Code Name: Ghost - Sawyer Bennett Page 0,4
that, my moment is over.
Leaning over, I kiss Avery on the forehead, tug on the straps to make sure she’s buckled in tight and repeat my mantra.
“You can do this, Anna.”
♦
Bypassing the second floor where my office is, I move up to the communal kitchen on the fourth. That’s where the best coffee is, and there are usually pastries someone brings in.
I’ve been working at Jameson Force Security for only a few months. This was Jimmy’s gig originally, and I was just the wife. His former experience as an Army ranger made him a prime candidate as one of their mission specialists for the private contracting work they were hired for. He was killed on a job the company was hired for by our own government—to go into Syria and rescue some aid workers who were taken hostage.
My role is far less glamorous, but one I’m cut out for. I was in administrative services during my enlistment with the Army, which translated well into becoming the owner’s secretary. Kynan McGrath and his wife Joslyn were so supportive after Jimmy died. They were constantly reaching out to me, checking on me, and making assurances they would help to take care of my daughter and me forever.
That’s not something I actually wanted, but Kynan didn’t hesitate to agree when I asked for a job. I needed something that made me feel worthy. Strangely, going to work for the company in whose service my husband was killed was exactly what I needed.
Jameson is an interesting company. It was started in Vegas by Kynan’s best friend, Jerico Jameson. He sold out to Kynan a few years back. Kynan moved the headquarters to Pittsburgh, wanting to be on the East Coast and closer to his government contacts in D.C.
The company handles a wide variety of security services. We have crack teams that can do something as simple as in-home installations of high-level alarm systems to mission groups that covertly go into hostile countries to rescue people. We do a surprising amount of that kind of work because our government’s metaphorical hands are often tied as to where they can send our troops. In those instances when they need something done—and it has to be black-ops and off the books—they will hire a private security firm. It’s with a moderate amount of pride they most often turn to Jameson.
My mom doesn’t understand how I can work for the company that got Jimmy killed. I’ve tried to explain it to her, but she’ll never get it. Jimmy wasn’t able to complete his mission. He gave up his life for something extremely important—saving innocents. If there is any way I can help this company achieve their directives, I feel like I’m helping Jimmy accomplish his.
Moreover, Jimmy wasn’t the only one who was lost. His teammate, Sal Mezzina, was also killed. Perhaps even worse, their other teammate, Malik Fournier, was captured and held as a prisoner for months.
Malik has been rescued, though—just over two weeks ago—and I’m not sure I can explain what a burden that knowledge has lifted from my shoulders.
For some reason, I became heavily invested in the search for Malik. For months, Jameson put forth hundreds of thousands of dollars into covert trips into Syria. We paid off informants, went against our government’s express wishes to stay out of any rescue attempts, and scoured the country for him. It was only after Kynan offered a million-dollar reward for credible information as to Malik’s whereabouts—dead or alive—that we got solid evidence of his imprisonment.
Kynan made the bold decision to send our own team in, eschewing help—or some might say hindrance—from our government, which has to play by certain rules—and rescued Malik from his captors.
The news made me happier than I can remember being in a long time. I truly felt Jimmy and Sal had guiding hands in our team successfully bringing Malik home.
Malik’s been in Montreal for the last two weeks, recuperating at his family’s home. He enjoys dual citizenship between the United States and Canada with his mother being an American and his father a French-Canadian. I expect anyone in his position would want to be home for a while after what he’s endured. Kynan says he’ll be coming back to work soon, and I can’t wait to lay eyes on him. I need to assure myself that miracles can occur, and perhaps Jimmy’s death wasn’t all in vain.
True to my expectations, there’s a box of donuts on the counter of the large kitchen that bleeds