Page 21 of Fallen Hero

Calista’s smile broadened. “Checked up on me, eh?” She took no offense at the intrusion.

“What’s taking Tom so long getting the charges dropped?” Pete inquired.

“Tom does what Tom does.” Calista shrugged. “His excuse is the DNA I left on the scene and the men I killed were power brokers in DC. You know the game; the story the media spun was a home invasion and triple homicide of three good men. The public is outraged and wants justice. Their allies want my head. Tom says he’s in a tight spot.”

Calista had already served justice to the public and to her friend, who was being violated by three pieces of shit who’d died too quickly. Calista had shown mercy by simply ending their lives with a bullet. I would’ve taken my time and gotten creative.

“But . . .” I prompted.

“But Tom doesn’t want my name cleared. He wants me on my back foot, beholden to him. He likes holding the strings, forgetting I hold the scissors and cut them anytime I want.”

I don’t do teams.

I wasn’t lying when I told her I understood. With the people she surrounded herself with, teamwork would be impossible.

“Tom’s a douche,” Fallon rightly announced.

Pete set his empty plate on the coffee table in front of him. “Tom’s a necessary evil.”

My best friend wasn’t wrong.

The world needed Toms—men with no moral compass or compulsion to prioritize loyalty to a singular person. Men who did the unspeakable for the greater good. Men who lied, cheated, manipulated to maneuver the desired outcome. Men with no limits or lines not to be crossed.

I just didn’t like that Tom used Calista as a tool to achieve his goals while at the same time manipulating her.

“At least the man doesn’t pretend to be something he’s not,” Calista agreed.

I wondered if she was thinking about Atlanta. That particular betrayal had to have stung. If anyone I worked with went behind my back and did something as shady as pretending to be me, I’d cut them out after I made my displeasure known.

“He’s an authentic douche,” Fallon amended.

“That he is.” Calista once again smiled. This one almost looked genuine, but it lost some of its luster when she went on. “One could say he’s always on brand. He’ll do whatever he feels he needs to do for mission success. Even if the mission he’s selling is bullshit.”

“And you think this mission is bullshit?” Fallon pushed.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “And that’s not me being evasive, it’s the plain truth. I know he wants the location of the auction. I know he wanted confirmation Ahmad was home. I know that he told me he’d send in a team to take down Amir and Ahmad and get the women. But what he tells me and what he does are two different things.”

“You think he’d leave the women behind?”

Calista’s gaze swung my way. The look on her face said it all, yet she still answered my question. “He would do anything to further his agenda. Like say Atlanta gets her hands on the guest list and he finds a bigger target that could yield him intel on other HVTs. He’d leave those women behind to play the long game.”

“If Tom doesn’t order the auction to be hit, we’ll pull in our team,” I told her, not bothering to run my declaration by Pete first.

There was no way in fuck we’d leave women behind to be sold.

“After the official invitations are extended, there will only be forty-eight hours before the auction,” Calista informed me.

There was anger and sadness in her tone, but it was the hope I heard that threw me. Did she really think we’d walk away before ensuring the women were safe?

Of course she did, and why wouldn’t she, given who she worked for—or with. I still didn’t fully understand their relationship. With effort, I refrained from rehashing old ground and reiterating what a piece of shit Tom was.

“Before I call the team to spin up, Shep called,” Pete announced.

Calista frowned, Fallon perked up, and my gut tightened.

Shep calling Pete could be anything from an update to a favor that could swing from taking out an enemy to helping overthrow a small government.

The guy was a wild card.