“I knew you’d find her, son,” the tall, silver-haired man said as he came fully into view.
Fuck me, Jude thought. “The Piper?” Endgame’s creator. Looked like shit was about to get interesting.
The man nodded, a sadness in the gesture that brought every survival instinct Jude possessed into full alert. The Piper sat down on the large leather couch and leaned back negligently, resting an ankle over his knee and remaining motionless. “You shouldn’t have looked for her, Dagan. Why couldn’t you just let this go?”
Confusion bombarded him. “Let what go?”
The Piper lifted a hand and gestured to the entire loft. “This.”
Jude knew then. Ella might have started out CIA, but she was Endgame all the way. She was working for the Piper. “I’m not following, sir.”
Another shake of his head and the Piper smiled, unhappiness again riding the bare twist of his lips. “You follow, son. You always follow. They don’t call you the Keeper for nothing, do they? She knew that about you and cursed herself every time she gave in to her emotions for you. She knew you wouldn’t let her go, and if anyone ever needed to be let go, it’s her.” Silence followed his words. Jude didn’t dare to breathe. Something big was going on here. He couldn’t get a grip on it though. “Dagan, I’m going to have to ask you to leave and go home.”
Jude bristled at the proprietary tone in the other man’s voice. “And if I don’t?”
“Son, I may have phrased it as a request, but it wasn’t.” The Piper’s voice was hard, implacable, and completely at odds with his nonthreatening persona. The man was every bit sixty years old, but his body was well maintained.
Noah Caine was the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff for the United States of America. He was the principal military adviser to the president and the secretary of defense. He’d graduated from Army Ranger School, Marine Corps Amphibious Warfare School, and U.S. Army War College on top of having a PhD in government and international relations from Tufts University’s Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy. The man had served at nearly every level in the military. He was a bad motherfucker. He’d also created a private entity to do the things America’s regular military couldn’t do. Endgame Ops was his brainchild, and it was his funding that kept them operating and doing the things they did to keep America safe.
Jude knew the man. Had eaten barbecue with him and the rest of the team at Port Royal. Had watched him take the heat for failed military incursions even when he’d advised against them. Hell, Jude had watched a damn documentary prior to joining Endgame that had touted the man’s military achievements during Operation Iraqi Freedom.
And none of that mattered. Not the respect he held for Caine or his position, nothing. The fact that he was here, where Ella was supposed to be, enraged Jude. He didn’t want to kill an old man, but damn if he wouldn’t.
Jude palmed his KA-BAR neck knife and waited where he was. He knew this man’s background. Knew his training. Jude had the advantage of being younger and stronger, but when equals met, that advantage was always limited. Still, something about the Piper’s eerie stillness led Jude to believe he wasn’t anyone to screw around with, so he would wait this out.
When Jude continued to remain silent, the Piper drew in a rough breath and stood. The man’s body was motionless, his breathing even.
“I came here because you’re one of mine. I don’t like it when mine are hurt. But she’s one of mine too. And no one on this team has sacrificed as much as she has. Go home, Dagan, and if she survives, she’ll come home too.”
“What is she involved in? What do you have her doing, Piper?” Jude kept his voice even, but inside the fury rolled, a tidal wave that threatened to choke him.
The Piper shifted, and Jude noticed the man’s hand slip behind his back. “That’s not your mission, Dagan. I believe you need to check in with your team leader. It’s never good to go rogue.”
“Don’t,” Jude warned him.
“Yeah, don’t,” a woman said from behind the Piper. Her smoky voice, though soft and low, reverberated through Jude. She took the weapon the Piper had been reaching for and tossed it to the side.
The tension in the room shot through the stratosphere as Ella Banning stepped in from the kitchen, pressing a gun to the back of the Piper’s head. Jude hadn’t heard her. Had she been here the entire time? Goddamn, he was losing his edge. She had him so wrapped up in misery that he wasn’t even covering his own ass.
The Piper stood as still as stone, but a smile tracked slowly across his face. “There’s my girl.”
Jude tensed, unable to let his body relax or clear his mind as this went down. Normally he was ice cold. But the circumstances inside this condo at this moment wouldn’t allow him that. She wasn’t his girl. She was Jude’s. Or she used to be.
She had yet to look at him, but Jude’s gaze tracked over her features—across her high cheekbones, over her straight, slightly upturned nose, and down across her mouth, the mouth that had pleasured him and spoken of love and lies.
“You promised,” she whispered in the Piper’s ear, though loud enough for Jude to hear.
“I have promised a lot of people a lot of things, Ella. He can’t have you. There’s still too much to do,” the Piper returned, his voice deep and sad.
“I will do whatever needs to be done, but he is, and always will be, off-limits.” Her voice had hardened, a bitterness riding the dulcet tones that carried caution. And she still hadn’t looked at Jude.
“I’m wondering if I get a say in any of this?” he threw into the
