by Vanessa Kier
“Easy, lass. Just let yourself go. I’m here now. I won’t be leaving you any time soon.”
“B-but… You could die on any of your missions.”
“Aye. Just as you could die in a car accident. But I’d fight death itself to get back to you.”
She choked back a sob and glanced up at him, the tears blurring his beloved face. “You already have, haven’t you?”
He gave her a smile that solidified the connection between them into a strong, shiny bond she could almost see. “Aye, we’ve both fought death. Yet here we both are. I’ll bet on us winning future battles.”
She returned his smile by leaning up for a kiss. “You’re right,” she murmured a while later, trying to catch her breath. “We’re both survivors. We prevailed against all odds. Together, we’ll be unbeatable.”
“Together,” he said drowsily. “I like the sound of that.” His eyes drifted shut and a few minutes later he dropped back into sleep.
Helen watched him for a long time, amazed that they’d come so far from their initial suspicion and antagonism. She might not know if she’d ever return to being a trauma surgeon, but she was certain that wherever life took her next, she’d fight to keep Lachlan in her life.
THREE DAYS LATER, Lachlan and his teammates—including Tony Jacobs who’d insisted on joining them even though he wasn’t completely healed—were sprawled around the living room of a private house. A WAR supporter had donated it for use as a safe house before he’d moved out of the region. Lachlan had been cleared for in-home recovery but not yet for air flight, so instead of returning to WAR headquarters, he would begin his recovery here.
Between Lance, Rene, and Helen, Lachlan had received so much medical attention that they’d nearly completed his desensitization to doctors. Well, at least to those particular doctors. He wasn’t certain he’d ever feel entirely comfortable having an unfamiliar doctor poke and prod at him. But he was certain that he’d no longer panic when it happened.
He glanced around the room, gauging the mood of the lads. Although the stated purpose of this gathering was to discuss the missing weapons, Lachlan had also wanted to see the group as a whole, to judge how they were holding up. Despite Lachlan, Dev, and Kris all arguing with Azumah that the team needed a rest in order deal with the emotional fallout from the Hospital Massacre, Azumah had refused to assign another team to take over the job of rounding up Natchaba’s rebel allies.
Because of that, every one of the lads looked knackered, although Dev appeared the most on edge. He stood with his back braced against the wall, as if he wouldn’t be able to stay vertical otherwise. Small wonder, that. As Lachlan’s second-in-command, Dev had been managing the team while Lachlan was in hospital.
“Before we start this meeting, I need to get something off my chest,” Lachlan said.
The team collectively tensed.
“Some of you have witnessed me losing my temper and crossing the line between necessary and gratuitous force.”
He looked around and saw wary acknowledgement on their faces.
“That’s unacceptable behavior in a leader.”
When the men started to protest, Lachlan held up his hand. “Wait. Let me get the words out. You know that my father was a monster. Not just a child abuser, but a man who so craved violence that he killed nearly two dozen patients over the years.” He took a deep breath. “Some of that darkness lives inside me. I’ve always felt on the edge of losing control. To becoming addicted to inflicting pain as my father was.”
“That’s bullshit,” Dev snapped.
Lachlan nodded. “Aye, it is. But I only recently understood the difference. When I lose control it’s not because I’m craving the rush of hurting someone. It’s because there’s a threat to the ones I love or the ones I’m sworn to protect. I lose control when I’m feeling scared or helpless because I’m afraid I’ll fail to keep those people safe.”
Some of the men nodded.
“I can’t promise that I’ll never, how did Hoss put it…”
“Go berserker on us,” Hoss supplied.
“Aye. I can’t promise that will never happen. But instead of killing Natchaba I pulled back, even though that dark part of me wanted to exact a more physical vengeance. So I think there’s hope for me. And yet…” He shrugged.
“We’ve already told you we’re not letting you step down as leader,” JC pointed out. “So don’t even go there.”
“What he said,” Lars commented.
“Thank you. But Kris might feel differently,” Lachlan said. “He might want someone more stable in charge.”
“Haven’t you learned anything yet?” Hoss said, rolling his eyes. “None of us are exactly stable. Join the fucking club.”
“Lachlan has a point, lads,” Dev said. “Kris has the ultimate say, and I think he suspects we’re holding back on him.”
“I don’t suspect it. I know it.” Kris strode in from the hall that led to the kitchen.
“Lordy, look what the cat drug in,” Hoss drawled.
Lachlan blew out a breath and stood up, only wincing a wee bit. Progress. When he’d first woken up in hospital, every breath, every movement for that matter, had hurt no end. “Aye, sir. That’s correct. It was my decision and I’m fully prepared to resign if you don’t approve of my explanation.”
Kris studied the team, which had moved into a protective semi-circle behind Lachlan. The corner of his mouth lifted in a sad half-smile, then he gestured at Lachlan. “Sit back down, you stubborn Scotsman. I’m not here to demand your head. I’m here to make certain that we don’t reach the point where Azumah orders it.”
Lachlan sank into his chair.
“Begging your pardon, sir,” JC said. “But what the fucking hell are you doing out of HQ? I thought there was like some sort of force field that stopped you from leaving.”
“Ha. Ha,” Kris replied, taking a seat to Lachlan’s right. “It just so happens that I have a mission of my own and needed to meet with a few contacts in the capital.” His look dared anyone to comment. For once, JC and Hoss didn’t push him.
“So, Lachlan,” Kris said, shooting a hard stare in his direction. “Tell me what Dev has been leaving out of his reports. And why you thought it best that I be kept in the dark.”
Lachlan nodded and explained about his deal with Morenga. “I’m sorry, sir. It never occurred to me that Morenga would have his own team in place to recover the weapons and miniature explosives his son stole from him.”
“None of us are all-knowing,” Obi said, directing his comment not to Kris, but to Lachlan.
Lachlan held his breath. Ever since killing his former schoolmate, Obi had been even more withdrawn than usual. So much so that Lachlan had urged the man to talk to the psychiatrist who was working with Helen and the other massacre survivors.
Oddly enough, although Obi had started with formal therapy, he also spent a lot of time at the kitchen table talking informally with Helen. To others it might seem an unlikely friendship. The trained sniper and the trauma surgeon. The killer and the healer. Yet their talks seemed to give them both ease.
The air hung with expectancy. As if sensing it, Obi hesitated before continuing. “I believe that even if we had found the cave system on our own, Morenga’s team would have used our assault as cover for their retrieval. If anyone is to blame for Morenga recovering his weapons it is the government forces for not properly securing the perimeter before launching their attack on the rear of the base.”
Lachlan nodded. “However, if I’d considered the possibility, I could have warned the government forces to watch out for Morenga’s men posing as official soldiers.”
Obi shook his head. “The sad reality is that many of the government soldiers are simply not competent. The national governments have made such a rush to fill their militaries that they have not put the men through adequate training before sending them on missions.” The bitterness in his voice revealed the frustration that had led Obi to leave his national army when his tour
was up and join WAR.
Kris had been listening to their exchange with a thoughtful look. “The government claims that after they finished setting up their perimeter, they tracked down all the trucks that had escaped.”
“That’s what they say.” Lachlan barely refrained from rolling his eyes, even though he knew Kris was just playing devil’s advocate. “Yet the tallies the government gave us even after catching those rogue lorries still fall short of the number of boxes I estimate were in the facility.”
Kris nodded. “So, what we have is potentially not just the weapons back in Morenga’s hands, destined for who knows what rebel group, but also the miniature explosives.”
“Yes, sir. Although it’s more than a potential. I saw Morenga briefly there at the end.”
“Are you certain?” Kris asked. “You were on the verge of death.”
“Helen confirmed it. Morenga helped her and Mrs. N’Dorah move me into the operating theater.”
“But you didn’t actually see Morenga removing boxes?”
“No, sir.”
“What about Natchaba? Did he escape before or after his father arrived?” There was a hard edge to Kris’s voice this time.
Lachlan sat up straighter, ignoring the discomfort. “He’s dead.”
Kris raised his brows. “How?”
“Helen cut his throat.”
If he was surprised by the news, Kris didn’t show it. He just studied Lachlan a long while. “I suspect there’s quite a story there. Some day, I hope you’ll tell me.”
Lachlan shrugged. “That’s for Helen to decide.”
“I suppose Morenga retrieved his son’s body,” Kris said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Tell me this. Did your agreement with Morenga include you killing Natchaba? Would you have completed the job if Dr. Kirk hadn’t done it for you?”
“No, sir. I’m not a contract killer.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Obi wince. “You’re not either,” Lachlan said, turning to face his teammate. “You kill to protect the team and to help us achieve mission objectives, Obi. You don’t kill because a man decided that his son had become too much of a threat. You kill because it’s your job to help rid the world of its human predators so that the innocent ones remain safe. Yet taking a man’s life leaves a mark on your soul, as it does with each of us.” Lachlan glanced at each man in the group. “If killing didn’t touch us, if it didn’t make us realize how precious life is, then we’d be no better than the men we hunt. But we do understand the gravity of taking a life. For me, that makes it possible to look at myself in the mirror without flinching.”
Obi gave a slight nod of acknowledgment. Yet his expression remained troubled. Whatever was bothering him, Lachlan knew it would take more than words to fix. It would take time.
Kris’s gaze bounced from Lachlan to Obi, clearly curious. But he didn’t give voice to his questions.
“Steering us back on topic,” Kris said. “I’m guessing you boneheads kept this information from me because you hoped to recover the weapons before they got distributed to the rebels?”
“Yes, sir,” Dev said before Lachlan. “We know there’s been tension between you and Azumah recently over the way you’re running the teams. Since we approve of your management style, we didn’t want to give Azumah ammunition he could use to force changes on you.”
Kris raised a brow.
“Yeah, okay, that’s not the only reason,” Levine grumbled. Being one of Kris’s former teammates, he must have read something into Kris’s response that newer members such as Dev and Lachlan had missed. “We were protecting Lachlan, okay?”
Kris winced.
“No, Kris, it’s not that we don’t trust you,” JC added hurriedly. “But you’ve got Azumah breathing down your neck and other teams you have to set an example for. We didn’t want to put you in the position of having to defend Lachlan if Azumah decided he wanted to make an example of him.”
“For the record,” Kris said, turning to Lachlan, “I don’t blame you for Morenga’s actions in all of this. I would have done the same thing. As Obi pointed out, you had no way to know that Morenga was waiting in the wings to swoop in and retrieve his weapons.”
“Thank you,” Lachlan said.
“But you’re right,” Kris continued, directing his attention to JC. “Azumah would have a different opinion on it. He’s getting a lot of flack from financial supporters who want to know why WAR hasn’t stopped the rebels yet.”
“Because Azumah doesn’t have the stomach to really hit them hard,” Tony muttered.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say that,” Kris chided. “Even though I partially agree with you. The other issue, is of course—”
“Money,” the entire team chorused.
Kris laughed and shook his head. “All right. Let’s assume that Morenga has both the normal weapons and the miniaturized explosives. What’s our next move?”
Lachlan cleared his throat. “Since no one reports seeing the handcart Natchaba used when clearing out his office, it’s a good bet that Natchaba’s critical data ended up with Morenga.”
“Not all of it,” Lars said. He sat in an armchair with his laptop across his thighs. “We found Natchaba’s main office in the Republic of Dahomey. Thanks to Mr. Explosives Expert here—” he nodded at JC “—who deactivated the lovely little booby-trap on the place, I was able to retrieve the contents of Natchaba’s computer. We might not have recovered all of the weapons, but we now have his attack plans.” He rattled off the primary targets.
“Brilliant.” Lachlan met Kris’s eyes. The other man nodded, giving Lachlan the lead. There was a flash of sadness in Kris’s eyes and Lachlan sensed how hard was for Kris to hand over control of his former teammates. Lachlan understood. After only six months on the job, he wouldn’t want to give up leadership to anyone else. They were his men now.
“Did anyone else notice that those are mostly the same targets we’ve been hearing rumors about for months?” Lachlan asked.
“Yes,” Dev said. The others added their agreement.
“You’re thinking that it’s Dietrich’s sponsor directing the players, aren’t you?” Levine asked.
“Aye.”
“We’ve still had no luck identifying the man,” Kris said. “Until we do, I’ll ask Wil if his informant inside Morenga’s operation can search for the weapons, with the miniature explosives as a priority. Hopefully, Marcus will succeed in locating the pilot, Seth Jarrod, and he’ll be able to provide additional intelligence. For now, we’ll continue handling the aftereffects of recent events.” Kris met the eyes of each member of the team. “Good work, men. Now, which of you wants to try to beat me at poker?”
Everyone groaned. Kris was ruthless at poker and had wiped out every man on the team at some point. Hell, Kris was so good, he could make a living at the game if he wanted.
Kris glanced around the room. “What? No takers? Cowards.”
The men started tossing insults around. That evolved into a spirited discussion about card playing skills. Lachlan leaned his head back and shut his eyes, letting the banter wash over him, relieved that he wasn’t going to have to leave these men who’d become his brothers.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
HELEN WOKE SCREAMING from another nightmare.
“Hush,” Lachlan murmured, cuddling her against him. “Hush now, Helen. You’re safe. I have you.”
She whimpered and curled into him, her hand clenching and unclenching on his t-shirt while she cried. Lachlan’s hands stroked soothingly from the top of her head to her lower back and back up again.
It didn’t take long before her tears dried up. She lay quietly in Lachlan’s arms for a bit, taking comfort in his strength.
Finally, she said, “I’m so tired of this. I just want to be over these nightmares and get on with my life.”
“Impatient lass, aren’t ye?”
She sighed. “Yes. But seriously, how many more times do I have to
endure this?” Although in truth, the nightmares were coming with less frequency than before.
“Which dream was it this time?”
“The one where Natchaba, the rebels I killed, and all of my mutilated colleagues from the hospital come floating toward me, covered in blood and screaming that I’m a killer, the same as my mother.” Just describing it made her cringe. “Then they tell me that I’m going to kill you, too.” She burrowed against Lachlan, snaking her arm across his chest and hugging him tightly.
“Well now, lass, we know that last bit isn’t true, don’t we?” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“But it could have been. I fell so completely into shock after you were shot that I couldn’t move. A few more minutes of inaction on my part and you would have died.”
More tears slid down her cheeks. Lachlan brushed them away with his fingertips.
“There’s no point in tormenting yourself with what might have been,” he reminded her.
She sighed. “I know. The therapist says that when I’m ready, I’ll be able to tell the figures in my dream that I’m a healer, not a killer, and order them to all go away. But I don’t know how long that will take.” She stared across the dark room.
“What else is bothering you?”
The corner of her mouth lifted. He was coming to know her too well. “I hate that I still can’t stand the sight of blood.”
“Aye, but that hasn’t stopped you from nursing me, now has it?”
“Of course not. But you’re no longer bleeding. And I let Lance change your bandages.”
“My point is that there are types of medicine you can practice where you won’t be exposed to the sight of blood. You can ease back into medicine, aye?”
“Perhaps.” She thought back to everything Lachlan had said in the hospital. “It’s just that I’ve defined myself so long as being a trauma surgeon. I love everything about the work and it infuriates me that the rebels have stolen that love from me.”
“I have confidence you’ll get over this aversion to blood,” he murmured. “As I said before, you’re a strong, courageous woman. Taking a life is never an easy thing. Or it shouldn’t be, if you want to retain your humanity.”