by J. L. Saint
“Only because it’s too dark to see the ground.”
His chest heaved. Had he laughed at her?
“It’s not funny. Please. Hurry. I’ve waited so long. What did they say?”
“Only that he was MIA and wondered if he was involved with your husband’s activities.”
“No. Jason and Bill didn’t even speak to each other.” Lauren’s spark of hope fizzled.
“Rash and the SOO bastard are to the right. We’ll go left. Stay with me.”
Jack led Lauren to where the roof of the garage and its attic slanted upward, making it easier to drop to the ground. She no sooner gained her footing then Jack swung her around into the shadows and pressed a hand over her mouth as he slid his body flush to hers against the trunk of a nearby tree. She understood why when the sound of steps through leaves reached her ears.
The patrolling guard didn’t waver, but kept coming, directly at them. The sound of a zipper, a man urinating followed. Then came the gasping cry of, “What the hell—?”
The guard didn’t get the chance to say more, Jack pivoted into a crouch and swung low. The man doubled over and Lauren air-freshened his eyes with the spray from her pocket before Jack chopped the back of the man’s neck and he fell to the ground, unconscious. Lauren handed Jack two of the curtain cords from her purse. Jack cuffed and gagged the man then propped him against the tree.
For some reason after it was all over, Lauren felt as if she’d drunk wine. Her head spun and the oddest thoughts kept creeping up.
“You wouldn’t have been able to do that to a woman guard,” Lauren said after they gone a good distance from the house and were hidden by the heavy cover of thick trees.
“Why is that?”
“A woman would have held it until she was blue in the face before she’d pee in the woods. So all the easy-pee envy is misplaced. Men are more vulnerable.”
“Can’t argue with you. Dicks are usually at the root of a man’s downfall.”
“A woman’s too,” Lauren said. Jack didn’t laugh and she bit her lip, trying to stem the rising need to giggle. Her head spun more, her thoughts kept jumping crazily and her hands shook
Jack’s butt looked good. He had a great one. Well, he had a great everything too, but his butt was something. Did he know? She opened her mouth to tell him then remembered she was mad at him. He had a stubborn butt too. She decided to keep her mouth shut and doggedly followed him until they reached a barbed-wire fence about five-feet high. Her body tingled but also seemed numb. She felt so weird.
“Don’t touch the fence until I disable it,” Jack said.
She frowned at the barbed wire. “Do I look like I want to become a pin cushion?” She wavered on her feet. More than her head was spinning now.
“It’s electric,” Jack said.
“Funny. The door to door salesman said the same thing. Only his angle was you didn’t have to worry about batteries. Just plug and go.”
“Vacuum cleaners?” Jack asked.
“Vibrators,” she said. “Guess he figured he’d corner the Desperate Housewives market. Police nabbed him before he reached the end of the block.”
Jack laughed.
“I don’t feel so good.” Lauren’s knees gave out and she pitched forward, right toward the fence.
He leaped between her and disaster and plowed her backward. She landed on the ground, minus her breath with Jack on top.
“Jesus, are you hurt?” he asked.
She gasped for air, unable to speak just yet.
He rolled off her like lightning and began running his hands all over her.
“Are you bleeding? Did you hit your head? Damn it, Lauren, talk to me. Tell me what’s happened? I’ll never forgive my—”
Lauren shoved her fingers into his mouth. She meant to just press them to his lips, but misjudged.
Jack shut up.
She laughed, still lying on the ground, flat on her back as if she wasn’t in the middle of the worst crisis a parent could imagine. Had she lost her mind? “I don’t know what’s wrong. Ever since we fought that guard, my head keeps spinning. My body is numb and I’m shaking. I can’t think. And my thoughts are—”
Jack sucked on her fingers as he pulled them out of his mouth, sending a white hot pulse of pleasure though her. She may have felt it, but she definitely wasn’t dead. Not by a long shot. He leaned over her and planted his mouth on hers. He kissed her hard. Mouth to mouth, chest to chest, tongue to tongue.
Before she could assimilate that, he jerked away from her and went digging into his pockets. He came up with a peppermint and a mangled piece of gum.
“Sorry. I couldn’t stop myself. Next time you want to discuss dicks and vibrators, don’t do it after an adrenaline rush, okay. Eat the mint and chew on the gum until we can get you some food. The adrenaline bottomed out your blood sugar. You haven’t eaten since yesterday and you’ve put nothing but coffee in your system all day.”
Jack’s kiss had left her heart pounding, her lungs breathless, and her mind doing summersaults. Somehow she couldn’t blame all of it on adrenaline. The funny thing about it, she was still angry and pissed over this morning, but none of that seemed to be important at the moment. He was with her and they were escaping and they were going to save her sons. That’s all that mattered.
Jack had the taxi drop him and Lauren off a block before Beck’s house. He didn’t think anyone other than Beck would be here waiting for him, but he wasn’t taking any chances. The escape from the NCS hideaway had been just too damn easy. He got the fact that the place had been a last minute thing. He got the fact that he and Lauren weren’t hardened criminals, but still. It shouldn’t have been that easy.
After he had disabled the electric fence, they followed the tree line to the neighbor’s house and had them call a taxi, saying their car broke down on the street. Within fifteen minutes they’d hit a fast food restaurant for food, which was consumed in minutes, and were on their way to Beck’s house.
Jack’s inner gut was sending him warning signs again. What was he missing with the NCS set up? He finally had to put the puzzle aside, knowing that whatever was off just might come around and bite him in the ass much like what was off at Gardner’s nearly put a bullet through his head. He had other things to worry about now.
Like could he still count on Beck?
Jack took Lauren the back way, through the wooded lots to approach Beck’s house from the rear. He cleared the trees enough to see the silhouette of Beck’s back porch and noted that all of the lights in the house were off. There didn’t seem to be a creature stirring anywhere—
“About time you showed up, DT.”
Jack whipped around and grinned to see Beck, gun in hand and ready for battle, a streak of war paint on his cheeks and his long black hair loose. Jack smacked Beck’s shoulder. “You aren’t human, you SOB. Smoke makes more noise that you do.”
“It’s been a long afternoon.” Beck bear hugged Jack’s neck, nearly choking him, making Jack feel really good. Beck was back. Jack could sense it.
“Sorry for the delay.” Jack registered the fact that Beck had immediately prepared for an emergency and had been waiting outside for Jack to show since Jack’s message earlier. “I hadn’t realized it would take as long as it did to escape the NCS’s clutches. The interrogation went on and on.”
“Escape the Company? Is she?”
“An operative? No. Lauren Collins. Meet Beck Walker, a direct descendent of Ghost Walker, a Native American legendary tracker who moved like a phantom in the night.”
Lauren shook Beck’s hand. “Descendent or reincarnation?”
“Both.” Beck smiled.
“How long have you been behind us?” Jack asked.
“Since you came onto the property. Had to make sure the lady was friendly. It’s not like you to bring company.”
“Long story you won’t believe.”
“Can’t be too long. You’ve only been out of Reed three days. I stopped—” Beck motioned
for silence and to get down. He pivoted as he crouched, his Beretta in hand.
Jack pulled Lauren down beside him, as he pressed a finger to her lips.
“Someone’s coming. Stay here.” Beck moved away without a sound. A few minutes later, Jack heard Commander Weston’s voice.
“Damn it, Beck. This isn’t necessary.”
Weston soon appeared, moving their way in the dark, his hands held up. It took Jack a second to realize Beck was moving Weston this way at gunpoint.
“What the hell are you doing, Beck?” Jack demanded.
“Watching your back.” Beck shoved Commander Weston forward, the moment became surreal. Beck had Weston at gunpoint? Jesus. Jack had never heard Beck this angry, nor had Weston ever looked so grim.
Weston seemed to have aged a decade in the past few hours, his face appeared drawn and haggard.
“Whatever is going on, the gun isn’t necessary. Can it now,” Jack said.
“You don’t know all of the facts. And I bet he’s here to turn you in,” Beck said. Still he eased his Beretta back, and moved to Jack’s side to face Weston.
Weston lowered his hands. “Rashid called General Dekker. I figured you’d come here.”
“So you’ve led them a merry trail right to him?” Beck interjected.
“Actually, Holly Gear is in my car leading them a merry trail to nowhere. No one followed me here. I made sure of it.”
“I believe him.” Jack shifted his gaze from Weston to Beck. The tension between them was so thick that Jack doubted even a machete could hack through it. What was up? “We’ll talk about the NCS and why I’m here in a minute. First things first.” Jack met Weston’s gaze. “I couldn’t believe the CNN report. Glad your ass is intact, Commander.”
“Damn. Was my name mentioned?”
“No. I recognized you though. Was it the psycho after Mari?”
“Yes.”
“What’s this?” Beck asked.
Weston didn’t say anything and Jack filled the void. “The commander spent the afternoon trapped in Neil’s house with a couple of bombs. Mari was attacked the other day at a convenience store. Hit the wrong person with the door because she was crying too hard to see and he came after her. She locked herself in the bathroom and called 911. The man left, but threatened to kill her. She spent the night in the hospital. The man’s name is Frank Dugar. Mental case with ties to the Viper Militia in Washington state.”
“Dear lord,” Lauren said. “It’s unbelievable a man would react like that.”
Roger shook his head. “Mari’s traditional Muslim and was wearing her head covering and gown. With the political uproar over the terrorist attacks between the West and the radical Islam, the man targeted his hate at her.”
Lauren grabbed Jack’s arm. “He did this,” she whispered. “Bill did this and it’s happening all over the world.”
Jack took Lauren’s hand. “Collins may have set the stage, but evil is in the hearts and minds of individuals. They’re the ones responsible.” Jack looked at Weston. “So he booby trapped Mari’s house?”
Weston nodded. “He had a wire across the hall in front of her bedroom. I partially tripped it before I realized it was there. He also rigged the commode and her bedside lamp. I should have expected something like that, though, after he took a few sniper shots at her when we left the hospital yesterday. Mari is really shook up and frightened out of her mind.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Beck demanded, even angrier than before.
“Who the hell can tell you anything?” Weston shot back. “You’re either drunk, don’t answer, or too ragged out from other shit to deal with anything else.”
“You two want to tell me what’s going on?” Jack asked.
“Yeah,” said Beck. “I do, but I CAN’T.” He gave Weston a hard look.
Weston sighed as if the world on his shoulders just doubled in size. “I can, but let’s go sit down.”
They moved inside. Most everything in Beck’s was handmade by him; a mixture of Native American style and the solid Early American craftsmanship that had been lost in today’s mass production. The old world atmosphere gave an added comfort to the earthy tones and soft cushions of the wood framed sofa and chairs. Tomorrow would be the third day of non-stop hell and little sleep, and his body ached tenfold. He welcomed the comfort and to be able to let down his guard for a moment. Or so he thought.
“There are a few things you need to know about what happened in Lebanon,” Weston said.
Jack tensed.
“While standing in Neil’s house waiting for the IED to blow me apart, my life separated into two piles. Things I regretted and things I didn’t. A good bit of what went down in Lebanon went into the regret pile. Though I’m not sure that I wouldn’t make the same decision again, given the circumstances.”
Jack started to speak, not even sure what he was going to say, but Weston held up his hand. “Hear me out, DT. Just know that every step I made, be it the right step or not, I did the best that I could and at any moment I would have given my life to save any one of the teams.”
Weston scrubbed his face and ran a harried hand through his hair. He met Jack’s gaze and didn’t waver. “Everything was in line and moving smoothly for the mission. Beck’s team on the perimeter and your team moving though the building, searching for James and Shalev’s daughters. You reported heavy gunfire, as if pinned down on the second floor.”
Jack’s body began to sweat and tremble. He remembered that now. The four of them had thought they were goners. He had to force his mind back to what Weston was saying.
“Then communications went dead and all signs of life ceased as if your entire team had been wiped out. A truck full of insurgents pulled up to the entrance. Men ran into the building and a man with an entourage of guards entered as well. Beck reported the man’s identity and the continued sound of gunfire from inside the building.
“That man was Muhammad al Qassem, DT, the mastermind behind the death of thousands of Americans. Given the data, the absence of signs of life, I ordered a Samson missile strike to take out Qassem. God knows how many more Americans the man would kill if he escaped.”
Jack stood, hands fisted, body shaking harder. “Son of a bitch! The nightmares. They were real. There were two explosions. One from the outside then one from below. I was in the hallway going to help Neil. We’d found the hostages and were on our way out. Neil was blown back—”
Weston stood and grabbed Jack’s arms. Jack focused on Weston’s face, feeling as if he were being whirled in a tornado. Tears ran from Weston’s eyes. “What we now know is the terrorist had developed a jamming device that wiped out the signs of life, communications, and even interfered with the Samson’s GPS. The missile hit between the terrorist stronghold and the building next door. There were explosives being stored in both buildings and those explosives detonated, causing severe damage to both buildings. Qassem and his insurgents died. Neil died. You, Rico, Pecos, Shalev and James’s daughters were injured. But that’s not all. There was a makeshift orphanage set up in that second building as cover for the terrorist. Three children and two women died in the collateral damage from the Samson.” Weston released his hold on Jack and turned way. The pain Jack saw in his commander’s face wasn’t bearable. Weston struggled to breathe. “The decision to hide the Samson strike and blame the damage solely on the stored explosives came from the White House. It was, and still is, feared that Islamic radicals would use the tragedy to escalate a world war. Beck, me and the few others who knew of the missile strike were sworn to silence. Even those injured in the collateral damage were not to be told. The more who knew, the greater the chance of the wrong people finding out and the odds of more people dying and being hurt because of it all.”
Jack turned away, hurting as his mind grappled with everything Weston had said. As a soldier he registered the facts and processed the logical progression of events and decisions. Intellectually he understood every one of them, even if he didn’t wholly a
gree with every point, he clearly saw the big picture. Emotionally, a maelstrom of hurt, anger and disillusionment had him by the throat.
“Jack.” Lauren came up behind him and pressed her cheek to his back in wordless comfort and support.
He drew a deep breath and turned around, squeezing her shoulder in thanks. He looked at Weston. “Why are you telling me now?”
“Because when I stood on death’s doorstep today, I realized there are some things I can live with and some I can’t. Considering the inhumane depravity that gets excused in a heartbeat around the world, I can live with them not knowing an American missile played a role in the Lebanon tragedy, but I can’t live with my men not knowing the truth. So I made the decision to tell each of you. What you decide to do with that information is up to you and I will face whatever consequences I need to that result. Just know that as Commander I made the best decision I could with the facts I had at the time. I’m sorry, DT, sorry you were hurt so badly. Sorry to have kept the truth about what happened from you. If I could trade places this instant, I would.”
Jack drew several deep breaths. “I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t trade places. Given the facts, I don’t know if I would have ordered the missile or not. I keep seeing Neil blown against the wall, keep feeling the building cave beneath me, keep hearing the screams of pain, maybe my own. Comparing the damage in Lebanon to the devastation of Qassem’s last attack on American soil, the decision to take him out had to be made. But that’s why you’re a commander and I’m not. Somebody has to carry the responsibility to make critical choices in a crisis and live with the burden of them. We both know there are no good choices or winners in war. Consider your apology accepted.”
“That’s it?” Roger shouted. “You can forgive me that easily? Jesus, DT. Your career might be over.”
“What? You want me to waste time and energy beating you to a pulp? Seems as if you and Beck have already done enough of that. Hell, Roger. I don’t know what I feel yet. I don’t know what to do yet, but I sure as hell know what has to happen next. I’m not waiting for Rashid’s right time. I am going to get Matt and Mitch out of Menendez’s hands. Are you with me or not?”