Crave

“Isaac wants out. And you’re going to let him go.”

There was a long silence. And then Matthias’s voice changed, growing softer and grimmer. “That soldier is full of state secrets, Jim. The knowledge he’s accumulated is worth a shitload to our enemies. So, news flash, it’s really not a case of what you or he wants. It’s what is best for us—and before you go all bleeding-heart indignant on my ass, the ‘us’ is not you and me, or XOps. It’s the fucking country.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. And I’ll bet all that patriotic bullshit gives Uncle Sam a hard-on. But it doesn’t do shit for me. The bottom line is . . . if you were in the civilian population, you’d be a serial killer. Working for the government means you get to wave the American flag around when it suits you, but the truth is, you do what you do because you enjoy picking the wings off of flies. And everybody’s an insect in your eyes.”

“My proclivities don’t change a thing.”

“And because of them, you serve no one but yourself.” Jim brushed at the pair of burn marks on the front of his shirt. “You’ve taken XOps over as your own personal death factory, and if you’re smart, you’ll duck out yourself before some of these ‘special assignments’ come back to bite you on the ass.”

“I thought you were here to talk about Isaac.”

Little too close to a nerve, huh? “Fine. He’s smart, so he can keep himself out of enemy hands, and he’s got no incentive to turn.”

“He’s alone. He has no money. And people get desperate quick.”

“Fuck that—he’s got a sterling record and he’s going to disappear.”

The corner of Matthias’s mouth inched up. “And how would you know that. Oh, wait, you’ve already found him, haven’t you.”

“You can let him go. You have the power to do this—”

“No, I don’t!”

The explosion was a surprise, and as the words faded in the same way the gunshots had, Jim found himself looking around the room for verification that he’d heard that right. Matthias was all-powerful. Always had been. And not just in his own eyes.

Hell, the bastard had enough clout to turn the Oval Office into a mausoleum.

Now Matthias was the one leaning in over the corpse. “I don’t give a fuck what you think about me or how your inner Oprah has spun this whole situation. It is not about what I want. . . . It’s what I’m compelled to do.”

“Innocent people have died.”

“So that the corrupt could! Christ, Jim, this whaaawhaaa bullshit coming from you is ridiculous. Good people die every day and you can’t stop it. I’m just a different kind of bus mowing them down—and at least I have a larger purpose.”

Jim felt a wave of anger crest—but then as he thought about it all, the emotion ebbed into something else. Sadness, maybe.

“I should have let you die in that desert.”

“Which is what I asked you to do.” Matthias grabbed onto his own left arm again and dug in, like he’d just been sucker punched in the pit. “You should have followed the orders I gave to leave me there.”

So hollow, Jim thought. The words were so hollow and dead. As if they were about someone else entirely.

“Compelled,” indeed. The guy had wanted to get out so much he’d been willing to kill himself to do it. But Devina had pulled him back in; Jim was sure of it. That demon and her thousand faces and her countless lies were at work here. Had to be. And hadn’t her manipulations set the scene perfectly for the battle over Isaac: that solider had done evil, but was trying to start over, and this was his crossroads, this tug-of-war between Jim and Matthias over his what-next.

Jim shook his head. “I’m not going to let you take Isaac Rothe’s life. I can’t. You say you work with a purpose—so do I. You kill that man and humanity’s lost more than an innocent.”

“Oh, come on. He is not innocent. His hands drip with blood just like yours and mine. I don’t know what’s happened to you, but don’t romanticize the past. You know exactly what he’s guilty of.”

Pictures of dead men flashed in front of Jim’s eyes: stab wounds, gunshots, leaky faces and crumpled bodies. And those were just the messy jobs. The stiffs who’d been asphyxiated or gassed or poisoned had just been gray and gone.

“Isaac wants out. He wants to stop. His soul is desperate for a different way and I’m going to get him there.”

Matthias winced and went back to rubbing his left arm. “Want in one hand, shit in the other—see what you get the most of.”

“I’ll kill you,” Jim said simply. “If it comes down to it—I’ll kill you.”

“Well, what do you know . . . there’s a news flash. To quote yourself, do it now.”

Jim slowly shook his head again. “Unlike you, I don’t pull the trigger unless I have to.”

“Sometimes getting a jump on the showdown is the smartest move, Jimmy.”

The old name momentarily flipped him back into the past, back to basic training, back to sharing a bunk with Matthias. The guy had been cold and calculating then . . . but not through and through. He’d been as loyal as someone could be to Jim, given their situation. Over the years, however, any trace of that limited slice of humanity had been lost—until the man’s body was now as mauled and decrepit as his soul.

“Let me ask you something,” Jim drawled. “You ever met a woman named Devina?”

That one eyebrow arched. “Now why would you ask that?”

“Just curious.” He straightened his leather jacket. “FYI, I’ve had a devil of a time with her.”

“Thanks for the dating advice. That’s really my priority right now.” Matthias returned the sheet back over Jim’s cold gray face. “And feel free to kill me anytime. You’d be doing me a favor.”

Those last words were spoken softly—and proved that physical pain could bow even the fiercest of wills if it was strong enough and lasted long enough. Then again, Matthias had had a shift of priorities even before that explosion, hadn’t he.

“You know,” Jim said, “you could take off as well. I did. Isaac’s trying. There’s no reason if you don’t have the stomach for this anymore that you can’t get out, too.”

Matthias laughed in a burst. “You left XOps only because I let you go temporarily. I always intended to get you back. And Isaac is not getting away from me—the only way I would consider not offing him is if he would continue to work for the team. In fact, why don’t you tell him that for me? Given that you two are so buddy-buddy and all.”

Jim narrowed his eyes. “You’ve never done that before. Once someone’s broken the trust, you’ve never let them back in.”

Matthias exhaled on a raw shudder. “Times change.”

Not always. And not about that shit. “Sure enough,” Jim said on a lie. “Let’s put me back in there, shall we?”

The two of them slid the slab into the refrigerator unit and Jim relatched the door. Then Matthias slowly bent down to pick up his cane, his spine cracking a number of times, his breath hitching as if his lungs couldn’t handle their job as well as the pain he was feeling. When he righted himself, his face was an unnatural red—proof of how much the simple movement had taken out of him.

A broken vessel, Jim thought. Devina was working with or through a broken vessel here.

“Did any of this really happen?” Matthias said. “This conversation.”

“The whole damn thing is real, but you’re going to take a little nap now.” Before the guy could ask, Jim brought up his hand and summoned power to his forefinger. As the tip began to glow, Matthias’s mouth dropped open. “You’ll remember what was said, however.”

With that, he touched Matthias on the forehead and a shimmer of light went through the man like a struck match, flaring fast and bright, consuming both the broken body and the evil mind.

Matthias went down like a stone.

Angel Ambien, baby, Jim thought. Knocks out the best of ’em.