisure,” she whispered politely, grabbing the room card the woman slid across the counter. Simon, who didn’t speak a word of Mandarin, grunted down at her.
“Tell her to send up room service. I could go for a tea.” The woman went completely still at the sound of his gruff voice and the Corporal offered her a sweet, disarming smile.
“I’ll let you know if we need anything,” she said, taking his arm and guiding him away from the desk. “You are decidedly cheeky today and I haven’t decided if I like it.”
“What? You said leisure, I was just playing my part.”
“Do me a favor and leave the talking to me, Ghost,” she whispered back.
“But why? Then I don’t get to make sure you’re still on your toes,” he said, the humor in his voice going straight to the pit of her stomach. He was trying to make things lighter, not because he wasn’t on his game but because he wanted to be sure she was on hers. Before she could respond, Laswell’s voice boomed in her ear.
“Conference is being held in the penthouse. Ghost will find a vantage point and be nearby in case you need him. Cameras on the main level and elevator are going down in three…two…one. You have a five-minute blind spot. Do what you need to prepare,” she said over her headset. This mission came with specific instructions—stick to whatever script the negotiator gives you, but keep an eye on the American representative. Last minute intel came in to suggest things could already be falling apart. Someone tipped Xi off that the military was running point on the negotiations and he immediately saw it as a threat. Couldn’t say she blamed him. This entire mission was bordering on insanity—there were too many variables, too many missing pieces that Laswell obviously had to leave out because of their clearance level. And if there was information that not even a Lieutenant was meant to be privy to, there’s no telling what sort of shit show they could be walking into. Being a soldier meant being able to perform well under pressure, but it also meant following orders that sometimes made no goddamn sense.
“Copy,” she whispered, discreetly reaching up to turn off her earpiece as she and Ghost entered the elevator. The second they were alone, she looked up at him. “This is another grander scheme of things situation, isn’t it?” she asked. He glanced down at her from the corner of his eye, a smirk flirting with his lips from the confines of his mask.
“D’you want me to tell you what I think, or what I know, Corporal?” Fuck. That was answer enough. “Just be on your guard and remember that I’m here if you need me.” Double checking that the cameras on the elevator were indeed dead, he reached beneath the back of his hoodie, pulling a Ruger LCP Max from his waistband. It was one of the smallest guns she’d ever seen, and it looked comically tiny in his big hand. “Strap it to your thigh. You’ve got twelve rounds so, if things get wicked, use them wisely.” She accepted the gun and the thigh holster he procured, quickly strapping up and concealing the weapon under her skirt. Once it was secure, he cupped her jaw, tapping a sequence into her earpiece to change the frequency before doing the same to his own. They were officially off Laswell’s channel, connected to each other to best coordinate should they have to. It was a safety net; one she was extremely grateful to have. “Comms stay on. You need me, you call for me. I’ll come running.”
“Thanks, Ghost. Don’t know what I’d do without you,” she whispered, eyes falling closed when he leaned down to press his lips against hers through his mask. He held her like that in silence as the floors whizzed by outside the elevator. Whoever they had working tech on this mission must’ve programmed it to go straight to their destination, giving them a welcome reprieve and hopefully enough time for her to collect herself before she was thrown into the fire. “I’m glad you’re here.” Although she resisted the urge to think about it, she couldn’t help but imagine what the situation in Kyiv would’ve been like had he been there. If it was Simon by her side instead of the young soldiers they’d dispatched alongside her. Things would’ve been different. If anyone had the ability to turn the tide of a war, it was him.
“That’s my job,” he whispered, breathing her in through his mask. He was a lifesaver, in so many more ways than one. Just being able to feel the warmth of his skin, being able to smell the scent of his cologne gave her more strength than she thought she’d ever have. He pulled away as the elevator dinged, stepping backwards out of the lift. She watched him stop, hands keeping the doors from closing. “You’re one floor above. Don’t forget, you can do this.” And then he was gone, disappearing down the hallway as the doors slid closed to lock her inside.
“You must be our Translator, glad to see you made it here in one piece,” an older African-American man greeted her as she entered the enormous penthouse known to the public as The Peak. It was the perfect place for high end celebrations, business gatherings and, apparently, talking a global powerhouse out of publicly supporting a fascist regime of international terrorists. She wanted to get a good look at the décor—modern furniture, Avant Garde decorations and a strange preference for a black, gold and red color scheme—but the man in front of her sent chills down her spine. It was Joseph L. Hudson—the goddamn American Secretary of Defense. She didn’t know who she thought their representative would be but it certainly wasn’t someone as high up the food chain as him. Why didn’t the representatives, representative show up for this meeting? Just what games were they playing here?
“Thank you for having me, sir. I’ll make sure my translations are swift and accurate. It’ll be just like conversing natively. Other than that, feel free to pretend I’m not even here,” she said and he chuckled good-naturedly, reaching out to shake her hand. The man had a sweetness to him that you only found in an old, Southern gentlemen. His accent reminded her of home, of all the good things about the country she served, and it only further served to settle her nerves.
“Sounds like I’ll be well taken care of. If I’m being honest, this isn’t in line with my usual duties. After I got out of the military, I was much more interested in being a behind the desk kinda guy. You seem to know what you’re doing, so I’ll lean on you to steer me right,” he said with a wink. She smiled back at him as two Caucasian men dressed in black moved to flank him. Secret service. Good. If things went south, they would at least be good backup. And probably better trained than the last batch of support she’d been given. Before she could speak again, the elevator behind her dinged and she stepped aside as a beautiful blonde woman carrying a briefcase entered the room. She was tall and statuesque with bright blue eyes, but she was frosty, cold in the way that supermodel beauties often were. Dressed in a black skirt suit and high heels, she carried a matching briefcase; the white badge hanging from a lanyard around her neck told her she was the negotiator. Exchanging a glance with Secretary Hudson, they watched as the woman moved past them, deeper into the conference room without so much as a hello. “Looks like you and I are in this together, miss…?” he asked and she turned, offering him another smile as her name rolled off her lips. The man seemed satisfied with that, giving her hand an affectionate pat before moving to follow the negotiator.
“I’m in position. Got eyes on you. And what a sight to see, love,” Ghost said over their comms. For a second, she’d almost forgotten he was there, but the nervous storm brewing in her gut dissipated some the moment she heard his voice. “Ever told you how good you look in a skirt?” He was having entirely too much fun being able to tease her, knowing she couldn’t actually respond. “Is that the bloody fucking Secretary of Defense?” he asked when he finally wrangled his horny man brain back under his control and she almost chuckled at the surprise in his tone. At least she wasn’t the only one to find Hudson’s involvement weird as shit.
“Mm,” she responded, turning to follow the rest of the group towards a table that had been set up for their conference. It was lined with metal chairs, far too many for their small gathering; their seats upholstered in a red fabric embroidered with gold. Besides the negotiator, Secretary Hudson and his security detail, three Chinese men in black suits already idled around the table. One of them, who was much older than the rest, sat at the head of the table furthest from the elevator. Strange, he looked nothing like President Xi. Still, she made her way over to him, introducing herself in Mandarin and earning herself a pleasant smile in return.
“I am Ambassador Huang, here on behalf of President Xi,” he said, rising from his seat to bow in greeting, a custom she imitated. “I’m afraid the President won’t be joining us.”
“Thank you for that information. I…will certainly let them know,” she said, turning to relay the message to the English speakers of the room. They didn’t look too happy about this new revelation. Secretary Hudson frowned as he took a seat at the opposite end of the table.
“That’s not what we agreed to. This meeting is supposed to be with the President himself. I don’t think I’m even cleared to speak with anyone else,” he said. While she translated, the negotiator got into place opposite her. Backed by a row of panoramic windows overlooking greater Beijing, she took her time opening her briefcase, setting it up in the center of the table before extracting a stack of papers. It struck her as…odd that she carried it at all. Though the top of the case faced her, the Corporal couldn’t help but wonder what else was possibly inside. Usually, a practiced negotiator didn’t need a script to follow. Being able to accurately relay information and talk people into accepting their point of view was literally their job. Unless she was very new, a complete idiot, or severely underpaid, she had no reason to be so…prepared.
“It was a last-minute decision to pull the President for security reasons. We are still open to having this discussion but have to take precaution. I’m sure you can understand that,” Huang said, using her as a mouth piece. One of Hudson’s agents leaned down to whisper something conspiratorially in his ear, the man’s face remaining stoic as he processed the information. Eventually he gave his nod of approval, a universal sign that didn’t require her assistance.
“Let’s get started,” the negotiator declared suddenly and loudly, drawing the immediate, rapt attention of everyone in the room. The woman turned her head, fixing the Corporal with a nasty glare. “Listen closely, I will not be repeating myself. You will translate everything I have to say, make sure they understand and don’t stumble over my words. Got it?”
“Loud and clear, ma’am,” she said, folding her hands behind her back as she stood a little straighter. Christ on a cracker, why did she always get the bitchy negotiators on a power trip?
“Real arsemonger that one is. What do you wager she was purposefully sent to make the Chinese hate us?” Simon asked and, while he was probably joking, the brilliant Lieutenant was clearly onto something. She had to remind herself to trust the process, but she couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling that returned to her gut as the negotiator spoke. Something…wasn’t right. She’d been part of enough discussions to know that everything about this mission was out of place. Where was the press? If this was meant to be friendly, to show support between two powerful nations, why wasn’t there anyone around to see it? Where did Huang get the intel that forced them to pull the President at the last moment, and why hadn’t they been made aware? What did literally everyone else in that room know that she didn’t?
“President Xi, I was appointed to oversee this discussion. It should be understood that the American forces are here to guarantee China’s support for the sanctions cast upon Russia. How do you respond?” she asked, reading from her script. Her face, pale and beautiful, was beet red, almost as if she were overheating. Her eyes darted around the room, landing on the two Secret Service men, skipping over her to scan the walls as if she were checking for cameras or other exits. Or, maybe she’s just nervous. Yes, that had to be it. First day jitters. What other reason could she have for both looking like she was going to vomit and for addressing the wrong dignitary during a fucking negotiation? It wasn’t like the Corporal didn’t understand nerves; if Ghost wasn’t watching her every move in that moment, she’d probably be a trembling mess.
“It’s Ambassador Huang,” she corrected gently, giving her a warm smile before starting her translation. The harpy of a woman didn’t seem to appreciate her help. She continued anyway. Huang glanced at one of his two associates before offering the room a smile that was tense.
“Please tell the negotiator that no such guarantee can be made. Not in private nor publicly. While we do not condone Russia’s actions, we are content to remain firmly neutral.”
“What did he say?” she demanded, even before the man could finish speaking.
“That no guarantees can be made—!”
“—Tell him that the US is fully prepared to go to war with Russia and if they don’t step in, they will be caught in the crossfire. Ask him if he wants to bring war to China’s doorstep. Ask him if he wants his country to be targeted,” she growled and Hudson cleared his throat.
“Now, wait just a minute. I’m not sure where you’re getting your information, miss, but that is not the American stance on things,” he said, turning to the Corporal. “Please tell Ambassador Huang that we’re not here looking to strongarm them into any deals or public declarations of loyalty. This meeting is to get a true gauge into how China actually plans to respond to the Russian-Ukrainian conflict. We wouldn’t dare jeopardize Sino-Russian relations.” She turned towards a very confused looking Huang to relay that message, but before she could open her mouth, the negotiator levelled her with a glare so fearsome it pinned her in place.
“You will translate what I said. I am the one making the demands here,” she growled.
“Demands?” the Corporal asked. It was strange how human emotions manifested. What looked like anger could so easily be misconstrued for something else. What she thought might be nervousness, for all her trembling, red-faced antics, was starting to look an awful lot like rage.
“Shit.” Simon cursed, the barely there hum of her earpiece going dead immediately after. She had a knee-jerk reaction to call out for him, partially afraid that something had happened to him, but even more nervous that her lifeline had just gone dark. It took more effort than she thought but she managed to curb the urge to try and contact him, wrangling her emotions back under control before they made her do something stupid. Ghost would be fine, no matter what he’d gotten himself into. Her priority was in the room with her. But, just what in the holy fuck was going on? The negotiator looked like she was ready to explode.
“Tell him what I said!” the woman yelled and everyone in the room turned to look at her. She was barely holding it together now, her hands shaking so hard several pages of her script slipped out of her grasp and fluttered to the floor. Hudson moved to get out of his chair.
“I think I’ve seen enough of this. I don’t know what you’re trying to pull but I will not be a part of this charade.” Before the older man could get up, one of his guards placed a hand on his shoulder and roughly shoved him back into place. “Have you lost your goddamn mind, son?!” Everything happened at once. She started towards Hudson as Huang’s guards got to their feet, while simultaneously, both of the Secret Service agents pulled their weapons and aimed.
“Nobody fucking move!” the Negotiator yelled, producing a weapon of her own from her briefcase. She turned the gun first on Huang, then on the Corporal. “Tell them that if they try anything funny I’ll kill them all. Tell them!” Unable to do anything but comply, she eased her hands into the air in surrender before turning to relay her message in Mandarin.
“What is the meaning of this? China isn’t at war, we’re not even a major player in this!” Huang shouted before releasing a string of curses.
“This isn’t America’s doing—!” she started, her mouth snapping shut when the negotiator cocked her gun, aiming at her down the sights.
“Shut the fuck up. You only speak when I tell you to, do you understand?”
“—fuck! Corporal, can you hear me?” Simon! Thank fuck they were still connected. “That isn’t our negotiator. They just dragged our contact and the Secretary’s security detail out of a river half a mile from here. My best guess is they’re with a Russian terrorist cell.”
“Do you fucking hear me?!” the woman asked again and she quickly nodded.
“They’re not alone, the maggots brought back up. Listen to me, I will get to you as fast as possible—don’t do anything risky. Your goal is to stay alive, no matter the cost.” He sounded so strong and sure, like he could just magically teleport into the room and pull her out of the new mess she’d found herself in. “I’m coming for you, princess.” And she believed him. But until he arrived, she was on her own with three armed terrorists and, two terrified dignitaries and a pair of security guards who were likely unarmed. She was fucked.
“Tell the Chinese that the Americans are behind this. Tell them they want war with China and Russia and that they are behind this coup,” the negotiator ordered.
“You’re really trusting me to do that? How do you know I won’t just tell them the truth?” she asked. The woman gave her a cold smile before replying in extremely broken Mandarin.
“Because every time you fuck up,” she retrained her gun on Secretary Hudson, “I’ll put another bullet in him.” Fair enough. Fair, fucking enough. This could not be happening. These assholes were not going to start a war and use her goddamn mouth to do it! But what other choice did she have? She couldn’t just let that crazy Russian bitch shoot the Secretary of Defense! God, she didn’t think anything could be worse than what happened in the Ukraine, but this was somehow everything she’d feared returning to duty and more. “Tell him. I won’t fucking ask you again, American whore!” She couldn’t afford to buy time for Ghost to rush in and save the day either. It was now or never.
“Ambassador Huang—!”
“—no! Don’t relay that message!” Hudson snapped, cutting her off. He was wrestling with the man who’s deceptively strong grip kept him pinned to his chair. Huang and the others looked flabbergasted but calm, their hands in the air in surrender as they passed silent looks between each other, just as unsure of what to do as she was. The Secretary continued to fight, clawing at the gunman’s arm like he could tear it off. “I am not worth risking national security! Tell them the truth!” The make-believe agent turned his gun on Hudson, pressing it against his temple and pulling back the hammer. That ended the tussle. He was going to kill him. The bastard was going to murder the Secretary of Defense right in front of her! She had to do something, had to move, had to keep him from dying just as Mr. Kravchenko had! —skin too soft, organs rupture—the brain, easiest to destroy—look at his eyes, Corporal—you did this! She couldn’t do this. How could she ever think she was ready to come back after what happened? And, now, because she was too stupid to give this job to someone else, to give up, everyone in that room was going to die. Another batch of innocents sent to the afterlife because she couldn’t do her fucking job! The Corporal could feel her emotions stirring, could feel the sadness and desolation she’d felt the day she watched two dignitaries die brutally rushing to the forefront. But, this time, Ghost was involved. What was going to happen to him after she was dead? How would he escape Russian terrorists on his own, knowing she’d allowed herself and everyone in that room to succumb to their awful plan? He’d be heartbroken. He’d be pissed—you’re just going to stand there and let them die, again?! Do something—oh god the blood, you’re covered in it—you’re dying Corporal, you’re going to die and then he’ll be left all alone—!
“What the fuck do you assholes want?!” she blurted out, startling everyone in the room, including herself. The words came, bubbling out of her like lava, fueled by nothing but rage and the nuclear need to stay alive. At all costs. For him. For herself. For everyone rooting for her back at the One-Four-One. She was not going to let these worthless cocksuckers harm a single fucking person in that room! “You couldn’t have devised this asinine plan more than an hour ago and clearly you’re here to start shit—just tell me what you’re after and maybe I’ll let you go home alive.” The blonde woman once again aimed the barrel of her gun at the Corporals head. “Even you’re not stupid enough to believe you’re actually going to get away with this. Any minute now the United States Military is going to be all over this building like the loose stitches and smell of cheap booze on that tacky Armani knock-off you’re wearing.”
“You lying bitch,” she spat. “There was no US military presence in Beijing. We made sure of it before we planned this operation!” the woman snarled and she grinned.
“And you’re absolutely sure? Tell me, toots, you really think they’re going to send the Secretary of fucking Defense to China with just a couple dicks in suits to guard him? Taking out the negotiator and his original guards was a smart move, too bad you’re absolute shit at hiding bodies.” The woman went still, save for her finger as it trembled on the trigger of her gun. “Terrorist, meet the military presence you overlooked,” she said, pointing at herself then giving the bitch a little wave. The blonde’s face went even redder, her eyes nervously darting to the elevator. It dinged as if on cue, signaling that someone was indeed on their way to The Peak.
“One of you get over there and make sure no one gets off that elevator alive!” she ordered in Russian, her eyes going wide as the Corporal responded in kind.
“That’s not going to save you, honey. It was too late for you the moment you walked through the front door,” she said. The goon who wasn’t currently pinning the Secretary down moved towards the elevator, gun at the ready as the bell dinged again, counting up the floors as it steadily approached. No one made a sound, every single person in that room immobilizing as the bell chimed a final time and the door slid open to reveal that it was completely empty.
“Now who’s cheeky?” Simon’s chuckle warmed her heart as the window directly behind the negotiator imploded in a hail of gunfire. Ghost rappelled in, boots catching the blonde in the back as he crushed her beneath his superior weight. In the midst of the chaos, the Corporal ran forward, throwing herself on top of the Secretary hard enough to knock his chair over backwards. The gunman above her turned his gun on them both, but her Lieutenant was faster, getting a single round in him before he could even aim down his sights. He hit the floor dead before his friend could even react. Rolling and pulling her Ruger in quick succession, she cocked, aimed and fired, taking out the gunman at the elevator with a shot that caught him in the jaw. He went down slowly, gurgling and clutching at his face as he spewed blood into the air.
“You stupid fucking American!” the negotiator screamed, thrashing wildly as Ghost roughly pulled her arms behind her back, securing her wrists together with thick, black zip ties.
“Wrong nationality you daft fucking minger,” he grunted, getting to his feet and pulling her up with him. Immediately he looked across the room to ensure himself that she was safe, only to find her staring at the terrorist she’d put down. So many thoughts ran through her head, so many emotions waging war inside of her that she could barely keep up—his eyes!
“You saved my life,” Secretary Hudson said, getting to his feet and clapping a hand on her shoulder as he caught his breath. The contact snapped her out of the stupor she’d found herself in and she turned her head to stare up at him. The man smiled down at her like a proud father. His eyes were bloodshot as adrenaline still spiked inside his body, but they were warm and brown. Alive. “Goddammit, you saved all of us.”
“Could someone explain what’s going on here?!” Huang shouted, finally getting to his feet as his guards moved to flank him. They spoke rapidly into cellular devices, likely calling for backup…and the entire Chinese Military. “You brought guns? Are you insane?” The Corporal looked to Ghost first who shrugged, before looking back up at Hudson.
“I…don’t know what to tell him. There’s no negotiator here to tell me what to say,” she whispered and the man released a pregnant sigh.
“Honestly, Miss, after the negotiating you just did, I don’t think you need one.”
“Gonna get a brag rag for this.”
“Will you stop telling people that?” MacTavish shouted in the background of the call, drawing a round of boisterous laughter out of Price and other members of One-Four-One.
“She saved the Secretary of Defense and the Chinese Ambassador from a Russian terrorist attack—if she doesn’t get a fucking medal, I’ll start a riot,” Ghost said as he reclined against the airplane seat. Still dressed in civilian clothes, he somehow managed to look even more out of place than he did inside the World Summit building. He was eyeing her, smirking behind his mask as he beamed with quiet pride. It was a good feeling, knowing her Lieutenant was happy with her, probably even better than knowing how many lives she’d saved. She smiled softly up at him, thoroughly enjoying but wholly unused to all the attention she was receiving.
“Just doing my job,” she said modestly as she rubbed the back of her neck.
“Yeah, fucking right—don’t be like Ghost, feel free to gloat a little Lass. You did amazing and I can’t wait to hear all about it over a pint,” Johnny said.
“He’s right. One of us has to have the balls to be vocal about all the cool shit our team does. And since you technically have no balls, it might as well be you,” Gaz supplied. They were volleying the phone around from person to person, everyone trying to get in their congratulations and snarky remarks at once. Finally, Captain Price had enough and grabbed it again.
“Well done. Laswell sends her commendations as well. We can’t wait for you two to get back here so we can have a party—and all that jazz. Just get back to Germany safe,” he said.
“Yes, Captain,” she replied and he laughed.
“If only the rest of these plug-ugly ankle-biters were as serious as you I’d probably have a halfway decent team. Back to work, all of you!” His shout was met with a chorus of groans, seconds before the call went dead. Ghost pulled the phone from her fingers and shoved it back into his pocket. After explaining what happened during their meeting to the Ambassador—a Russian terrorist cell intercepted intelligence about the talk and devised a half-assed plan to force China into declaring war on the US, but panicked when President Xi was replaced at the last minute—they were subsequently cleared to leave by the Chinese Military. As soon as they were released, they’d boarded a bought out, red-eye flight back to Germany. Paid for by the Chinese embassy, of course. Anything to get them out of Beijing and avoid more American traffic in their airspace while they assured their citizens that they in fact had not heard gunshots at the top of the Chinese World Trade Center. Huang had been profoundly grateful to her once he fully understood what went down, even said he’d speak highly to President Xi about not only the Americans who saved him from a terrorist threat, but about the Corporal who’d gone out of her way to make sure not a word of misinformation met his ears.
“I’m so fucking proud. You know that, yeah?” Ghost asked and she smiled, leaning against his shoulder as the pilot took to the air. God, just hearing him say those words meant the world to her. She’d been so worried about upsetting or disappointing him during her last mission that she could barely function. Now it was hard not to sit there and preen.
“I’m just glad everyone was okay this time. What happened back in Ukraine…” He reached down, thumb stroking her chin as he forced her to look up at him. His eyes were so warm, overflowing with a sense of love and tenderness she felt in the core of her being.
“Doesn’t even matter. You were amazing today, just as amazing as I knew you’d be.” Ghost released her, sighing softly before climbing to his feet. She arched a brow when he held out a hand for her. “Your ears popped yet? I’ve got something I need to show you.” Slipping her hand into his, she allowed him to pull her to her feet, trailing along behind him as he led her towards the back of the empty airliner. Only one Stewardess boarded the flight with them and because of Ghost’s…unique appearance she’d disappeared straight into the cockpit the moment they boarded. There was some baser part of her that went absolutely feral knowing that most women’s reaction to him was some form of terror. Whereas, every time she looked at the man all she wanted was to either fall into his arms or sink her teeth into him. There was something to be said about her lack of self-preservation but that was a conversation for another day.
“Just where are we going, Simon?” she asked, gasping when he opened the door to the small bathroom and shoved her inside. The cramped lavatory was barely big enough for her to fit inside it comfortably, and it turned borderline claustrophobic the moment he squeezed in behind her. “Ghost!” she whispered harshly, turning to find him lowering his hood and pushing up his mask. They were pressed so firmly together, his body hot against hers, even through their clothing. He captured her lips, scraping her skin with his stubble as he kissed her deeply.
“I need you,” he whispered, tongue dragging over her bottom lip as his fingers dug into her waist. Simon turned her, effortlessly lifting her onto the tiny sink at her back. “Was worried. Even though I knew I didn’t need to be. My woman can handle herself, yeah?” His hands slid up her thighs, over the area where her Ruger had previously been strapped. All of their weapons had been abandoned at the airport, set to return to Germany on a different flight due to security protocol. She had to admit, she felt a little naked without her gun, but those thoughts melted away when he tugged her skirt up over her hips, exposing her stockings and panties to his devouring gaze. The predatory whine he released had her clenching around nothing.
“Simon,” she whispered, gripping his biceps as he pressed even closer to her. The space was small, but he used that to his advantage, not even letting air pass between them as he pulled her to the edge of the sink. He was already hard, straining uncomfortably against his zipper. The growl he released when she reached between their bodies to cup him went straight to her cunt. Fuck. Seeing him already so affected was intoxicating. “You worried about me?”
“Always. Constantly worried about you. It’s my job to take care of you; gotta make sure you’re alright,” he whispered against her lips. He sounded so desperate, as if he were already teetering on the brink of completion. Fuck. If the bathroom wasn’t so small, or if he wasn’t so big, she would already be on her knees servicing him. Luckily, she’d learned to improvise.
“You’re always so good to me. Let me take care of you this time,” she said, licking his bottom lip and drawing a moan from deep inside his chest. Unzipping his pants, she was quick to draw him out, loving the heat of his cock as she weighed it in her hand. Already leaking precum, he rut against her, only to go completely still and release a long, drawn out curse. She stroked him slowly from base to tip, using her thumb to circle his aching tip. “Love you, Lieutenant. Always have, always will. You take such good care of me Simon. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she whispered against his chin as his head tipped back slightly. She knew her praise was getting to him, the more she spoke, the tighter his grip on her thighs became. He rubbed at the slippery material of her nylons, fingers dancing as he struggled with the urge to rip them off. Every inch of her was on fire, burning hot just from his nearness but she could ignore her own need while she pleasured him. The look of sheer bliss in his eyes was enough to sustain her, the way his plush lips parted, a faint blush crawling up his neck—fuck. He hadn’t even touched her and she could’ve bust just from looking at him.
“Thought they’d take you from me. Both times,” he admitted, chest rising and falling rapidly as she opened her mouth, allowing a trail of spit to drip onto the fat head of his cock. He grunted, head falling back against his shoulders as she used the wetness to stroke him in earnest. She wanted to taste him. Wanted him to cum down her throat then fill her up from the other end. But she feared if she told him that he’d drag her back out to their seats and fuck her where the pilot and Stewardess could hear. “I need you, love. Need to feel you,” he groaned. His fingers bit into the fabric covering the most vulnerable part of her body, her stockings and panties all but shredding beneath his strength as he exposed her. The man went straight for her clit, rubbing slow circles into the bundle of nerves that had her gasping and biting his chin.
“Then take me, Simon. I’m yours,” she breathed. He was struggling, desperately wanting to reconnect with her, to assure himself that she was safe and whole and that the danger had passed. But he was so big he was equally terrified of hurting her. “Please. Fuck me.”
“Bloody hell,” he cursed, her name falling from his lips as he wrapped her legs around his waist. “Need to be gentle with you. Haven’t prepared—” his words died off, consumed by a slutty moan as she licked a stripe up his throat. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he choked.
“I can take it,” she whispered and it was all he needed to wrap his arms around her hips and hoist her into the air. Her head nearly hit the ceiling, forcing her to bend, all but wrapping her upper body around his shoulders. She cupped his face, cradling his jaw in her hands as he easily supported her weight. “Now, Simon, please.”
“Fuck.” He grit his teeth as he slowly lowered her onto his cock, the head of him spreading her open as he found purchase deep inside of her. He didn’t even have to worry about hurting her, her body almost gushing around him as he bottomed out. “You’re squeezing me to death, princess. Fuck—fuck, fuck—so fucking tight.” She could barely hear the stream of curses he released as her body adjusted to his massive girth. Her mind had gone completely blank, the heat of his body making her feel drunk as she teetered on the brink of something akin to passing out. Simon lifted her, slowly pushing her down his length, her hips spreading, body relaxing like he’d force fed her a drug. Dear god, how did one man feel so fucking good? How did he make her feel like she was simultaneously buried in his arms and floating in the clouds? “Talk to me, love. Need to make sure you’re still with me.”
“Fuck, Simon. You just impaled me and you want me to form words?” she whined.
“You begged me to impale you,” he growled, “begged me like the needy little brat you are.” Simon turned again, pressing her back against the opposite wall so he could rut into her with reckless abandon. She wanted to scream, was on the verge of tears as his cock stimulated every nerve ending inside of her, dangerously kissing her cervix with each thrust. The rough material of his jeans and hoodie scraped the underside of her thighs, only adding to the overwhelming rush of sensations that assaulted her from every angle. The cold wall, the hot behemoth of a man in front of her, the scalding brand of a cock that knocked against her g-spot—she suddenly understood why the French called orgasms la petite mort—the little death.
“Simon!” she wailed, head thrown back as he buried his teeth into the side of her throat. Fuck, she couldn’t even moan properly she was so far gone. The way he loved her, the way he filled her repeatedly had her stomach contracting, legs convulsing as he all but folded her in half. It was simultaneously too much and not enough, she wanted more, even though it just might kill her. “Please—oh god, do that again—fucking hell, Simon, why are you so fucking big—again, please again, again!” Her voice left her in a stream of consciousness as he swirled his hips a second and third time, leaving her dangerously close to the edge.
“You take me so fucking well. You crying, princess? Don’t cry, cum for me,” he growled, hand gripping her jaw as he whispered filth against her chin. “Gonna cum? Cum. Wanna feel that cunt even tighter around me. Want me to ease you through it?” He did the opposite, slightly varying the angle of his hips as he increased his speed and fucked her right over the edge. Her release tore out of her with the speed and velocity of a fucking nuke, burning away everything in its path and reducing her to nothing but ash. She didn’t tremble, she quaked, every muscle, every nerve ending stuttering, tensing and bunching like she was having a seizure. This time, she did scream. It started low in her throat, guttural and strained as the strangled sound escaped the fingers he held wrapped around her throat.
“—S-Simon—fuck!” she choked, tapping his arm just as black spots danced before her vision. He released her, immediately replacing his hand with his lips, teeth and tongue.
“Good girl—so good, so fucking good for me—fuck, gonna cum. Gonna fill you up. That’s what you wanted, yeah? Wanted me to fill you, leave you dripping with my cum?”
“Yes, yes—yes, please, want nothing more—yes, Simon, yes!” she babbled and he pulled back to make eye contact. It fucking broke him. The moment their gazes connected he slammed into her, cock throbbing as he emptied himself into the deepest parts of her. He whispered her name reverently, the syllables falling from his lips like a prayer as he leaned in to press his forehead against the side of her face. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding him as they both continued to shake, bodies buzzing in the aftermath of their release.
“So perfect. So glad its you. Nobody else but you,” he said, nuzzling her softly.
“Love you, Simon,” she hiccupped, drawing a grin and a chuckle out of the Lieutenant. Several long seconds passed while they stayed like that, regaining their composure and their strength, until a tiny knock on the bathroom door had her entire body going up in flames.
“Are you alright?” the Stewardess asked in heavily accented English. Simon grunted.
“What does it sound like?” She didn’t bother them again.