CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Three hours later
October 8—9:00 A.M.
Downtown Denver, Colorado
Alex stood near the edge of the crowded room. The families of the Fey Special Forces Team planned a very small, family-only ceremony for the two-year anniversary. They would meet at ten o’clock at Alex and John’s home and then make their way to Fort Logan together. Alex had even arranged for a Denver Police escort.
What a difference two months makes.
Alex and John’s house was gone.
Their private ceremony became a large public event, where every politician and all of the military brass would be in attendance. The Secret Service expected at least four hundred people and every media outlet. The families were cajoled, begged, and manipulated into attending with their children.
But the desire to be together, on this day of all days, was greater than the President or something as insignificant as a home explosion. Max found the largest and nicest meeting room in the Cash Register building, where his international law firm rented three floors. Rebecca arranged for caterers and decorators. Everything was beautiful.
“Major Alex?” Dwight’s grandmother asked, coming over to Alex.
“Yes, Mrs. Harris,” Alex said. She took the elderly woman’s hands in her own. A small woman, with deep creases in her skin, Mrs. Harris looked up at Alex through the mesh of her black hat.
“I wanted to thank you for my necklace.” Mrs. Harris put her gloved hand to the diamond-encrusted platinum cross around her neck. “Dwight told me you each received a diamond. It never occurred to me that he would have made something for me.”
Alex smiled. She had spent the last week with the team’s families. She wanted to tell them in person what had happened and give them the diamond jewelry she retrieved from the vault. Each team member had received their choice of diamonds after they had rescued the board of directors of a large diamond corporation. No one knew what to pick, so Alex called Raz. The ex-New York City cop helped them choose diamonds. He had also arranged for a jeweler in Paris. Raz picked a large diamond for Alex and convinced her to wear it in her belly button.
“Dwight was very clear. He wanted you to have something you would wear,” Alex said with a smile.
“I have another question for you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“My Dwight was shot in the head. I wasn’t able to have the casket open at the funeral. The other men weren’t . . . disfigured in this way.”
Alex’s eyes glistened with tears as she searched Dwight’s grandmother’s face.
“Did they mutilate my baby because he was Negro?”
“Dwight was shot in the chest, the abdomen, and the legs.”
“Yes, ma’am. Seventeen bullets. The doctor said, ‘Enough bullets to down an elephant.’”
“We kept our weapons in an area of the vault. One person stood guard . . .”
“Jesse Abreu was on guard,” Mrs. Harris said. “You said there was no way for him to see what was coming. Professional killers.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Alex nodded. “It was our habit to drop our weapons in a particular area. After Dwight was shot . . . ,” Alex paused and searched the elderly woman’s face again.
“You can tell me anything, Major Alex. Nothing in this whole world is worse than my baby’s dying before me.”
“The shooter shot from left to right, and then right to left. Somehow, Dwight was still alive. He pulled himself along the floor with his arms toward the weapons. I fired at the shooter . . .”
“With that handgun you always carry.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
They were silent for a moment as the information and inference lingered in the air.
“You’re saying that my boy was a hero.”
Tears sprung from Alex’s eyes, “Yes, ma’am. Your boy was a hero.”
Mrs. Harris pulled Alex into a hug. The women stood together for a moment. Stepping back, Mrs. Harris pulled a tissue from up under her sleeve and gave it to Alex. She took another and used it herself.
“I said to my boy, ‘There’ll be no end of trouble if you have a woman on your team.’ He said, ‘Momma, you, of all people, should not be prejudiced.’ Over the years, you would pull them out of one crazy situation after another, and Dwight would say to me, ‘See, Momma. You were wrong.’ Alexandra, I’m sorry I misjudged you.”
Alex smiled. “I miss him, too.”
“For the rest of our lives,” Mrs. Harris said, looking at the families. “We will miss them for the rest of our lives.”
There was a lot of excited talking near the door, and Alex turned to see who had arrived. Mrs. Harris put her hand on Alex’s arm.
“You’re going to find the people who did this,” she said. “I know it.”
Alex nodded, and Mrs. Harris hugged her again. John came over to the women.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but Paul’s girlfriend, Greta, is here. She brought her baby. She wants to speak to you.”
“Go on, dear,” Mrs. Harris said.
Maria touched Alex’s arm as she moved to speak with Mrs. Harris. John led Alex to Greta. The young woman was standing with her back to Alex and talking to Max. Rebecca held a child in her arms. When the baby turned to look at her, Alex gasped. The little girl smiled, her dark eyes sparkling with laughter, and she reached toward Alex. She was the spitting image of Paul.
“She likes you, Alex,” Rebecca said.
Alex touched the child’s hand. She wrapped her fingers around Alex’s index finger.
“Mrs. Hargreaves, would you mind watching Mindy?” Greta asked. She gave her diaper bag to Max.
“I’d love to! She is absolutely precious,” Rebecca said. “How old is she?”
“She’ll be fifteen months tomorrow.”
“Greta!” Joseph’s wife Nancy hugged the young woman. “I’m so glad you made it. Is this yours? Oh my God, Greta, she looks just like Paul.”
Greta blushed, pushing a piece of light brown hair behind her ear, and nodded.
“Rebecca, you cannot hog her to yourself,” Nancy said. She reached out to take Mindy from Rebecca.
“Come on.” Alex led Greta away from the women. “You’ll be lucky if you get her back from those two.”
Alex found a quiet corner of the room, where they sat down in two high-backed chairs.
“She is beautiful.”
Greta blushed again. “Like Paul. She’s beautiful like Paul was.”
They sat together in silence for a moment, taking in the conversation and movement of the room.
“I’m sorry that I wouldn’t talk to you this week,” Greta said. “I . . . It’s been very difficult for me.”
Alex nodded.
“Can you tell me about this?” Greta asked.
She held her left hand where a three-carat, radiant-cut diamond on a simple yellow gold band fit perfectly on her ring finger. Standing on Greta’s mother’s doorstep, Alex had pressed the ring box into Greta’s hand, saying, “When you want to talk to me about this, I’m here for you.”
“We did a job for some diamond people, and they gave us diamonds as a ‘thank you.’”
“That’s not what I meant,” Greta said. “They found him in his boxer shorts. He was . . .”
“Dancing,” Alex said. “We were all together in the vault in Paris. Did he tell you about the vault?”
“He said that you had a storage place in Paris, but that’s all.”
“That’s where the assault took place. Not in Afghanistan.”
“I knew that he didn’t die in Afghanistan. I knew it. I thought . . . Is this a secret?”
“For now.”
Greta nodded.
“Paul was taking dancing lessons so that he could dance with you on your wedding night. He planned to ask you when the divorce was final and drag you off to Las Vegas. He wanted everything to be perfect. He was changing when Dean asked him about his dance moves. Paul was demonstrating. You remember how Dean and N
athan egged Paul on.”
Greta’s lips pressed together in a tight line.
“He wasn’t with a woman? I thought . . .”
“Never,” Alex said. “He had been separated for six or seven years. He saw women in that time, but once he met you . . . I could tell you about your first date, your second date, when you moved in together—everything.” Alex chuckled. “I even know what you look like when you first open your eyes in the morning. Paul talked about you non-stop.”
Greta began to weep. Alex put her hand on the girl’s arm.
“His mother . . .”
“She’s the only person on the planet who is fond of Paul’s ex-wife. You know that he didn’t file for the divorce only because that woman is so unpleasant. Paul just didn’t want to deal with the conflict. Greta, you have to know that.”
Greta nodded, wiping her eyes.
“We were together before you left. He . . . I met him in Colorado Springs. He left base for two hours and met me at the La Quinta. He wanted a baby so bad that he didn’t want to miss a chance.” Greta blushed. “You must think I’m a complete slut. They weren’t even officially divorced.”
“Trust me. If we could have snuck away for even a half hour, we would have,” Alex said. “I gave Paul the pass. He took Jesse’s Jeep.”
“Then he died and . . . I was pregnant. His family won’t have anything to do with Mindy or me. I’ve been living with my mother.”
Alex nodded. “They are here. Paul’s parents. I bet my mother will work this out. It’s the kind of thing she’s good at. She’ll probably tell them they are being petty and childish.” Alex smiled to herself.
“Did Paul . . .” Greta’s eyes searched Alex’s face. “Did Paul love me?”
“Yes, Greta, Paul loved you.”
“Thanks,” Greta said.
“I know the others will want to see you and meet Mindy. Do you feel up to it?”
Greta nodded. “If Paul loved me, I can do anything.”
“He did.” Alex stood to hug Greta.
“Greta! I didn’t know you were here!” Dean’s wife Jennifer exclaimed. “Alex, have you been hiding Greta?”
“Greta has been hiding something.” Alex nodded toward the door.
Jennifer gasped when she saw baby Mindy. “It’s Paul. Oh Greta, you poor thing.”
Alex moved away from the women as they hugged. Moving across the room, she walked right into a big red-haired US Army Sergeant.
“Sir,” Mike’s oldest son saluted her.
“Hi, Michael. Oh, uh, at ease, soldier,” she said. She hugged the boy. “Thanks for bringing your brother and sister. It’s great to see them.”
Mike’s bright red-haired children were mixing with the other families.
“Yes, sir,” he said. “Sir . . .”
“What’s up?” Alex asked.
“I am currently in Special Forces training.”
“Good for you. Isn’t it fun?”
“Fun?” Michael asked. Was the Major making fun of him? He looked into Alex’s smiling face trying to determine how he should respond. Taking a breath for courage, he continued, “I’m applying to a specialty, and I was wondering if you might give me a recommendation. I’ve heard that soldiers who have parents who were not held in high regard have a harder time moving forward.”
“Speak freely, Michael. What are you saying?”
“My understanding is that my father will be an impediment to my career.”
Alex burst out laughing. “Are you serious?”
“Sir.”
“Your father was a decorated soldier, one of the best in his class. They asked him, more than once, to teach at Fort Bragg. He liked being with us, our team, in the field. Don’t you have his medals?”
“No, sir. I am not aware of my father ever receiving any medals.”
“I’ll see if I can find a list,” Alex said. “Do you know who that guy is?”
“Your father, sir. General Patrick Hargreaves.”
“Go tell him that you are Mike’s son, and listen to what he has to say about Mike. You should be very proud of your father. He was a wonderful person, a dear friend, and a great soldier.”
Michael’s eyes glistened. He looked away from Alex in an effort to control his emotions.
“Sir, the recommendation?”
“Of course,” Alex said. “Anyone would be lucky to have you on their team.”
Alex took him by the arm and led him over to her father.
“Dad, this is Mike’s son Michael.”
“You’re Mike’s son? I could have guessed that.” Patrick’s eyes brightened. “What a guy. He went through training just before we left Fort Bragg. I could tell you stories . . .”
Alex put her hand on her father’s arm.
“Michael’s been told that his father will be an impediment to his career.”
Patrick laughed and put his arm around the young man’s shoulders.
“Let me tell you about your father . . .”
Alex smiled, leaving them to talk. Moving toward the center of the room, she found herself watching people talk and laugh. Last year, the loss was too fresh and the pain too extreme. This year, they were ready to connect, to remember. She saw the diamond earrings sparkle in Nathan’s son’s ears as he lifted his baby in the air, the dancing light along Maria’s chin from the pear-shaped diamond pendant that hung around her neck, and the flash from Jennifer’s tennis bracelet as she reached around Andi to hug her.
This year, they could reflect the light.
FFF
One hour later
October 8—11:00 A.M.
Downtown Denver, Colorado
Alex looked up to see a short, small man jamming his index finger into Trece’s chest. As she approached, she could hear the man screaming. Short man in a cheap suit. He must be a part of the President’s event-planning team. For all his good-natured charm and experience dealing with the public, the huge Trece was about to pounce on the man when Alex asked, “Can I help you?”
“Where are the children?” the man turned to glare at Alex.
“What children?” Alex asked.
Under the nose of the President’s event team, they had slipped the team’s children out of the building and to Patrick and Rebecca’s home. Alex would be damned before pictures of her friend’s weeping children splashed all over the media. That was not going to happen.
“The families were specifically instructed to bring their children to the event. The President has a few special words to say to the children of the Fey Special Forces Team. Who the fuck are you, anyway?”
Trece moved his shoulder an inch, knocking the man onto his behind.
“That is assault. I will not hesitate to report you to your superiors,” the little man screamed and jumped to his feet.
“That would be me. Report duly noted,” Alex said. “I’m Major Drayson.”
“This Neanderthal assaulted me,” the little man screamed. “Where the fuck are the children?”
Trece moved forward, but Alex put a hand on his chest.
“Captain Ramirez? Will you collect your team? The families are ready.”
“Yes, sir,” Trece said. He loomed over the little man, and he stepped back. Trece stalked off.
“You do not seem to understand what I am saying to you,” the little man started in on Alex. “Do you even know what the Fey was? What this team accomplished in their ten years together?”
“I have some idea, sir.”
“Then you understand the importance of celebrating their accomplishments.”
“Yes, sir,” Alex said.
“If you were half the soldier that this Special Forces team was . . .” The man scanned Alex. Seeing that he gained some purchase, he continued, “you would handle this ceremony with greater delicacy and much less incompetence.”
“You’re absolutely right. If you will excuse me, I need to attend to the security detail.”
Alex turned her back on
the little man and began to walk off. Unable to leave it alone, the man put his hand on her shoulder to turn her back to him. The next thing he knew, he was lying on his back with Alex’s foot on his chest. She kept her foot on his chest while the parents, wives, and families, dressed in body armor and sporting armored hats that read “In Memoriam of the Fey Special Forces Team,” left with the security team. Every time he tried to get up, she pushed him back down with her foot.
“Who is that?” Colonel Gordon asked.
“Event team, sir. I detained him to keep him from harm’s way.”
“Harm’s way?”
“I was going to kill him, sir,” Alex said.
“Ah. Let him up, and I’ll take care of him,” Colonel Gordon said. “You’re needed upstairs.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said.
She removed her foot from the little man’s chest. Leaving the room, she heard the man start in on his diatribe with Colonel Gordon. In the elevator, Alex took long slow breaths to calm down.
Max held a side entrance to his international law office suite open for her. The twins pressed their foreheads together in silent greeting.
“Nice throw. Trece said that guy was from the President’s event team,” Matthew said. He and Troy were standing in the hall, waiting for Alex.
“I was simply keeping him from harm’s way.”
“We need to compete again,” Matthew said.
Alex nodded. She raised a hand to say “Hello” to Troy and walked back to the small conference room next to Max’s office.
“Hi.” She closed the door. “I understand you wanted to see me.”
John turned around from the plate-glass window he had been looking out. In a step, he lifted her off the ground. She giggled.
“I love you so much I can barely hold all the feelings in my body.”
She kissed his lips.
“I do not want to be away from you today—not any day—but especially not today. I can’t lose . . .”
Alex kissed him quiet.
“Today marks the worst day, the very worst day of my life.” His lips moved against her lips.
“Me, too.” She rested her head on his shoulder.
“What is your plan?” John asked.
“We are going to the Irish Snug for some lunch and whiskey. We reserved a snug and are going to play poker. If he’s back in time, Zack’s going to meet us there.”
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours, and we’ll do something fun.” His hands pulled at her behind. “You have no idea how much fun I can be.”
She giggled, feeling his desire press against her, and kissed him.
“I’m wondering what kind of fun you had in mind, Mr. Kelly.”
“Drayson,” he laughed.
She laughed and kissed him. He moved to kiss her harder when there was a tap at the door.
“John?” Max stuck his head in the room. “Our escort is here.”
John stepped back from Alex. While holding her eyes, he kissed her hand and followed Max into the entryway of Max’s law office. Max hugged Alex and followed the soldiers out the door. Standing at the door for a moment, Alex watched John, Max, and two soldiers walk to the elevators. With a sigh, she closed the door and raised her eyebrows.
“Gentlemen,” she said. “Let the drinking begin.”
Troy held up a deck of cards. Matthew jingled his keys.
“We can go to my house,” Matthew said.
“Yeah, Erin would flip the fuck out,” Alex said. “She can’t stand cigar smoke.”
Alex pulled her handgun out to check if it was loaded. She was digging around in the pockets of her jacket when her cell phone went off.
“It’s probably my buddy Eleazar,” Alex said. She began rifling through her purse.
“You’re not going to answer it?” Troy asked. “It could be something important.”
“You can,” Alex said. She threw the phone at him. “Tell him I said, ‘Hi.’ I have to fix my eyes. I’ll be right back.”
“Captain Troy Olivas,” Troy said, answering Alex’s cell phone. “What?”
Alex was humming in the small half bathroom off Max’s office. As a partner in the law firm, Max had a plush set up. She changed from her dress into comfortable jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. She was leaning against the sink, putting her contacts in, when Matthew came to stand at the open bathroom door.
“Your Sergeant’s on the phone,” Matthew said.
Alex moved to press past him, and he grabbed her arm. Standing face to face, he said, “It’s bad.”
Alex nodded. Walking out of Max’s office, she stopped. Troy was bent over with his hands on his knees. He looked up when he heard her come out of Max’s office. Their eyes held for a moment. He shook his head and gave her the phone.
“Fey,” Alex said.
“Sir.”
“Yes, Sergeant,” she said.
“There’s been a plane crash. Captain Jakkman is a confirmed hit.”
“What?”
“Captain Zack Jakkman is dead.”
The Fey Page 27