John (Guardian Defenders #3) - Kris Michaels Page 0,2

be closed and wouldn’t open until he was sequestered inside a blacked-out SUV. No one would know he was in town. Which kept him alive. He glanced back at Dancer.

“Don’t worry. I’ll spoil her while you’re gone,” Frank chuckled when the horse stuck its head out of the stall and nudged his shoulder. “Although, she’s going to miss you.”

John turned and gave his horse one more pat on the neck. “I’ll be back, girl.” He zipped up his coat and grabbed his cap. Frank nodded toward the door. “My truck’s outside. Take it and leave it at the airstrip. I’ll have someone bring it back to this side of the ranch.”

John nodded. “Thank you. For everything.”

Frank grunted. “This ain’t goodbye, son. Get your ass in gear.”

John nodded and started walking to the door and then he jogged. Coordinates. Of what? Her killer? Something else? Only time would tell. Time and access. Thanks to Guardian, he had both.

His wool slacks, open-collar blue linen shirt, cashmere coat, and handmade Italian leather shoes comprised a uniform from years past. He’d worn camouflage for the USA for eight years, but two four-year stints in the Middle East and two purple hearts made getting out and getting on with his life an easy choice when Lori handed him an opportunity he couldn’t resist.

He waited for the security team at Guardian Headquarters to process him through the many catchments and failsafes. No one except those thoroughly vetted by Guardian gained entrance to the facility. There was no public entrance, no pretense or apologies. Guardian’s hierarchy and nerve centers were a fortress that couldn’t be infiltrated.

A soft chime sounded, and the last door lock clicked open. “Mr. Smith, I’m Sonya. I was sent to escort you to CCS. Archangel and Alpha are waiting for you.” A tiny woman in sky-high heels smiled at him and spun on the toe of one of those shoes, setting out at a quick clip. She tossed a quick, “Did you have a good trip?” over her shoulder as she deftly navigated the passages.

John allowed a distracted smile and out of pure ingrained politesse, he assumed words came out of his mouth. What he’d said? He’d never be able to recall. The fact that he was being escorted to Archangel and Alpha the second he entered the facility screamed urgency.

Had they found Lori’s killers? Had they determined who’d ordered her death—and his? If they’d located the bastards, he’d be the one to take them out. He’d be the one to watch the life fade from them. By military training he was a sniper; his father and sister had taught him another talent. One the CIA had latched onto and exploited.

He followed the woman through the halls without further conversation. Sonya stopped at a door and swiped her ID card and then leaned forward and lifted on her toes for a retinal scan. The door opened and he held it for her as she passed through. He glanced at the corridor they were heading down. He hadn’t been here before. There were chairs and benches to the left. To the right were what he assumed were operational theaters. He looked in the one door that remained open. Stadium seating, massive screens, and computer consoles equaled mission control centers in his mind. Three of the theaters had red warning lights illuminated outside, which he assumed meant there were active operations happening. Given what he knew about the size, structure, and scope of Guardian, it was probably a slow day.

Sonya stopped at a vault door, swiped her ID, and entered a code. A light on the camera activated above the door and the lens shifted, almost silently. A disembodied voice from the speaker commanded, “Stand by.”

Sonya smiled up at him and then motioned to the side of the hall where she was standing. “You might want to stand over here.”

John stepped across the hall a split second before the vault door opened and literally thirty people exited the confines. They were laughing and joking. Several had what appeared to be their lunch with them. Most acknowledged Sonya with a wave, nod, or a quiet ‘hey.’ When the flood of people waned, Sonya stepped into the room and he followed her. She turned and pointed up a steep stairway that led to at least ten levels of computer desks.

“The door at the top of the stairs. Sorry, but until they install an elevator, I’m only making that trek in an emergency. Go straight up, you can’t