Deadly Aim (Bad Karma Special Ops Book 2)

by Tracy Brody

  “Want some eggs?”

  “That’d be great.” Was she checking out his arms now, or was that his hopeful imagination?

  “How do you like them?”

  “Over easy, if it’s not too much trouble. I’m going to give your car a once-over. I need your keys.” He followed her into the kitchen, waiting while she dug them out of her purse. “Do you keep it locked?”

  “Always.”

  “Keep that up.”

  Outside, he checked the wheel wells first. Finding nothing, he dropped to the ground and lay on his back, wiggling his way underneath. Starting at the back bumper, he used his tactical flashlight to examine the undercarriage for signs of a GPS tracker, then checked the interior and under the hood. Once he was satisfied, he closed the hood and locked the car before stepping back into the kitchen to the sound of meat sizzling.

  “Car’s clean.” He moved to the sink to wash the dirt and grease from his hands.

  “That’s a relief.”

  “You still need to be careful. Check your car, change up routes, park in well-lit areas.”

  “I—”

  “I know you know this.” He guessed her response based on the defensive angle of her head. “But I feel better saying it.”

  She dropped the death glare and turned the sausages in the pan. “How runny do you like your eggs?”

  “Anything between raw and rubbery, and I won’t complain.” He watched her separate the eggs in the skillet, then carefully flip them.

  “Would you get the jelly out and pour some juice?”

  He did as instructed and grabbed napkins and silverware while Kristie served up the plates. Sitting next to each other at the round table in the sunny kitchen brought back memories of the early days of his marriage. It’d been years since Rochelle asked how he wanted his eggs. He always got scrambled because that’s what the girls liked. Making them the same way meant less work for her. Kristie fixed herself an omelet but hadn’t even suggested he have one, too.

  Rather than expecting him to read her mind or telling him to stay out of her way, Kristie asked for help. He’d nearly forgotten that putting a meal together could be enjoyable when done as a team.

  “This is great. Thanks. I may have to try an omelet next time.”

  “You’re not planning on being my personal bodyguard twenty-four seven, I hope.”

  “Not twenty-four seven. I’m gonna go home to give you some space. Mow my grass. Get a shower. You’re free to run errands—preferably in daylight. I’ll check in, so hope you’re quick to answer texts. What’s your phone number?”

  She didn’t hesitate to supply it. He might as well try pushing a step further. “Tonight, I can grill out, or we can order in pizza. Watch more M*A*S*H or a movie.” A smidgen of guilt poked him about using this situation to his advantage as he saved her number in his phone.

  Now she did hesitate, eyeing him.

  “Unless you’d rather be here all alone, knowing that I’m across the street, watching. Not in a creepy, stalker way, just, you know, protecting you from afar. If you had a dog, I wouldn’t have to do that, but—”

  Kristie laughed, a delightful, musical sound, and graced him with a smile that made him long to reach out and touch her.

  “Maybe I’ll stop by the animal shelter or see if I can foster a pit bull for a while.” She played along.

  “Now, you’re talking. Though, a yappy little dog can be even more effective. More warning time for you to grab your weapon.” He raised his eyebrows and grinned at her. “I could call Hightower and see about borrowing Dita for the night.”

  “I better not bring a dog into Ray’s house without permission, and I’m not explaining why I’m asking over the phone. You know Ray, he might use that as an excuse to ditch the vacation and come home. But I can’t let you keep sleeping on the couch.”

  His expression must have given away where his mind went because she shook her head faster than a SASS sniper round.

  “I’m going to change the sheets, and I’ll sleep in Alexis’s bed, and you can have the guest room until they get back from the beach.”

  “I hate for you to go to the trouble of changing beds and moving your stuff.”

  Kristie’s gaze lingered on him long enough to give him hope. “You can change the sheets on one of the beds then. Unless you’ve decided you’re comfortable sleeping in your boss’s daughter’s bed.”

  “Ye-aah, no. I—No. I’ll help change sheets.” He took a bite of sausage, doing his best to remain low-key and not get ahead of himself.

  “How about pizza for dinner? My treat. I like pepperoni with pineapple.”

  “Seriously? Not Hawaiian with ham and pineapple?”

  “You can get whatever you want on yours,” she said, not backing down.

  Good thing he liked a challenge.

  Seventeen

  At the end of the day Monday, Mack waited for the guys to head out of the team room. Tony Vincenti lagged behind, as if on purpose.

  “Was that Kristie you went to talk to when I dropped you off the other night?” Tony grinned in a hopeful way.

  “It’s not what you think. She was worried about the suspicious car sitting out front. Came to check it out. Not to see me.”

  “We were only out there a couple minutes.” Tony looked perplexed.

  “She ran into some jerk she used to work with, and the dude followed her in a harassing way. Then she thinks he followed her again in a different vehicle last week.”

  Tony moved closer. “Seriously? Why?”

  Mack leaned back in the wooden chair and rapped a fist on the tabletop. “He’s a douche guy, who was in her old maintenance shop. He didn’t do a repair, then gave her crap, so she reported him for insubordination. He got written up with an Article 15 and transferred after the deployment. He’s here now.”

  “You aren’t planning something stupid, are you?”

  “Maybe. We got a couple of spare GPS trackers?”

  “I’m sure we do.” Tony moved to the equipment cage and pulled down a box, sorting through the electronics before pulling out two trackers. “What are you thinking?”

  “Thought we could go to the airfield, let her point out his truck. I’d put one on his vehicle. Put one on hers, too. Then, if he goes near Kristie, we’ve got proof he’s harassing her.”

  “Straightforward enough. I’m in.”

  “You sure?”

  “You might need a lookout. And if we have to track him, it’s harder for him to pick up a tail with two of us following him.”

  “I’ll text her to see when works.”

  Tony sang Bad, Bad Leroy Brown as Mack texted and waited to hear back.

  Thursday afternoon, Kristie climbed into the back seat of Tony’s SUV. Mack had installed a dashcam in her car on Tuesday, and she’d reluctantly gotten on board with their plan to put a tracker on her car and Sheehan’s.

  She hadn’t seen his truck in the lot on Tuesday. Though there had been several SUVs, she couldn’t swear one was a solid match to the one that followed her to the apartment complex. Last night was Mack’s night for dinner with his girls, so she agreed to give it another try after she cruised through the lot near the maintenance hangar and picked out his truck with its distinctive grille guard.

  “Are you sure about this? If the maintenance guys finish their work, they could knock off for the day soon.” It wasn’t like there’d be an end-of-day bugle to warn them.

  “It’ll only take a few seconds to plant it under the truck.”

  “Still, it’s broad daylight. What about following him home and doing it there at night?”

  “Home could be a problem. We could lose him. He might park in a garage. Or have a dog, or motion-sensor lights. Nosy insomniac neighbors.” Tony made valid points.

  “Tony’s the lookout. Trust me. We’ve got this,” Mack assured her.

  They cruised the lot, and she pointed out the big, dark-gray GMC truck. Once they mapped out their tactics, Kristie hunched down in the ba
ck, peering out between the seats.

  Mack and Tony made it past the door to the maintenance hangar without anyone coming out. She lost sight of Mack when he ducked between two vehicles. The covert mission had her heart pounding, but when a pair of soldiers exited the hangar, it beat harder and faster. She couldn’t read Tony’s lips, but he saw the men headed his way. Come on. Come on. No sign of Mack yet.

  Why was Tony standing in plain sight? What if one of the men looked his way and caught Mack? She hated being outside the loop.

  The hangar door swung open again, and none other than Bryan Sheehan strolled out. Shit! Of course, he headed right toward Tony, who wouldn’t recognize Sheehan. This was going to look so bad if he discovered them planting the tracker.

  In a flash, she slipped out of the SUV. She left the door cracked, then jogged after Sheehan.

  “Hey, Sheehan!” she called loud enough to get not only his attention but the other two soldiers, as well. Crap, one of them she’d met, and he recognized her.

  Sheehan shook his head as she approached. “What?”

  “Following me the other night was not cool.”

  “Maybe I was going to the same place.”

  “Why didn’t you go into one of the stores then?” She held his attention. “And what were you doing at the apartment complex?”

  “Apartment complex? What the hell are you talking about, Donovan? You got a lot of nerve showing up here and making shit up again. Quit trying to fuck up my life.”

  She needed to buy time for Mack and Tony. “I think you did that on your own.” If he had switched vehicles to follow her, he wasn’t going to come out and confess.

  He stalked a few steps in her direction.

  “Let’s agree to do our jobs and steer clear of one another.” Her offer defused him enough to hold up. Or maybe it was the other pair of soldiers within earshot.

  Tony and Mack strolled into sight. Mission accomplished—on their end.

  “Happy to keep my distance. Don’t want to get associated with the pilot who’s paranoid about every vibration in her aircraft. Hate for you to get labeled as that pilot by the guys in the maintenance shop.” He smirked.

  Was that a threat? Or an attempt to mess with her head? One word from her, and Mack and Tony would be happy to show Sheehan the true meaning of intimidation, based on the scowl on Mack’s face.

  “Never have before, and there’s nothing in my file about me not doing my job,” she said as her warning shot before turning on her heel. The last thing she needed was a rumor swirling that she was unstable, blowing her shot at MEDEVAC.

  She didn’t look back as she strode toward the Charlie Company hangar, but she listened. No deep voices. No scuffle. And seconds later, the slam of car doors.

  Once she crossed the airfield and got into her car, Kristie turned the air-conditioning on high. A lengthy exhale and distance from Sheehan slowed her heartbeat to normal. Though confrontation was not her thing, calling him out bought the guys more time, and it empowered her. She hoped it was enough. If Sheehan didn’t live up to his promise to keep his distance, they’d get proof of him harassing or stalking her.

  Her phone dinged. Had to be Mack. Yup. His text said to meet him back at the house. The wording poked at her heart. The house. Lundgrens’, not her home.

  The last bit of adrenaline drained away. There was no need for Mack to continue to protect her. No reason for him to stay or them to spend time together. No more living in her little fantasy world.

  She should offer to cook dinner for him as a thank-you. Maybe she should invite Tony, too. She was stalling. Best to go cold turkey.

  See you there, she texted back.

  She’d only been at the Lundgrens’ a few minutes before Mack knocked at the kitchen door.

  “Did you get the tracker on the truck?”

  “Yes. He won’t find it unless he crawls underneath.” Mack grinned. A smudge of dirt or grease ran along his cheek. “Once we determine where he lives, I’ll go by and see what other vehicles are there that he’d have access to. I’m going to make sure he doesn’t happen to drive down this street. What exactly did you say to him?” He nodded as she summed it up. “Quick thinking. Thanks for buying us extra time.”

  At least he didn’t scold her for getting out of Tony’s SUV. “Thanks. I appreciate you guys helping me handle this. Don’t worry about stripping the bed. I’ll take care of it.”

  His grin disappeared. “Kicking me out already?”

  “More like not infringing on you any longer.” It took effort to sound lighthearted. “I’m sure you’d like to sleep in your own bed. And you have your girls coming tomorrow for the weekend. You can’t keep sleeping here.”

  He kept staring at her rather than move to get his stuff. “Look, I’ll go home—because I feel like you’re safe. But being here with you hasn’t exactly been a hardship. And before I go, we need to address this.” He waved a hand between them.

  “Mack—”

  “No. Let me finish. There’s something here. Between us. We’ve been tiptoeing around it the past few days, and it’s not going away just because we’re not under the same roof.”

  “I admit,” she struggled for the right words, “you made me feel safe. And being with you was easy and fun.”

  “We could have something good together if—”

  “If what, Mack? If it weren’t for Army regulations that prohibit it?”

  “There are workarounds.”

  “I have two years left on my service commitment, but I plan to do twenty for full retirement. Do you think we could sneak around, hoping we don’t get caught? That’s not going to happen. I can’t afford to risk everything by violating regulations.”

  “You and I aren’t in the same unit, and it’s not a big deal in my unit.”

  “Well, hooyah for you, but it is in mine. I just got here, and I’m in line for my dream job. I’m not willing to risk getting busted in rank or court-martialed.” It was the superior-ranking officer that would face charges.

  “You can’t let flying be your whole life. Because it’s not enough. I know. I love my job, and I do it to protect the people I love, and it totally sucks that my ex thought I was selfish for risking myself to protect her and the girls from the bad shit they don’t see. I need a reason to do what I do. Someone to come home to. Especially since there will come a day I—you—can’t do it anymore. When were you happiest?”

  “What?”

  “In your life. When were you happiest?”

  She stared at him. If she told him, he’d use it to his advantage. Yet she couldn’t lie. Not about this. “When I was married to Eric. When we were both doing what we loved.” She hesitated. “When we were planning a family.”

  “Exactly. You may think you can’t have it all again. But you can. Wasn’t your husband an NCO?”

  How did he know? “Yes, and so was I when we got married. We moved up the wedding to avoid problems after I got accepted to Warrant Officer Candidate School.”

  “Ray’s suggested I apply to WOCS. Dealing with the politics kept me from pursuing it. With some more motivation I might reconsider.” His soulful eyes bored into hers, and he took a step closer. “I want a second chance. With a woman who’ll support my career.”

  He’d pushed her into a corner. She needed to come clean rather than give him false hope. “Then I’m not the right woman for you.”

  “Why?”

  “After losing Eric, I swore I’d never get involved with someone in Special Ops again.” She would not, could not, put herself in that position again.

  “What happened to your husband sucks, but it’s not going to happen again.”

  “You can’t promise that. No one can. I can’t live worrying whether a man I care about will come back alive every time he leaves on a mission. That’s not fair—to you or to me.”

  “With our training, and working with the best of the best, our casualty rate is lower than regular Army.”

  “You can quote percentages, bu
t that doesn’t change things.”

  “Are you saying you won’t date anyone in the military then, or just no one in Special Ops?”

  She refused to answer or fight with him on this. He wouldn’t leave Special Ops. He might get out and work for a private contractor—doing the same dangerous stuff—but there was no going back to regular Army for these guys.

  “Have you realized it’s a little hypocritical when you’re flying and risking your life? That you’d potentially be putting some banker or accountant in your boots if something happened to you? You’d be better off with someone who knows and accepts the risks. Honestly, do you think settling for safe is gonna do it for you? Or is what your husband would want for you?”

  He brought up rational arguments, but her brain couldn’t override her fears. “It’s better if we acknowledge that this wasn’t meant to be and stay friends.” Before he got her to let her guard down any further.

  “Friends?” He sighed out the word with more than a hint of frustration. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”

  “Mack, I don’t want things to get awkward between us.”

  “Sometimes it doesn’t matter what we want. Things are what they are.” With that, he retreated to the Lundgrens’ guest room.

  Dammit. Way to shoot a guy down after he put himself out there.

  She should have seen it coming and tried harder to keep things in the friend zone rather than send him mixed signals with the teasing banter the past few nights. But he knew the rules as well as she did—even if operators got special treatment due to their elite status. He knew how Eric died. He may not think it could happen to him, but she’d seen firsthand how close he’d come a few weeks ago.

  Mack came out a minute later with his bag. “Guess I’ll see you around.” He headed to the kitchen door, then stopped and looked over his shoulder at her. “Call me if you see Sheehan or if anything, and I mean anything, feels off.”

  “I will,” she promised. But it’d be wrong to hope for something that would bring them back together.

  Eighteen