Darkest Before Dawn
Page 25

It had taken Hancock longer than he would have liked, but he wasn’t about to risk his men by stopping in the open in an area that wasn’t defensible. At least here, they would be underground in a blastproof bunker, and they’d take turns at watch so they’d know if anyone ventured close.
His men were well used to operating on little to no sleep. They could stay up for days and still be alert and aware in a fight, so a few hours spent on watch would hardly impair them going forward.
He eased from the vehicle and then reached in and lifted Honor’s small body into his arms, anchoring her against his chest as he strode toward the entrance Conrad had already hurried to open.
“Get the vehicle to cover,” Hancock ordered, pausing at the entrance to issue orders to his men. “Mojo, you and Conrad take first watch. Two hours. Henderson and Viper, you take the next shift.” He glanced at Copeland—or Cope as he was called for his cool-under-pressure way of being able to cope with anything. “Cope, you and I will take last watch. I’ll get everyone up when it’s time to get on the move again.”
“Why we stopping now, boss?” Conrad asked, his gaze inquisitive.
Hancock could well understand why his men would wonder at his uncharacteristic stop. They usually pushed themselves, going days without sleep in order to achieve their objective as quickly as possible.
“The woman will be useless to us unless she has time to rest and recover.”
“Bad mojo,” Mojo muttered.
“I don’t mind saying that this mission blows,” Cope spoke up.
Hancock looked at his man in surprise. He couldn’t ever remember any of his men taking issue with the many missions that were in that nebulous area between good and bad. Some of them soul sucking, taking a piece of them at a time until there was little humanity left in any of them. Hancock included. This mission was hardly one of their worst. They’d done far worse in the name of “good” and the protection of others. The innocent who couldn’t stand for themselves. That was Titan’s job. To stand for them. To protect them while they slept the sleep of the ignorant, never knowing how close they came to death.
“She doesn’t deserve her fate,” Cope said by way of explanation, his expression grim, actual anger brimming in his usually cold, emotionless gaze. “And I don’t like the fact that we’re deceiving her. She’s . . . courageous,” he said, as though struggling to come up with the right word to describe her. “She deserves to be spared. She held off those fuckers for over a week and evaded capture. I don’t know of anyone, much less a woman, who can claim the same. She’s already a fucking national hero, not only to the people here, but in the U.S. as well.”
“Bad mojo,” Mojo said again, making Hancock realize that Mojo’s feelings mirrored Copeland’s own, and that was why he’d uttered the first “Bad mojo.”
Well, fuck. This wasn’t ever a complication he’d encountered with his team. Not once. Not even when they’d forcibly taken Grace from KGI, shooting one of KGI’s men in the process and damn near killing Rio later. And Grace as well. Not when they’d allowed Caldwell to abduct Maren when she was pregnant and vulnerable and keep her under lock and key until Hancock was forced—by his goddamn newly developed conscience—to intercede and blow his mission all to hell to get her out.
“One hero? Or the hundreds of thousands of innocent people who will fall victim to Maksimov if he isn’t taken out for good?” Hancock asked in a challenging tone, reminding his men of their role in the world. Reminding them of their purpose. Their only purpose. Their mission wasn’t to judge, to decide who was worthy or unworthy. Their only job was to rid the world of the predators who preyed on the innocent, which meant that sometimes they were the very ones preying on the innocent in order to achieve their goal.
The dissension in his ranks mirrored his own thoughts too closely—thoughts he’d firmly shoved away, not allowing himself to feel guilt. Or regret. He didn’t like it one goddamn bit, and he had to nip this in the bud before it got out of control and he had mutiny on his hands—something he’d never considered in a million years. His men were too steady. Too solid. Too focused. Just as he was. They followed his lead, never questioning.
Until now.
“I get it,” Cope muttered. “But I don’t have to like it.”
“We don’t have to like it,” Hancock said tightly. “But we do have to do our job. Even at the cost of one innocent. The good of the many—”
“Yeah, yeah, we know,” Cope said, impatiently cutting his leader off, again something Hancock’s men never dared to do. “The good of the many takes priority over the good of the one. Team motto. Whatever. But it gets pretty damn old and it’s why, after Maksimov, I’m done.”
“You know we have to go after A New Era,” Hancock said quietly, still holding Honor firmly against his chest.
Looks were exchanged between his team members. Some of acknowledgment. Some of resignation and acceptance. Some indecisive.
“Bad mojo,” Mojo said in a disgruntled voice that clearly reflected his stand. And it wasn’t with the mission or the “greater good.”
“And what then?” Conrad asked, speaking up for the first time. “I’m in. I’m with you. You know that. But when will it be time to stop fighting the good fight and allow others to fight in our stead? There’s always another asshole who needs taking out. After Maksimov, after A New Era, there will be another. There’s always another. When does it end?”
Frustration licked up Hancock’s spine. And the source of the conflict that had arisen amid his men was curled protectively in his arms. One small woman. A very small part of him wished she’d died with the others. Because then he wouldn’t be here, having chased over half the country after her. He wouldn’t be having this ridiculous conversation with his men, whose priorities had never wavered in all the time they’d worked under him. And yet one small woman had done considerable damage to their unity, and that pissed him off.
If she hadn’t survived, things would be a hell of a lot less complicated.
“That has to be your choice,” Hancock said honestly. “You can walk away at any time. No one’s making you stay. Do we need you? Hell, yeah. There’s no one I’d rather have at my back than the five of you. But everyone here would understand if you walked away at any time. After Maksimov, if you—any of you—are ready to hang it up, no one is going to have a single word to say other than good journey. And you’ll always have my gratitude for your service. If you ever have need of me, all it takes is a call. We will always have your back. Once one of us, always one of us. Your retiring doesn’t change a goddamn thing.”
When his men remained silent, Hancock gave them an impatient look they couldn’t misunderstand. Get the vehicle to cover and bed down for the night. They’d wasted enough time already. Time they didn’t have to spare.
Then he simply descended the makeshift steps into the shelter and traveled across the small enclosure to the far corner, where he placed Honor on one of the cots so he and his men would be between her and the entrance. It was the safest place in the small compound.
They were well protected here, surrounded by reinforced walls and ceilings that prevented their heat signatures from penetrating and being detected by someone on the outside using heat-seeking instruments. And unless someone dropped a nuclear bomb on them, it was safe from blasts. Unless they sustained a continuous and heavy attack.