Gabe (In the Company of Snipers Book 8)

by Winters, Irish

  “Let him up, Izza,” Mark ordered.

  This kind of foolishness would’ve never happened with Alex, mostly because he scared the hell out of his new agents. He was taciturn, rude, and downright oblivious to the newbies until they stepped up to the plate and proved themselves worthy of his notice.

  Landon rolled to his feet, still silent, but his upper lip lifted in a smirk.

  Maverick already stood at his desk, his back to the rest of the office and his shoulders heaving.

  “Clean this mess up,” Mark ordered.

  “I’ll get it,” Maverick rasped.

  Terrific. More trouble.

  “Team. Meeting. Now!” Mark barked.

  The Sit Room filled with a couple of sullen team members, Maverick and Mother.

  She still had an attitude Mark couldn’t pin down. She sat in her usual position, which would’ve put her at Alex’s right if he’d been there. Only now that Mark had unofficially taken over, it put her between Landon, who’d taken Alex’s chair, and Lisa. Mother’s lips were pursed, her arms folded over her chest as if she had some place better to be.

  “Team,” Mark began quietly, “I’ve made a mess of things. I’ve been pushing you guys pretty hard—maybe too hard. With Gabe and Zack on duty at Kelsey’s, we’re two men short. Guess I need to take a step back and adjust workload.”

  “You’re not telling us everything you know, either,” Mother snapped. Her lips stuck out like a petulant high school prom queen’s.

  “What haven’t I told you?” Mark had to ask. He thought he’d been forthcoming with all the intelligence they’d gathered so far. What have I missed?

  “You didn’t tell us right away when Harley’s boys were born. I tried to call him all last night, but he wouldn’t pick up. You should’ve told us the minute you knew. Alex would have.”

  God. How on earth did Alex ever deal with these people?

  “You’re right. That’s important. I should’ve made that announcement sooner.”

  She studied her brightly-colored acrylic nails.

  “Would you take up a collection for the Mortimer family?” Mark asked, kissing her ass despite his inclination to kick it.

  Her face brightened. “Yes, Boss—I mean, Mark. I’d be happy to do that for Harley and Judy.”

  He caught the jab. Apparently, her problem resided with him. “Have you checked into exhumation, like I asked?”

  “Not yet. I’ve been busy with Steven finding the shooter.” She kept pushing.

  “Have it on my desk by tomorrow morning.” Mark pushed back. “I need to tell Kelsey we’re doing what she asked. Anyone else got something to say?”

  “Just give us marching orders,” Rory spoke right up. “You lead. We follow.”

  “How’s Kelsey’s car coming?”

  “We’re down to loose ends. Nothing that can’t keep.”

  Connor slid a file across the table. “Yeah. Let me know if you need any of these findings explained, but Rory’s right. We’re ready for another job.”

  “Good to know. Steven?” Mark turned to the other quiet man in the room, relieved he didn’t have to fight everyone.

  “Yes, sir. I have further analysis of the weapon and rounds that actually hit the victim.” He flipped on the overhead video. The extremely slow motion and close-up clip showed FBI Agent Becker’s unusual weapon and the projectile fired from it.

  Mark hadn’t seen a rifle like it, nor had he seen the oblong rounds tumbling end over end until they hit the windshield and shattered the glass. Alex slumped forward. Becker fired again. The second and third shots caused identical damage.

  Ember whimpered.

  It was god-awful hard to watch.

  “What the hell kind of projectile is that?”

  Steven calmly continued. “Not sure, but take a close look at the rifle, sir.”

  Mark watched while Becker disassembled his weapon. It wasn’t the standard issued M-40 rifle, the M107 fifty-cal Browning machine gun, or the M-110 semi-automatic Marines used. This barrel was long, but much too wide, the buttstock compact. Downright short.

  Instead of a magazine, Becker detached a rounded canister from the bottom slide. The whole damned thing fit in an ordinary gym bag.

  “You ever seen anything like it before?” Mark asked Steven.

  “No, sir. I have not.”

  “What kind of ammo?”

  Steven cringed. “I’m still not sure if it is ammo, Boss, umm, damn it. Sorry, Mark.”

  “Still no heat signature?”

  “Not one we’d expect from a 10-millimeter.”

  “It almost looks like a paintball gun,” Rory commented.

  Steven’s report roused everyone’s attention, but Mark wasn’t about to send his team on a ghost hunt. There was a logical explanation behind all this misleading evidence.

  There has to be, damn it.

  “Good work, everyone. Steven, since you discovered the shooter, take the lead in tracking Becker down. Who do you want to work with?”

  “Taylor and Izza, sir.”

  “Sorry. They’re tracking the last five suspects.” Mark turned to Izza. “How’s that going?”

  Her brows narrowed. “I can’t find them. They’re nowhere.”

  Taylor spoke up. “Right. No physical street addresses. Only post-office boxes. Stevenson has a mother in Oklahoma, but she hasn’t heard from him in years. Said she doesn’t want to.”

  “None of those jerks are even married,” Izza added. “Every last one of them is divorced. We checked DMV records, too. We can’t find anything but the police records we showed you earlier, and even then they have no forwarding.”

  “All five of these guys are off the grid,” Taylor said, “What’s worse, they’ve been virtually non-existent since they left the service, which is downright scary now that we know what they’re capable of. It’s as if they’ve been planning revenge on Alex for years.”

  Acid flooded Mark’s gut. Damn Charlie Oakes to hell. He might not have been the mastermind to this gang of ten plot, but he should’ve alerted Alex to it a helluva lot sooner.

  “How about you let me and Connor take a shot at finding them?” Rory asked. “That’ll free up Izza and Taylor to assist Steven, and you know what they say about a second pair of eyes.”

  Leave it to Rory to offer a viable option. “Thanks. Good idea. Consider it done. Mother, can you help with Becker’s cell phone and GPS, maybe get an angle on him so Steven knows where to start?”

  “Yes, Mark,” she answered primly, her eyes still on her fake nails. Whatever bug had climbed up her butt, it seemed to have taken up permanent residence.

  “Good. The minute we know where the five are, we make our next move.”

  “What is our next move?” Rory asked.

  “Ha. You and Connor go introduce yourselves, whatcha think?” Izza smirked as she gave Rory a high five. “Tell me. I want to go with you.”

  Rory smacked her open palm. “Trust me. I’m all for that. The quicker we nab these dogs, the better.”

  “Izza’s right,” Mark agreed. “Any other questions?”

  No one spoke.

  “Good. Report in every hour, on the hour. Stay safe. Maverick. Hang back a minute.”

  The room cleared. Mark blew out a big sigh. No wonder Alex called this business his stupidest idea ever. It only took a couple disgruntled employees to ruin it for everyone.

  He faced the angry man to his left. Hands down, Maverick was the better agent. He did a hard day’s work every day, while Landon seemed more enamored with Lisa Channing.

  Maverick lifted his chin and ground out between clenched teeth, “I don’t give a shit if those two are banging each other’s brains out.”

  “Me neither. Wish they’d keep it out of the office, though. You want to tell me what’s going on?”

  Maverick’s nostrils flared. He all but snorted, the cords in his neck as tight as his fists. Mark didn’t get the feeling he wanted to take a swing at him. He didn’t answer the question
, though.

  Mark opted for the middle line. “Guess I owe Mother a new coffee pot.”

  “I’ll take care of that, sir. I started the fight.”

  “That’s not like you, Maverick. Come on. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

  Nothing broke through. Maverick’s expression turned to stone.

  Good enough. Mark would chalk it up to the stress of two assassination attempts, one fatal. “When this is done, we all need to head on down to O’Connell’s and throw back a few. You in?”

  Maverick pushed his chair from the table and stood. “Will that be all, sir? I have a mess to clean up.”

  Mark let him leave. A man wound that tight needed more than conversation and a beer. He needed a friend. One thing was clear. Whatever had happened between him and Landon, it was bad.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “So where is she?” Zack asked. “She’s not in the house. Where’d she go?”

  “What? Who? Kelsey?” Gabe jumped up from the kitchen table. He’d made the plaster casts and barely reheated the spinach omelet Nurse Sullivan had left for him.

  “I’m right here,” Shelby said from the guestroom doorway. “Did you check her bathroom?”

  The way the Stewarts’ house was built, the front door opened into the living room and then immediately led to the kitchen. The hall branched off the front room with Kelsey’s bedroom to the south, the guest bedroom to the north. She couldn’t have gotten past Zack, Gabe, or sharp-eyed Nurse Sullivan, either.

  “Why do you think I’m looking for her outside?” Zack peered out the back window.

  Gabe ran to Kelsey’s bedroom, Nurse Sullivan on his heels. The door stood ajar. It was a small enough room, all of it visible from the hall. Photographs littered the bed, but there was no sign of her.

  No way. No one could’ve gotten in or out of here.

  “This is my fault. She wanted me to know Alex,” Nurse Sullivan murmured. “We were looking at old photographs. I know it wasn’t good for her, but she needed to see them, you know?”

  The raw anxiety in her voice brought Gabe up short. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I’m sorry. I just meant to help. She’s so sad.”

  And then he heard it, the softest murmur. Gabe didn’t have time to worry about Sullivan. The closet door was barely open. He peered inside. Kelsey sat on the floor in a heap of clothing. An over-sized sweatshirt swamped her tiny frame with big bold USMC stenciled in yellow across it. She held a crumpled T-shirt against her teary face, breathing deeply into the cotton fabric, her eyes red and swollen.

  Gabe sank to his knees beside her, his heart lodged up high in his throat. The poor thing was falling apart. “We thought you ran away and left us.”

  She offered him the T-shirt. “He was here. He really was. Here. Smell.”

  God, I know he lived, sweetheart, but now he’s gone...

  Gabe took the shirt, wanting to hold her instead. “We couldn’t find you.”

  “But...” She hiccupped a noisy sob. “I’m not lying. He really was here, Gabe.”

  “I know.” Tears stung his eyes. “We believe you. Honest, we do.”

  Zack bellowed from the back door of the house. “Cartwright! You find her?”

  “Here,” Gabe called out. “We’re in her bedroom closet.” With all the ghosts...

  “What the f—?” Zack shut his mouth when he caught sight of Kelsey. He dropped to one knee at the door, the wind knocked right out of his sails. His tone softened. The man could pour on the honey, and if ever there was a time, it was now. “Kels. Honey. What are you doing in here all by yourself? Are you looking for something?”

  Dumb question, bro. Of course she’s looking for something. Him.

  She buried her face in the front of the USMC sweatshirt and cried. “Alex. I just want him back. I don’t want to hurt like this anymore.”

  Nurse Sullivan angled her shoulder past Zack’s, reaching for Kelsey’s arm. “Let’s get you out of there and—”

  “No. I want to sit here and... and...”

  “And think about him,” Gabe finished.

  She nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. “Yes. I don’t ever want to forget him.”

  “Then by God, if you want to sit here, that’s what you’re going to do.” He rolled to his butt and sat cross-legged alongside her, fingering the old T-shirt. “We need some tissues in here, Zack.”

  Distress shifted through Nurse Sullivan’s features, but Gabe didn’t care. Right then and there, Kelsey could’ve asked for the moon and he’d have found a way to deliver.

  Zack tossed Gabe the tissue box off the nearest nightstand, and Gabe transferred a handful to Kelsey. Nurse Sullivan leaned against Kelsey’s bed, watching, her arms crossed over her chest, her spectacled expression nearly as sad as Kelsey’s. Something was up with her, but Gabe could only deal with one unhappy woman at a time. Sullivan was on her own.

  “Hey, Zack, you ever seen such an organized closet?” Gabe changed the subject while Kelsey sniffed and dabbed her face with the tissues.

  The choking sounds coming from the back of her throat were killing him. It was like watching his best friend fall in Afghanistan all over again. There wasn’t one day Darrell Carson’s bright smiling face didn’t show up to remind Gabe of the aching hole in his heart. How much worse to have lost half of that heart, your eternal companion, the one and only one you’d given your body and soul to?

  “My gosh, Kels. Did Alex color code everything in here or what?” Zack asked gently.

  She took a minute to blow her nose. “Kind of. He... he always wanted everything to be ready... just in case he, umm, had to leave suddenly.”

  Gabe smoothed his hand over the cuff of an expensive suit jacket hanging overhead. “Very nice. Your man knew how to dress.”

  “That’s cashmere,” Zack agreed quietly. “No wonder the boss always looked sharp. Did you help him shop?”

  “Ah, huh. He and I... He...” She couldn’t finish, the tissue shredded at her fingertips.

  “You can feel him in here, can’t you?” Gabe asked.

  Kelsey nodded. When she leaned into his bicep, he pulled her into a hug. They rocked back and forth together like two little kids, and he was glad the closet was dark. She needed someone to hold onto. She was lost right now, that was all. And he was her protector—one of many, judging by the looks on Zack and Nurse Sullivan’s faces.

  Hell, if The TEAM had been there, every last one of them would’ve been crowded inside that closet with him. And they’d all be bawling and trying to act tough while they did it. Like him. He sneaked a hand across his face.

  “It’s like... it’s like I’m on a roller coaster,” she whined, the T-shirt retrieved once more and held snug against her cheek and nose. “One minute I’m... I’m doing okay, and the next minute, I’m falling and... and I can’t catch onto anything. I can’t stop myself. I just... keep... falling.”

  “That’s why we’re here.” Gabe pulled her close again, his voice tight. “You hang onto me and old man Lennox. We’ll keep you from falling, but if you do, we’ll keep picking you back up. Promise.”

  She nodded, but sucked in another trembling breath. “And it’s hard to breathe, you know? Sometimes I can’t get any air. My lungs squeeze shut as if they don’t want to work without him anymore, either.”

  “Stress,” Zack said matter-of-factly. “A lot of guys hyperventilate in times of stress.”

  “Like war zones,” Gabe added. “It’s a traumatic stress indicator. Believe me, I know.”

  “PTSD?” Kelsey asked quietly. “You, too?”

  “No, not really, but, yeah. Maybe a little,” Gabe admitted in a round-about way. PTSD was one of those monikers that could stick with a guy. He’d avoided the label until now, but if it helped Kelsey, he was fine using it. “It still sneaks up on me sometimes, so if you ever see me on my back gasping for air like a fish outta water—”

  “Smack him,” Zack finished jokingly.

 
“Yeah,” Gabe agreed, determined to downplay his panic attacks. Kelsey had real problems. She didn’t need to worry about him. “Throw cold water on me. Pound me. That usually works.”

  “It’s amazing how fast he snaps out of it when I thump him in the solar plexus,” Zack teased.

  “I’d never hit you, Gabe,” Kelsey whispered.

  “I know. You’re a lady, but Zack’s a guy. That’s just what dumb jocks do to each other. I sure as hell wouldn’t want him hugging me, would you?”

  Zack huffed. “No way I’m hugging a guy, but I’ll hug Kelsey any damned time she wants. Can I get you a glass of water, honey? Maybe a cup of tea?”

  “Water would be nice,” Gabe answered. “I am kinda thirsty.”

  “Not you. You’re no honey of mine. Hell, Gabe. Get your sorry butt out of there and get your own damned water. I meant her. I’m here for Kelsey, not you.”

  The friendly sparring match broke the spell. Kelsey let Gabe pull her up from the floor and in no time at all, they were back at her kitchen table. Zack must’ve brought Whisper and Smoke inside with him when he’d gone looking for Kelsey. They were sprawled across the kitchen floor, two shaggy fur rugs he had to step over on his way to get the coffee, cream, and sugar.

  Instead of joining them in the kitchen, Nurse Sullivan opted to sit in the front room, a magazine in her hand.

  “Hey, Shelby. Come have a cup of coffee,” Gabe offered, finally using her first name instead of the stuffy title she’d insisted on. This could be their first, no-kidding family-type meal together. Kelsey might enjoy that.

  “No. I don’t drink coffee.” Shelby shot a disparaging look to the dogs, so Gabe let it go. Fine. Whatever. Dog germs. I get it. He focused on Kelsey.

  “Harley has PTSD, too,” she murmured.

  “Yes, ma’am, he does. Mine’s not that bad,” Gabe agreed. “His version’s more debilitating when it kicks in. I just get anxiety attacks, but not as often as I used to. Loud noises trigger mine, and, bam. I’m back in the sandbox.”

  Zack poured three cups of coffee and set them on the table. “It’s different for all of us, Kels.”

  “Does everyone who goes into combat get it?” Kelsey asked.

  “Some do, but you don’t have to be in combat to get it. I still hate fireworks,” he replied as he placed the coffee carafe back on the coffeemaker. “The girls love ’em, but I don’t.”