WAR: Disruption

by Vanessa Kier

  Strong hands clasped her arms and pulled her free. She found herself pressed against a familiar chest covered in a sweaty, dirty t-shirt. “C’mon, Em,” Max said. “Let’s get out of here before this turns nasty.”

  Emily briefly let herself enjoy the sense of safety of being in Max’s arms, then pushed away as her panic receded. “So now what?” She bit her lip. “I don’t have money to pay for a hotel. The tour company took care of the big expenses, so we were told to just bring a little spending cash.”

  He escorted her through the nearly empty terminal. “Never mind, a hotel isn’t safe.”

  “Then what are we going to do?”

  He stopped and looked down at her. “Do you trust me?”

  “Sure.”

  One corner of his mouth quirked up, as if he didn’t quite believe her. Then he gently removed her hand from her scars. The protective gesture was so instinctive, she hadn’t even realized that she’d covered them.

  He didn’t release her hand and the warmth of his touch slid up her arm and chased away the chill of panic she’d felt out on the tarmac. The muted shouting from the angry crowd faded as she stared into his eyes.

  “Don’t hide, Emily. Particularly not from me.”

  Her whole body stilled. Not in fear, but with the sense that something had just changed between them. “Do you have a plan?” she finally found the breath to ask, breaking the weird tension.

  Some deep emotion passed over his face, gone before she could fully identify it. “We’re going to find someplace quiet, then I’ll call for help.” His smile was strained. “Don’t worry, I’ll find us a safe place to spend the night. Tomorrow morning, you’ll be on the first flight home.”

  HALF AN HOUR later, Max glanced back to where Emily waited inside the truck in the deepening twilight. He’d navigated away from the airport without incident, then driven along the coastal road until he’d found this quiet strip of beach where his satellite phone’s antenna would have an unobstructed view of the sky. Thankfully, Emily hadn’t protested when he told her to stay put. He needed privacy for what he was about to do.

  He stared at the phone in his hands as if it had fangs. Such a simple thing, making a phone call. There’d been a time when he wouldn’t have hesitated to do this. When Kris and the others had been as close to him as brothers. When he’d known without a doubt that his teammates had his back and vice versa.

  That was before everything at Unit 3 had deteriorated. Before Kris and the others had one by one given up fighting against the inept, hostile leadership and struck out on their own. Before Max had discovered proof that their suspicions were correct, that Dietrich was alive and someone in the U.S. military didn’t want him found. Before Max had quit and been branded a rogue for going after Dietrich.

  His fingers started to lose feeling from clutching the phone so hard and he eased back on his grip. He didn’t want to do this. Didn’t want to risk Kris and the others being hit by the political shit that was going to fly when Max took Dietrich down.

  But Max didn’t know this city. He didn’t have any contacts here. Didn’t have any place he knew was safe to keep Emily until tomorrow’s flight.

  Kris would know. He and half a dozen of Max’s former Unit 3 teammates had formed their own private special operations group. They’d originally been based in the U.S., but had relocated to West Africa about a year ago, joining forces with an infant counterinsurgency movement calling itself the West African Rangers, or WAR. Kris had been after Max for months to join them.

  Max kept saying no. And would continue to say no until he’d put Dietrich away. If he survived the confrontation with Dietrich and if he wasn’t taken down by the traitor within the military, only then would Max consider joining his old team.

  Which was why making this call was so damn hard. He didn’t want to field the usual questions. To deal with the regret that always hit him, making him wish he could say yes. Because he missed the camaraderie. Missed knowing that if he failed, others would step in to finish the job.

  His eyes cut over to the truck. He had to suck it up. Emily needed help.

  Taking a deep breath, he dialed.

  “Montgomery Enterprises,” Kristoff said, giving the name of his front company.

  “Hey, Kris, it’s me. Ah…Max.”

  “Max, you motherfucker, where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for days. Or have we degenerated to the point where you’re ignoring my calls?”

  Max winced at the bite behind his friend’s words. Yeah, now that he thought about it, he had been particularly rude during his last refusal. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I was…indisposed. This is my backup phone.” Christ. How hard would it be to admit that he’d been captured? Yet he couldn’t say the words. Didn’t want Kris’s pity.

  Not allowing his friend to comment, he rushed on, “I’m in New Accra, trying to get an American girl out of the country, but the last flight of the day was full. We need a safe place to spend the night.”

  Kris huffed out a breath. “You surprise me, Max. I thought nothing mattered but your hunt for Dietrich.”

  “I’m not a complete bastard,” Max muttered.

  “No, you’re too much the white knight. Which is why you’ve been turning me down all these months, Mr. I’ll-Go-It-Alone-To-Protect-You.”

  Max rubbed between his eyes, feeling a headache starting. “Can we forget all that for the moment? The girl’s tour group was attacked and she’s the only survivor. I just need a safe place for us to spend the night.”

  “A safe place and some medical treatment for you, am I right?”

  “Kris,” Max warned.

  “Am. I. Right.”

  Max sighed. “Yes, damn you. How’d you know?”

  “We were partners for six years. I know what you mean when you use a word like ‘indisposed’ for Christ’s sake. Besides, don’t you think I know how you sound when you’re at the end of your reserves? Wouldn’t you recognize the same if it were me?”

  He was right, but Max wasn’t going to admit it. Because if he did, he’d be closer to giving in and saying yes to the job offer. “So, a safe house?”

  There was a hint of disappointment in his voice when Kris responded. “I’ll give you an address, but I need a promise from you first.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me? A woman’s life is on the line here.”

  “Max, you and I both know that you’ll do whatever it takes to keep her alive. Finding a safe house is just the easiest option.”

  “Easy my ass,” Max muttered, earning a chuckle from Kris. “So what’s this promise?”

  “I’ve got a mission that’s right up your alley.”

  “Kris—”

  “Max, trust me. You’re gonna want to hear this. It involves Dietrich.”

  “Son of a bitch, Kris. Don’t mess with me.”

  “I swear this is real. Accept the mission and I’ll give you the address.”

  “Give me details.”

  “Uh-uh. If you agree, I’ll fill you in once you reach the safe house. Do we have a deal?”

  Bottom line, did he trust Kris? Always. He blew out a breath. “Yeah, deal.”

  “Excellent. I’ll call you back in five.”

  Max stared at the phone after Kris disconnected. Well, that had been…interesting. Dammit, what did Kris expect from him? Two excellent commanders had been killed when separate operations had gone horribly wrong at the last minute. A number of men had been injured. All because someone kept tipping Dietrich off.

  Someone with that type of power could ruin Kris and his new team. Better that only Max have his career ruined.

  The phone rang. Kris rattled off the address and the security code, then hung up before Max could thank him.

  Emily was dozing with her head back against the seat when he returned to the truck. Damn, but he admired her ability to sleep any place, any time. He’d once been able to do that, having been trained to take cat naps when he could. But since he’d be
en hunting Dietrich, it seemed that every time he closed his eyes he ended up in the middle of a nightmare.

  When Max opened the truck’s door, Emily blinked sleepily at him and his body stirred. Christ. Not now. He had too much to deal with to add a sudden attraction to Emily.

  Yet although she wasn’t his usual type—he preferred sturdy, outdoorsy women rather than fragile city dwellers—he had to admit that her hazel, almond shaped eyes and delicate face were stunning, even covered with red dust and sweat.

  She gave him a puzzled smile and he caught his breath. Her wide, bold mouth changed her face from dainty and prim into one with character, hinting at her surprising stubborn streak. Her mouth revealed the strength behind her fragile appearance. A strength only reinforced by the melted skin that ran down her neck and disappeared beneath the collar of her shirt. Anyone who’d survived that kind of damage had grit. And courage.

  “Max?”

  Realizing that he’d been staring at her, he blinked and refocused.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  Not by half. “Yeah,” he said. “I found us a safe house.”

  She raised her brows at his surly tone, but thankfully didn’t ask any questions. Still, he felt her curiosity pressing against him as they headed out.

  To his surprise, the safe house was in a swank neighborhood that rivaled a Beverly Hills suburb. Huge, multi-storied houses sat behind tall security fences. Emily whistled appreciatively, echoing Max’s thoughts. Damn, WAR must have some high-ranking supporters, because just keeping the well-manicured lawns so green would cost more than most locals made in a year.

  Following Kris’s instructions, he turned down a back lane until he reached the rear entrance to the safe house. Max punched in the security code and a moment later, the gates swung open on well-oiled hinges. Sensors turned on the outside lights as he parked in the attached garage to the two-story, hacienda style house.

  Max climbed out of the truck. Emily opened her door and started to stand, then sank back onto her seat with a low curse.

  “Em? What’s wrong?”

  “My feet hurt. Just…give me a second.”

  “Do you require assistance, my friend?” a voice called from the back door.

  “Rene.” Max whipped his head around in surprise. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Always a pleasure to meet you again, mon ami.” Dr. Rene LaSalle’s accent, a mix of Cameroonian and Parisian French, smoothed the bite in his comment as he walked down the stairs from the back door.

  “Sorry. That came out wrong. Good to see you, man. I thought you were working in The Democratic Republic of the Ivory Coast.” With his tight, short cornrows and his light brown skin, Rene could have passed for a reggae star. In reality, he was a traveling doctor who moved from conflict to conflict. Sort of like Doctors Without Borders, only Rene worked independently. He’d saved Max’s life a couple of times.

  “I was,” Rene said. “However, I just attended a conference here in New Accra that was an excellent opportunity to increase my knowledge of infectious diseases while also gathering information.”

  Right. As Max’s foggy brain finally remembered, in addition to offering medical treatment to its operatives, Rene often assisted WAR by providing intelligence.

  “So. Kristoff tells me you need a safe place to stay.” Rene moved in to embrace Max in greeting, but Max instinctively stepped back to protect his ribs. His friend gave him a knowing look, then glanced into the truck.

  “Who is this?”

  “Ah, Emily Iwasaki, meet Dr. Rene La Salle. He’s a friend.”

  Rene’s eyes narrowed as he noticed Emily raise her hand to cover her scars, but otherwise he showed no reaction as he took her free hand and placed a kiss on the back, European style. “My pleasure, Mademoiselle.”

  “Hello.” Emily grimaced. “I apologize for not standing to greet you, but my feet are a bit…sore.”

  “Allow me to assist you, then.” Rene reached inside and slipped his arms underneath Emily. Ignoring her cry of protest, he lifted her out of the truck with ease. “Hush, Mademoiselle. Your friend Max would do this himself, but I fear he is too injured, yes?” He glanced over Emily’s head to meet Max’s eyes. “What is it? Ribs?”

  “Goddamn Kris and his big mouth.”

  Rene’s answering smile was only slightly mocking. “I am a skilled doctor, my friend. I recognize the signs without any prompting from Kristoff.”

  Emily snorted in amusement and Max narrowed his eyes at her.

  “This way, please,” Rene said.

  Max scowled at Rene’s back as he followed his friend up the stairs. The spurt of anger he’d felt when Rene touched Emily surprised him. He barely knew the woman. Why should he care if Rene was the one to carry her? It wasn’t as if she were in any danger of being dropped. Rene might look like an average businessman in his kente cloth tunic and western trousers, but as a traveling doctor who worked in some of the most remote, most dangerous locations in the region, he often had to carry patients out of threatening situations before treating them. Hell, he’d even carried Max to safety once while dodging trigger-happy rebel patrols.

  Rene moved easily through the house until he reached one of the upstairs guest rooms. “Here you go, Mademoiselle.” He set her on top of the covers. “Now, shall we see what is causing you such pain?”

  Emily’s eyes widened in panic. “Um…no need. I can… I’ll…”

  Max could have told her to hold her breath. Nothing derailed Rene once he set his mind to it. He bent and removed Emily’s sneakers before she could stop him. As he slid off her socks, he hissed in surprise, then said, “Mademoiselle, I think you and Max must have quite a story to tell.”

  “What?” Max moved forward. Emily’s feet were covered with blisters, most broken and bloody but a few still pregnant with liquid. “What the hell, Em? Have you been walking with blisters since the beginning?”

  She just shrugged.

  “Why didn’t you say something?” He ran a hand over his face. “Dammit, how was I supposed to know you were hurting? You didn’t even limp.”

  Face red, Emily wiggled her toes. “Take a good look at the state of my feet, Max.”

  Rene pointed to a thick callus on her big toe that was partially covered with blood. Emily nodded. “I’m—” The misery that filled her eyes made his chest ache. She quickly glanced away, cleared her throat, then started again. “I was a ballet dancer. Calluses, blisters, and broken toes are par for the course. I didn’t limp or complain because I’m used to pain in my feet.”

  “Then why’d you need Rene to carry you inside?”

  She gave a rueful smile. “Because I’d been sitting funny in the truck and my feet had fallen asleep.” She shrugged. “You know. Pins and needles.”

  Rene’s mouth curled into a smile. “I am relieved that it is not worse. Would you like to bathe? Afterwards, I will bandage your feet.”

  Emily nodded so violently, Max snorted. She pushed hesitantly to her feet, but her balance was good. She took one step, then halted. “Do you have a phone that can make international calls? I need to let my family know I’m okay. And—” Her voice caught and she glanced down.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Max said. “We’ll make sure word gets to your family and to the families of the women who were killed.”

  She nodded without looking up at him. “Thanks. The tour company needs to be notified as well. Also, there were three other women who were part of the tour. They were in the southeast region. Would it be possible for you to check that they’re okay?”

  “Of course we’ll check on the women. But it’s safer if the tour company thinks you’re dead.”

  Her head snapped up.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll make certain your family learns the truth. But until we know if anyone on the tour company’s staff was involved in sending the rebels to the way station, it’s better that they not know you’re a witness.”

  “Oh.”

  That one
word made her sound very young and very scared. She searched his eyes. He had no idea what she saw, but she gave him a tentative nod.

  “Mademoiselle, I promise that we will take care of the notifications for you,” Rene said. “For now, if you will please come with me.” He turned and stepped into the hall.

  Max kept an eye on Emily as she followed Rene, just in case her feet gave out.

  “Mademoiselle, the bathroom is just there.” Rene pointed toward an open door. “You should find all that you need inside.”

  “Thank you.” Emily glanced at Max. “Uh… Good night, Max. Thanks for sticking with me.”

  He shrugged. “Nite.”

  Emily disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

  “That is your room.” Rene nodded toward the guest suite across the hall. “Are you able to undress yourself? Because quite frankly, my friend, you stink. You should wash before you call Kristoff.”

  Max frowned. “I’m good to go. The ribs are just bruised.”

  When Rene raised one brow, Max rolled his eyes. “Okay, Dr. Dad. My ribs hurt like hell, but I’ll manage on my own.” Even if he had to cut his t-shirt off.

  “Ah, you Americans. So afraid to ask for help.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t tell Kris I needed medical care.”

  “Yet he knows you better than that, does he not?” Rene shook his head and jerked his chin toward the door.

  Max threw Rene an irreverent salute, then walked into the suite. Compared to the outside of the house, the bedroom was simple. A gleaming wooden armoire for clothes. A plain wooden headboard for the bed and a matching bedside table.

  What really proclaimed the wealth of the owner, aside from the quality of the wood, was the attached bathroom. Max dumped his pack on the bed, removed his spare set of clothes, then headed into the bathroom. Okay, truth? He could have used some help with the shirt if he didn’t want to aggravate his ribs, but goddammit, he was sick of being helpless. He managed to wrestle his shirt off without causing too much pain.