by Krista Wolf
“You know where Briggs is!” Dakota shouted. He raised a fist overhead, threateningly. “Did you have something to do with—”
I grabbed his arm and tried pulling it back. I might’ve just as well been wrestling with the Terminator.
“Dakota stop!”
“TELL ME!” my fiancé screamed. “Tell me NOW or—”
All of a sudden he paused, tilting his head curiously at what he saw. Lying in the sand beneath him… Markus Ladrone was actually laughing.
“Good to see you too, Bradley.”
Thirty-Four
SAMMARA
It took a minute for me to calm Dakota down. And another minute to pick Markus up, and help him brush himself off.
“What exactly do you know?” Dakota asked again, trying to control his anger.
“Much more than you,” said Markus. “Mainly because I listen before I act.”
“Are you saying—”
“STOP!” I stepped between them, pushing each of them back with a hand to the chest. “ENOUGH already.”
I was accustomed to stuff like this. Living with four very alpha men, each always thinking they’re right all the time? I’d broken up a lot of brotherly arguments.
“He was just about to say he’ll help us,” I told Dakota. My eyes pleaded with him before turning back to Markus. “Right?”
Markus spat and wiped more sand from his mouth. “Why would I help you?” he asked again. “The last time I saw you, you told me I no longer exist.”
“Kyle said that yes,” I confirmed. “But he’s not here right now. And he’s not the one coming to you for help. I am.”
“You and this asshole who can’t even land a—”
“Please! Markus! Do you want back into Di Spatia or not?”
He laughed out loud. So did Dakota.
“Back in?” the ex-mercenary sneered. “Back in? I want my whole company back! The one Jason Briggs — and all the rest of you — stole from me.”
“As if any of your men would ever work with you again,” Dakota snarled. “After what you did.”
In my mind’s eye, I could see the whole thing coming to blows. Dakota would pummel Markus. Then his men would show up with guns. They’d see him lying in the sand, battered, bloodied…
“Please,” I begged. “The both of you. Listen to me now, just for a minute. After that you can tear each other’s heads off for all I care.”
Dakota’s chest heaved, but he went silent. They both did.
“You wronged people,” I said, nodding to Markus. “But first someone wronged you. You were about to tell me who those people were. And you were about to connect them to the same people responsible for Jason’s disappearance, and for Kyle and Ryan. Am I right?”
The ex-mercenary took a break from staring daggers at Dakota just long enough to look back at me. He nodded.
“And you,” I said to Dakota, “you need this man’s help. You need to hear him out. You need to realize he might be the only person who can possibly aid us.” I raised my voice sternly to maintain control. “This isn’t about you Dakota, or what you want. It’s about Kyle, and Ryan, and Jason. It’s about keeping them all safe.”
His breathing slowed. His gaze dropped.
I had him.
“Now enough of this bullshit macho posturing. You want to vindicate yourself Marcus? Before everyone and the eyes of Di Spatia?” I whirled on him pointedly. “Then tell us what you know.”
The tension was broken. Both men’s shoulders slumped.
Thank God!
“Fine,” Markus said. “I’ll tell you everything, but we should do it on the road. If things went down the way I think they did, there’s not a lot of time.”
Dakota nodded quickly. “Finally something we agree on.”
The old mercenary smirked rather than drop some snide reply. “I need to gather a few things,” he said finally. “Get back to your aircraft and have it ready. I’ll meet you both there in an hour.”
I let out a long, relieved sigh as he pushed past us. His back was still covered with sand as he began the long climb back toward his gated villa.
“Oh and by the way,” he called over his shoulder. “I’m flying.”
Thirty-Five
SAMMARA
The ride back was tense and sullen, both men unwilling to concede control. Somehow I’d talked Dakota into giving up the pilot’s side of the aircraft. He still sat in the co-pilots seat however, making small rudder adjustments with his feet and generally driving Markus crazy.
“So the person you need to know about is a man by the name of Goddard,” Markus said over the headset. “Ring a bell?”
“Colonel Goddard?” Dakota chimed in.
“That’s the one.”
I watched from the back seat as Dakota’s face registered genuine confusion. “What about him?”
“Goddard’s the reason I got into such a mess,” said Marcus. “It started with surplus, and various other arms that were being retired in lieu of fresh equipment. Outdated ordinance. Rifles marked to be machined out and destroyed. It was all going into the garbage,” he shrugged. “Good stuff. Still worth something, as far as I was concerned. And since I was starting my own company, I went looking for buyers.”
Dakota opened his mouth, probably to say something abrasive. I shot him a look that told him to keep quiet.
“Goddard put me in touch with some people,” Markus went on. “A little shady, but their money was good. They bought what I had, what I’d been tasked to destroy. And then they wanted more.”
I saw Dakota’s hand go to the throttle. He nudged it forward, giving us a little more juice. Just as quickly however, Markus idled back to cruising speed.
“Anyway, I began skimming. A little here, a little there. I was in charge of requisitions, so I ordered all new stuff, even when I didn’t need it. I cut the old stuff loose, dropping it all on this guy Goddard set me up with.”
He looked back at me. For some reason, he wanted to make eye contact before continuing.
“I had no idea they were with the insurgents,” he said pointedly. “I swear I didn’t. Goddard insisted it all keep coming, though. He told me I was operating in secret. Told me I was doing the country a service.” Markus shook his head. “I was an idiot,” he admitted. “A total asshole. By then I was too wrapped up, too involved in the whole thing to see the writing on the wall. By the time I finally did though, it was nearly too late.”
Dakota was seething. I needed to keep him at bay.
“So what did you do?” I asked.
“I fought back,” said Markus. “The first time I protested, the threats began. But I ignored them. I tried stopping cold, getting the hell out. But by then everything was all wrapped up and enmeshed with Di Spatia... it was all so fucking messy.”
Either it was a legitimate story, or Markus was a good actor. I wasn’t sure about Dakota, but I was leaning more toward the former.
“I was actually making some headway… but then Briggs got involved,” Markus finished. “He blew the whole damned thing up, just as I almost had it settled.”
“So you had no idea where any of these weapons were going?” barked Dakota.
“No.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me, right?”
“I told you, I swear I didn’t know!” exclaimed Markus. “If I had…”
“You’d have stopped?” I asked skeptically.
“In a heartbeat.”
Dakota was practically twisting in his seat. Things were getting tense again, so I changed direction.
“What does any of this have to do with Jason?” I asked. “Or what happened to him?”
“Think about it,” said Markus. “Briggs screwed the whole thing up. When I went away, so did Goddard’s connection. Most of Di Spatia didn’t have a clue what I was doing, only that certain ordinance was changing hands. And with me gone…”
“Goddard couldn’t continue.”
“Exactly.”
I blinked. It was
all starting to make sense.
“Di Spatia’s almost independent now,” said Dakota. “I can’t imagine they’d be of much help to Goddard if they’re not renewing any government contracts.”
“That’s just it,” said Markus. “Goddard wants those contracts renewed. He must have someone else within the company who’s dealing with him now. Someone new, or maybe someone who flipped. Someone—”
“Someone who betrayed Briggs,” Dakota growled.
Conversation died as the airport came into view. Dakota had given over the controls completely now. He was staring out the window, looking like he was in deep thought… or lost.
I reached out and placed my hand on his shoulder. He didn’t even react.
“Look,” said Markus. “I’ve still got some people left in high places. And I’m sure I’ve got enough favors left… favors I could call in to help make this right.”
Dakota didn’t move, but he did raise an eyebrow. “You’re willing to do that?”
“Yeah.”
I sat up straight. For the first time in a long while, I felt a glimmer of hope.
“So what’s the next step?”
The engines changed in pitch as Markus dropped altitude. In a wide, sweeping turn he brought the seaplane around on its base leg.
“Anbar.”
Thirty-Six
SAMMARA
Slipping into a city of six million people wasn’t that difficult. Baghdad was way more beautiful than I ever imagined, all gold and white spires with the lazy blue snake of the Tigris running through its center.
Getting to Anbar though… that was a lot tougher. Especially with Markus.
For every important contact the ex-mercenary knew, there were three others still looking for him. Some of them were even US military, and a good portion of those were tied up indirectly with Colonel Goddard.
Still, Dakota managed it all somehow. It took three days of flying, driving, laying low and waiting for the right people. But eventually we’d been dropped off at a small installation — an ex-Army camp in fact — right on the western edge of Anbar province.
The place had once been the old stomping grounds for the US military, back in the days of Desert Storm. More recently it had been outfitted to fight remnants of an insurgent group. One left over from Al Qaim, an embattled city on the edge of the Syrian border.
None of this meant anything to me of course, other than I was here. I wasn’t back at the office, picking through crown mouldings. Sitting on the couch at home with a dog in my lap, wondering if I’d ever see any of the guys again.
No, not this time. This time I’d made it all the way into the thick of things — camping right alongside Di Spatia and the rest of Jason’s mercenary company. I was only a few dozen miles from the place I’d imagined painfully in my mind’s eye…
The place Kyle and Ryan had disappeared.
The blades of the transport chopper were still turning as Dakota led me through a nexus of beige tents and makeshift clay structures. Men with sand-colored rifles nodded to him as we passed. Some even saluted.
All of them stared daggers however, at Markus Ladrone.
“Wait here,” Dakota told me, setting me against a worn, wooden post. “I need to talk to whoever’s in command.”
He disappeared before I could protest, down another alley of flapping tents, dragging Markus in tow. I was left alone, raising one hand to shield my eyes from the morning sun. I realized the heat wasn’t even close to peaking yet, and I was already sweating.
“Ma’am?”
I looked up and there he was — one of Di Spatia’s soldiers that I somehow recognized. He was maybe thirty, with dark, short-cropped hair and bushy eyebrows.
I squinted at him hard. “I know you…”
He smiled and nodded, and suddenly I knew. He was one of the men Jason had employed nearly four years ago, back on the grounds of our house. An ex-special forces mercenary — to help guard me from being taken by Markus.
“Come with me?”
I smiled but shook my head. “No. I—I’m supposed to wait here.”
“You could if you want to,” he said. “But you’ll be better off inside, out of the sun. Maybe with something cool to drink.”
I wiped at a bead of sweat threatening to escape my forehead.
“That’s okay,” I said. “I appreciate the offer but—”
“Besides,” the soldier added. He was still smiling innocently. “There’s someone here you’ll want to see.”
He motioned me toward a tent flap only a few steps away. Warily, I moved in that direction. I was supposed to stay put. I was supposed to wait for Dakota.
And then I saw inside… and my heart soared.
“KYLE!”
I ran over to him so fast I almost tripped! He put his hands up defensively, wincing in anticipation of the impact as he lay in some tiny, uncomfortable-looking cot. I could see his right leg was splinted and raised. Wrapped all the way from below the knee up to his thigh.
“SAMMARA?”
His face was a mask of elation and confusion. Like someone reaching out to touch an obvious mirage and suddenly finding it to be real.
“What the—”
I kissed the rest of his sentence away, then kissed his face all over. I continued showering him with kisses, even as he recoiled in pain.
“W—What happened to you?”
I finally looked down. Half his face was covered in dozens of tiny lacerations! They were healing nicely though. And he had good color. Good everything.
“Shrapnel,” Kyle explained, as if it were nothing. He was talking quickly. “Leg’s fine. No broken bones. Shell fragments, that’s all. They got most of it out.” He took a fast, deep breath. “And Sammara! How the HELL did you GET here?”
“Dakota.”
His face twisted into a scowl. “Dakota? He brought you here!” He sat up so quickly, I thought he might jump off the tiny cot. “Where is he? I’m going to break his neck!”
“No, no, it’s not like that,” I said. “It’s… it’s…”
“What she’s trying to say is it’s complicated.”
We both whirled in unison, and there was Markus Ladrone. He stood casually against one of the tent’s wooden support beams, trimming his nails by biting them.
Kyle grabbed for his pistol, on a nearby table. I parried his arm away.
“STOP!”
We both watched as the pistol went skidding to the floor. Markus glanced down at it impassively. The look in Kyle’s eyes was murderous.
“Sammara, what in the fuck is going—”
“Relax,” Markus interrupted in an intentionally-infuriating tone. “Maybe sit back and listen for once, Murphy,” he added. “And let your girl speak…”
Thirty-Seven
KYLE
She told me everything. Everything from the moment I’d left until Dakota returned, their trip to Iowa, the wild idea of enlisting the help of Markus Ladrone — of all people — to come here and find us.
It was wonderful, seeing her in the flesh. Holding her in my arms, feeling the softness of her lips, pressing themselves against my skin.
But Markus stood there on the other side of the tent, watching us. Arms folded. Smirking at us as we talked…
And yet something had changed. There was a malevolence in him before; a look of disdain and contempt back when we first had trouble with him. All that seemed to be gone now. Markus seemed more casual, more focused on other immediate goals. We’d wrested his beloved mercenary company Di Spatia out of his hands, blackmailing him with his own misdeeds in order to drive him away.
And yet, here he was, standing casually in my tent helping us. Of all the possible scenarios, this wasn’t one I would’ve expected.
“Exile looks good on you, Markus.”
I had to admit it did. He’d dropped weight, and his body had bounced back quite a bit. Most of the worry lines were gone from his face. His eyes had life in them again, rather than the dull hatred he’d exh
ibited before.
“Sorry Murphy, wish I could say the same,” he quipped. “You look like regurgitated shit.”
I sat up. It hurt like a motherfucker but I did it anyway.
“Kyle…”
Sammara was pulling on my hand. She wanted to ask me something, but I kept waving her away.
“Tell me why you’re here,” I asked Markus.
“I told you already. I’m here to help.”
“Why?”
The ex-mercenary produced a toothpick from one of his pockets. He shrugged as he began chewing it. “Why do you think?”
“Money.”
He shook his head. “Nope. Not a dime.”
I glanced at Sammara. She was looking back at me pleadingly. “Kyle, I need to know—”
“The leverage,” I said. “You want the files back. Everything we have on you. You want it destroyed, erased, so you can—”
“As if there aren’t already a hundred copies,” Markus laughed. He moved the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. “Nope, it’s not the leverage.”
Sammara was squeezing my hand. Sitting close enough against me that I could smell her. She smelled like heaven…
Then it came to me.
“It’s the company, isn’t it. She promised you Di Spatia.”
Markus’s grin went from ear to ear. It was brighter than ever before. I could see that somewhere along the line, his two missing teeth had been replaced.
“She lied to you,” I said simply. “She can’t do that.”
“She can and she has,” Markus said. “I came a long way for this, Murphy. Talked to a lot of people. Right now Bradley is double-checking the intel I gave him. Formulating some sort of a rescue plan, while we sit here and argue whether or not—”
“Dakota? Where is he now?”
“Like I said, he’s with people. Some of mine, some of yours. Hell, some that belong to both of us, although you and Briggs might not even know it.”