Fight By The Team (Team Fear Book 2)

by Cindy Skaggs

  “That’s not a very evolved mentality. Aren’t there laws about that?”

  “Sweetheart, we’ve broken more laws than Bonnie and Clyde. And I’m doing it for your own good.”

  “Fair enough.” The meds made her eyelids heavy, but there was something she needed to say first. Maybe it took the medicine to force the words out. “Thank you.” The silence was as absolute as the dark. Debi cleared her throat. “I don’t know a single person who could have kept a clear head after a bomb and a shooting, so thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me.” The pad of his thumb rubbed circles over her hipbone. “I’m the reason you got shot in the first place.”

  The loopy feeling of the drugs couldn’t hide the anguish in his tone. “Team Echo is the reason I got shot.”

  “We’re one and the same, Team Echo and Team Fear.”

  “Not even close.” Rose and the rest of the team were good men in a bad place.

  “Trust me, when it comes down to it, we are.”

  “You’re wrong.” The whoosh of a truck speeding down the highway interrupted the silence. As the truck disappeared into the night, she relaxed against him, the pull of the medicine undeniable. “But I do trust you, Rose.” The only man she’d ever entrusted with her life. He was a good man, and without a doubt he would protect her. She took a deep breath and her back brushed his chest.

  The mattress cocooned her side, and Rose enveloped the rest. The rubbing continued, oddly hypnotic and soothing, so she let her mind drift into numb oblivion. “A girl could get used to this.” Cocooned and feeling no pain. “Goodnight, Rosie.” As her mind fogged, she heard his faint goodnight, and didn’t know if it was real or a dream.

  As a soldier, Rose had slept wedged between rocks in the middle of the Afghan mountains, but curled around a soft woman kept sleep at bay. He had meant to offer comfort and a secure place to rest, which she desperately needed. He hadn’t anticipated the way they fit like two mismatched puzzle pieces. Her drying hair tickled his nose. Each breath brought the smell of strawberry shampoo and woman. His head was screwed.

  Debi said she trusted him. What the fuck was that? He’d nearly gotten her killed. He never should have let her leave the motel room. The results of his piss-poor judgment could have been catastrophic. And then he’d multiplied his sins by failing to get Echo One locked down after Fowler had taken the shot. Rose couldn’t think of a single mission where he’d so royally fucked up and failed to do his job.

  And she trusted him. She’d wedged her sweet ass against him, tucked her toes between his legs, and drifted to sleep. He was wrapped around her, his head wrapped up in her sassy attitude that outshone her silky black hair. The pert lift of her nose was more saucy than cute, and her soft lips were most often lifted in sarcasm, her go-to response to maintain emotional distance. She was too damned smart for him. Too good. He rolled onto his back, careful to keep his body solidly against her so she couldn’t roll over and hurt her healing shoulder. The soft snuffle of her breath was the lullaby that sang him to sleep.

  The snick of the exterior door to the adjacent room brought Rose fully awake. Light shifted through the curtains. Dawn, so he’d gotten a few hours of rack time. He jumped out of bed at the same time someone tapped lightly against the door three times. “Briefing in three minutes. My room,” Ryder whispered through the door.

  Rose heard it and opened the door. “I don’t want to leave the patient unprotected.”

  Ryder peered over Rose’s shoulder into the dark room beyond. “I’ll be quick, but your ass better be there.” He moved down the hall and tapped on Craft and Fowler’s door, relaying the same message in low tones not to be confused with soft. Rose dressed in the dark, careful not to wake Debi. In three minutes, they were all crowded around a crap TV set. Lauren’s features were stark as she sat at the end of the bed staring at the screen.

  A news show broadcast pictures of both Ryder and Lauren, wanted for questioning in regards to an explosion in an El Paso townhouse. The townhouse had been theirs until some slimeball had stolen it from Lauren in Ryder’s absence and used it as a meth house until Ryder returned and put that shit to rest. Unfortunately, they hadn’t done the job cleanly. There were bodies in the rubble—four men from Teach Echo and a couple drug dealers—that they’d covered with an explosion. “It was only a matter of time,” he told Ryder.

  “Yeah.” Ryder brushed his good hand over Lauren’s hair. “I wish I could have kept you out of this, baby.”

  She reached up, grabbed his hand, and held it between both of hers. “We’re together. That’s the important thing.”

  Rose turned to see their photos still plastered on the right half of the screen. “You think this is the police or Team Echo?”

  “Either way, we’re fucked.” Ryder stared at the ceiling like it held the secrets of the universe. “We better hope the desk jockey that checked us into the motel last night is too busy watching porn to see the news, but we need to move. This time, Lauren and I stay out of sight. Even then, we need a long-term plan. We can’t keep changing motels. Running doesn’t work. We’re not getting anything done.”

  “Where exactly do you have in mind?” Frustration made Rose’s tone harsh. “Your place is in ashes and crawling with cops. My place is an eighteen-hour drive away.” And no way did he want to bring this shit to his mother’s door. “Craft, you got a hidey hole close by?”

  “There’s a safe house in El Paso, not far from base in the warehouse district. It’s where I keep my equipment, but it’d be a helluva tight fit, no kitchen, and it’s a risk. Echo might have found it already. Fowler?”

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Fowler kicked a boot into the exterior door, which rattled against the frame. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re asking.”

  “Brother, we haven’t asked a damn thing, but I think you have a place in mind. One that has you ready to crawl out of your skin.”

  Fowler ran his hands through his hair until it stood on end. “You don’t know what it’s like. I’m trying to keep those I care about out of this.”

  Rose thought about Debi sleeping in the other room. About his sisters. About Lauren sitting on the bed with wide eyes staring at the photo of herself on the screen. “I get it. We can find another way without bringing more innocents into this.”

  “No. Shit, this is what we built it for.” He circled a tiny patch of carpet before meeting Rose’s gaze. “I have a place, but we follow a strict protocol. Every vehicle gets scrubbed for bugs and trackers, as does every man or woman before we even get close. No cell phones. No GPS. Nothing electronic.”

  “Brother, I’m bringing my computers.”

  “I have equipment,” Fowler insisted.

  “Nothing like this. This is next-level shit. If we need to hack into government files to figure out this clusterfuck—and we all know that’s where this is headed—we need equipment.”

  “Not until—”

  “Yeah, we’ll clear your screening first. I’ll head back to El Paso and meet you guys—”

  “No.” The thought of Craft going solo made Rose’s skin crawl. Last man who took off on his own ended up dead. “Not alone.”

  “Lauren and I can’t risk going back to El Paso. Not with the cops and Echo on the hunt. Fowler has to take us to the safe house, so we split into two teams.” Ryder’s solemn eyes filled with responsibility.

  “Looks like you’re on babysitting duty.” Rose relaxed for the first time that morning. A mission without Debi sounded like cake. He’d gotten too wrapped up in caring for her. His head was jacked, something time and distance would cure. “You can hang with the women while I go with Craft to get his supplies.”

  “Make a list of everything we need,” Craft said. “As long as we’re making a run, we need to get everything we can so we’re not in the open again.”

  Rose moved to grab a notebook, but Lauren beat him to it and started writing. “Groceries,” she said. “First priority.”

  “Guns, ammo, counter-surveilla
nce, comms.” Ryder pointed to the top of the list. “That’s first priority.”

  “I’ve got—” A knock on the door stopped Craft’s sentence. He pulled out his weapon and moved to the door.

  “It’s me.” Debi’s strained voice sounded through the door.

  Craft motioned her in and resumed his list. “I’ve got surveillance, counter-surveillance, and comms.”

  Rose lifted his eyebrows. “Because?”

  “These kind of toys are their own reason.”

  Fowler leaned his back against the closed door. “You can take guns and ammo off the list. I got it covered.”

  Ryder scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “We’re not talking about a hunting rifle and a few rounds.”

  “As I said, I’ve got it covered. More than. Going into a gun shop requires a background check, and we don’t know if any one of us would pass. Plus, it would alert anyone looking for us. Where we’re going, there’s plenty to go around. Trust me.”

  Debi sat next to Lauren on the bed. “What did I miss?”

  “We’re going to a safe house?” Lauren’s voice wavered with uncertainty as she attempted to keep up with the briefing.

  Ryder nodded at Lauren’s questioning glance. “We’re headed to somewhere we can set up a base camp. Craft and Rose are headed for supplies.”

  “What kind of supplies? Because I need my lab equipment.”

  “Put anything you need on the list,” Rose offered.

  “The supplies I need aren’t available at the local supermarket.”

  “Where do we get it?” Because no fucking way was she going back into the open.

  “You don’t. I do,” Debi insisted.

  “Oh, hell no.” The hardheaded woman was still recovering. Warning explosions went off in his gut. “The last time did not go well. You are not mission critical.”

  The group disintegrated into verbal chaos. Finally, Ryder whistled and the noise lowered. “Lab equipment is mission critical. Knowing what the fuck was done to us is mission critical.”

  “You got that right, brother.” Craft’s eyes sparked. “I want to destroy the fucker who did this.”

  “Tear him limb from limb,” Fowler agreed. “The Army did this shit, but there was a person, a living, breathing responsible party. That’s who I want to see hang.”

  Rose thought about seeing Captain Johnson on campus, but bit his tongue. The women had been too involved in the process, and Johnson was one of their own. They would take care of him or die trying.

  “I want them as much as anyone.” Ryder nodded in agreement with the rest of the men. “We need to test the blood from Echo and the water bottles from the night they dosed me, which means a science geek.” The look he sent Debi was as close to an apology as Ryder got. “No offense.”

  “None taken,” Debi assured him.

  “If we had the fucking Army at our back, we could handle this in-house, but we don’t. We can’t.” Ryder gave Rose a hard glance. “We need experts, so like it or not—”

  “Not,” Rose voted. He didn’t want Debi anywhere near their mission.

  “Duly noted. Debi’s going with you.”

  “Looks like you’re on babysitting duty,” Fowler mocked.

  Shit.

  Chapter Ten

  Rose’s phone rang like a radio contest help line. Six times he ignored it. The seventh time, Debi wanted to brain him. The instant Ryder had ordered Rose to take her along, he had gone silent. Not a word the entire time. She sat on the bench seat between the two big men and she may as well have been an ornament for all they acknowledged her. They stopped at Dr. Branson’s office for her follow-up and to replenish medical supplies before loading Craft’s computer gear in the back. It was afternoon by the time they headed to the bar to pick up her lab equipment, supplies, and research notes. The number of books she had in storage was unimaginable. And absolutely necessary.

  When the phone rang yet again, Debi gave up playing nice. “Your girlfriend is persistent.”

  “Not a girlfriend.” Rose hit the ignore button. “Sister.”

  “Have you considered it might be an emergency?”

  “No. Crap.” He pulled the phone out of his pocket, but it had already gone to voicemail.

  Debi watched as he typed a short text.

  What?

  One-word texts marked the end of civilization. “Which sister?”

  “Camy.”

  “Camy is short for... Camellia?”

  He nodded.

  Geez, was a single syllable answer too much to ask? She turned her attention to Craft. “He has six sisters, all named after flowers.” And then she realized— “Do you know Rose’s first name?”

  “No.” Craft grinned down at her. “But it’s got to be something girly with a last name like Rose.”

  “Flowery is what I think.”

  “Maybe not. Could be something like pine cone or Kentucky blue grass.”

  “Lotus Blossom.” Debi warmed to the subject, but Rose didn’t react. They tested a few radical theories without a single muscle twitch or eye roll. The man had silence down to an art.

  He pointed to a building on the corner a block away. “Pull into the bank, there.”

  “Easy to trace,” Craft warned. “Pulling money out of the bank is a time and date stamp. Location.”

  “Which shows where we were, not where we’re going. And where we’re going, we can’t use cards. Cash is a necessity we’ll need soon. Best to get it before we go underground.”

  “Roger that.” Craft pulled into a parking space and rammed the gear into park. “Can I trust you with my baby while I get cash?” he asked Debi. The wink and teasing grin seemed as natural to the man as fighting.

  “Your baby? Would that be the truck or your computers?”

  “Yes,” he answered with a sarcastic grin.

  “Go on,” Debi offered. “I’ll guard both with my life.”

  “Don’t even joke about it.” Rose pulled his wallet out of his pocket and grabbed a red and gold ATM card. “Lock the doors. One of us will have eyes on you at all times.”

  “Relax, Rosebud. It’s an ATM, not Fort Knox. I’m sure it’s fine.”

  Still, he waited for her to hit the lock button before he stepped up to the machine. The phone he’d set in the drink holder slot started ringing as he slid his card in the machine. Debi looked between the phone and his massive back. Craft gave her a questioning look, but she shrugged him away. She was one itchy palm away from answering the phone when the ringing went silent. Rose was tucking money into his wallet when he came back to the truck.

  “She tried again,” Debi told him.

  He lifted to shove his wallet into a back pocket. “She’ll give up, sooner or later.”

  “And what if it is an emergency?”

  Rose shook his head. “Unlikely. This is Camy’s M.O.”

  Craft returned to the truck and put the gear into reverse. “Where to?”

  She gave him an address.

  “The bar?” Rose asked. “Not the ranch?”

  Keeping the supplies and her notes at the ranch was a risk. “Not after the fire last year.”

  “The one that Barry set?”

  “Yeah, that one.” At the time, she figured he had wanted to destroy her research. “I had a lab setup in the barn. Nothing fancy, but someplace I could work in peace. I miss it.” Like a runaway child. “Anyway, I moved the equipment and my records to the bar. No way is he destroying the evidence that he stole my work.”

  “Why didn’t you show your father the proof?”

  “Pride.” A part of her still hurt, no matter what her brain dictated. “He didn’t give me a chance. We haven’t spoken face-to-face since the day he kicked me out of the program.”

  Craft parked on the street in front of the bar. “Sounds like a real winner.”

  “Yeah, my life is filled with them.” Truer words had never been spoken. Rose slid out of the truck and held the door open for her. She glanced back at Craft. “You comin
g?”

  “Staying on guard duty. Do you have much?”

  The men were either very good at their job or paranoid as hell. “Couple of boxes. I’m sure Rose and I can handle it.” Debi led the way into the bar without checking to see if Rose was behind her, because she felt him at her back. The hair on the back of her neck stood at attention around the solid soldier.

  At the bar, Frank stood a few hairs shy of six feet and three hundred pounds. A pronounced tire lapped over his belt, but he was faster than he looked and scared the bejesus out of anyone foolish enough to start a fight. She waved as she moved past.

  “Hey,” he hollered at her. “Where you been?”

  “Not here.”

  “I got that.” He pushed his bulk through the narrow opening and followed her to the back. “What happened to your arm?”

  “Car accident.” Close enough to the truth.

  “Sorry to hear it, but we got problems enough here. One of the vendors is threatening to stop deliveries if you don’t catch up with the invoices and another waitress quit. With Lauren out and you a no-show for the last week, we’re understaffed.”

  “So hire someone. That’s why I pay you to manage.”

  “You want to add me as an authorized signer on the account, I can pay the bills. Otherwise, that’s on you.”

  Not a chance. She wouldn’t give someone free access to steal her blind. Frank was a good guy, but she’d thought the same of Barry. She glanced at Rose. “It’s going to be another twenty minutes while I write some checks.”

  “You’re not the bartender.” Rose said it as a statement.

  “I am the bartender.” At the raised eyebrows and his dubious stare, she corrected herself. “But I’m not just the bartender. I own the place. And that stays between you, me, and Frank.”

  Rose’s phone rang before he could reply.

  “For the love of all things Texas, would you answer the blasted phone?”

  He answered the phone with a terse “What?”

  Debi shook her head and headed to her office. She could really use a cigarette right now.