ESCANTA: A James Thomas Novel (The James Thomas Series Book 1) (7 page)

“I know she doesn’t,” James said quietly, for once wishing his life was different; wishing he could have a normal relationship, wishing he could have a life where he didn’t need to look over his shoulder at every shadow that passed behind him. That was the change in him since Paris—it had made him consider things, wish for things, that he never had in the past.

“I followed her home, too, from the engagement party,” James said, confessing all of his sins.

“Fucking hell,” Deacon said, shaking his head.

“I just wanted to test her security. I drove close enough that they should’ve picked up a tail and they didn’t. And I parked right outside her apartment and they didn’t notice that either.”

Deacon pulled his lips to one side, mulling it over. “Well, she’s changing firms now so I suppose it doesn’t matter. Did Samuel know this, too? I don’t like the two of you keeping secrets from me.”

“I didn’t tell Samuel. But you know what he’s like…” James said with a hint of a smile. “I think he’s always spying on us, always keeping tabs. I’m sure he knew I was there but he hasn’t mentioned it to me.”

Deacon nodded his head, seeming to agree. “If you were to live your life over, would you make the same choices?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Deacon. I don’t regret choosing to join the army—God only knows where I would’ve ended up without that structure and guidance. But crossing over into the CIA—that wasn’t a good choice. But I’m the perfect recruit, right? An orphan with a Delta Force skill set and no family to leave behind. They made such an enticing offer but I had no idea what I was getting into and what the long-term consequences would be. And Paris…Well, I definitely wouldn’t make the same choices there, but regardless, it’s well and truly done now.”

“I wouldn’t do it again,” Deacon said. “I would choose another life.”

His regret hung in the air like a thick smog.

“Don’t tell me anything about Mak, Deacon. I don’t want to know. But make sure she’s okay, keep an eye on them.”

Deacon nodded his head and James trusted him. He and Samuel would watch over her security, by whatever means necessary. It was the last he would see of Mak Ashwood because Deacon was right, she didn’t deserve a death like Nicole’s—and that was, without a doubt, what would happen if she were his girlfriend and he couldn’t protect her.

James heard the rooftop door open and close.

“Are we all friends again?” Cami said from behind James. She patted him on the shoulder as she sat down beside him.

Deacon scoffed. “We’re always friends.”

“Good to hear,” Cami said, sipping on a bottle of water.

Cami had been absent for the past few days and James didn’t need to ask to know where she’d been. Deacon would’ve assigned her to Mak, and the fact that she was back indicated Mak’s security had been transferred.

“How are you?” Deacon asked, taking the bottle of water from her hands and guzzling the rest of it.

Cami narrowed her eyes at him but didn’t reprimand him. “Good. All is good.”

All is good
was code for
Mak is good.

“Any updates from Samuel?” Cami asked James.

“No, and he’s been working so hard he’s barely slept in days,” James said. “I need to get on the ground. I need to go to Russia.”

Having a guy like Samuel on your team was like having a secret weapon, but every now and then you had to do it old-school style—you had to get on your own two feet and chase down the leads. But Russia presented a problem now. Deacon would want to come with him, but James wanted Deacon in New York to make sure Mak’s new security firm was performing.

“I’ll go with you,” Cami said. “Someone has to stay here and run Thomas Security, and I sure as fuck don’t want to do that, so I’ll go with you, and Deacon can manage everything here.”

“I don’t like this,” Deacon said immediately.

“I like it a lot,” James said, grinning at Cami. She’d been with him on several missions, he’d even taken her into the lair to clean up the mess Kyoji Tohmatsu had made, and she’d performed every time. She was the next best thing to Deacon, and she was the solution to his problem.

“It’s sorted, then,” she said confidently. “When do you want to leave?”

Deacon groaned but didn’t object. He knew James was right about being on the ground—they’d given Samuel more time, but he was running up against a wall every time. They’d find new leads in Russia, give the information to Samuel, and then go from there.

“The day after tomorrow,” James said.

It was easier to forget the sense of loneliness he’d felt since Paris during the daylight hours. James worked out, trained his staff, and ran his business. But the dark hours passed as slowly as a leaking tap fills a swimming pool. And his thoughts kept going back to Mak Ashwood. He had been instantly attracted to her, and that attraction had not dissipated in the days since he’d seen her last. But why? He’d been able to forget other beautiful women in his past, but he was having trouble getting Mak out of his mind. But a relationship could never be anything more than a dream—not for him, not given his past. James would put a target on her head, and if things took a turn for the worst, what would he do? James could disappear overnight, but what about her? She had a big family and a great career, and all of that would be gone. She’d have nothing but him and even if he could protect her, she’d eventually resent him for ruining her life. And that was provided she could even love the man he was. It was impossible—every way he looked at it, it wasn’t meant to be.

“Can I offer you something to read during the flight?”

James smiled at the airhostess but shook his head.

“Yes, please,” Cami said from the chair beside him and took two newspapers.

James closed his eyes again. He wondered what Mak thought about the situation she was in, about Thomas Security not taking her on as a client. Was she angry? Was she worried about her new contract? He wanted to know the answers, and he didn’t—he wanted to forget her. He needed to forget her.

“You can read this—she’s not in it,” Cami said, placing a paper on his lap.

It was the first time Cami had mentioned her. James opened his eyes. “I’m not interested in reading it. The news I’m interested in hasn’t made the headlines yet,” James said.

“Suit yourself,” Cami said quietly as she opened the second newspaper.

A thought occurred to James. “Did Deacon instruct you to do that?”

She put the paper down. “No, James, he didn’t. I genuinely want to read the paper, seeing as we’ve got nothing else to do on this flight and you’re hardly in a talkative mood. But if Deacon had, would you blame him?”

“So you’ve all had a meeting about this, then?”

Cami sighed. “No, we had a meeting to discuss Mak’s strategy and prepare a handover for the firm taking her on. To be honest, I think it’s sad.”

“Sad?” James repeated.

“I want you to be happy, James. You’ve been alone most of your life and it would be nice for you to share it with someone, to open up to someone—especially now. But the reality is that it’s just not in our cards. I don’t know…I think if you really want a girlfriend, you have to at least choose someone who understands our life, and someone who has our kind of training and can protect themselves,” Cami said.

“Yeah, why don’t I find another woman from the CIA so she can inform on me again,” James said, his voice sounding pained even to his own ears.

He didn’t have to pretend with Cami—she was one of the few people he could let his guard down with. Cami had become like a younger sister to him, someone he protected fiercely, but she was also someone who could look after herself.

“Do you remember what you said to me when I made the choice to go deep into the agency?” Her brown eyes were soft and gentle but she didn’t wait for him to respond, because she knew he didn’t want to be reminded. “You said to me: love them enough to let them go. Love my family enough to protect them, to let them think I was dead.”

“I don’t love this girl, Cami,” James said. “I barely know her.”

“I know that, but it’s not the point I’m trying to make. If you want to do what’s best for her, that’s for her to forget you exist, and you know it. That girl’s got enough on her plate without the turmoil you’ll bring. I love you, but Deacon’s right—forget her now while you still can. Don’t make the mistake he made. It’s not fair to her, and it’s not fair on you. I don’t want to see you go through that, James. And if you did…” She shook her head, as if clearing away an ugly thought.

She was scared of what he’d do, he knew it because he’d thought the same thing. After Nicole’s death, Deacon had been so broken he’d walked away, not even seeking revenge. He was too distraught to wake up in the morning, let alone hunt down her killers and make them pay. But James was different, and they all knew it. He would hunt down every single one of them, and he would make them, and their entire families, pay. No one would be safe. He didn’t want to become that man, but he knew it was inside of him if he were ever so provoked.

“See?” Cami said, holding her hands up. “You know it. If you go down this path, hell will have a new ruler.”

James ignored her, checking the flight path.

“I’m going back to sleep, and you should try and get some too. When we land, it’s on,” James said, closing his eyes again and drifting off into a dark, dreamless slumber.

He remembered her scent, the same scent that filled Dasha’s apartment now. He sat quietly on a chair beside the window, looking out onto the street. He’d been waiting for two hours, and he was prepared to wait all night.

“Target entering front lobby,”
Samuel’s voice came through his earwig.

“Copy,” James and Cami repeated.

James looked at his watch, expecting her to walk through the door in three minutes, the time it had taken him. He heard the jostling of keys and with it his body came alive, heightened with anticipation and excitement. He was doing what he was best at, even if it didn’t make him a good man.

Her tall silhouette stepped into the apartment and she paused at the alarm pad. He’d deactivated it, and she knew she wasn’t alone.

She turned the lights on and he gave her a sultry smile. He had once shared a bed with Dasha, many years ago, but these days he guessed she’d rather cut off his dick than suck it again.

She masked her shock well, but he knew better. “Liam Smith,” she said with her thick Russian accent. As she walked toward him, the split of her dress revealed her upper thigh, and her fingers so subtly lifted it higher, but he wasn’t distracted.

“Everyone said you were dead, Liam, but I didn’t believe it, not without a body. It’s good to see you again.” She stopped six feet from him.

“Is it? I think you’re lying,” James said, raising one eyebrow.

“What do you want, Liam?” She crossed her arms over her chest and James watched her fingers carefully while maintaining eye contact.

“Information, of course. What else would I be here for?” He smirked and her chest rose with a tightness that told him she was on edge—exactly as he’d intended.

“What do you want to know?”

“I want to know about Escanta,” James said, and her eyes flashed with recognition.

“What does a dead man like you want with Escanta?”

“It doesn’t matter, Dash. Tell me what you know and I’ll leave quietly. If you don’t tell me…Well, you know how that goes.”

She took a step forward. “I can’t tell you much, because there isn’t much to tell.” She took another step forward. “Escanta is a cover-up, for something much bigger. It’s small and it’s intended to be a distraction—it’s like a plaque on a building wall, a plaque with the wrong business name. You’re not looking for Escanta, you’re looking for whatever is behind the walls.”

“And what is behind the walls?” James asked, not backing down as she leaned forward, cupping his jaw with one hand.

“I don’t know,” she said.

James saw the metal glisten in the moonlight before he saw her move. He reacted, without hesitation—his mind knew what to do after years of training.

Dasha jumped back, but it was too late—he’d swiped the blade from her fingers and with one hand secured her wrists behind her back. He slammed the blade into the flesh of her shoulder joint, hurting her with her own weapon. Dasha was a blade expert, but she relied heavily on it, too heavily—it made her predictable.

His hand covered her mouth, muffling her scream, and he stood up, positioning her on his seat by the window. He took a rope from his back pocket and secured her to the chair and then stepped back to view the raging anger in her eyes.

“I told you not to lie to me,” James said. “And I saw your busy fingers well before you pulled the blade from your sleeve.”

Her head tilted forward, the knife in her shoulder sending what James knew to be excruciating bolts of pain through her body.

James put one hand on the knife blade and turned it, butchering a hole in her shoulder cavity. Again he muffled her cry with his hand but he didn’t have long now—someone would hear her and alert the police, or worse: her friends.

“If you don’t answer my question, the next one will be a full turn. Understood?” James asked.

“What do you want?” Dasha spat at him.

“I want to know who is behind Escanta. Don’t tell me you don’t know. You’ve been a busy woman, Dasha, playing both sides of the game and getting into bed with the enemy.” Her eyes widened and James laughed. “I might have disappeared, Dash, but do you really think I don’t keep tabs on what my friends are up to? Look, I don’t care who you’re fucking, and I’m not here on behalf of the agency, which you’re stealing information from and feeding to your boyfriend. I just want to know about Escanta.”

Her breath wheezed in and out and James hoped she wasn’t going to pass out before he had what he wanted.
Talk quickly, Dasha.

“Russians. Escanta is a Russian group. The members change every six months, so that they can’t be traced. They collect information, on people like you, and feed it behind the walls.”

“Who are they feeding it to, Dasha?”

“I don’t know. It’s a group”—she coughed—“layers of groups. Behind Escanta is another, and then another, and then another. It’s like peeling back a rotting onion. They’re bad men, Liam, and even the Mafia don’t like them. They run in their own circles, and they don’t mix with us. The word is that the main group, the ones who control everything, have been running an underground cult with occult practices for hundreds of years. That’s all I know, and if you want to find out more, find the head of Escanta. He will be the only one with a link to the next layer.”