Page 11 of Easton


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Yeah, that was the CIA, the bad fart that lingered. The boil that festered. Zane thought he’d lanced that bitch open and purged the poison from his life.

It would seem he was very wrong.

He felt his team—no not his, Layla’s, but his all the same—shift their eyes to him. And not for the first time his throat filled with the putrid remnants of war. The vestiges that neither time nor distance could ever erase. The feeling in his gut that shit was about to go sideways gnawed at him.

A feeling he never ignored.

An instinct he’d honed over the years. One that had served him well.

So he knew, not only was shit going to go sideways but it was going to corkscrew out of control faster than his last drop into a warzone.

Candy Apples.

Fuck. Nebraska Michaels should not know that name. Though it wasn’t surprising since Maddon Judd, the fuck, had been the base chief during that operation.

Zane had locked that clusterfuck of a mission into one of the many boxes he never opened.

The past and present colliding was never good, but this could be catastrophic if Zane didn’t get a handle on the situation and fast.

This could be the one thing, the one secret, the one lie his team might not forgive him for.

And Kira would find it. There was a reason her team called her Kid Genius. If there was something to be found, her spidey senses would tingle and she wouldn’t sleep until she uncovered the missing piece. And this was one piece Zane didn’t want dug up.

It was only fitting it would be his own team who uncovered the truth he’d managed to keep hidden for a decade.

Zane ignored the weight of the stares and looked back to his tablet.

The file was right there. He knew what the after action review said because he’d written it. He knew what the mission brief outlined because he’d given the brief. He’d been young and cocky, full of ego before he understood the difference between arrogance and confidence was life or death. He’d yet to learn when to throttle up and when to pull back. The importance of finesse. The true meaning of being a leader among leaders. He’d thought he knew. He’d thought he understood. Until he learned he didn’t.

And Candy Apples was a pivotal turning point.

It was that mission and what came after that moved him to sink further into the grey. It wasn’t his massive fuckup that had pushed him there. It was witnessing the lengths the Agency would go to get what they wanted. It was also the mission that led him to cutting ties with the CIA. It would take years and a lot of them before he could disentangle himself from the Agency but it was from that mission Z Corps was born.

The original team was formed.

Not Red but Black.

The team he’d managed to keep in the shadows.

The lie.

Not an outright lie. But an omission of the truth between brothers and sisters was still a lie.

Zane leaned back in his chair, nabbed his phone off the table, and called his brother.

As soon as Linc picked up the call Zane didn’t give him a chance to speak.

“Where are you?”

“Where do you need me?”

That was Lincoln.

Always alert. Always ready to take his back.

Strong. Solid. Dependable.

“Conference room.”

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