Shattered Lies (Web of Lies #3)(12)

Dalton Cage had been Grant’s pararescue leader before. They’d been stationed all over the world together. But things got interesting when they were at an undisclosed location in the Middle East and a helicopter with some SEALs, CIA Special Operations Group members, and one state department greenhorn went down. Their four-man team was prepped and ready to go into the line of fire to rescue the helo when orders came down grounding them. When Dalton came out ready to steal the helicopter and go himself, it was a no-brainer the team would go with him.

They rescued the helicopter and most of the people in it and had then been thrown behind bars at the Lakenheath Air Base in England immediately upon landing. Three weeks they had been left sitting there, until one day a little man with a bald head and glasses claiming to be the new chief of staff to the new president showed up. The team was divided up and each sent their separate ways while Dalton, as team leader, took the fall and was discharged for disregarding a direct order. Then out of nowhere Dalton and some women showed up on the air base Grant had been stationed at in the Philippines. They were using fake names but had the power to commandeer a helo and Grant, blow up a boat, and kill the man on it.

Shortly after his mission with Dalton, Grant had been restationed at Edwards. He hadn’t even gotten in trouble for sinking a Seahawk helicopter. Instead, it was as if it never happened. Grant had been left in the dark, but he was smart enough to put two and two together. Dalton was in some secret shit, and evidently the orders were coming from very high up the chain of command. Whoever Dalton was with was powerful enough to send Grant alone with a $50,000,000 plus helicopter and support from the Air Force and Navy. All to get one woman—a woman possibly under fire. But Grant found interrupting a shitstorm fun. It was his Scots ancestry. His parents were academics, but growing up, Grant had been more interested in the Highland games. So instead of becoming a professor or author, Grant had joined the Air Force. He wanted to fly high and fast. His ability to fly with nerves of steel was why he was recruited for the PJs. No one had more dangerous operations than the PJs, which is what made this lassie very interesting. Who was she, and what had she done to need his rescue? One thing was for sure, though Grant would get to this woman. He just hoped she was alive by the time he reached her.



* * *



Valeria pushed the boat across the choppy waters. A storm had rolled in and slowed her down while using up more of her gas than she’d liked. But it also made her harder to find. Valeria pushed the boat faster as the rain fell. Her skin was waterlogged. Her eyes stung from the rain hitting them as if each drop were a tiny needle. She was really starting to hate water, but she was six hours into a nine-to ten-hour trip. A trip that couldn’t end soon enough.



* * *



Humphrey Orville rubbed his hand over his face and bald head before putting his round wire-rimmed glasses back on. He sat in the empty parking lot of the closed restaurant, waiting. It had shut down last week, and all the security cameras had been disabled, which was why he’d chosen the place to have his meeting.

He took a sip of his coffee to help him stay awake. Tate had come out of her surgery with a steel plate and pins in her leg, but she was awake and resting with Birch. Birch had not trusted the vice president any more than he trusted anyone outside of their small group, so he’d insisted Humphrey stick to the VP’s side until the doctors cleared Birch to resume the presidency. That occurred the night before, close to two in the morning. The VP had handed power back and happily went home to sleep while Humphrey got everything Birch would need to run the country from his hospital room before heading to this meeting. And now he sat waiting for Thurmond Culpepper.

The power-hungry lackey of the traitorous Secretary of State Sandra Cummings pulled into the parking lot and drew up next to Humphrey. Humphrey opened the car door at the same time Thurmond did.

“Looks like it closed,” Thurmond called out instead of a greeting.

Humphrey shrugged. “Yeah. I didn’t know. Oh well. This won’t take long and then we can grab breakfast on the way into the office.”

Thurmond walked around the car and followed Humphrey to a rotting picnic table on the side of the building. Humphrey took a seat with his back to the restaurant and waited as Thurmond looked with disgust at the wooden seat. He was probably afraid he’d get his expensive slacks or bright pink shirt dirty. Humphrey waited as Thurmond reluctantly took a seat. His hair was perfectly fluffed and sprayed, so it didn’t move in the gentle summer breeze.

“I’m guessing this is about Sandra’s family emergency? Well, let me assure you, she called me as soon as she heard what happened to President Stratton and is on her way back.” Thurmond pursed his lips in what Humphrey guessed was a thoughtfully worried look. “How is President Stratton? When Sandra called she wanted to know if he was still in power or if she should report to the vice president.”

“The president is in control of the country. He’s doing well and just needs some rest.” Humphrey leaned forward. “It’s all such a shock. I hope Sandra is safe. I worry if it’s an attack on the government that she may be in danger.”

Thurmond looked surprised, but he took a second too long to look it. The prick knew. “I’m sure she’s safe. But maybe I should talk to the Secret Service?”

Humphrey nodded. “That’s a good idea. After all, I’d hate to have Mollia Domini come after her too.”