He shoved open the door to the barn. Trey had the ten recruits doing hand-to-hand combat. Today was Krav Maga, the Israeli special forces street fighting martial art. He preferred it and had been amazed when he'd found out that Keely had learned it from her twin brothers. It had probably saved her life in South America, that and her ability to knife fight.
His lips tilted into a slight smile. This morning's girl-on-top sex was all about his little warrior telling him she wasn't a fragile little female. Now that she wasn't throwing up two times a day—and hadn't that scared the shit out of him—she'd be back to her usual fighting weight and demand on being treated as a partner and not a helpless little woman.
He sighed. He was more than willing to resume a more active level of sex in their bed—and elsewhere—but fighting hand-to-hand and gun battles were still not on his list of "Things Keely Could Do." There would be hell to pay for him holding that opinion, but Keely would soon learn that he'd allow nothing and no one to harm her—not even herself. He didn't care how healthy she was and how safe the baby was in her womb, she was not a warrior. She was a mother-to-be and his woman. She could save all body contact sports for their bed. The jury was still out on sniping. She was the best damn sniper he'd ever seen, and he'd insist she keep her skills up. Even he knew that all his good intentions to keep her safe could go awry—and a gun was the best equalizer a woman had.
"Yo, Ren." Trey's fingers snapped in front of his face. "Wake up. Where's your head? Still in bed with that woman of yours?"
The men in the room all laughed.
Ren glared and the room went silent. He turned to his brother. "Let's leave Keely and our bed out of the training room."
Trey put up his hands. "Sorry. Touchy this morning. What's wrong? Is she sick again?"
His brother's voice held only concern, and Ren knew Trey had only been teasing. He needed to lighten up. Because of the no-women rule, the single men tended to tease the married ones. It was just Trey being one of the guys, and envious of Ren's good fortune.
"No, in fact, she ate more food than I've ever seen her eat. Your nephew is one hungry little baby."
"Nephew?" Trey's eyes lit up. "For real?"
Ren grinned. "Yeah, I didn't notice the little penis on the photos until it was pointed out to me. A son—I'm having a son."
Trey slapped him on the back. "Way to go, daddy. Now how about helping me whip these sissies into shape?"
"Yeah." Ren stripped off his jacket. "Later we'll do some icy urban street mock warfare on the grounds. The snow walls along the walkways are high enough to provide cover now."
"Good idea," Trey said. "Never know when crazy Icelanders might start kidnapping corporate executives to make money for their bankrupt country."
Ren snorted and kicked his brother in the ass. "Fucking comedian, aren't you?"
"Yeah, asswipe. Let's show these guys some moves."
Trey threw a vicious punch which Ren blocked and the training began.
* * * *
Vanko stood next to Ren as they observed the activity on the grounds from the roof of the Lodge, the highest vantage point to give them an overview of the mock street battle taking place below them in the snow maze.
"Good idea, Ren." Vanko's gaze fixed on the two teams—black ski caps for baddies and white for good guys—playing out a running gun battle with simulated ammo that left red splats when the victim got hit. The ammo was similar to paint balls.
Ren eyed one guy on the white team. "What do you think about Risto Smith?" As Vanko watched the tall, dark-haired former Marine, Ren reviewed what he knew about the recruit. Of Finnish and Native American descent, Smith had been a LRRP in Afghanistan, the kind of guy that lived on the land for days and gathered intel for his Marine superiors. His military record showed two tours in Afghanistan and before that he'd seen his first duty as a regular grunt straight out of high school in Iraq. Smith had mustered out, gone back home to Upper Peninsula Michigan, and realized he couldn't hack civilian life or a civilian job. He applied to SSI and here he was.
Vanko finally replied. "Good man. Likes the cold. Told me he hated Iraq and loved being in Afghanistan at the higher altitudes and in the snow. Also told me his hometown gets over 200 inches of snow on the ground in a normal year. Makes me homesick for my home in the northern Ukraine."
"Sort of has an unfair advantage here." Ren chuckled. "Trey and Price both like him and he passed Keely's enhanced background check. We'll take him on. He stated on his application he'd like to work out of his U.P. home, but has no problem being stationed here, if required. Guess he has a private island in the Cisco Chain of Lakes area. We need someone in the Midwest.”
"Good to have someone that close to central Canada and the border. Lots of drug running, smuggling of other kinds and potential for terrorists crossing into the U.S."
"Yeah, that there is." Ren made a note on his data pad. "We'll invite him to eat with us this evening. Talk money and equipment needs for that private island of his. We can negotiate it as a secondary SSI staging and training site."
"No need for electronic equipment from what I hear," Vanko said. "Risto's a geek like Tweeter and Keely. He was waxing poetic with Tweeter about some new server he built. Keely overheard and the three of them talked in a language none of the rest of us could understand."
"Keely spoke with him?" Ren turned to look at Vanko. "When was this?"
"A week or so ago. You were on a conference call." Vanko jabbed him in the gut. "She wasn't alone with him. She only sees you as a man, you know. The rest of us are brothers and buddies. Risto was really respectful. He'd even read some of her published papers."
He nodded. "Understood. I didn't realize she was interacting with the men so much. She's been so sick."
"Well, yeah." Vanko laughed. "She only sat there for about twenty minutes, then she turned green and ran for the bathroom. I'm glad she's over the sickness. I was beginning to get sympathy nausea."
"You and me both." He smiled and made another note to ask Keely what she thought about Risto on a personal level and not on the data she'd obtained. The sound of gunfire and breaking glass had him scanning the mock battleground. "That was live ammo. Where in the fuck did that shot come from? And what got broken?" A bullet whizzing by his cheek and hitting the wood of the door leading onto the roof had him ducking. "We're under attack!" He switched his headset on. "Trey, I just got shot at. Get those men weaponed up and secure the perimeter of the Lodge."
Trey's voice. "Roger that."
"The sniper is about five hundred yards east of here on a ridge. Permission to go nail his ass."
"Who's this?"
"Risto Smith, sir. I can get him."
"Risto, get live ammo and take someone to cover your ass."
Price's voice. "I'm with Risto. I also saw where the shot came from. We're on it."
"Anybody have a sit rep on what window got hit?" Ren and Vanko made their way from the roof, down into the back of the Lodge.
"Great room window." Quinn's growling tones instantly recognizable. "Hit my damn scotch."
"Lock down the basement. I don't want Keely upstairs until this is over." Ren shoved his way into the house.
"Too late, big guy."
"Keely," Ren groaned. "Where the fuck are you, baby?"
"Patching up Quinn since Lacey isn't here to do it. He neglected to mention he was holding the scotch at the time."
"He okay?" Ren entered the back hallway at a jog and headed for the great room and Keely.
"Yes. Just a scratch." She muttered something he didn't catch. "Quinn is being very brave. He gets a sucker."
Quinn's amused snort came over the headset clearly. "I'll take that sucker as long as it is scotch-flavored and 120 proof. Now get your ass back downstairs, missy."
Ren crouched and duck-walked into the great room, the vast expanse of glass and one broken pane leaving anyone in the room open to being shot. "Where are you two?"
"Behind the bar," Keely said.
Reaching a control panel, Ren activated the metal blinds that would seal out anything but armor-piercing bullets or bombs. As the shield descended, several shots could be heard pinging off it. When the room was sealed off, he stood and moved swiftly to the bar. Keely held Quinn's head on her lap. Blood was everywhere. It had been more than a scratch.
"Shit. How bad?" He gestured for Keely to lift up the bloody towel she'd put on the wound in Quinn's shoulder. "Bullet still in there?"
"No," Quinn gritted through his teeth, "it's not. Where's Lacey?"
"I put out the alert. She should be underground with the other women, the techs and clerical staff." He looked at the two of them. "Which is where both of you are going now."
Vanko had come up and stood behind him. He'd gone to get weapons for them both and to clear out the upper floors and seal off the windows.
"Vanko, help me get them downstairs. Then we'll go to war."
"I'll watch the holo-table and give you bogey positions." Keely helped him shift Quinn off her lap. "I came up to ask you if the hot spots I saw were the recruits or not, since we haven't given them I.D. with their own codes yet. Tweetie is feeding intel to Price and Trey on the unkowns."
Keely had improved the table so they could tell which signatures were the home team and which weren't. Every full-time operative, tech and woman on Sanctuary had a unique signature embedded in a card they carried at all times. The system should give them an advantage in the coming fight.
Vanko and Ren lifted Quinn off the floor and helped the wounded man to the elevator to the basement where the Sanctuary non-combatants would congregate.
"Keely, we got this. You go and help Tweeter in the Bat Cave," Ren said.
"We'll give you good intel, big guy." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. "Watch your ass. I'm fond of it, you know."
He nodded. "But not as fond as I am of yours. Stay safe, baby."
*
Keely backtracked to the hall leading to the elevator for the Bat Cave. As she moved toward her goal, she got the sense she was being followed. Yeah, her neck itched. Shit. She touched her headset. "Ren, there's…" Her com device was ripped off her head before she could get the full warning out.
Two large arms wrapped around her middle and lifted her off the floor. "Got you, bitch."
"Bannon."
"Yeah. Meet my buddy." The man swung her around. Vences stood there, grinning like a loon. He had a coded card so Tweeter would not have seen him as a bogey. Bannon would have been a blip with a properly identified inhabitant.
"You had the naive act down pretty good, Vences. And your cover held up a lot better than Jordan's and Bannon's."
"Because it was all true." Vences leered at her. "Bannon recruited me after I came here, little mamacita."
"You preggers, bitch?" Bannon's hot breath blew past her ear. He roughly felt her stomach. "Ah, yeah, knocked up for sure. Never had me a pregnant woman before." Her skin wanted to shrivel up at his touch. The stink of his sweat brought back the nausea with a vengeance.
"And you aren't having one now." Ren would be here in a second and Bannon and company would be dead. They had no idea Ren was in the Lodge. Bannon dragged her uncooperative body toward the back entrance to the Lodge. She wondered how they'd gotten past Scotty—and where Ren and Vanko would make their moves.
"We're going for a ride. The big boss wants to ask you some questions. Seems your little cyber-programs have boxed out his jobs, cutting into his bottom-line. His bosses at DoD are looking at everyone, especially him, more closely now because of all your reports. He wants it stopped—and you dead. Sorry, baby. But I promise to make your last days memorable."
"Big boss? He's here? In Idaho?" She needed info and fast. She sensed Ren was close.
"Yeah. Makes you feel special, doesn't it?" Bannon bit her neck.
Because Ren was close and because the damn bite hurt, she screamed. Then she turned into Bannon, grabbing for his detestable hard-on and twisted it as she hooked a leg back and tripped the son of a bitch. She fell to the floor with him as he lost his balance. She managed to roll out from under his heavy weight, protecting her tummy with her arms. His hands were too busy cupping his tortured equipment to grab her. Vences headed for her, his arms reaching. She rolled away and managed to scramble to her knees to crawl toward the doorway.
Ren and Vanko slid around the edge, guns in hand. Bannon had his gun drawn but instead of aiming it at the two men, he had her in his sights. She hugged the floor, giving her man a shot. Three shots rang out simultaneously. She felt the whisper of Bannon's shot over her head as it hit the doorframe. She turned. The other shots took down Bannon and Vences.
"Make sure they're down," Ren ordered Vanko. He went to his knees and pulled her into his arms. "Baby, you okay? God, the fucker's shot just missed. Sweetheart, where are you hurt? You screamed." He patted her all over, brushing wood fragments from her hair, his thumb whisking across a bloody scrape from one piece of wood that had struck her forehead. "Jesus-fucking-Christ, that was too close. Status, Vanko?"
"Bannon's dead. Good shot, boss. Vences is wounded and will live, but not happily. I sort of aimed for his crotch."
Ren kept touching and scanning her for wounds. If she had the energy, she would have told him she was fine, but all she could do was let him care for her. She needed him to care for her. He rubbed her tummy as she shuddered and gasped for breath as the aftermath continued to hit her with a vengeance. He was right—it had been too damn close. If she hadn't hugged the floor…well, no use thinking about what might have happened.
"Fuck!" His piercing gaze had found the spot where Bannon had bitten her. He gently soothed the mark on her neck with a shaky thumb. "Goddammit, baby, the fucking bastard bit you. You're white as the snow and shaky. You could be going into shock. We need to get you to a doctor."
"Shh, big guy. I'm fine. The baby's fine. Vences let him in, you know," she said in an attempt to distract him. "Vences' cover was good since it was real. His only lies were about his depth of military experience. He joined the other side here." And she was babbling. She took a breath and let it out, then took another. She had to calm down or Ren would lose it. He was really upset, probably more so than she was.
Ren gathered her into his arms and stood up. She could feel her big strong man tremble against her. "Lacey can look at the bite and clean it. You're fucking bleeding, Keely. We'll need to see your doctor as soon as possible to make sure you and the baby are really okay—and we need to ask about antibiotics for whatever germs the fucker left. No arguing, baby."
"Ren, sweetie," she stroked his beard-roughened face, "I'm okay…really."
"I need to hear that from a doctor. Just humor me." He kissed the top of her head.
She sighed. He would do what he needed to do and she would let him. She loved him too much to let him worry. "Bannon told me the big boss is here in Idaho. The traitor wanted to interrogate me about what I'd done to shut down his business. I expect he wanted to figure out how to work around my programs now that NSA has them in place." She rubbed her cheek on his shoulder, inhaling his clean, unique scent to chase out the stink Bannon had left in her nostrils. "He was going to hurt me. Hurt our baby. I'd never have let him. You know that, right?"
"I know. But I'm glad it didn't get that far. God, baby, when you got cut off like that, I couldn't get back upstairs fast enough."
Vanko handed Vences off to Trey then paced them as Ren carried her through the great room. "Keelulya, I have never seen Ren in a berserker rage before. Made the ancient Vikings look like candy-assed pansies. I just stayed out of his way and covered his ass."
Keely smiled. "You're a good friend, Vanko. I knew you both would come. I only had to keep him talking and slow him down until you did."
Ren carried her along the plowed path to their cabin. She was pretty sure his goal was their bedroom and her taking a nap once her neck was treated. She wasn’t going to argu
e with him over any of it. The baby made her sleepy at the oddest moments. She had a feeling naps were in her daily plans for the foreseeable future. "What about the big boss? He's somewhere close by." Keely yawned.
"He could be anywhere. Elk City. Grangeville," Ren said. "If we get one of the other attackers alive, we'll ask. But I suspect that only Bannon knew who he was."
At the sound of self-disgust in his voice, she looked at him. "Listen here, Renfrew Maddox. That man would've killed me—killed our baby—you had to kill him. We'll get the asshole who hired Bannon and the others. I promise. Besides, Bannon gave me two clues."
"I can guess the one—the traitor was not in D.C. but here. We can check out our prime suspects' whereabouts," Ren said. "But what's the other one?"
"That he's already under investigation by the DoD." Keely snuggled her head onto his shoulder and sighed. "That means he's already under investigation by me because what the DoD knows, I know. NSA just hired me earlier today to look into five men. These are the only five men who could've sent you and other independent contractors into death traps. The only five men who could've had under-the-table business with Trujo at all. The only five men who could influence where U.S. Special Forces teams could go for black ops." She grabbed a fistful of his shirt. "I have them all in my sight, and I will uncover what they ate at their first birthday if I have to in order to find them. They’ll rue the day they invaded my home and endangered my man and my baby."
"God, I love you, Keely Ann Walsh-Maddox." His kissed her forehead. "Not every man is lucky enough to have his own warrior sprite."
"Glad you finally realized that, big guy, 'cause I'm fighting at your side, not behind you from here on out. We'll protect what's ours." She yawned, ruining her position of strength statement and causing Ren and Vanko to chuckle. Well, let them laugh. She'd straighten them out—after her nap.
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