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Everyone uses me.
I should’ve pushed for answers when I had the chance, but I’d fallen for her shit. I’d backed off when I should’ve gone hard to get the truth from her.
I would not make that mistake again.
“Tell me, Nebraska, that shit you spewed in the car—”
“Easton,” Smith interrupted. “Patience.”
Nebraska’s eyes snapped open.
Fuck patience.
“What shit?”
Smith stepped between me and Nebraska, which was to say he came chest-to-chest, eye-to-eye with me and lowered his voice to say, “Think carefully about the next words that come out of your mouth, brother. Sometimes there are things that can’t be unheard or forgiven. We haven’t heard what Z has to say.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from lashing out at my friend. He’d know a thing or two about saying shit in anger you couldn’t unsay. Shit that was unforgivable no matter how much you loved the other person. But this was nowhere near the same situation. Nebraska wasn’t my fiancée. I didn’t claim to love her and I certainly hadn’t made any promises to her.
But he was right. We hadn’t heard what Z had to say, and right then, the mission was more important than my pride being stung and my feelings being hurt. The last bore contemplation. How in the fuck could a woman I barely knew hurt my feelings and why in the hell would her not telling me she worked for…
“Black,” I ground out.
Smith’s brow winged up before the same realization I’d just had hit.
Zane obviously heard.
“Haiti was a learning experience,” Z started. “For me more than for Dutch. He’d been in longer, he understood the game, he’d long since stopped looking for the good. The missions we went on, the people we dealt with both in the field and the assholes who sat behind a desk, everything was bad or worse.”
Once Zane had started speaking Smith had stepped away—not far but away enough I now had eyes on Nebraska. She no longer looked anxious, nor did she look like she was paying attention to the conversation—all of her concentration was honed in on shooting daggers at me.
Ten minutes ago, before I heard her rant, I would’ve been concerned at her worry. Now, not so much. She could stare at me all she wanted.
“But it was the next op that killed whatever belief in justice I had left. True justice, not this bullshit we think is justice.”
“What was the op?” Smith asked.
“Africa. UNICEF aid was being hijacked. The suits knew who was seizing the packages. Dutch and I were sent in to negotiate a deal. In other words, we were sent in to hand over large sums of cash to a warlord to buy safe passage of food, water, and meds. The deal was done. The next UNICEF delivery was hijacked. The warlord had gone back on his word. The suits’ brilliant plan was to hand over more cash and ask again. Dutch pitched another plan—take out the warlord and call it a day. But the problem is, that doesn’t solve shit. Take out one and five more are ready to take their place. The merry-go-round continues. Shit needed to change. So we found a way to change it and Black Team was formed.”
Black Team.
“How does that work and where do they fit with Red, Gold and Blue?” Smith carried on.
The three flagship teams until me, Theo, Smith, Jonas, Cash, Kira, and Layla came to work for Z Corps and Silver Team was formed.
“Until last night, no one but Lincoln and my wife knew Black existed.”
There it was, the truth.
Zane had a team no one knew about.
“This is the secret you said would cause a war?” I asked, not understanding the drama.
Nebraska’s stare became acute and assessing when she addressed Zane. “How pleased are you right now you were forced to divulge something you weren’t ready to reveal?”
“Murderous.”
She nodded like she knew that would be the answer.
