“Here,” a short, stocky sniper said, shoving a box at her. “Here’s your ammo.”
Abbey set her rifle on the tripod and took the box. As she opened it, she frowned. “Paintballs?”
“That way they know who fired the shot,” Bartholomew offered.
“Pink? I get pink?”
“You’re the girl,” the short, stocky sniper mocked, laughing as he returned to his gun.
Abbey glowered at the other riflemen as she loaded the ammunition. “What’s their problem?”
Bartholomew shook his head in exasperation. “They’re not big fans of Sloan. He’s been his usual self.”
“Domineering, demanding, and obnoxious?”
Bartholomew chuckled. “Exactly.”
“So, why exactly does Dunham need snipers to join Sloan on this mission?”
“To join the ones here in protecting the camp from insurgents. It was the best cover he was given to bring more than just Sloan here.”
“So, we’re not just snipers, huh?”
Bartholomew winked at her. “You should know that by now.”
Abbey sighed. “Yes. Unfortunately, I do.”
“So what the holy hell does Torelli do?”
“Later. I’ll fill you in later.”
One of the snipers called out over them, “On my mark, fire. Ready? One. Two. Three. Fire!”
The air erupted with the sound of gunfire. Abbey peered through her scope and waited.
A voice broke through the noise. “Is she even going to fire? Or is she afraid of the job? Some sniper.”
Abbey growled as she pulled the trigger methodically. Slowly adjusting after each shot, she fired ten rounds. After the tenth shot, she sat back on her heels and began disassembling her gun.
“That’s it?” the stocky sniper demanded.
Abbey just glared at him as she finished what she was doing.
Once everyone was done, the group made their way down the hills. As they approached the targets left out for them, she heard a collective gasp from the other gunmen. Torelli looked equally stunned. Captain Lathrop and Agent Dunham smiled, clearly pleased. Bartholomew let go a chuckle. Sloan was fuming.
Each of the five targets was splattered with a rainbow of color, indicating the shots fired. However, each one had only two splotches of pink—one in the center of the forehead and one directly over the heart. Kill shots.
Abbey sauntered to Captain Lathrop and shoved the dismantled rifle at his chest. “I get my job done.”
“It looks like Mrs. O’Riley will be joining our forces,” Lathrop announced with a grin.
Abbey met Sloan’s cold stare with a smirk. Granted, she wasn’t happy about staying in Afghanistan and not going home to her children. But lately, if it happened to piss off her husband, she was all for it. Or reconcile with him. Because you need to be honest with yourself, Abbey. You’d rather be snuggled up next to him than fight. With a nod, she left the group and sashayed toward her barracks. It was time to organize the operation of the company and the care of her children. She didn’t know when she was coming home.
»»•««
Sloan clenched his hands to his hips in fury as he watched his wife strut toward the barracks. He had gone out of his way to keep her at home and safe. He had put one of his best friends, the father of his sister’s child, in harm’s way to ensure she wouldn’t be in danger. It didn’t matter. In the end, here she was, now a part of the camp. Couldn’t she have just hit a tree instead of the target?
He looked up as Torelli, Lathrop and Dunham approached him. The smirk on Torelli’s face was unmistakable. “I take my original impression back, O’Riley. She is more than a pretty princess. She’s a little fireball.”
Sloan glared at Dunham. “Send Abbey home.”
The agent met his snarl with a smile. “Another body on this mission can only be an asset. I’ll inform the higher-ups in Washington to process her credentials and activate her agent status.” He looked at Lathrop. “You can use another sniper, correct?”
“She gets her job done. Remember?” Torelli mocked.
Lathrop shot a look at Torelli then answered. “Yes, one more will help.”
“And I have no trouble having her sweet ass protecting the camp,” Torelli added.
Sloan felt his temper boil as he closed the space between him and Torelli, using the full extent of his six-and-a-half-foot frame to intimidate. “Do not refer to her that way. It doesn’t matter if she’s a sniper or an agent for the CIA. First and foremost, she’s my wife. She’s mine.”
Even though he was significantly smaller than the Irishman, Lathrop used his frame to separate the men. “Enough, gentleman. Will this be a problem, O’Riley?”
“If he touches my wife, there will be. She is mine. He also needs to keep his bloody comments to himself before I choke them in place inside his throat.” Sloan spun on his heel and stormed toward his quarters. He needed to get away from the captain before violence ensued. He didn’t like Torelli in the first place. The beady-eyed bastard ran his group of contractors with an iron fist, to a point. His rules were ruthless and unfair, unless you were a beautiful female in the camp. He seduced them, used them, then once he was bored with them, he found a way to get them discharged, usually dishonorably. He had an unexplainable pull with Lathrop. Sloan couldn’t understand how the commander could be so blind.
Sloan collapsed on his mattress then tugged his boots from his feet. He glanced down at the pillows fluffed at the head of the bed. For a moment, he could imagine Abbey lying there watching him. A familiar ache burned deep in his belly. He was her commanding officer. I could just have her things brought here. Have her in my bed every night lying in my arms, lying beneath me…
He shook his head. Sharing quarters wouldn’t be a problem. All of the rumors that would fly around the camp about their relationship would be the huge distraction. It would be difficult to hunt and capture whoever was selling these arms if they were the ones under the microscope. Not that sharing the same last name isn’t going to throw the rumor mill into action. Suspecting why we’re not sharing the same bed will get lips flapping. It really is a no-win situation.
Sloan glanced at the files of information he had already gathered. It wasn’t much. Dunham had spoken the truth about that. Having Abbey on board would certainly speed things up. She was keenly observant and tenacious. He chuckled to himself as a thought crossed his mind. I wonder how many tasks were left undone at Sloan Enterprises, or have Gordon and Robert kept the place running? I made sure her docket was packed tight. There was no way in hell I was going to give her a moment to meet with that dance instructor.
His heart fell. He had left her alone in Minneapolis without a goodbye. He knew it would devastate her, but jealousy had poisoned his heart. He hadn’t even been able to sleep next to her that night, opting for the couch instead. All I can see is her and Twinkle Toes dancing, their bodies pressed tight, that hungry look in his eye ….
Sloan heaved a sigh. He couldn’t believe he had ever had thoughts like that about her, that she could possibly be unfaithful. She had never given him the idea that she would stray. His trust had never wavered in her. That was, until recently. The thought of losing her to another man tore at him. Am I not enough for her?
That was the question that plagued him. He was a billionaire, a warrior, an insatiable lover. He gave her the world. To lose her to a guy strapped in spandex…it would be too much. He shook his head as he sighed again, picking up the first file on the very short stack. It was time to study what little facts they had. In the morning, he would have to get his latest soldier up to date on their progress. And fight every temptation not to kiss her senseless.
»»•««
“O’Riley!”
Abbey shot straight out of her bunk, blinking. It had taken her forever to fall asleep on the flimsy mattress. Of course, just as soon as she had fallen into a deep, restful sleep, this loud, obnoxious voice had to rip her from dreamland. She waited for her eyes to f
ocus before turning her attention to the source of the noise.
Torelli stood above her, his tall frame towering over her, large hands clenched to his hips. “Rise and shine, princess. You need to be at your post in five minutes.”
Abbey yawned then glanced around the barracks, finding the room empty. “Post?”
“If the CIA is going to shove you, your pain in the ass husband, and that dimwit Evans down this camp’s throat, you’ll pull your weight. This isn’t a vacation, sweetheart.”
“Trust me, I get it. Afghanistan isn’t my first choice for a holiday,” Abbey grumbled.
“Shut it, O’Riley. You will treat me with the same respect as the rest of these soldiers. Get up, get dressed, and get on that hill. Evans is waiting for you with your weapon.”
“Yes, sir,” Abbey snarled.
Torelli stood a moment longer over her, a strange leer on his lips. His gaze wandered slowly up and down Abbey’s T-shirt-and-shorts-clad body. It took a moment for her to read his look. She had called him “sir.” And he took some sick, twisted pleasure from it. Not the “scrub the latrine floor” kind of pleasure. No, it was the kind that involved handcuffs and a bedpost. Torelli chuckled as he walked away.
Abbey scrambled out of bed, tugging her pants over her shorts as she stumbled along. By the time she reached the door, she was lacing her boots. The smell of breakfast wafted through the hot, dry air. Her body made a beeline to the source.
“O’Riley! The ridge! Now!”
Abbey felt her whole body stiffen. Those orders hadn’t come from Torelli. The voice that had shouted that command had a distinct Irish brogue. She huffed as she spun on her toes toward the cliff. She wouldn’t even give Sloan the benefit of a response.
She struggled up the crags, not exactly sure where she was going. Scanning the hills, she didn’t see one sign of a human among the rocks. She turned back to the camp to find Torelli chewing into Sloan. The Irishman stood stone-still, fists at his hips. Even from the distance she was from her husband, Abbey could see the rage on his face. Maybe she was better off up here.
She turned back to the hills just in time to see a hand waving in her direction. Struggling through the rocks, she found Bartholomew lying on his stomach, a cheesy grin on his face. “About time you woke up.” He shoved a rifle toward her. “I don't have to explain what you'll be doing with that."
“Nope.” Abbey scooped up the gun and plopped into the dirt next to him. “I’m well aware of what I do with this.” She sighed then muttered, “I’m starving.”
Bartholomew chuckled as he reached over and rustled through his knapsack. Moments later, he pulled out an apple, a sandwich, and a granola bar. He winked as he handed them to her. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t make it to breakfast.”
Abbey snatched the food from his grasp and tore off the plastic wrap, breathing a “thanks” to him as she did. She sank a bite into the bread and moaned. Turkey and Swiss, her favorite. She balanced the sandwich on her knee as she sorted her things to take her position.
Bartholomew’s large hand around her wrist stopped her. “Eat. It’s all right. I can watch for both of us.”
Abbey heaved a sigh of relief. For feeling as if the entirety of the camp was against her, it was nice to know she had someone on her side. “Thank you.” Taking another bite, she collapsed against the rock. She watched Bartholomew as she finished her sandwich and started on the apple. “So explain Torelli to me.”
“He’s a contractor with the military upgrading weapons systems. He and his team have been here for six months. He’s essentially a tech geek but thinks he’s some ultimate warrior. He also thinks he’s God’s gift to women, so be careful.”
“Wonderful. Are there any leads?”
Bartholomew answered without looking at her. He kept his eyes trained through the scope, at the camp. “Unfortunately, no. We’ve spent most of our time arguing with Torelli and his lackeys. You know your hubby’s temper, and Torelli has a knack for poking Sloan in just a way to set it off in full force. I’ve spent more time helping Lathrop keep the peace between them and less time searching for evidence.”
“Fantastic.” Abbey tossed the core of her apple into a crevice then squiggled next to Bartholomew, perching her gun on her shoulder. “What exactly am I looking for?”
“Anything out of the ordinary. Anything that could potentially harm the camp.” He pushed her rifle down and grinned at her. “Take a day or two to observe. Be my spotter. See what normal is. After that, you can get trigger happy, and I’ll be your spotter. You’re fast enough, anyway, to draw that. If we need you, you’ll be ready.”
“All right.” She set the weapon aside and watched the camp for several moments in silence. “B?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You should be home with Maggie getting ready for your baby. I should have come in the first place. I’m here now.”
Bartholomew sighed. “I wasn’t about to let you go in my place. I have military experience. I’ve been in a country at war. And if Maggie has our son or daughter, at least my child has his or her mother. Right now, Ame, Ethan, and Colin don’t have either of you. I was fine with coming here.”
Abbey smiled at him. She could hear the determination in his voice. Once again, he was one of her big, bad protectors. “So, anything I need to know?”
“We’ll be up here for about eight hours. You’ll need these.” He tossed her a bottle of sunscreen and a thin cover. “Use them. It gets pretty hot. We don’t break for lunch. I have food for both of us in my pack. And as far as bathrooms go…” Bartholomew shot a quick look over his shoulder at the rocks. “Get creative.”
Abbey searched where he had indicated. “Right. This will be fun. Does the Army typically have snipers staking out their camps?”
“Lathrop is a little paranoid. He lost a bunch of men to Taliban snipers. I guess we’re his solution to returning the favor.”
She popped open the bottle of sunscreen and squirted a glob into her hand. Slowly, she smoothed it onto her exposed skin. “I’m already not a big fan of Torelli.”
“No one is. Not even those under his command.”
“Got it.” Abbey rolled her eyes as she tucked herself under the cover. Sloan was already angry with her. Nobody in the camp, including him, wanted her there. And if this morning was any indicator, Torelli planned on making her stay miserable. “Mind being my best friend until we get out of here?”
Bartholomew chuckled. “Sure. I got your back, sis.”
Abbey reached over and gave him a quick hug before settling back into her previous position. The rock beneath her belly was extremely uncomfortable. She sighed. Next shift she’d have to remember to bring a towel to lie on.
The day passed painfully slow as Abbey and Bartholomew kept guard in the hills. There was one advantage to being Bartholomew’s spotter. From where they were, Abbey could watch the daily routine of the camp. Being the newest member didn’t do her any good at the moment. However, once she was comfortable with her temporary home, from this height, she would easily be able to detect any unusual activity.
About midafternoon, she caught a soldier with a rifle wandering through the rocks, slowly ascending the hill. Nudging Bartholomew, she frowned. “That doesn’t look normal.”
“Nope,” he agreed. “It looks like relief. Joe’s heading up here for his shift. You can go down first. I’ll wait for Will. If you want, we can meet in the mess hall for a bite to eat.”
“Isn’t it early for supper?”
“I can eat twice.”
Abbey laughed as she started disassembling her unused weapon. Before she could finish, Joe had already arrived at their perch. Abbey tossed the gun into the case Bartholomew handed her and stood. She turned at Bartholomew’s voice.
“Take your time going down. Weave. Look at the rocks. I’ll meet you in the mess hall in a little bit.”
She glanced back at him. “See you
soon.”
Slowly descending from the hills, Abbey wandered around the rocks, studying the landscape as she did. Among the drab brown there was beauty, vegetation among the dirt. It wasn’t Minnesota beautiful, with the blue lakes and tall trees, but it was still pretty.
She dashed across the camp to the barracks and stowed her gun in her locker. She waved at a few of the women in the room before making her way to the mess hall. She sat alone at a table for nearly half an hour waiting for Bartholomew. When his head popped through the door, she hopped to her feet and joined him in line.
Before he grabbed his tray, he turned and placed something in her hand. “Wear these all the time. Don’t take them off. They are your new best friend. Well, other than me. This is what took me so long.”
Abbey opened her fingers to find a pair of dog tags. She studied them, finding her full name and vital information embedded in the metal. Solemnly, she slipped the chain over her neck. Suddenly, everything became very real.
“Hurry up, slow poke. I’m starving.”
Abbey’s head snapped up to find Bartholomew winking at her halfway through the serving line. She scooped up a tray and followed.
They returned to the table Abbey had been sitting at and chatted over bites of food. She watched Bartholomew as he talked and ate, remembering the first time they had met.
He had stood tall and stoic as the doorman of Sloan’s building in New York City. And he had been a jerk for not listening to her pleas to be let in. Since then, Bartholomew had saved her life, rescuing her from a fire that MacPherson trapped her in. He had saved Sloan’s life when Michael, Abbey’s psycho ex-boyfriend, had shot him when they’d lived in Mount Vernon. Bartholomew had kept fighting for Sloan’s life when the other medical professionals had given up. He had married her sister-in-law.
And now, he would soon be a dad. She smiled. She couldn’t think of a better one.
They both jumped, startled, as two fists slammed down on the tabletop. Abbey looked up into the ice-blue eyes of her husband.
“I have been looking all over bloody hell for the two of you,” Sloan snarled. “And I find you here, stuffing your faces. You can stay here and vacation in this hellhole. I want to find what we’re here to find and go home.”
The Assassin Page 5