Gabe (In the Company of Snipers Book 8)

by Winters, Irish

  The police showed up after Mark questioned Hayden Carrel, alias Samuel Becker. The liar. The entire interrogation took place on Kelsey’s back step to keep her out of further confrontation. He admitted no complicity in Alex Stewart’s, despite being caught in an outright lie, and Mark’s statement that he held video evidence to the contrary. Steven had caught Becker red-handed. He was going down.

  “I’ve got you dead to right,” Mark hissed, his nose an inch from Becker’s. “You’re lucky the police have you in custody, but I promise. My team’s damned good. Make one wrong move and they’ll jump down your throat and rip your heart out.”

  Becker shrugged, not intimidated or concerned, by the looks of him. The man had an easy attitude, as if he were untouchable. Off he went in the custody of two of Alexandria’s finest.

  David, Rory, and Connor had shown up shortly after Mark’s arrival, but were already headed back to the office. Gabe restored his pistol to its holster under his left arm. “The bastard’s lying.”

  “You get anything out of him before I got here?”

  “Just the crock of shit he told Kelsey about knowing Alex, but damn. I thought we finally proved the boss was alive.”

  “Sonofabitch!” Mark roared. “When the hell are you going to give it up? Dead men don’t come back to life. Every last one of you guys is fighting me on this, but you, of all people should know better. You were there, Gabe. Jesus Christ, you watched him die.”

  Gabe hated that Kelsey might be able to hear the angry tirade from inside. He hadn’t seen Alex die. Not really. He’d gone to get Kelsey while the ambulance went the other way, but now was not the time to bring that detail up.

  “You’re right,” he said, more to get Mark to calm down than because he agreed with him. “It was stupid. I give.” But I’m still glad I did it, and I’d do it again.

  Mark stabbed an index finger in the direction of Kelsey’s bedroom window. “Look what you’ve done. You got her hopes up for nothing. It stops now or I’m pulling your ass off this assignment. Do you hear me?”

  “Yes, sir,” came quickly to Gabe’s lips.

  “Settle down,” Zack told Mark. “Becker’s caught. Maybe the police will let you talk with him in the morning. You’ve got all the evidence they need to put him away. It doesn’t matter what he said tonight. He’ll go down for murder.”

  Mark faced the house, his eyes dark and angry. “This bullshit’s killing her, guys. Get her out of the country and the hell away from here until we know who’s after her. Spain. Take her to freaking Spain if you have to.”

  And Gabe was done kissing Mark’s ass. Mark didn’t have a clue how fragile Kelsey was. He hadn’t been in the closet with her while she clung to her dead husbands T-shirt. She needed to be here. Her dogs were here. Her memories. Her heart.

  “No, Boss. She stays here. Making her leave is what’ll kill her. Listen. The bodies in the SUV that I found in the river were Manson and Echevarria. They were on the riverbank that day. I can prove it. It’s on the video. Come watch.”

  “And that’s another thing, Junior Agent.”

  Damn. Junior Agent never started a good conversation. Gabe couldn’t win. He sucked in a deep breath, wishing it didn’t hurt as much as it did, and prepared for a Hellfire missile strike.

  “You ever pull that kind of a stunt again, and you’re fired. I tasked you to guard Kelsey Stewart IN her home, not to traipse out to the river to indulge a grieving woman’s misguided wishes. Shit. If it isn’t you guys, it’s the rest of the whole damned team!”

  “Hey, calm down. What’s really going on?” Zack asked, his voice level and firm. “You’re usually rock solid.”

  Mark raked his fingers over his head, huffing short, angry breaths. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. Just do your damned jobs. Can you handle that or not?”

  “We are. That’s why you’re here. Gabe did exactly what you’re paying him to do. He found two more of your gang of ten, didn’t he? And for a few hours, we thought we’d found positive proof the boss might be alive, too. Hell, you can’t blame us for trying.”

  “Well, how’d that turn out for you?” Sarcasm poured out of Mark’s mouth.

  Gabe stepped clear of the showdown neither he nor Zack seemed able to win. He’d never seen Mark so nasty or ill-tempered. Only when he dropped to the single step at Kelsey’s back door and gripped his forehead, did Zack re-engage. “Spill, buddy. What’s really going on?”

  “Shit. What isn’t?” Mark rubbed three fingers back and forth over his forehead, his thumb pressed to his left temple. “God, now I know why Alex had migraines all the time. Just never realized how much crap he put up with. If it’s not the stink-eye from Mother, it’s Maverick and Landon going after each other in the office. Every time I turn around, I’m shoveling more shit.”

  “It’s tough being lead dog,” Zack agreed.

  “Yeah.” Mark grunted. “Believe me. I get that.”

  “Maverick and Landon fighting? I’d pay to see those two go a round,” Zack teased.

  “No, you wouldn’t,” Gabe argued. “Maverick would as soon kill Landon as look at him.”

  Zack’s brows lifted. “Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”

  Gabe paused, unsure how much to share. What the hell? Mark deserved the whole story.

  “Because Landon’s a sonofabitchin’ liar. He had the balls to tell Alex he’d worked with Maverick in country, only the bastard never did. Yeah, he was in Afghanistan, just didn’t serve with Maverick or us when everything went bad. That’s how he got the job, though, by making it look like he was tight with Maverick, Taylor, and me. Now he’s stepping out on Maverick’s ex with Channing.”

  “With Lisa?” Mark asked. “Shit. That explains a lot.”

  Gabe crouched to Mark’s level, one knee to the patio. “Listen, I hate to talk about my buddy behind his back, but you need to know what’s going on. Maverick’s fiancée was a gal named Kimberly. They had their wedding all arranged and invitations in the mail. Hell, he’d asked me to be best man until Landon went home early. Next thing Maverick knew, he got a Dear John letter. Kim said she’d found someone else. She said a lot of other crap, too, but the real kicker is her bullshit letter came the day Maverick’s brother was killed in action. It messed Maverick up good. That’s why Taylor and I recommended him to Alex. Maverick’s a time bomb, but he’s a damned good operator. Don’t be too hard on him. He needs the job or he’s going to blow.”

  Mark closed his eyes, stress etched into the wrinkles on his brow. “He’s tight, I’ll give you that. No wonder.”

  “Then he’s right where he needs to be,” Zack said. “Keep him busy. Hell, send him over here to assist us. We’ll keep his ass buried so deep in work he won’t have time to worry about Landon. Who knows what other bastard Gabe will apprehend?” He nudged Gabe. “Huh?”

  Gabe sneezed, not the best answer he could’ve given his senior agents. At least now they were talking together instead of swearing at each other.

  “I might do that,” Mark said. “Are you okay? Sounds like you’re coming down with a good stiff cold.”

  “I’m good,” Gabe replied, despite the nasal twang he’d developed. He sucked in a raspy breath, hesitant to bring up what he’d just taken a verbal beating over. “Umm, I need a favor, though. Could you ask someone to run over to my apartment and retrieve the pants and shirt I wore the day Alex got killed? They’re in the hamper in my bathroom, maybe on the floor. I’m not trying to be obstinate, but Zack and I were talking, and I’m not so sure it was blood coming out of Alex that day. Maybe I’m remembering things wrong, but could you at least get Mother or Ember to get it analyzed?”

  Mark offered a bleak smile. “I guess. Why do you think it’s not blood?”

  “It didn’t feel right and there wasn’t as much as there should have been. I think.” And I should have thought of this in the first place.

  “No problem. Maybe then everyone will stop looking for ghosts.”

  “You know me and Zack are behind yo
u, don’t you?” Gabe retrieved his keys from his jeans pocket and handed Mark the one to his apartment. “We just need to be sure what really happened. There are too many unanswered questions.”

  “Yeah. I get it. I understand.” Mark slapped his palms to his knees, aggravated but resigned.

  “You never know,” Zack said. “Gabe might just have solved the whole case for you.”

  “God, I wish.” Mark shrugged both shoulders. “Zack’s right. Maybe the police will let me interrogate Becker tomorrow. Who knows? Maybe hell will freeze over, too.”

  Gabe pushed up from the patio and offered his boss a hand up off the concrete step. “It already has. Now we just need to figure out how to live through it.”

  “Kelsey. What’s wrong?” Shelby bolted down the hall, following Kelsey, who ran to her bathroom and slammed the door behind her.

  Shelby came to a dead stop. The wretched sounds coming from beyond the door explained everything. Kelsey was not only sick at heart, but also sick to her stomach as well.

  Tears flooded Shelby’s eyes at what this sweet woman had gone through.

  Damn Mark for upsetting her.

  Damn that Sam Becker.

  Damn everyone who’d hurt Kelsey!

  She would’ve damned Alex too, if he hadn’t just been declared dead again. God. How much could this poor woman take?

  Shelby knocked at the door, listening for any sound from the other side. Only the toilet flushing answered. “May I come in and help you?”

  The saddest voice answered with a squeaky, “No. Please. Leave me alone.”

  Shelby didn’t have the heart to walk away. She turned the knob and peered around the door. Her heart melted. Kelsey sat cross-legged by the toilet, her head in her hands and a wad of toilet paper at her feet.

  “You poor thing.” She knelt at Kelsey’s side and pulled her into her arms, tears falling over her cheeks.

  Kelsey buckled. She had no words. She just held onto Shelby while the storm let loose and sobs shook her. Gabe was so right. Death was a hellacious sucker punch, only it kept knocking Kelsey down and stomping her into the dirt every time she got to her feet. It never let her get a handle on living without the man she’d loved.

  It came as easy as breathing. Shelby held Kelsey to her heart and began rocking back and forth. “I don’t know what to say, Kelsey, but I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. And I’m so sorry.”

  Kelsey nodded, her forehead on Shelby’s shoulder. “I just... miss him,” she finally said, her voice cracking. “He’s the kindest man I’ve ever known. He loved me when I wasn’t worth loving. When I made the worst mistakes a mother could make. When I...” her voice broke, and Shelby kept rocking. She couldn’t cure grief but she would sit with Kelsey for as long as was needed.

  “You’ve taught me a lot while I’ve been here, and the greatest thing you and Alex had was your love for each other. Don’t let it go. Don’t ever stop believing in him.”

  “But everyone says he’s dead,” Kelsey cried, her tears a river she couldn’t seem to stop. “What if they’re right? What if I really am crazy?”

  “Don’t listen to them.” Shelby kept rocking, surprised at the conviction she felt. “Listen to your heart. That’s the only thing that will last. Your heart and his. No one and nothing else counts. There is no loved. Only loves. Remember?”

  Kelsey murmured something Shelby couldn’t understand, but it didn’t matter. She rested her chin on Kelsey’s head and held on. She’d come to the Stewarts’ house expecting a couple of weeks of easy employment. Instead, she’d found one of the greatest truths.

  Love like Kelsey’s love for Alex transcended time and space, and maybe eternity. The day might come when she could finally stand alone and face the hard facts, whatever they were, but until then, Shelby planned to stay with Kelsey for as long as necessary. And beyond.

  At last the tears ceased. Kelsey wiped her face and the women got up off the floor. Shelby gave the toilet one more flush.

  “Thanks, Shelby,” Kelsey said, her face drawn and her eyes red again. “I’m going brush my teeth and go to bed. I’ve had enough.”

  “I’ll help you get ready.”

  “No. That’s okay.” Kelsey lifted her chin and eyed the face of grief in the mirror. “I’ll feel better in the morning.”

  “I’ll come check on you in a little bit.”

  “Thanks, Shelby. Good night.”

  By the time the guys decided to come in from the back porch, Shelby had a full head of steam. Things had to change, but one look at Gabe and her anger dissipated. The guy was seriously sick. His cheeks were flushed and his lips dry.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked. “I could warm up some chicken soup.”

  “No. Just tired. Mark’s sending another guy over to assist tomorrow. I’m going to take a nap until the next perimeter check.”

  “Hit the sack,” Zack said. “I’ll walk the ’hood tonight. You get feeling better.”

  “But you should eat first,” Shelby persisted. “You haven’t even had breakfast. At least get something to drink before you lie down.”

  “No. I’m good.” Gabe headed toward the front room floor. With a flick of his wrist, his sleeping bag unfurled, followed by two pillows. He dropped to his knees, still fully dressed and stretched across his bed for the night—the floor.

  Shelby cringed. It hadn’t dawned on her. Gabe and Zack endured sub-standard accommodations to protect Kelsey. And her. Yet they’d never complained.

  I’m such a bitch.

  She opened Kelsey’s cupboards and fixed a hot toddy with an extra shot of whiskey from the Stewarts’ bounteous liquor cabinet. She recognized some of the labels. Jamison Irish whiskey. Jack Daniels Single Barrel. Grey Goose vodka. Bacardi Oakheart spiced rum. Interesting. Alex must’ve liked his drink at the end of a hard day.

  Crouching beside Gabe, she said, “Here. Take this.”

  The poor guy had his arm covering his eyes from the kitchen light. “No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”

  “It’s just a hot drink. It will help you sleep.”

  He lifted to one elbow. “What is it?”

  “A hot toddy. I figured you could use one tonight.”

  Exhausted green eyes regarded her carefully before he accepted the cup, downing the drink in one long gulp. His Adam’s apple bobbed, drawing her attention to the ragged edge of the black polo he always wore. Everything about him seemed like he needed someone to look out for him. Someone to care.

  He handed the empty cup back. “Thanks. That was thoughtful.”

  When he leaned onto his pillow, she smoothed a hand over his forehead. “I’m worried about you. You’re burning up.”

  He closed his eyes with a sigh. “Of course I am. I’ve got a hot chick’s hand on my face.”

  She pulled her fingers back, startled he’d taken her compassionate service for something else, and hoping he hadn’t noticed what her nipples were busy doing—standing up and begging for attention like cheerleaders with pompoms. If this kept up, she’d need a padded bra.

  “Do you want more ibuprofen?”

  “No, ma’am. Just sleep. I’m dogged.”

  “Get some rest, Gabe. Good night.”

  “Good night, Shelby.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The pictures on the mantle haunted Gabe. Kelsey had an easy way with children. Giggling. Happy. He’d seen her with Zack’s girls in the past. She should have a house full. Why didn’t she? Kids would make her happy. Like she used to be.

  Damn. So much death. Nothing seemed fair. Not Darrell. Not Alex. Not those cute little brown-haired boys on the mantle. Sure as hell not this lumpy bedroll.

  Gabe tossed. He turned. Did all the things a sick guy with muscle-aches that felt more like he’d been run over by an eighteen-wheeler did. He stripped down to his boxers and polo, covered his head with a pillow, and wished the hot drink Shelby had given him would kick in and let him drift away. He brushed a sweaty hand over his face, wondering who the hell
she really was—bossy or kind. Both?

  She’d surprised him, the way she stood up to Becker for Kelsey. The girl definitely had guts and the hot toddy was a nice surprise. Kind of like her. It went down sweet with a burn.

  Rain and wind hit the front window. A stab of lightning lit the room, a flickering strobe that ended with a distant peal of thunder. Zack walked the line tonight. In the dark where murderers skulked and insurgents lingered...

  One minute, Gabe was uncomfortable. The next, he fell into a dream where little boys giggled and teased. That blonde little gal squealed about spiders. Whisper and Smoke joined in a game of tag. Round and round they ran.

  He played along, counting to ten in a game of hide-and-seek that in some way transported him back to that stinking hillside in Afghanistan. That day. That nightmare. That other little dark-haired boy.

  WHOOSH!

  Incoming! Run for it!

  The ground shook. Men screamed and bellowed. Confusion reigned. Black smoke filled the bunker, burning his nose with the rank smells of burning diesel, raw sewage, and blood.

  He scrambled out of the line of fire, groping for his weapon. Gotta find that kid. He was just here. Sonofabitch! Where’s my rifle? My helmet?

  Incoming! Night turned to day. Run, for God’s sake! Don’t just stand there, kid. Run!

  Thunderous detonations sucked the air out of the night and—he couldn’t breathe.

  Someone grabbed his neck. Where’s that damned kid, for Christ’s sake?

  Panic clawed up his throat. Not even it could find a way out. No scream. Just the sucking rattle of a man running out of air and time. The gasp of a guy who couldn’t draw one... damned... breath.

  He blinked. The kid. He’d just materialized out of the smoke and confusion and he still wore that same haunting smile. He put a hand on Gabe’s shoulder and patted him. No words. Just that brown-eyed smile that beckoned Gabe—back into Hell.

  No! No! Never again! God! Help me. I’m dying here!

  Someone pounded his shoulder, but he couldn’t see who it was through the smoke. Taliban maybe? Enemy? Friend? Taylor? Darrell? Names flooded back.