Alex (In the Company of Snipers)
Page 1
by
“Outstanding romantic read. Irish Winters has crafted a tender romance between two lost souls that will keep readers wanting more.”
“Prepare to fall in love with tough guy Alex who can be tender, softhearted Kelsey who is stronger than she realizes, and Whisper for sure!”
“This love story speaks to everyone who has loved and lost. It’s a keeper, meant to be read again and again.”
First American Kindle Edition
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, dialogues, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Copyright ©2013 by Irish Winters
Edited by Katharina Brendel http://www.portablemagicediting.com/
Cover design by Rhett Hoffmeister http://www.rhetthoffmeister.com
Book layout by Emmaline Hoffmeister http://www.emmalinehoffmeister.com
Cover photograph by Aleshyn_Andrei at Shutterstock
Author photo by Leslie Strayhorn http://www.KayLeePhotography.net
All rights reserved.
ISBN Paperback: 978-0-9910693-0-9
ISBN eBook: 978-0-9910693-1-6
Library of Congress Control Number: 2013956825
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Irish Winter’s author website is http://www.irishwinters.com
Table of Contents
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
DEDICATION
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Epilogue
Upcoming books by Irish Winters:
About Irish Winters
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
First to my husband, Bill, who reminds me often that I’m living my dream. Thanks for supporting me, sweetheart. You are and always will be my sexiest hero.
To my beta readers, Nancy Richardson and Lynn Hill, who have only always boosted my spirits, thank you for reading all ten books and telling me they’re fabulous. Keep lying to me. I love it!
To my critique partners, Kathy Rochelle and Alysia Ricks, the mean girls who have tossed my books into the grinder of their experience and helped me polish my stories, thanks for keeping my feet on the ground. Without the yin and yang of my critique partners verses my beta readers, I would be just another frustrated writer who could have been.
You gals rock!
To Rhett Hoffmeister, my amazing cover artist, you have worked magic just for me. My cover is alive!
To Emmaline Hoffmeister, what can I say? You gave me my first big break. Thanks for believing in Alex. He breathes today because of you (and he’s damn good looking, too.)
And lastly, to my mother - I know you’re looking down on me, Mom. I feel those Irish blues smiling all the way from heaven. Thanks for teaching me to pray, to love, but mostly to laugh. Life is short. You showed me how to live it. Love you still. Always will.
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to the men and
Women in our nation’s military.
To those who have come home
Unheralded and unappreciated;
To those who have come home to
Hero’s welcomes;
To those who have died in past
Wars and in present;
To those who have to live with
What they have seen and done
While allowing me to remain unscathed;
To those who have stood in harm’s way -
For me.
I take it personally.
Every single day.
Welcome home.
Thank you.
One
Kelsey
Kelsey sat down within the perfect cover of green pines and greener ferns. She had been walking for what—hours? Days? She wasn’t sure. One minute walking through the forest seemed logical, but the next, she couldn’t remember where she was going. Where was she? What happened? How long ago?
Nothing made sense. All she knew was she had to get away from something. Whatever had initially propelled her into the woods, it must have been bad, or she wouldn’t have this nagging feeling she had to keep moving. Maybe if she sat for a minute, she would remember?
Maybe not ….
She pressed dirty fingers to her swollen cheek. Her head hurt the worst, but every muscle all the way down to her bones ached, too. Blood oozed from patches of scrapped skin she didn’t know how she got in the first place. Sharp stabbing lights forced her eyes shut until it was too much effort to walk. She leaned against something solid. A wall. Why a wall was in the middle of the forest never crossed her mind. She had already slipped past the world where things made sense. It was hard to focus, much less think straight. Shock and slumber beckoned. The wall felt—safe.
From branches high overhead, a nosey chipmunk scolded, annoyed he had a new neighbor. The late afternoon sun shone down through layers of pine, casting a dusty beam of golden light as it fell. Insects buzzed. Kelsey closed her eyes to the gentle rhythm of nature. She relaxed. Simple thoughts flickered behind her eyelids. Stay. Hold. Be still.
She sighed in total surrender. Okay. I can do that.
Alex
No. It can’t be. This is impossible.
Alex Stewart watched the Air Force reconnaissance footage, a black and white video feed that displayed a solitary man crouching outside a cave somewhere in eastern Afghanistan.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
The bearded man in the footage laughed into a satellite phone even as he kept nervous watch overhead. Smoking craters and debris pockmarked the winding road up to the cave, but stopped short. As the picture drew in, it became apparent the cave remained untouched. The surgical strike wasn’t even close.
He lied to me. Rod Kensington lied.
Peering closer, Alex carved both hands through his hair, wanting to pull it out. Another video of smoking vehicles appeared on his computer screen. Darkly veiled women huddled around a prostrate man on the ground. Somber children stood nearby crying.
This must never happen again.
Alex burst out of his office. “Sit Room. Now,” he bellowed to his team.
Men and women scrambled to obey, at least the few that were not out of the office on missions and operations.
The Situation Room was nothing more than a meeting room with video capability. On a good day, he held staff meetings, conducted intelligence briefings, and occasionally, they might have an uplink with a Department of Defense agency—Army, Navy, Air Force, or Marines. Today was not one of those good days. It was just Alex and his team. To make matters worse, one of his junior agents, Harley Mortimer, had been AWOL for weeks.
“You found Mortimer yet?” Alex lashed out at Mother, the first person in his line of fire. “Well?”
His genius admin assistant and self-proclaimed girl Friday shook her head. “Still don’t know where he is. Zack went by his apartment again this morning. Ember ran down the GPS signal from his cell phone. Nothing. Guess he’s MIA like last time.”
“Then check again.”
“Yes, Boss.” Taking her place at the conference table, Mother didn’t react to his rudeness. He forced a deliberate breath.
Tone it down, Stewart. These people don’t even know what happened yet.
The room filled in silence. Three senior agents, four junior agents, and two genius info techies comprised his fledgling team. He needed more agents, and maybe he needed better men, but for now, they were all he had. His men were ex-military snipers, perfect for the work he needed done until today. Zack Lennox nodded grimly. He always was good at reading people.
Alex took another settling breath. No need to preach to the choir. Settle down.
Before the last person took his seat, he flipped the switch to lower the video screen. Stalking beneath it, he snapped a finger at the statuesque blonde seated at the computer console. “Roll it.”
Don’t take it out on her. She didn’t do it.
Ember Davis, Mother’s assistant, logged in, but, just as the feed came on-line, her screen went dark before the picture could materialize. Hurriedly, she worked the keyboard until it flickered back to life.
“Anyone want to tell me what happened out there?” Alex jerked his thumb at the screen. It blinked off again. He lowered his head and bit his lip to keep his anger in. Everything seemed to be working against him today.
Cool it, Stewart. Focus. Think.
“Sorry.” Ember continued at the keyboard. The picture came to life.
“What happened out there?” He didn’t mean his question to come out so accusing, so mean. But it did.
Silently, all eyes studied the overhead display. He watched their faces. Jaws dropped. Eyes widened. Mother covered her mouth with both hands. Ember blinked wide green eyes. Murphy Finnegan growled without any attempt to use actual words. Zack pushed away from the table, contempt etched in his face at what he was viewing.
Good. Now you see what I see. Now you know how bad things can get when an agent fails.
Roy Hudson paled, if that was possible for a black man. He scrubbed his hand over his face. Only David Tao seemed unaffected, not like Alex was surprised. Even on a bad day, David would be calm. With his anger checked Alex blew out a slow deliberate breath. It was safe to proceed now. He was calm. These were good people. They weren’t anything like Rod.
“What’s wrong with this picture?”
No one responded. The thing about blowing your cool in the past is that people remember. His team had taken more than their fair share of tongue-lashings, all of them undeserved.
“I’ll tell you what happened.” He steadied his fingers to the table. “Our intel to the Air Force was wrong, and because of our wrong information, innocent people were hurt this morning. The target who I contracted to hit is still out there, and he is still killing American soldiers.” Alex glared while everyone else avoided eye contact. Even Zack looked away. “This is not how we do business!”
Murphy Finnegan spoke up. He was the only one who dared. “Rod Kensington blew the op, not these folks here. Air Force OSI is looking for him right now.”
“The Office of Security Investigations won’t find him. I’ll bet Kensington isn’t even in the country anymore.”
Murphy sighed. “You know these things happen. They’re every bit as bad as friendly fire. It’s a sad cost of war.”
“Not in my company it isn’t!” Alex let his cardinal rule sink in. His rage peaked again, threatening to override his common sense. Surgeons must never be wrong. They didn’t have the luxury of making mistake with other people’s lives. Neither did he or his team.
Murphy gave up and focused on the pen in his hand.
Alex turned back to Mother. “Find Kensington. Track his GPS. Do whatever you need to do, but get him on a plane tonight. I need someone out there who can get the job done right.”
She nodded obediently as if he had been polite. That simple reaction was the final straw. Abruptly, Alex stormed out the door. His anger won. Again.
“I might as well do it my damn self!”
The meeting only angered Alex more, and the calm with which his team took his abuse was beyond his comprehension. Once more, he had failed, made a fool of himself, and embarrassed them. If anything, he pitied them because they worked for him. Except for the errant Junior Agent Kensington, each of his agents gave back tenfold, while all Alex seemed able to return was hostility and impatience. Try as he might, his anger ruled. If he had worked for the man he had become, he would have quit a long time ago.
Out of control with no way to change, he cursed himself most of all. Even now, he wanted to upend his desk, throw a chair out the window, or hit something. Anything. He didn’t. Instead, he seethed. How do others do it? How could anyone lose their entire family and still function? He didn’t understand, and he didn’t want to.
A thousand ways the guilt came back to him. I should’ve been there. As if he didn’t know that? Four years without them was not living. A man can’t have his family wrenched out of his life and not feel like the wretch he had become. Every day was a trial, full of loneliness and one endurance test after another. It was torture.
Murphy would knock at the door soon, come in and talk about the weather, or something business related. That was another thing Alex couldn’t believe he had done. Why did he, ex-Marine and current idiot, ever think he could start a business? I’m a sniper. A soldier. Not a businessman. How stupid am I? Anger fueled his already throbbing migraine.
The simple truth was that everything had fallen so easily and too quickly into place. He had even been bankrolled by the very prestigious Jed McCormack, an entrepreneur just up the road in Rosslyn, Virginia with friends in Congress and plenty of cash. Once Jed found out about Alex and his idea for The TEAM, he had put forth a magnanimous offer Alex couldn’t refuse, and all because he had saved McCormack’s son during the first Gulf War. Brady McCormack was a good Marine, a good soldier, and now a quadriplegic—but alive.
Jed’s gratitude knew no bounds. It allowed Alex to own the building they resided in outright, lock, stock, and barrel. The ceilings high, the windows expansive, the modern building spoke of understated elegance. Polished aluminum lined black marble countertops, and each agent’s workspace boasted the same spacious design. His own executive office was more window than wall. But now he stood with his foot on that low windowsill and wondered why he ever thought he needed an office with a view.
He should be proud. Beautiful Alexandria, Virginia, sprawled to the Potomac below with people coming and going, friends meeting for lunch, tourists sightseeing, and families vacationing. He hated them all, but more than anything on this green earth, he hated himself. Four years ago was just yesterday, and the deaths of his wife and daughter just as painful now as then. Bitter rage ignited all over again.
I should’ve been there.
Dressed in the executive uniform of the day, charcoal suit, burgundy shirt, and black tie, he looked like any other captain of industry. Even the early gray at his temples belied his youth and added an air of distinction he didn’t deserve. Salt and pepper he could live with. He just couldn’t live without—them.
Two blond-haired beauties materialized in his mind—Sara, the love of his life, and Abby, the child he would give anything to hold one more time. Their blue eyes still smiled, full of the happiness he missed every day. How do people stop hurting? How do they recover and move on? He didn’t know. His hand reached out to touch their sweet faces. The cold window reminded him again. They were gone.
Cabin.
A single word bubbled up through the bitter caldron within his mind. Alex glanced at his watch. He felt for the people in that video clip. Those wailing women were the impetus to his decision to become a USMC scout sniper all those years ago. Collateral da
mage was not acceptable. Never.
And now he would have to deal with an Air Force demand for mitigation, possibly litigation, and they were right. He would settle. The Air Force would expect redress, and no matter how much it cost, he would give it to them. It might be millions. He didn’t care. They might never hire his company again. That much was sure. He owned a six-month old business that already had a black mark against it. Again, he didn’t care. It was those people a world away that would haunt him now. Kensington might have blown the op, but Alex took it personally.
Cabin.
The single word persisted. He pushed it aside. Like anything else in life, a man’s word was his reputation, and now his sucked. His personal code was simple. Never late. Never wrong. Never miss. Anger smoldered hot and potent. He pressed two fingers to the temple that hurt the worst and cursed Rod Kensington as much as he cursed himself. Never should’ve hired him. Kensington was nothing but a hired gun. Absolutely nothing but.
Cabin.
He glanced at his watch. What month is it anyway? A quiet rap at his door interrupted his thoughts. He pushed the anger back where it belonged. Stowed it. Locked it up. Wished he could throw away the key.
“It’s open.”
“Need you to sign another contract, young man.” Right on schedule, in came good old Murphy, as calm as Alex was volatile.
He had first met Murphy during a joint military operation when they were both still active duty. Murphy knew The TEAM inside out. He had been with Alex through the months of preliminary market research, of building a rock-solid business plan, and the nightmare of coming up with sufficient start-up capital. Thanks heavens for Jed. At least he had made that one problem go away, but thank heavens more for Murphy. It was the intangible benefits he brought with him that eased the burden of entrepreneurship. The old Army Ranger liked people. At this point in time, Alex did not. The truth was The TEAM could probably survive without him more than his right hand man.
He looked at his watch again. The silver and gold face declared the month of June. Already? Seems like only yesterday ….