by Ronie Kendig
Phone to her forehead, she struggled. She did not want to break his trust. He had given it so freely in one respect. Withheld it so violently in another.
What is wrong with you? You are Viorica! The Wild Rose . . . of a dead man.
Hristoff might be dead, but she was not.
She lowered the phone to dial.
Before she could, it rang. An unfamiliar number appeared on the screen. Drawing in a breath, she disregarded her better judgment and hit TALK. “Hello?”
“Hello. Is this Iskra?” a female voice asked.
“Who is this?” she asked. How had she been found? Was she in danger? Was Taissia? She eyed the living room where the little head rested against the sofa.
“I’m Danielle Metcalfe, Leif’s sister-in-law.”
CHAPTER 6
FORT LEE, VIRGINIA
“Just like the military,” Cell muttered. “Hurry up and wait.”
Metal back digging into his spine, Leif shifted on his chair. “Designed to make us sweat.”
“But we’re not in trouble,” Cell noted.
“Then why are you in my office?” Major Acton barked as he stalked into the confined space.
The four of them came to their feet, and Leif met the officer’s gaze. “Major, thank you for seeing us. It’s our understanding you were notified by Deputy Director Iliescu that we were coming.”
“I was,” Acton said, setting a file on his desk, “but I want to hear it from you.”
Baddar closed the door and gave one of his infectious smiles, which seemed to unnerve the major.
Leif inclined his head. “We’re here to talk to one of the soldiers under your command.”
“Why? What’s he done?”
“Besides going AWOL?” Leif knew the major wasn’t happy. “Look, I get it—not cool that a CIA-DIA-DOD unit comes looking for answers on your territory, but your uniform”—he motioned to the major’s ACUs—“suggests your priority is the safekeeping of this country and its citizens.”
“I don’t need a lecture, Mr. Metcalfe.”
“None intended, sir,” Leif said, backing off a little. “However, our purpose here isn’t one we’re authorized to discuss. Now, we can waste time and jeopardize progress, or you can help us out.” Noting the major’s expression hadn’t budged, he pressed on. “Or if you refuse, I will report back to Admiral Braun your unwillingness to cooperate.”
“Braun.” The major stiffened. “Alene Braun?” It seemed his brain was finally firing on all cylinders as a look overtook his face that asked, One of the joint chiefs?
Leif nodded.
Acton huffed and dropped into the chair behind his desk. “I know little about Gilliam. He was reassigned from Colorado last year. Exemplary record. Loyal patriot by all standards. Multiple commendations. The best.” He nudged a manila folder. “It’s all in there, including statements from his former CO.”
Though Leif eyed the file, he didn’t retrieve it. “When was he last seen?”
“His unit had been back about seven months. They redeployed two days ago. That’s when I was made aware he hadn’t reported in since the tenth.”
Leif started. “A week.”
Acton nodded.
Carsen had a week’s head start.
“You said his team just deployed?” Devine asked and waited for a nod. “Is there anyone still stateside who knew him and would talk to us?”
“About what?”
“To see if anyone knows where he went, what he was thinking or saying before he went AWOL,” Leif said.
Wariness parked at the corners of the major’s gray eyes. “Not to my knowledge but like I said—he hasn’t been here long, and my job is to make sure this base runs smoothly, not babysit personnel. There’s no way I can be intimately knowledgeable about all three-thousand-plus on this base and their personal lives.”
A little defensive?
“Where was he living?” Devine asked.
“Record says a townhome off base.” Acton flipped open the file and fingered a line on the second page. “Missing Persons was filed by a Sienna Gilliam. Appears to be his sister.”
Cell shifted. “Did she provide an address?”
“Just a phone number, and it’s not local,” Acton said. “But his residence is listed on his records. MPs went out there after his commander reported him AWOL. Nobody home. Not sure what good it will do you, but I suspect you’re going to drive out there.”
Leif smirked. “Good guess.” He took the file. Questioning Acton further would get them nowhere. “Thanks for your time, Major.”
Back in their rented SUV, Leif stared out the windshield.
“You okay?” Devine asked from beside him in the front passenger seat.
“I’d really like to talk to some of his guys. Get a bead on what his state of mind was before he went AWOL.” Leif pulled into traffic, allowing GPS to guide them to the residence, sorting through what they’d gleaned from the major. After a while, he eyed Cell in the back. “What was with asking him about an address? We had that.”
“Dunno. Had this sense about the major. Felt . . . off.” Cell looked out the side window. “Wanted to see if he withheld the address or something.”
“Testing him?” Devine challenged. “Have we seriously gone that low with this?”
“No, they have,” Cell countered. “Haven’t you watched any spy movies?”
Devine sniffed, then focused on Leif. “So,” she said quietly, “did you fix that thing we talked about?”
Leif kept his gaze on the road, irritated that she had the gall to push him on this. “Did you fix that thing with Lawe?”
She dropped her gaze, then pushed it out the window.
Thought so.
“What thing?” Cell asked. “Is this about Iskra?”
Leif again eyed him in the rearview mirror. “You like living?”
Cell bobbed his head. “It’s about Iskra.”
Thankfully the GPS interrupted and declared their destination was on the right. Leif eased to the curb and parked, staring at the townhome. Yard was kept up, but there were several papers lying around.
“Mailbox is full,” Devine noted.
Leif climbed out and took in the quiet of the cookie-cutter neighborhood. Nearly all one-story homes. Probably the community’s answer to housing for the ever-expanding base. A small step up from the barracks. Grunts didn’t need more than a pillow and a flat surface to sleep on, but it was good for morale to get off base and decompress. Feel normal, or as close to normal as possible, for a few hours.
Gathering newspapers that littered the sidewalk as he made his way to the door, Leif stayed eyes out. The papers gave him an excuse to scout the side of the house, where he dumped the papers in a bin. Then he met the others on the small front porch and rang the bell. No answer, as expected.
“Cover me,” Leif said, drawing out a pick set.
Cell sucked in a breath. “We are not seriously breaking in—”
“Iliescu said to do what we had to.”
“Excuse me,” a woman called from behind. “Can I help you?”
Pocketing the pick, Leif turned, the others already facing the woman.
“We’re looking for Carsen Gilliam,” Cell said. “Do you know him?”
But Devine’s glower warned Leif that this was Sienna Gilliam. Either she wasn’t still in the military, or she’d shed her ACUs for the day. Platinum blond, a little plastic injected around her eyes and lips, Sienna seemed to be trying to reclaim her good looks.
“And you are?” she asked.
“Leif Metcalfe,” he said, stepping forward. “I worked with Carsen in A-stan.”
She hesitated. “You don’t look Army.”
“Good.” He smirked. “I’m Navy.” Maybe he should try something. “Things . . . I needed a break.” He shrugged. “Carsen told me to look him up if I was ever out this way. Just got reassigned.”
“Norfolk?”
Leif didn’t answer. Diversion was better. “Any idea w
hen he might be back?” He motioned to the others. “We aren’t here for long.”
Sienna lifted her chin toward the porch. “If you’ll let me get to the door, we can talk inside.” She took a step forward. When her gaze hit Devine, she faltered. “Peyton.”
Devine played it cool, angling her head. “Do I . . . ?”
“Sienna. Sienna Gilliam, we—”
Gasping, Peyton widened her eyes. “Oh my gosh!” She laughed. “I had—I didn’t recognize you.” She frowned. “It’s the blond hair that threw me.” That wasn’t truth; it was a rub.
Sienna went crimson as she aimed a key at the door and unlocked it. “I’m trying something new.”
“So you live here with Carsen?” Devine asked.
“No.”
“You have a key,” Devine pointed out.
“I helped him move in.” Sienna shrugged. “I finally had a chance to come here since the base notified us he was missing.”
Leif narrowed his eyes. The major had said Sienna filed the missing person’s report. So which way was it?
She shuddered. “I can’t believe he’s MIA.” Blowing out a breath, she entered the house. Hit the lights. Then moved down the hall.
“MIA?” Leif asked, recalling that they weren’t supposed to know his status and nodding Cell ahead of him. They needed to look around, so he’d have to fudge his story somehow.
“Technically, I guess it’s AWOL.” Sienna tossed her keys on the counter and shrugged. “Failed to report in for duty one morning.” She brushed her hair back, her gaze veering toward Devine but never quite making it. Then she flipped another switch, opened the fridge door, and retrieved a bottled water.
“That’s weird for Carsen,” Leif said, frowning as he took in the small home. Not more than 1600 square feet, if that. Spartan furnishings. A sunken sofa, large-screen TV, and gaming console—the saving grace of anyone returning from deployment who didn’t want to hit the bottle or pills—and a three-legged coffee table propped up with pizza boxes.
Sienna shook her head. “Mind where you step. Carsen never cared about housekeeping, just wanted his own space. It’s a pigsty.”
“Was he okay?” Leif ventured. “I mean, the guy I worked with in the field was all-in, sold-out to the mission. For him to do this . . .”
Hands in his pockets, Cell walked the perimeter of the living room, eyeing the bedroom and bathroom.
“Things changed for him about eight months ago,” Sienna said, hugging herself. “He’s my twin”—her gaze diverted to Devine and her lip curled—“and we were always close. Until then. That’s when he became constantly angry and argumentative. Grew combative . . . aggressive.” Wincing, she drew in a long breath and let it out. “I’ve never seen him like that.”
“Crap happens,” Leif said, knowing the agitated feeling that never really left your veins.
She skated him an annoyed glance. “I told him to get help, but Carsen insisted he was fine. Said he’d handle it.” She frowned at Cell checking out the place. “You looking for something?”
Cell shrugged. “My lease is up in three months. Thinking about getting a new place.”
While Sienna was distracted, Leif peeked into the bedroom, too, and spied a mattress thrown against the floor with a pillow and blanket. A box for a nightstand. Charging cable. The other bedroom was empty. It felt like he was missing something. It was here. But . . . what?
Baddar hovered close, his back to the others. His expression echoed the buzzing in Leif’s mind. He shifted and eyed Leif. Something ominous flecked in the commando’s eyes.
“Know how much he was paying?” Cell asked.
Sienna bunched her shoulders. “No idea.”
“What?” Leif whispered to Baddar as he shifted around him, careful to keep his back to the women.
“It is like this home I go into with Muj. I—”
“Why are you even here?” Sienna hissed at Peyton, no doubt thinking nobody else could hear her. “Trying to destroy someone else’s career?”
Leif glanced over his shoulder at the two women.
Devine’s brow crashed into her green eyes as Sienna got in her face. “I never ruined anyone’s career.”
“Tell that to—”
“I’m sorry your brother is missing,” Devine said firmly. Loudly. “I’m sure you’re doing everything in your power to locate him and bring him home safely.”
Sienna went crimson. “I do not need your insinuations or help!”
“Oh, sorry.” Devine’s soft features had hardened. Eyes dark, lips stretched tight, she was about to put some combat training to use. “I thought you might actually want to find Carsen. I didn’t realize this was about you.”
Time to interdict.
“Thanks for your time,” Leif said, striding up to them. “Appreciate you talking to us. We should get going.” He nudged Devine toward Baddar, who followed her to the front door with Cell poorly concealing a snigger as he ducked outside.
Leif started after them but felt a touch on his arm.
“Hey. Thanks for your help with that,” Sienna said, her words snarled.
Somehow, he knew he hated this woman. “Sure.”
“Do you think we could trade numbers in case I find something—or my brother?” It sounded legit, but her eyes told him it was more. And that more wasn’t flirting.
“I already have your number,” Devine called from the porch.
***
She’d been raised by a good Southern family. Mama grew up on sweet tea and sweet words. Taught Peyton to be loyal to God, family, and country. Taught her to give others the benefit of the doubt and turn the other cheek. But she’d turned so many cheeks with Sienna Gilliam during their year as CST members that she’d vowed never to do it again. She growled as she slapped herself into the seat and buckled up.
Leif smirked at her. “Never seen you get lit like that.” He pulled the car away from the curb and headed back to the base.
“She is the one person on earth who can do it just by breathing the same air.” Peyton gave a shrill growl this time. “I hate that woman. I hope we can find Carsen without ever having to deal with her again.”
“There a history we need to know about?”
“Yeah, that was some serious venom you two were spewing at each other,” Cell said. “What’d she do to you?”
Peyton scoffed. “What didn’t she do? She was so jealous and resentful of me because of my NFL cheerleading career. More than once, she sabotaged my CST efforts with locals, which affected my job performance and promotion, not to mention putting our team at risk.”
“What was she jealous of?” Leif asked.
Jaw dropped and eyebrows raised, Peyton gaped at him.
“What? I didn’t—”
“Dude, you screwed up,” Cell said with a laugh. “You just said there was nothing to be jealous about.”
“No,” Leif said slowly and carefully. “No, I didn’t. I asked—”
“Even I know not to say such a thing.” Baddar laughed from the back seat.
She had to appreciate the way even the big guy stood up for her.
“Not helping,” Leif warned Baddar, but his blue eyes came back to her. “You’re a killer sniper and a beautiful asset, but I meant what ate Gilliam’s lunch?”
“Everything!” she snapped, hating the way even one encounter with Sienna had her defensive and reactive again. “She acted like my entire career and life were designed to compete with her. I was an NFL cheerleader, she was a college cheerleader. I made CST before her, got assigned to a spec ops unit before her, dated someone I shouldn’t have—then found out she’d been crushing on him. It was like”—Devine touched her temples—“I couldn’t walk into a room without somehow ticking her off.”
“So, petty jealousy?” Leif scoffed. “Seriously?”
“When she affected my promotions, I started training to get out of CST and away from her.”
“Sorry,” Cell said, “but that was a whole lotta ugly back there f
or middle-school jealousies.”
Peyton sighed and slumped against the seat. “I know.” She squeezed her fists until her arms shook. “She brought out the worst in me. I wasn’t at my best around her. Except with sniping.” She grinned. “She couldn’t hit the fat side of an elephant at fifty yards.”
Leif snorted a laugh.
“It’s true!”
“But you seem happy about it.”
That guilt Mama talked about was thick as country gravy. “I am—was. My skills behind the scope got me away from her.” There was definitely more to it, but they didn’t need to know what. They had a mission that had nothing to do with Sienna.
“Did you notice anything off about her, her story, or anything connected to her brother?” Leif asked. “Something bugged me in there, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.”
“That’s because you are the wrong expert,” Cell said, leaning forward in his seat. “Carsen didn’t have much, but he did have some serious hardware and internet.”
“For gaming?”
“Yeah, maybe, but where’s his system?”
“Or his phone—charger in the bedroom but no phone.” He met Cell’s gaze again. “Did one come up when you were running his profile?”
“Not that I recall, but I’ll get on that back at the bunker.”
“One thing’s bugging me,” Peyton said, her thoughts and emotions whirling.
“Just one?”
She glowered at Leif. “Sienna was comfortable in that house. It wasn’t her first time.”
Easing forward, Baddar inclined his head. “She went into the house like it was her own. She knew where the lights were, that the fridge had water bottles.”
“Yet she said she was just finally making it there.” Peyton bristled.
“So . . .” Leif leaned on the center console, rubbing his jaw. “Sienna Gilliam is lying.”
“But why?” Cell asked. “This is her brother—shouldn’t she be worried?”