Danger Signs (Delta Force Echo: An Iniquus Action Adventure Romance Book 1)

by Fiona Quinn

  “Since we’re hanging out,” Ty wanted some quiet banter to take his mind off the pain from their second brutal fall. “Anything exciting happening in your life? You still stationed in the sandbox?”

  “I’m heading stateside after this mission.”

  “Training?”

  “My wedding and honeymoon.”

  “Yeah? Anyone I’ve run across?”

  “Gator Aid Rochambeau? He’s an operator for Iniquus’ Strike Force. Retired Marine Raider.”

  “Yeah, I know the guy. A few months back, he had a mission inside Fort Bragg and did the Unit a solid. We’ve got his back.”

  “Good to know. Hey, I think I figured out a way to get down.”

  “Ma’am, we’re hanging about four stories over the ground.”

  “Yeah? Maybe. I think that last slide took us considerably closer to the bottom of this tree. Look, I’ll go first, and then if it turns out okay, you can follow me down.”

  “D-Day, ma’am, I’m responsible for your safety. And,” he stopped to chuckle, “as ridiculous as that sounds, given our predicament, you’re considered our VIP at this time. None of us can do what you can. If you’re out of the game, the game is over.”

  “If I lose my legs because the straps are as tight as a tourniquet, I’ll be useless, too.”

  “All right, just for giggles, how about you talk me through how you’re going to get down.”

  “In daylight, I’d just unstrap and go down. I’m a parkour champ.”

  “I heard you did that. Matter of fact, isn’t that how you met Gator? The bar story I heard was that your dad hired him to be on your protection detail, and you weren’t down with the intrusion into your personal space. So you Spidermanned your way up the side of a building and ran the roof lines?”

  “That was the day I met Gator, yes.” Her voice was tight.

  “Seems like it didn’t rub his ego the wrong way. You’re getting married and all.”

  “Was he laughing when he told you the story?”

  “Chest puffed out with pride, ma’am. But I had no idea you two were a couple. He was just telling a story.”

  “What was the topic, most onerous security details?

  “I believe it was a time when he got outmaneuvered. He said he went out with his principals for a jog, and you ran to an apartment and three stories up the wall. He’d seen it on YouTube but never imagined someone doing it in front of his eyes.”

  “Yeah, well. Jogging’s a bore.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “All right, listen, in that it’s dark as sin out here, this is my plan. You release your emergency chute and let it fall toward the ground. I get myself out of my rigging, wrap my leg around the parachute cords and crawl down. Boom. Simple.”

  “Which would be fine, ma’am. But even hanging from that and jumping down, you’re still only about halfway to where you need to be.”

  “Did Gator tell you I dove off the roof of that building, tucked, and flipped to disperse energy, hit the ground—”

  “He said when you came off that building even though you somersaulted to disperse your momentum, that his second surprise that day was how much energy was in play from that dive.”

  “A body in motion…physics is a big part of success.”

  “He said when he tugged your hand, you sprang into his arms—”

  “And straight into his heart.”

  Ty threw his head back and laughed. “Now that part, he left out.”

  “Natural born storyteller, possibly a tad of hyperbole in his word choices.”

  “In this case?” Ty asked.

  “Nah, that’s how it happened.”

  “The difference being, you were on a grass slope, clear of obstruction and most importantly, lots of sunlight so you could tell what you were doing.”

  She huffed a breath.

  “I get that. Believe me. I am as uncomfortable as you are.”

  “Probably more so. I don’t have balls in a vice.”

  “Yo!” A voice called from below them. “Anyone need an assist?”

  ***

  Maintaining light discipline, T-Rex assessed D-Day and Ty’s position in the tree through his night-vision goggles. He determined that D-Day’s suggestion about climbing down the reserve chute was a good one. Holding the line taut, T-Rex talked D-Day down. Followed quickly after by Ty.

  “Congratulations, Ty,” D-Day said as she moved to pick up her helmet and pulled her own night vision into place. “You were able to execute that landing without a single cuss word.”

  “I’m not saying I wasn’t thinking them, ma’am.”

  D-Day spotted Ty’s night vision goggles laying in a pile of debris and retrieved them. “But you had a lady dangling between your legs?” she asked with a laugh.

  “Not touching that,” Ty said. “No derision affixed to being a lady. I get that you’re a pilot in the field and a woman when off duty. Just…”

  Nitro went over both of them with the red-beamed flashlight. “One head and four limbs each, no blood, I’m saying good to go.” Nitro slapped Ty on the back and moved on to check on Nick, who dropped from a bottom limb on his tree.

  Ty adjusted his goggles. “Old habits, ma’am. If we get to the place where I’m cussing in front of a female, let alone an officer, I think we can pretty much conclude that things have spiraled out of control.”

  They were late checking boxes on this mission. The wind had blown them further off course, and soon the sun would brighten the horizon. At first light, they were supposed to be standing beside the Russian helicopter.

  Echo put the supplies on their backs, and they were hot footing it behind their Ugandan counterparts who had done the original recon and set up the team’s intended landing zone.

  D-Day had asked to take some of the weight, but she’d been turned down. They were the beasts of burden, and she was the talent. That, from T-Rex, hadn’t made her happy.

  She wasn’t even winded from their run.

  Nick fell in beside them. “You do a full body check?” he asked. “You good?”

  “Good enough. I might have some interesting bruise marks around my thighs on my wedding night.”

  “She’s hitching up with Gator Rochambeau,” Ty clarified.

  “Good man. Echo owes him a debt,” T-Rex said. “If you’re planning on still being bruised, seems there’s a clock ticking on you being single.”

  “There is, indeed. I need to go ahead and steal this heli, then jump a commercial flight back to Washington D.C. in time to slide into my wedding dress and traipse down the aisle. It’s planned for the end of this month. And since you all seem indebted to my betrothed for whatever reason, I’m just going to say, no dicking around. He wouldn’t be very happy to be left at the altar.”

  “Hard to plan a wedding from the other side of the world. Is Gator putting it together?”

  “Gator’s mom and sisters are planning the wedding and the reception. My stepmother London was ticked that it was going to be a family and close friends-only event, so she’s planned some shindig for that Thursday to invite my father’s people. If y’all can keep me tucked tight so I miss that one, well that I wouldn’t mind so much.”

  “London Davidson? That’s your stepmom?” Nitro asked. “Christen Davidson, that was you? I’m used to calling you D-Day, so I didn’t put it together.” He let out a low whistle.

  “You saw in the paper.” D-Day’s voice turned cold.

  “It said there was a hunting accident, and you shot your brother.”

  “Hunting, yes. The only accident was with the angle of my shot. I could only get a clear bead on his leg.”

  “Huh. Dangerous woman to know.” There was a smile in T-Rex’s voice.

  “Damned straight,” D-Day said.

  “Your brother must have deserved it. I’ve flown enough missions with you now to know butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth,” Nitro said. “You’re cool under pressure. Ice in your veins.”

  “I have a warm h
eart,” D-Day said. “How about we find a more interesting subject.”

  “You shot your brother in the leg, and now he’s an amputee. You don’t think that’s an interesting story?” Nitro asked.

  “Sure, you want the story of family dysfunction? I’ll share. My dear old friend, Johnna White of the CIA, dragged me away from our mission—the one when we were saving her colleague John Grey from his prison—because she wanted to use my connections to overhear a conversation at my father’s party. I found out my brother was going to kill my father, so I shot him,” she said matter-of-factly. Her shrug didn’t break her jog pace.

  “Oh, is that all?” Ty asked.

  “Shit happens,” Nitro said.

  “Amen to that, brother,” Ty said. “Speaking of—” He slowed to a stop then bent to put his hands on his knees and catch his breath. He pointed with the blade of his hand at the monstrosity looming out in the distance. “There’s the heli in all its glory.”

  Chapter Four

  Kira

  Kira reached out her foot to snag her tall stool and drag it over to her. She rested her thigh on the cushioned top, steadying herself and dispersing her weight to be more comfortable, but she was too jittery with excitement to settle in.

  She exhaled through pursed lips and opened the cover of the gifted album, carefully adjusting a support that would protect the spine.

  There, on the first page, listed the bride and groom’s names and the date of the marriage, July twentieth, nineteen thirty-two.

  She turned the heavy cardboard page to a photograph. The bride was in traditional Bedouin tribal wear, the groom in impeccably pressed robes. They looked…shell shocked.

  In Qatar, at the time, marriages were arranged by the male charged with the female's protection. Oftentimes, the couple met on their wedding day when they each signed the contract that bound them, transferring the responsibility for the woman from her male relative to the new husband. The woman could expect that she’d be supplanted from the family household she’d always known to live in her husband’s family compound. There, multigenerational branches of the families all worked together to keep the home and raise the children.

  It wasn’t so different today.

  Kira peered into the bride’s eyes. Had this woman even met her husband before that moment? Did she like him? Find him sexually attractive? Kind? Intelligent? Safe? Kira read trepidation and resolution in the woman’s eyes.

  Kira had seen that look in many of her cousin’s faces as they walked toward their new destinies with the men chosen by their fathers.

  Born in the United States to an Iraqi mother and a Qatari father, Kira was an American. She liked the life here. The personal freedoms. Heck, she really liked sex. A lot. Had she lived in Qatar, she would have been held to those relationship standards. If she hadn’t been married off, she’d be a virgin now, never having had the opportunity to experiment with different men to see what appealed to her—what her body wanted.

  If her uncle knew that she was an experienced woman, it would bring great shame to her Qatari family. Punishment for such a lifestyle would be severe.

  If they found out.

  They could never find out.

  Turning the heavy cardboard page, the next photo showed the bridal gifts arranged in a sitting room. That was the last photo.

  Under that page, presumably hidden from male eyes, four leather-bound books lay flat, side by side in a square, perfectly fitting underneath the first two photo album pages and between the covers.

  She breathed out and delicately lifted the first volume.

  Kira’s eyes traveled from right to left along the small neat words written with a pen dipped into an inkwell. Tiny flecks of the India black ink, now faded with age, stippled portions of the text. The words—even here on the very first pages—were richly poetic and evocative.

  Kira was hungry for them. This was an amazing gift that she’d received.

  While removing the books from within the album, so she could better understand their condition and what might be needed to preserve them, Kira’s phone buzzed in her pocket.

  She slid off her cotton gloves, turned off the light that was shining on the artifacts, and swiped the cell phone screen to answer the video call. “Hi, London.”

  “How’s my baby?”

  “I’m assuming you’re talking about the princess? She’s moping in her crate. She didn’t like that I wouldn’t let her pee on my mail.”

  “Awww.” There was a maternal smile on her face. “Sweet girl.”

  “How’s your real baby?”

  London moved the phone down so Kira could see Archie’s cherubic cheeks pressed against London’s chest as he slept. “He’s perfection.” London petted her fingers over the sparse silky strands of his tiny three-month-old head. “So I’m calling for a couple of reasons.”

  Kira slid over to her desk and sat down, moving her notepad and pen closer.

  “How are things going for Christen’s pre-nuptial cocktail party?” London asked.

  “The RSVPs are flowing in. Looks like most of your guests will be able to attend.”

  “Oh, good.”

  “I can’t get in touch with either Gator or Christen.” Kira turned her head to clear her throat. “Excuse me.” She reached for her bottle of water and took a swig. “You said if I couldn’t, to just go ahead and approve at will.”

  “Yes, they’re not necessarily being difficult.” London paused with a pursed-lip frown. “I choose to believe that they do want to be involved with the Davidson side of the family and not just Gator’s family.” She dipped her head to kiss Archie. “But their lack of communication can be written off as legitimate. Gator, I don’t even know what he does for a living besides his working for Iniquus. I looked up their website, and well, it all looked dangerous to me. He’s probably off saving the world. That’s how they met. I think I told you this.”

  “No.”

  “Gator picked up a security contract with William because someone tried to kidnap him.”

  “Whom?”

  “William. Someone threw a bag over William’s head.” She stopped and shuddered. “Gator was on R & R in Tanzania and happened to be there and see it. He beat up the bad men and saved my William. William introduced Gator to Christen. Anyway, Gator is probably out of the country on assignment. I’m just guessing. Christen, we know where she is—sort of. Off on some Army base, we’re not allowed to know where. All we know is she’s to be on leave the week of her wedding. She said she and Gator will show up when and where I tell her to on that Thursday. I wish we’d been given more time. I guess Christen had to wait to get permission from her superiors. I think that’s a thing in the military. Taking leave, especially when you’re overseas…”

  “That’s probably it.” Kira rocked back in her seat. “I’m bringing up the fact that I haven’t talked to either of them because I don’t know their tastes and special moments—songs, what have you. So I just built the evening around what William would like for his friends and associates. Your guests are sending gifts to your Dallas address.”

  “Good.”

  “I asked your head housekeeper to store them in the blue room.”

  “Lovely, though, you and I will probably need to open them, catalog the gifts, write the thank you notes and have them lined up for Christen to sign them. I’ll have her father tell her she has to do it. Few people have any sway over that woman, but surely she’s not rude enough to not show a basic level of etiquette. If it’s too much, we may need to just sign them ourselves. After the niceties are done, I can get an address and ship the things—maybe we’ll need to have a mover take them. I guess that depends on the amount of space they take up. How is the menu coming?”

  “I’m flying up to D.C. to have a tasting and final approvals this week.”

  “When this week?”

  Kira shifted her pad around to see her calendar. “Friday.”

  “No. That’s not going to work. You’ll need to put that off.�
�

  “Okay…?” Kira watched out the window as a mother pushed a baby carriage down the sidewalk and sighed. “The caterers aren’t going to love that.”

  “You may have to just make decisions remotely. There’s some big project concerning Tanzania that’s afoot. World players. William has invited them to Davidson Range for a six-day retreat.”

  “Tanzania with you? Are you there now?

  “Not yet. There’s been a change of plans. We aren’t going to go there as a family to relax. Instead, William’s changed this to a business retreat. Something’s come up that has him very excited. A new colleague. The change of plans poses a few problems.”

  Kira took another sip of water while she listened to her friend.

  “Neither of us enjoyed the tastes of the food from that French chef William had living there. He cooked a little too…”

  “French?”

  “Exactly. Small portions and too rich for my waistline and William’s heart. He was let go. Anyway, William says this is an extremely important meeting, and he wants no glitches, so he’s asked for me to arrange things and then leave them to their ‘male space’—my words, not his. But truthful. You know how men are in this part of the world.”

  “Yes, that I do.”

  “And since I’m in Qatar and busy with Archie, that means I’m asking you to arrange things.”

  Kira focused back on her phone and her friend’s face; she looked tired. “Whatever you need, London.”

  “Here’s my plan. I’ve called my chef at our Dallas home. He’s my favorite among our houses. Chef Bruno says it’s no problem. He can handle the situation just fine. Bruno’s constructing a menu for nine days. It can’t go beyond that because we have Christen’s wedding. The men won’t be at the Range that long, only the six days. But, things happen, and I don’t want the party to be without provisions. I’m being extra careful. It’s so beautiful at the Range, and the animals are amazing—just…incredible. The party might wish to extend their stay. And again, I want no glitches. It’s important to me that I do a good job for my husband.”

  Kira picked up her pen and rested the point on her pad, scribbling: “Bruno” with an arrow then “Dallas.”