Zero Trace: The Arsenal, #4

1

Four and a half months ago

Zoey Dansworth regularly swam in crazy, but she’d tumbled into a new ocean of what-the-hell—one she wasn’t sure she could escape. She’d just exposed a dirty CIA operation her boss at the NSA had been protecting for two years. Maybe longer.

She stood in her cubical and looked around as her breathing turned labored. Someone would come for her soon.

Think. Think. Think.

She forced a couple deep breaths and ignored the squawking phone behind her. No good could come from answering whoever was on the other end.

One decision had effectively put a target on her back. Eleven grueling years as a data-mining, report-writing grunt at the NSA consumed her like dry tinder in a desert.

She placed her head into her palms and forced her mind to focus. She’d made the right decision. Hell, she should’ve had the balls to do something about the dirty operation a couple years ago.

If the Quillery Edge hadn’t sent their teams into the heart of the cesspit the NSA had buried, Zoey never would’ve found the courage to do the right thing. She’d done a lot of messed up things in the name of national security, but not even she was blind enough to let the best team in the covert ops paramilitary arena, or anyone they worked with, get screwed over by greedy assholes.

She was a civilian, which meant she knew next to nothing about the intense things Viviana Chambers, aka Quillery, and Mary Reynolds, aka The Edge, did. They were the best around for a reason, that reason being they’d never failed a mission.

Ever.

It was common knowledge, even amongst the alphabet soup.

They were with The Arsenal now, another top-notch operation quickly becoming known as the best around, especially since they’d taken out the trash at Hive and then dismantled the Collective like they weren’t the largest black-ops organization in the world—one deemed untouchable.

The Arsenal hadn’t only touched them—they’d smashed them to smithereens.

Yep. She’d made the right decision in helping that team. Quillery’s team.

She’d owed Quillery a huge marker, not that the woman could ever know.

As far as Quillery knew, Zoey was just another hacker who did her part to take asshats on the dark web and deep web down.

Zoey had survived leading double lives for over a decade now because she never mixed her paper-pushing job at the NSA with her other world. No one could ever know about her other life.

Compartmentalization.

From eight in the morning to six in the evening she was Zoey Dansworth, aka the NSA grunt in cubical 12A. At precisely six p.m. she packed away her day job worries, made a mental list of things to tackle in the morning, and opened the next sector of her world.

Zero D. Hacker extraordinaire and the mastermind behind an underground network protecting rescued victims of sex trafficking and other atrocities. The hows were complicated and something she could never, ever share with anyone. As long as the network remained anonymous, everyone was safe.

Compartmentalization. It was Zoey’s first commandment, and she’d violated it in a big, big way because her Zero D persona had owed Quillery. But she’d paid the debt as Zoey and was now up to her neck in trouble.

Her smarmy boss Ian had issued a very clear threat a while back to mind her own business and stop looking into the dirty CIA operation she’d stumbled across. He wouldn’t appreciate her exposing it to the world.

She forced a deep breath. She had one choice. She tapped in the phone number she’d memorized earlier, just in case. Sometimes having an eidetic memory came in handy. Hopefully this was one of those times.

Zero, what just happened? Quillery’s voice sliced through the fear crawling up Zoey’s throat. The cool, confident calm radiating from the woman on the other end of the phone demanded Zoey exercise the same emotional state even though she’d only said four words.

Zero, what just happened?

I helped neutralize the problem your team ran into. I’m burned, she admitted, giving her biggest fear to the woman she’d interacted with only twice before. I did what I could to keep good men breathing. I hope it’s enough.

It was. They’re en route home, with a few stops to hospitals and military bases along the way. Silence descended a moment, then Vi continued. You hung your ass out there for me today, Zero. I won’t forget that. Get yourself secure, get out, and come down here. Edge and I always have room for someone of your caliber. Come help those good teams breathe every day.

And there it was. The carefully constructed barrier between her two worlds collapsed beneath the decision she’d made to save The Arsenal team. But she couldn’t let her shitstorm affect the Quillery Edge or The Arsenal. I’ll have fallout from what I did today. I pissed a lot of people off.

Get up and walk out like nothing is wrong. They won’t move, not right away. Don’t go home. Get in your car and drive to the nearest airport. There’ll be a ticket waiting there for you. If you want, I’ll send an escort to bring you home. We’ve got two teams in the area.

No, I’m good, she said quickly. I’ve gotta go home. I have a cat.

A cat? Talk about a lame excuse. But it was the only one she could offer. Only one other person knew what she really did, and that was because he was the brawn and boots on the ground when needed. Jade knew her identity and nothing else.

So, she would thank fate for giving her an out. Once she got her other life as Zero D secure, she’d get herself down to The Arsenal, which operated in Texas. Zoey had done enough homework to get to their front gate.

Walk out and stay somewhere public, Vi ordered. There’s a coffee shop down the road from the base. Gage Sanderson will meet you there in one and a half hours. I’m sending you his picture. Don’t trust anyone but him. Get to that coffee shop. Edge and I will have you on surveillance the entire time. I’ve pinged our cell numbers and Gage’s to you. He’ll help you secure your cat and gear. Okay?

Her cell buzzed as the man’s image flashed across the screen the moment she dragged her cell away from her ear. God. Talk about handsome. His dark brown hair was just long enough to be deemed sloppy in military standards. Intensity resonated from his deep green gaze. A light smattering of stubble accentuated the ruggedness of his jawline.

It was foolish to agree because she had an entire world to handle outside her job at the NSA. She had to make sure her network was safe and that no one she protected within it suffered because of what she did today.

Jade had to be warned.

Which meant she should refuse the safety net Vi was tossing her, yet she couldn’t force the refusal from her throat. The Quillery Edge wouldn’t ever work with anyone but the very, very best. If they trusted Gage Sanderson, then she would, too.

They wanted to have her back.

They wanted her.

She mentally relisted Viviana, Mary, and a man she’d never met named Gage to Level Two of her mental, personal security protocol system. Only one person had ever made it past Level One and stuck: Jade.

Everyone else?

Well, they’d earned VIP passes, then screwed her over and took off.

Yep, she was pretty damn pathetic when it came to anything outside cubicle 12A and the work she did for the network. She couldn’t classify cubicle 12A as her day job world anymore because her mental compartments had collapsed.

She squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breath, and took a leap of faith. She couldn’t risk merging her two worlds, but what choice did she have? She’d figure out a way to keep the network she ran below anyone’s radar. Somehow. Okay.

Zoey entered the coffee shop and took the first open seat she found. Patrons shuffled in and out of the bustling lobby. Each knock of someone against her shoulder ratcheted her anxiety to a new level.

She’d gotten out of the building and into her car. She’d even made it off the base by some strange twist of luck. But they would come after her.

Enraged text messages had filled her screen before she’d dumped the cellphone in the trash. She should have taken a moment to pick up a burner phone, but every stop was a risk and she couldn’t afford to get caught.

Her pulse quickened for the millionth time when the chime on the door rang yet again. As always, she darted her gaze that direction.

And froze.

Men in ill-fitting suits entered. Their gazes swept the small cluster of tables. A bald man nodded her direction as he withdrew a weapon from his side. Pandemonium ensued as the patrons screamed.

Her heart thudded in her chest as she rose and focused on the gun nearest to her. Four more were aimed in her direction. Screams and gasps echoed as chairs scraped against the coffee shop’s tile flooring. A rush of footsteps sounded as the belled door rang as people surrendered to panic and fled.

Too bad she couldn’t.

Hands up, her gaze followed the arm holding the gun until she peered into the dark brown eyes of the portly, bald man. With as much bravado as she could muster, she spoke. Put your guns away. This isn’t necessary.

Hands behind your head, Ms. Dansworth. You’re coming with me.

The bell chimed again as Zoey positioned her trembling hands behind her head and somehow managed the nearly impossible feat of interlocking her fingers. Getting shot wasn’t on today’s agenda.

A tall, broad presence appeared between her and her bald nemesis. Thick corded muscle filled her field of vision. A back. A very toned, rigid back on prominent display thanks to a snug shirt. Zoey gulped and took a step to the side. She didn’t need an innocent bystander getting hurt because of her.

Get behind me. The gruff voice thundered through the room, although the man’s gaze remained locked on the five men aiming guns at her. No, him now. He’d gotten in the way.

What the heck was he doing?

Stand down, the stranger ordered.

This doesn’t concern you, sir. This woman is under arrest for espionage, high treason, and a list of other charges way above your grunt paygrade. The bald man’s derisive voice lowered an octave as he shifted his stance. You’re an Army grunt from the base, right? Thinking you’re helping a pretty lady. Stand down, son, before you piss us off. She’s coming with us.

She’s under protection of The Arsenal, the man said.

Who? The new voice raised an octave. Want me to clip him?

If you shoot me, I’ll shoot back, and I don’t aim to maim. Every shot I take requires a body bag. The man didn’t flinch, hadn’t moved an inch. The Arsenal has been contracted by the Department of Defense to secure Ms. Dansworth and protect her from any threat, by whatever means necessary.

Zoey gulped, took another step to the side to get a better look, and froze. Of course.

Gage Sanderson.

Her brain was still frozen in shock because he’d mentioned The Arsenal. Who else except someone ordered to come and protect her would foolishly stand off against five armed federal agents?

I will not repeat myself, especially to office jockeys playing field operatives.

Step aside, or we will take you into custody, one of the men warned.

"I’m coming off three days with less than two hours’ sleep. She saved one of our teams. For that alone I’d eat a bullet for her. Add in the fact that two of the only people I’d walk through fire for are on the end of my com and ordering me to secure her by any means necessary, and I’m at the end of what little patience I have on a good day."

You’re being fed bad information, son. Stand down, the older man in the ill-fitting suit ordered.

Call me ‘son’ one more time and we’ve got a bigger problem, Gage warned.

Who sent you?

Someone with a much higher security clearance than you or whoever sent you will ever see. Gage glanced over his shoulder at Zoey. Get your shit. We’re leaving.

Right. Get her shit. That was something she could totally do. She took a hesitant step backward, then froze for a moment in case one of the other gun-wielding men took exception to her getting her shit. One of the men readjusted his aim back on her.

A growl rolled from Gage, who shifted and did a weird kick out with his right leg. Zoey blinked and stared down at the man who’d pointed his gun at her. He looked up at her with wide eyes from his new position on the floor, his throat pinned under Gage’s boot. The gun thudded against a chair leg several feet away.

I don’t think he can breathe, she commented quietly to Gage.

Good. Maybe next time he’ll learn to use his brain instead of following orders like a blind idiot.

Huh. The man had a point. Zoey forced a couple deep breaths as she gathered her stuff. Now what? It wasn’t like the armed men standing off against Gage were going to let them walk out. She peered out the glass windows at the other customers watching from outside, where they’d fled earlier.

While she was thankful not to be in handcuffs, she didn’t see a good exit strategy for her or the brave man, Gage. As much as she hated to admit it, she had to sacrifice herself in order to keep Gage safe. While she didn’t know him, this wasn’t his fight.

Yes, it is. You’re only in this mess because of The Arsenal. It’s his fight, too.

Zoey ignored the bitchy voice in her head, the one that sounded a lot like her former best friend, may she freeze in Anchorage.

I’ll go with you, she said with a sigh. There was too much at stake. Let him and The Arsenal walk away from this, and I’ll go with you.

Like hell you will, Gage said. Get back behind me and keep your mouth shut.

Really, it’s okay. I knew what would happen.

Her mind raced for a way out of the catastrophe of her own design. Her day job was supposed to be quiet, boring. Mundane. A way to keep her off radar.

Getting arrested because of what she’d done to save The Arsenal left everything else she did in jeopardy. Too many people relied on her. She had to get a warning to Jade. He’d activate the emergency directive she’d created. Everything would be okay.

Just promise me you’ll have someone go get my cat. It has to be someone nice, though, because Dobby isn’t very polite to strangers. She swallowed and put the rest of her plan into play. Take him to my friend. I’ll give you the address.

Gage glanced over his shoulder and creased his brows. The look was one she’d seen quite a few times on people at her day job, the ones who thought she’d lost her mind on more than one occasion. Truth told, they were probably right.

The lead suit’s phone rang.

You’ll want to answer that, Gage advised, his tone so helpful it was saccharine sweetness rolled in chocolate.

The man answered as he glared at Zoey. He paled a couple moments later. Yes, sir, Mr. Secretary.

Mr. Secretary? Zoey gulped. What the heck had she gotten herself into now? She had a knack for stirring up trouble when she wasn’t even trying. Heck, she not only stirred it up but rolled around in it on a regular basis. This entire situation, however, was ten grades crazier than she was used to.

Sure, she worked at the NSA, but she was a civilian data miner. She compiled data into succinct reports that got filed away, never to be seen again. She wasn’t a cog in the system. Hell, she wasn’t even a screw in the system. She was the belly lint, if even that. Yep, that’s what she was—the belly lint of red tape bureaucracy.

No matter. She’d survived her second existence by thinking fast on her feet. Fake it until you make it. That was her motto. She’d follow Gage’s lead and then figure out how the heck to get the train back on track.

Whatever went down with her because of The Arsenal mess couldn’t endanger the people relying on her. No, she couldn’t" let that happen.

With all due respect, sir, she— The man paled more. Of course, Mr. Secretary. I understand.

He clicked off. His face reddened as he holstered his weapon and motioned for the other men to do the same. Gage kept his pointed at them but released the guy pinned to the floor.

This isn’t over, the man warned.

No, it isn’t, Leonard Mall. It’s just beginning, Gage replied.

How do you know who I am?

I’m Arsenal. We make it our business to know everything about everybody we’re up against.

I’m not your enemy, Leonard replied.

Do you still intend to take her into custody if given the chance?

Yes. She committed a multitude of crimes against our country.

Right, then you’re my enemy, Gage said matter of factly. Zoey, pull the keys from my pocket and get in the black Escalade in the first spot to the right. I’ll be there in a minute.

Pull the keys from his pocket? He’d be there in a minute? The man was a loon.

But he’s a loon with a plan. The instinctive, lizard part of her brain was okay with obeying a loon as long as he had a plan because it was more than she had at the moment.

Zoey ignored the impressive bulge of muscles along his torso and the way his cargo pants molded perfectly against lean hips, a tight ass, and muscled thighs. Michelangelo’s David had nothing on this guy. Yowza.

Word of advice, tell your pal Ian to back off. If he keeps coming after Zoey, we’re going to come after him. Gage jerked his head toward the door. Move, Zoey. Keys. Escalade. Now.

Ian Schmidt was her smarmy boss at the NSA, the bastard who’d kept the operation she’d blown under wraps. Hearing his name pushed her into action.

Right. She plunged her fingers into his pocket, snagged the keys, and hesitated a moment.

Zoey. Gage’s voice was more warning than anything else, if she read his tone correctly.

She exited the coffee shop and climbed into the passenger’s seat of the Escalade. She would’ve taken the driver’s seat instead, but she’d been around men like Gage enough to know he’d insist on driving his own car.

He got into the vehicle, started it up, and pulled out without a word. She waited a couple moments, but he didn’t offer any form of conversation, introduction, or anything else in the way of civilized conversation. Apparently, standing off against armed federal agents bypassed any need for niceties.

Good to know.

Thank you, she said lamely into the silence.

She’d never been very good at being around people, especially virile, handsome men like Gage Sanderson. She rambled when she got nervous, and the scary situation made her way, way more nervous than usual.

I’m Zoey, by the way, but I guess you know that already.

Yeah, I sort of got that figured out.

I, erm, Quillery said you’d take me to my place so I can get my cat. And warn Jade I fouled up our entire underground operation without even trying.

The cat’ll have to wait. He punched a button on the display panel between them. A ringing boomed through the speakers.

She secure? a woman asked.

In process, Gage answered.

Erm…by ‘wait’ do you mean an hour or two…or….

Gage turned his head and glared.

Right. So more than two. Okay, that’s a problem. In more ways than one. Time to lie her ass off. "See, I was supposed to be home hours ago, and Dobby is really, really not a patient kitty. He’s a tightly wound, emotionally challenged little guy who demands a regimented schedule."

Zoey forced the conversation about Dobby to the surface despite the running list of serious shit she had to deal with. While her cat was definitely on the list, he was probably item number twenty-seven, possibly as far down as thirty. All the rest of the things above him, though, were severely classified in Zoey’s personal security protocol system.

She’d started the slightly modified version of security clearances for her…personal cause…after she got started four years ago. Back then it’d been no more than a few extra hours a week here and there doing what she could to help clean up the cesspit of perverts on the dark, deep web, and everywhere else she could.

Hey, Zoey, you with us? The voice on the speakers dragged her attention back to the present.

No, I need to get to my house. I have a cat. Dobby. I need to get my cat. Talk about lame.

But Dobby was an excuse to get to her house, where she could contact Jade without alerting Gage or anyone else that something was up.

Talk about epically shitty timing. The Arsenal mess couldn’t have happened at a worse time. She’d just taken on a new client—the highest profile one she’d ever attempted. Sara Cherling and her newborn daughter needed an out, a fresh start from a deranged psychopath.

While Zoey didn’t typically become involved in domestic disputes until after a divorce, she did intervene in certain situations. Sara’s was…troubling. Complicated.

Terrifying.

She deserved a reboot on life.

Fresh starts were what Zoey’s entire underground organization was about.

A new life.

One where no one knew who they were, what they’d survived.

And all that was at risk now because Zoey had helped The Arsenal.

Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic.

Yeah, right. She’d passed panic hours ago, back when she’d saved that Arsenal team.

Zoey.

The firm voice on the other end of the speaker demanded her focus. I’m here.

You aren’t alone. Gage is going to help you secure your cat and whatever else you need. Then you’re coming home. To The Arsenal. You’re one of us now. You’re safe.

Zoey swallowed and took in the words, even though she knew they weren’t true.

She wasn’t Arsenal. She was a civilian so far from their caliber of operative precision it would be almost laughable if the situation weren’t so terrifying. And she was far, far from safe.

Because mere hours before Vi’s first call asking for help a couple of days ago, Zoey had taken the only daughter and grandchild of a prominent United States congressman and made them disappear.

I don’t trust her, Gage declared into the com.

Zoey Dansworth may have saved Fallon and his team, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t trouble. The woman skulked into her bathroom and shut the door. They’d been in the small, upper northside apartment for five minutes, and she’d yet to find Dobby—aka the reason they were there.

Gage glowered as something flashed in his peripheral vision. He drew his weapon and eased into the next room, a small dining room. The entire apartment was…

Clean.

Too clean.

Antiseptic, devoid of personal touches. Gage wasn’t the personal touch kind of guy. Give him a pillow and a passable sleeping surface, and he was good to go. But he had three sisters and a mom.

Women nested.

Hell, even Vi and Mary nested in their operational theater at The Arsenal compound—little knickknacks spread here and there, a few more than at first now that they’d both settled in with their men.

She saved Fallon. I’ve worked with her in the past. She’s solid, Vi said.

Gage couldn’t think of anyone he’d trust more than Vi and Mary, but that didn’t make them right. He aimed his weapon under the dining room table, where the white tablecloth moved. Something swiped at his leg.

What the ever-loving fuck?

He jumped backward and flicked the safety off his gun. A growl rumbled from beneath the table, followed by a hiss. Some rabid animal maybe? The paw had been small and gray, definitely not a cat.

What are you doing? Put that away! Zoey swatted his hand, positioned herself in front of his drawn weapon, and crouched down. It’s okay, Dobby. The mean, scary commando isn’t going to hurt you. Come on out. It’s okay. Come on.

Gage clicked the safety on his gun and listened as the woman cooed and whispered nonsensically. A hideous thing crawled from beneath the dining room table.

That’s a cat?

No way in hell. The wrinkled animal was half rat-gray and half tan, with bulging, green eyes. A feral-like rumble radiated from it as it swiped at Gage again and offered an opened-mouth hiss.

Don’t be rude, Zoey spat angrily as she curled the hairless, big-eared cat against her body and glared. Dobby is a beautiful Sphynx. He takes a while to warm up to people, though. Here, you get to know him while I pack his clothes.

"Clothes? Cats have clothes?" He stared at the strange woman as she went back toward the bedroom.

Snickering on the other end of the com made Gage growl a low warning in his throat. Don’t.

Oh, you don’t scare me, Gage Sanderson. My man growls way better than that, Vi said.

She was not wrong. Judson Jensen was one of the few men Gage wouldn’t ever want to take on in a fight. The former assassin had become a hell of an Arsenal asset, one who got a wide berth from everyone—including Gage.

Here, put Dobby’s sweater on him, and I’ll get the rest of his things.

The hairless cat growled from his new position in the crook of Gage’s arm. Zoey, aka Zero D, wandered out of the room. He followed.

Her shoulder-length hair was a bright purple with pink tips. She was a short bundle of full curves he couldn’t help but appreciate, especially since she’d changed into curve-hugging leggings with telephone booths which ran down her short legs.

He glanced down at Dobby, who watched with a wary expression. I don’t like the situation either, but we’d best man the fuck up and get on with this. You gonna let me do this the easy way, or are we going the hard route?

Dobby growled.

Fair enough.

Zoey’s voice drifted from the other room. Suspicious, he quietly made his way toward the bedroom, but couldn’t hear what she was saying.

Can you amplify what she’s saying, Vi?

The earbud he wore went silent a heartbeat, then returned, the volume louder than before. Gage didn’t know how Vi had turned the com into a listening device. He never understood half of what she and Mary did. That’s what made them the Quillery Edge.

I’m sorry. I know the timing sucks, but I’ve gotta go. I’ll be in touch when I can, but until then I need you locking everything down, just in case. I’m sure it’ll be fine, but we need to be safe. Zoey’s voice paused. Okay. Let me know if you see anything or anyone at all suspicious. Don’t try and be a badass. Bye.

Find out who she was talking to, he ordered.

Already in process, Vi said. I started vetting her through HERA before we dispatched you to retrieve her. Her phone records will be dumped soon enough.

Good.

While a part of Gage was more than willing to eat a bullet because she’d saved Fallon and his team, he wasn’t fully ready to trust her. Not yet.

He’d almost died because of blind trust once before.

He wouldn’t ever let it happen again. The moment she entered the living room, he crowded into her personal space until she backed up against the wall. The flash of fear in her gaze gave him a second’s hesitation, but this needed to be done.

The Arsenal was good people. They didn’t deserve to get mired in whatever shit Zoey Danson was hiding. She’d done Fallon and his team a solid, which meant Gage and everyone else would have her back.

You’re hiding something, he said.

Step back.

Whatever you’re hiding had better not surface and affect The Arsenal. If it does, you and I are gonna have problems. Gage stepped back and handed over the sweater-clad cat. The sooner they got back to The Arsenal, the