Warrior's Second Chance

by Nancy Gideon

  What have I done? What kind of monster have I become?

  Answers. Barbara needed answers. Who would know? Who was privy to what had happened to the three boys thrust into a violent manhood by a country at war? She racked her memory as she drove, not back toward Miami, but north into Virginia where Patrick Kelly ran an import business in Norfolk. She’d found his name doing research on the Internet at a small-town library after a fast-food breakfast. Then she’d rented a car to pursue what she needed to know.

  What had happened a world away to so deeply scar those she’d loved and lost? If Kelly didn’t have the solution, perhaps he held a clue.

  She remembered him vaguely from the letters she’d gotten from Robert. He rarely mentioned the circumstances surrounding him in Southeast Asia. The focus of his communications was usually directed toward their future plans once he’d returned stateside. But she did recall his glowing remarks about the lieutenant who’d handpicked and groomed them for his unit. Kelly was on his second tour, a career man who considered it his duty to see that each and every man went home with him. Barbara remembered feeling safe after hearing that. Robert had relied on him, trusted him, admired him. That was good enough for her.

  Kelly lived in an upscale home with enough acreage to estimate his worth at a number followed by an impressive parade of zeros. A group of sleek horses wheeled away from the fence at her approach and cantered across the enormous paddock.

  She was met in the drive before the engine had even quieted by two serious-faced men in dark, nondescript clothing. They flanked the vehicle. She’d worked with Jack Chaney long enough to recognize hired security. The one on the left came to tap on her driver’s door window. She rolled it down.

  “Help you, ma’am?” he drawled.

  “I’m here to see Patrick Kelly.”

  “Is the colonel expecting you?”

  “That’s all right, Paul,” came a voice from the walkie-talkie clipped to his belt. “Have Mrs. D’Angelo come up.”

  The door was opened for her and Barbara was escorted by the two expressionless men to where their employer stood in the shadows of the front porch. Barbara understood. He was keeping himself from being a target. The armed men, the cautious attitude. Did he fear he was slated to follow Frye?

  “Mrs. D’Angelo, I’ve been expecting you to come here looking for answers ever since I heard your name on the news.”

  She recognized him from some of the photos of their unit Robert had sent. The one she remembered was of the lieutenant in his makeshift quarters, grinning in front of a map of the area surrounding Hep Hung that was pinned by bayonets to his sandbag wall. She’d thought he looked so young to have such responsibility. Kelly waved her into his home with that same genuine smile.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, Colonel Kelly.”

  “Everything that’s happened is disturbing,” he countered with a shake of his head. “Robert’s death. Now Frye’s murder. I’m the one who’s sorry you were drawn into this mess.”

  He led the way to a dark-paneled office made comfortable by its worn leather and horsey decor. She took the club chair he offered and let her anxieties ebb. Here was a man used to being in charge. And she was more than willing to be relieved of the burden.

  “Is McGee with you?” At her immediate alarm, he calmed her with easy assurances. “We spoke two days ago, the morning of the murder. I filled him in on my part in an investigation of Frye’s activities and he told me about Allen’s agenda. I’m afraid that’s about as far as we got. I’ve been following things on the news. Of course I don’t believe for a second that McGee did the shooting. It was Allen, wasn’t it?”

  Her tired shoulders sagged with relief. “Yes, I think so. What I don’t know is why.”

  “Allen is a very, very dangerous man. McGee and D’Angelo tried to help him over in ’Nam. Your husband got shot for his trouble.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Allen found out about a drug-running network and he started doing for-hire assassinations for them. D’Angelo and McGee found out about it and tried to get him out of it. They went to Frye but unfortunately, the doctor was already up to his Hippocratic oath in that and other equally unsavory businesses. D’Angelo went to the authorities and was going to testify against Allen. About that time, the three of them were out on patrol, and D’Angelo was mysteriously wounded and shipped home. No charges were ever brought against Frye or Allen, so whoever was controlling the strings must have had plenty of pull with the brass. I just wish they’d come to me. Why didn’t they come to me?” He shoved his hand back through his cropped hair in a gesture of frustration. “I thought they trusted me. I could have helped them.”

  “Don’t take it personally, Colonel. The three of them have always been an exclusive group. They would have tried to handle things between them without going to outsiders.”

  “I wasn’t an outsider.”

  “I didn’t think I was, either, but apparently that wasn’t the case.” She sighed heavily. “What are we going to do?

  “Allen has to be neutralized.”

  Barbara winced at the casual way she referred to Chet’s death, but she couldn’t argue the necessity. Not with her family and Tag at risk.

  “Can you get in touch with McGee?”

  “I don’t know where he is.”

  “Will he contact you?”

  She considered the thirty years of silence, weighing it against the passion they’d shared just the night before. “I don’t know. He took my cell phone. I tried calling earlier but he wouldn’t pick up.” And she hadn’t left a message. Coward. The phone wasn’t the only thing he’d taken from the hotel. He’d also stolen away her sense of balance.

  “Try again. Have him meet you someplace isolated, someplace contained. Someplace where Allen will follow. Then, if McGee can’t put him down, we can step in and finish it.”

  She nodded numbly. She was helping to arrange a murder. Even after Chet had killed Robert, had held her and her daughter at gunpoint, had threatened their safety and killed yet again, the thought of his cold-blooded execution made her queasy. The reality of Tag pulling the trigger to end the life of his friend made her nauseous. But Kelly was right. Chet had to be stopped.

  “I know a place.”

  “Good.”

  “But what if they don’t follow?”

  “If you go, McGee will follow to make sure you’re not in jeopardy. Allen won’t want to miss the opportunity. You just have to make sure McGee understands the mission. Allen has to be put down. He can’t be left alive. He can’t be controlled. And as you’ve figured out for yourself by now, he’s got enough pull to get himself out of any civilian court.”

  “You’ll get Tag the help he needs?”

  “Absolutely. My word on it. I don’t like the idea of involving you.”

  “You didn’t involve me. Chet did. Don’t worry. Tag will make sure I’m safe. He’ll be there to protect me.” She had no doubts about that. Not a single one.

  “Make the call.”

  Taking a deep breath, she took the receiver he passed to her. Her hand trembled as she dialed. Her own pert, professional voice answered. She made the message concise.

  “Good.” Kelly sat back in his chair with a grim smile. “I hate to see it come to this. Allen was a good man once. They all were good men.”

  “You didn’t make the wrong choices for Chet. He did that himself.”

  “Still… If only there was a way to get through to him. But, I suppose it’s too late for that. He’s a time bomb who needs to be defused. He should have been after the conflicted ended. But he just wouldn’t walk away like your husband and McGee did. He couldn’t leave it behind.”

  “What?”

  “The killing.”

  A soft sound from the doorway distracted them from their solemn conversation. A lovely Asian woman stood in the opening, her almond-shaped eyes glistening, her brightly painted lips working in distress.

  “Su, I’m sorry you had to hear
that.” Kelly’s voice was tender and filled with loving concern.

  “I will be fine,” she told him in a quavering voice. “Just as long as you keep your promise. As long as you find justice for my children. Tam was a casualty of war. I understand that. But the children… Why did they have to kill my children?” Her shoulders began to shake in the throes of remembered grief.

  “They?” Barbara prompted.

  “The two soldiers who came to our house. Allen and McGee.”

  Chapter 11

  The buzz of the cell phone woke him. Sitting up, McGee felt a moment of disorientation. The walls of glass, the comfortable sofa, the scent of something drenched in mouthwatering Mexican seasonings. His stomach rumbled in response even as he struggled to acclimate himself.

  Chaney’s home. His and Barbara’s daughter’s.

  His daughter’s.

  While that newly discovered emotion roiled through him, he rubbed his eyes so he could read his watch face. Six o’clock. He’d slept the afternoon away. Amazing considering how much preyed upon his mind. But realizing it had reached its limits, his body had just shut down, affording the much-needed time to recharge and refocus. Now, he was ready to take action. If only he knew what direction to take.

  He caught a glimpse of movement. Tessa D’Angelo Chaney stood in the shadows of the room, watching him. Her expression was as stoic as his own.

  “Are you him?”

  Her question pierced his heart. “Depends on who him is.”

  She looked uncomfortably for a way to explain. “Did you and my mother have… Were the two of you…”

  “Before I went into the service, your mother and I had a very special relationship.” That was a bland way to paint the truth.

  “Why didn’t it last?” There was nothing subtle about that.

  “We were also very young and didn’t expect the complications that got in our way.”

  “Like what?”

  “Life. Growing up. A war.”

  Her pale eyes, eyes so much like his own, began to shimmer in the faint light. “Why didn’t you marry her?”

  “I wanted to.”

  “Why didn’t you want me?”

  A bitter pill of anguish wedged in his throat, making her question stick and burn. “I didn’t know about you until I first laid eyes on you today.”

  “And if you had?”

  The arrival of the little girl, Rose, gave him a much-needed grace period before answering that question.

  “It’s dinnertime,” the preteen announced. She regarded Tag curiously but, with remarkable maturity, contained it.

  Seemingly as eager to escape the conversation as he was, Tessa looped an arm about the girl’s shoulders. “Whatever it is, it smells great. Constanza’s cooking is the best thing about coming home.” A sudden color warmed her cheeks as she admitted, “Well, almost.” Then came her stiff offer. “Mr. McGee, you’ll join us, of course.”

  “I have a call to take first. I’ll be right there.”

  “Follow your nose.”

  When the two of them disappeared down one of the home’s labyrinth of hallways, Tag released a ragged breath.

  What would he have done had he known about Tessa? What could he have done if Barbara was determined to claim a society life that had been out of his reach? Fight the Calvins and all the power they wielded with their money and their connections?

  The Calvins wouldn’t have mattered, he realized then. He would have gone toe-to-toe with the devil himself had Barbara wanted to make it work between them. But she’d never given him that chance to prove himself. And now they would never know.

  Wearily, he pulled the cell phone out of his jacket pocket. He didn’t recognize the area code or number displayed on the LCD screen. But when he listened to the message, there was no mistaking the voice or the way his heart leaped in response to it.

  “McGee, I’ll meet you at the ranger station on Isle Royale. It’s time we brought our friend out into the open so we can end this.”

  His pulse raced.

  What was she thinking, putting herself in Allen’s path on the isolated island? Depending upon which one of them Chet was watching, she could wind up in those lonesome woods alone with a killer.

  What was she thinking?

  “I’ve got some news.”

  He looked up at Chaney’s announcement, not quite quick enough to hide the desperation in his gaze.

  “What?” Chaney asked.

  “Barbara’s gone to Isle Royale to force a confrontation with Allen. I’ve got to go. Now.”

  Chaney nodded and passed over the quickly scribbled notes he held in his hand. “Read these. See if they make any sense to you. It’s about the investigation into Frye’s bad habits and the money behind him. Makes for some interesting speculation. Then call me. I can be a handy fellow if you need someone at your back.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What’s family for?”

  Tag blinked. “How long have you known?”

  “I dug up stuff about Tess’s father that I wasn’t too eager to share. Wasn’t my place.” Chaney fished an envelope out of his pocket. “Take this and read it when you’re ready.”

  Tag glanced at the yellowed paper. It was addressed to him. In Barbara’s handwriting. The postmark was more than three decades old.

  “Where did you get this?”

  “D’Angelo had it stashed with the evidence incriminating Allen and Martinez. I took the liberty of hanging on to it for safekeeping. Not a bad idea, since the rest of the materials mysteriously disappeared.”

  “Did you read it?”

  Chaney shook his head. “Wasn’t meant for me.”

  Tag took the letter. Tension chewed at the walls of his belly as he tucked it into his jacket. He wasn’t sure he was up to any more surprises. At least, not yet.

  “I’ve got to go.”

  “You’ll be back.” It was more of an order than a question.

  “When this is over.”

  Chaney handed Tag the semiautomatic pistol he’d been ready to blow his head off with only hours ago. “Take this. Bring it back. It’s one of my favorites.”

  McGee nodded, tucking the piece into his waistband at the small of his back. There was no more that needed to be said between two experienced warriors, so he walked out without another word. He’d be back, if for no other reason than to answer Tessa’s question. She deserved that answer from him.

  The brisk hike back to where he’d parked the SUV, rented under his alias, Arthur McAffee, gave him a chance to do some clear thinking.

  His daughter. He knew nothing about her, other than that they shared the same eye color and that she was as tough as her mother was tender. How much more he learned was up to the two of them. It didn’t matter that Barbara hadn’t wanted to introduce them. It didn’t, but then again, it did.

  His daughter. His and Barbara’s. A strange shaky joy took hold of him and wouldn’t let go. Like discovering what you wanted most under the Christmas tree.

  Why hadn’t Barbara told him? Why had she denied him the chance to watch his only child grow up, even from an impersonal distance? If he’d had something like that to cling to over these past years, perhaps he wouldn’t have spent them in a foggy limbo punctuated only by unrealized hopes and terrifying dreams.

  His daughter.

  But then again, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for her to get to know him. At least, not until this business with Chet was finished. Then maybe he could recover some sort of life worth living.

  He drove hard. He crossed the bridge in the darkness and was welcomed back to the wooded frontier of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. He had coffee in St. Ignace while he gassed up the vehicle and then pushed on through the sporadic towns set amid dense forests and stone, wondering with every mile if he was ahead of or behind Barbara. And Chet. Wondering if he’d have the chance to set the scene for this, their final confrontation.

  Five and a half hours later, he had breakfast in Copper Harbor. He finally
read through the papers Chaney had given him and made a quick call to his son-in-law. His son-in-law. That idea kind of sneaked up on him, too. And he found he liked it. Then he sat back to finish his eggs, letting things fall into place as he waited for dawn to make the trip over Lake Superior to the island where he’d hidden away from the world. Now, that ugly, violent world was coming to his door and he had no option but to face it.

  And to face Barbara with the truth she’d hidden from him for far too long.

  Her letter remained unopened in his pocket. He had no problem racing to his possible death, but he hadn’t the courage to receive her words. Not yet.

  She was there in the ranger station where he’d lived alone for the past seven years. She sat in the front office, not in his private quarters, and from the deep circles beneath her eyes when she looked at him questioningly, he could tell she’d had as little sleep as he had.

  “Ranger Todd let me stay the night. I told him you knew I was coming. I hope that was all right.”

  Her voice was low and gritty with fatigue. And as invitingly sexy as the unkempt tousle of her hair. He fought against the urge to cross the room to pull her into his arms, to absorb the oh-so-right feel of her next to the hurried beat of his heart. That distance was too great to span.

  “I got your message.”

  She nodded. Her shoulders rose and fell with the magnitude of her distress and the fear she was trying to hide. Shaky fingers tunneled back through her hair. “Is he out there someplace?”

  “Not yet. At least not according to Sam at the docks. No one’s rented a boat or come over on the ferry. Except you.”

  “But he will.”

  “Yes.”

  Again, the jerky nod. Her gaze touched on him with a furtive, almost apprehensive flicker. And suddenly, he realized that part of her fear was of him.

  “Where did you go when you left me?”

  The polite question didn’t address what was really bothering her, but it was a start.

  “To make sure your family was all right.”