Where Loyalties Lie: A Standalone Romantic Suspense

by Jill Ramsower

  “Why don’t you sound pleased? That would be an incredible honor.”

  I wouldn’t feel comfortable talking to many people about the thoughts I’d been struggling with, but Uri was one of them. We’d been through so much together; he was more of a brother than a friend. We walked farther into my house as I began to explain.

  “When I chose to stay in the service, I thought what I was doing would make a difference. I know, it sounds ridiculously naïve. But at the very least, I thought we’d be working toward peace for our nation. An end to all the killings. After ten years of service, I don’t think there will ever be an end. Just a bloody river of retaliation and death. And what’s worse? I can feel hatred and intolerance growing inside me.”

  “Should we not hate evil? Think of all the civilians—the children—these terrorists kill every day.”

  “And do we not send airstrikes and bombs that result in undesired casualties? Six months ago, we targeted an enemy compound and ended up killing six innocent children inside and wounded thirty other people in the vicinity. What makes us so different from them?”

  Uri’s fist came out of nowhere. Pain blistered across my cheek, but I’d experience so much worse in my life that it barely registered.

  “Say that shit again,” he warned in a low growl. I had pissed him off even more than I’d expected.

  “Look, I know we’re not the same, but lately, I’m struggling to see the point.”

  “The point is, as long as there are terrorists on our doorstep trying to kill us, we fight. We aggressively defend our people. That doesn’t make us monsters like them.”

  I dropped down onto my leather sofa. “I know, I know. It’s just getting to me lately.”

  “You need to figure out a way to get past it. You have one week to get that shit sorted out, then we get back to work.” He stormed out of the house, slamming my door behind him.

  I understood why he was upset. The atrocities we’d seen were horrific. It wasn’t that I felt guilt over our actions; I just didn’t want to be perpetuating the problem. At some point, when you continue to slam your own head against a wall, shouldn’t you stop and ask why?

  I’d already been struggling with my doubts, but something that happened on our last mission truly shook me. A small team of us were raiding an enemy stronghold under a “no survivors” order. The timing was crucial, which meant a daytime attack, rather than a preferred strike under the cloak of darkness. Because of that, our gear was different. We’d had to arrive at the compound undetected. A fully decked-out team of assassins would have blown our cover. Instead, we wore flack vests under everyday clothes and left our helmets and other gear behind.

  I’d gone in through the back, making sure to eliminate an escape attempt. When I entered the small kitchen near the rear entrance, I aimed my gun at an enemy soldier sitting at a small table, eating his breakfast. His eyes lifted to mine, and I instantly recognized him as the adult version of a boy I’d lived next door to growing up.

  I froze in shock.

  How had this member of our community become one of the enemy? We’d played soccer together and traded player cards. When I looked at him, all I could see was that same boy. It was the same way children never age in our minds when we don’t see them for long periods. To me, he was still that same person.

  I could see the same recognition in his eyes. I had no mask or helmet to obscure my identity. We both remained locked in our moment of surprise until chatter sounded in my earpiece, urging me to move forward and join my squadron. My orders were to leave no survivors, but I couldn’t make myself to do it. To kill this man I’d grown up with. Forced to make a quick decision, I went with my gut. I ran past him, allowing him to escape out the back.

  Our mission was successful. We killed the primary target and obtained more intelligence about future planned attacks on Israeli citizens. But I couldn’t celebrate our victory. I was too bogged down in worry about whether I’d made a mistake by letting the man live, along with a new myriad of doubts about the entire principle of our war.

  After the mission, I didn’t tell anyone what I’d done. It was good to at least confess to Uri about my internal struggle, but there was only one person I could confide in completely. If there was anyone who could help me sort my thoughts, it was her.

  Aliza wasn’t just my sister; she was my twin.

  We had a deep-seated bond that was usually only found in identical twins who shared the same DNA. I could sense when she was upset, and she was the only one who could calm my razor-sharp temper. She had cried for days after I decided to stay in the service and set my sights on training to be in the Mossad. She was proud of my choice but extremely worried for my safety. When I struggled with the realities of my job, she was the one who brought me back into the light.

  I picked up the phone and dialed her number. She’d be thrilled to know I was back on break. Even though she was engaged and busy starting a new job after graduating from the university, she always made time for me when I was between missions.

  She didn’t answer, which wasn’t unusual. I left a message and began to tackle the chores that accumulated while I was away. By the next morning, I still hadn’t heard from Aliza and was starting to worry.

  Throwing on my clothes, I made the hour drive to her apartment and pounded on her front door. Nothing. As I pulled out the spare key she’d given me when she moved in, a tremor shook my fingers.

  I was a Mossad assassin. Trained using waterboarding and the most ruthless tactics to erase any hint of nerves from my system, but all of that programming vanished as a horrifying certainty settled into my gut. Something was horribly wrong.

  As it turned out, I didn’t need the key. The door was unlocked.

  Inside, Aliza lay in the living room, surrounded in a giant pool of her own blood. Her pale, slim throat had been sliced open. She had been cooking when it happened, our mother’s patchwork apron still tied around her waist.

  My knees shook and trembled, but I refused to fall. This was no accident. No random hate crime or burglary. My old neighbor had told his superiors who I was, and my sister was made to suffer for my role in the war.

  Maybe they thought it was a message. A threat to back off. Regardless of their intent, all it did was solidify my resolve. These cowards didn’t scare me. Quite the opposite. They had erased every hint of doubt I’d been struggling with. Erased every remaining shred of my humanity and empathy.

  They created a monster, and I was going to bleed every one of them dry for their sins.

  I left the scene without calling the authorities—Aliza would be discovered soon enough. I had a war to prepare for. Not just a counterstrike or a simple revenge killing, I would rain down the holy wrath of God upon every one of the enemy soldiers I could get my hands on.

  Our department knew far more about the enemy than we’d acted upon. We were only given authority to strike in certain limited situations, but we knew all about their camps and their numbers. We knew who their officers were and how they liked their coffee. The general we’d killed a week earlier? I knew exactly who he reported to and where that man lived. It would be easy to walk up to him and rip his heart straight from his chest, but that was the problem—it would be too easy.

  I ran by my house and collected every weapon and supply I might need, then found a cheap apartment to set up my base of operations. What I was doing would end my career and possibly get me killed, but I didn’t care. If the other side had no scruples, then neither would I.

  For two weeks, I raided enemy weapon stores, killing whoever was present. I needed the firepower, but I also figured it would be poetic justice to kill them with their own weapons.

  After that, I set out on a methodical manhunt, working my way up the enemy chain of command. When I came across my old neighbor for a second time, he received no mercy. By the time I stood face-to-face with the senior leader who was calling the shots, the raging fires of revenge had devoured me, leaving an entirely new creature standing in the
ashes of who I used to be.

  While I would have liked to have killed them all, even in my most enraged moments, I knew that wasn’t possible. Once I was satisfied with my body count, I planned my escape. The Mossad was an independent agency, but my actions were unauthorized. I was subject to prosecution under the penal code just like any other Israeli citizen. There was no way I was going to prison for killing scum terrorists.

  Two weeks later, I used a fake passport to immigrate to the United States, where I could create a new life for myself. My past would always be a part of me, but I could never be the idealistic man I’d been before Aliza’s death. Instead, I would welcome the man I’d become by harnessing the ruthless violence and embracing my power to do what so few could—bring evil to its knees, one merciless kill at a time.

  Chapter 17

  Emily

  A cyclone of emotions picked me up and spun me in every direction as I listened to his story. I had known he was a killer, but to hear that he’d gone rogue and annihilated an entire battalion of enemy soldiers was entirely different. Unpredictable. Homicidal. At the same time, my heart broke for the excruciating guilt and anguish he must have felt at discovering his sister dead.

  My siblings meant the world to me, so if I’d been in his shoes, I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t have done the same thing. I worried every night when I went to sleep whether they were being taken care of properly. When I first decided to leave, I had to carefully consider whether my actions would be taken out on them. Whether they would be used to get back at me. My father was far from Father of the Year, but I had to hope and pray that, at the very least, he would keep my brother and sister safe.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. As my emotions settled, I realized that the overwhelming sentiment that remained was sorrow. My heart ached for what Tamir had lived through.

  “It was my own fault. My punishment for not following orders when I allowed my old neighbor to live. I won’t grieve my career; it was over anyway. My loyalty was to my family, as it should have been. I don’t regret one thing I did to avenge my sister.”

  “Yes, but you also can’t blame yourself for her death.” I placed my hand on the table and sat forward, horrified that he would carry around that kind of guilt. “You were showing a man compassion, and he ratted you out to his superiors. He’s the one responsible—he and whoever killed her—not you.”

  The firelight from the stove glinted off the obsidian shards in his eyes, and the corners of his mouth twitched. “I appreciate your perspective, but I see it differently. Regardless, I’ve walked through the fire and come out stronger on the other end.”

  I smiled softly. “‘A certain darkness is needed to see the stars.’ That’s what my tita used to say.”

  “She was a wise yet highly superstitious woman,” he teased as he sipped from his glass. “I would have liked to have met her.”

  “You know what? I think she would have liked you, Tamir …” I paused. “Wait a minute. If you used a fake passport to get over here, does that mean your real name isn’t Tamir?”

  “Technically? No, it isn’t.”

  “Well, what was your name?”

  He stared at me for a solid minute. Until I could almost feel him sifting through the thoughts in my head. “Does it really matter? I’m not that man anymore.”

  I thought about what he said and realized that, regardless of whether my license read Reyes, Ramirez, or Rogers, I was still the same person. “No, I guess it doesn’t.” I sat for several minutes, absorbing everything I’d learned. He’d lived an extraordinary life before coming to the States, and now, his life was far simpler.

  “Was it hard letting go of that life? Becoming an instructor and giving up years of a military lifestyle?” I’d heard that integrating back into society could be difficult for ex-military.

  Maybe it was just the flickering light of the stove, but an ominous shadow seemed to cross his features.

  “Actually, the transition was rather seamless.” His eyes broke our connection and dropped to the glass in his hand.

  “Is the Israeli government still searching for you?”

  “There are still warrants out for my arrest, but no one is actively looking for me. So long as I stay under their radar, I shouldn’t be at risk. I think that’s enough story time for one night. It’s time to get some rest.” He stood and walked to the kitchen sink, effectively ending our conversation.

  I felt like something had bothered him, but I wasn’t sure which part. He was generally very even-tempered. It wasn’t like him to be mercurial, but we all had our moments, so I didn’t press him.

  An hour later, as I lay snuggled on the sofa under a pile of blankets, I felt my outlook shift. Tamir’s story had confirmed he was a dangerous man, but it had also explained the odd feeling of safety I got when I was around him. He might have disagreed with my assessment of him, but I was starting to believe the beautiful soul of a worthy man was tucked deep beneath his stoic, harsh exterior.

  Would a man, who loved so deeply as he had loved his sister, hurt me for no reason? Surely, not. Knowing what I now knew about his past, I felt even more confident he truly was there to help me. A dizzying realization settled over me that there was a chance, no matter how small, I just might survive my ordeal unscathed.

  For the first time in ages, I fell asleep with a smile on my lips and a lightness in my heart.

  ***

  The next morning, I woke to the thunk of Tamir chopping wood outside the cabin. The sun was well into the sky, making it probably close to nine in the morning. I had to guess at the time because I refused to turn my phone on. I’d seen enough movies to know that phones could be used to gather information about me.

  After rolling out of bed and tidying up the blankets, I headed to the bathroom to get dressed for the day. Back home, I always showered in the morning, but after only a day and a half at the cabin, it was quickly clear to me that showers in the wilderness were an evening activity. There was no way I could go to sleep covered in sweat and dirt from a day in the forest, and I certainly wasn’t about to take a second freezing shower in the morning. One a day was plenty.

  Once I was dressed, I set about washing our dishes from the night before. We’d been too tired to mess with them after dinner. It was amazing how chores piled up even in a 500 square-foot shoebox of a house.

  The rhythmic thuds of Tamir’s ax continued while I cleaned. I wiped away the remnants of dust that had settled after our initial cleaning and made Tamir’s bed, mostly just to keep myself busy. When I reached to pull the sheets to the headboard, my foot bumped something under the bed. I squatted down and discovered that it was Tamir’s black duffel stuffed beneath the mattress.

  It was hard and bulky, piquing my interest about what could be in it. He’d hardly touched the thing while I’d been around. But I wasn’t an idiot. I didn’t expect it to be clothes or something equally normal, especially knowing what I did about Tamir. That precise knowledge was exactly why I was so curious about what was in the bag.

  I set aside all expectations and pulled back the main zipper. On top was a large first-aid kit, which was probably why I couldn’t find one in his bathroom back at his apartment. Below that was a laptop and what appeared to be two handgun cases, both with fingerprint locks. The bottom was lined with a heavy wool blanket and a plastic tarp along with a length of rope.

  A part of me wanted to be upset because a normal, healthy individual wouldn’t carry around this type of gear. But after what he’d told me the night before, I didn’t think any of it was all that surprising. Not only that, but my own convoluted past blurred the lines of acceptable versus unacceptable. It wasn’t like he had torture devices or a severed head tucked away. If he needed to keep a stash of guns and a tarp in a go bag to feel prepared for any situation, I wouldn’t hold it against him. Then again, I was from Texas, and our views on firearms and personal property were a bit different than most.

  I shoved the bag back under the bed and finished cleanin
g. As I did, I wondered what I was missing in civilization. It was odd to think that the world was continuing on, outside our little wooded bubble. Without my phone, a world war could have broken out, and I would have had no idea. Tamir had his phone with him, but now that we were beyond cell service, it did him little good.

  I had to admit that there was something peaceful about knowing the real world couldn’t get to us. The reprieve wouldn’t be forever, but it was a relief while it lasted. The same was true for my struggles, though. They wouldn’t last forever. I had to remind myself, on occasion, that this was just a chapter in my life and not my entire story.

  One day, I’d have my life back, and it would be up to me to do something worthwhile with it. I didn’t go through hell to wait tables and drink myself to sleep at night. It had taken a good amount of soul searching, but I had started to construct a plan. Now, I just had to live long enough to see it through.

  “That should keep us in good shape for the next several days.” Tamir joined me inside, slumping into a kitchen chair while I continued to cook lunch at the stove.

  “I noticed the clouds were heavy this morning. Is it going to snow?”

  “Looks like it might. I figured I’d rather be prepared just in case.”

  “I appreciate that. If you want to clean up before lunch, there’s time. This won’t be ready for another ten minutes.” I glanced over my shoulder when he didn’t respond.

  Tamir’s painfully intense and equally fathomless gaze bore into me. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to bend me over the kitchen table or filet me like the deer out back. The latter, I was adamant against; the former, sounded more appealing each day I was with him.

  He eventually stood and eased the sultry tension in the room. “After lunch, we can do some training if you’re interested.”

  “I’d like that, thank you.” My words were rushed, making me feel like a rabbit in the presence of a wolf. I chided myself not to be so affected by him, but it was innate. My instincts told me to fear him, but I was starting to wonder if it wasn’t for the same reason I’d initially thought.