by Ronie Kendig
“Who is dead! Did I mention it? The man we’re supposed to be chasing down killed him. And over thirty soldiers and airmen on this base in the attack last month. Or have you bumbling fools forgotten that, too?”
“No, sir.” The growl came from Sal. Fire roared through his eyes as he glowered at the general.
Dean wanted to warn off his friend, but wasn’t sure he could with the kindling that had been ignited. When he managed to catch Sal’s eyes, he pushed as much “go softly” into his expression as possible.
“You got something to say to me, soldier?”
Nostrils flared, lips pinched tight, Sal huffed. “No. Sir.”
“Good!” Ramsey barked. “’Bout time you idiots grew brains!” He pivoted to Dean. “Full report. My desk. First thing. Maybe by then I can figure out what punishment to dish out to you imbeciles!”
As soon as the door slammed shut, muttered curses filled the air right along with a hefty dose of defeat.
Sal slumped back in his chair, one leg out to the side, staring at the bandage on his arm. No doubt reliving the tragic moment he lost hold of Hawk. Would he ever be able to live that down? Forgive himself? Falcon had always been hard on himself. Demanded the best. Found his flaws inexcusable. Failings unacceptable. Dean would need to corner Sal and make him talk it through later. Would probably be the only time the guy would speak it out loud.
“They knew we were coming,” Sal said, his voice low. Intentional.
Dean sat a little straighter. “What do you mean?”
Sal’s gaze darted to his. “The charges—there were too many for Tang to have set them herself.” He thumbed the angry welt on his cheekbone. “She didn’t have time to set enough to bring the building down like that.”
“I think he’s right,” Riordan said. “It came down too fast.”
Sal poked a finger at the table. “Meng-Li knew we were coming.” His breathing seemed a little slower, more deliberate this time. “He knew and he intended to bury us there.” Grief twisted a knot through Sal’s face. “He succeeded with Brian.”
Silenced pounded the room, pushing their thoughts to Hawk.
“Let’s call it a night,” Dean said. This night had been too hard and bloody already. “Get some rest. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
The other nine men filed out, each giving Sal a pat and offering their apologies, telling him he did his best. When the door closed, Dean leaned forward and rested his forearms on his legs. “Fekiria should be told.”
Sal’s jaw muscle popped. “Take me to her. I’ll do it.”
“You’re in no shape—”
“I’ll do it.” Sal pushed up and lumbered out of the room, the tragedy pressing his wide shoulders down. The growled words he’d spoken carried a deeper, darker meaning: It’s my fault he died. Sal wanted to tell Fekiria because he wanted to punish himself. Apologize to her for failing the man she loved. Dean wasn’t sure he could let that happen. Sal was too haunted.
Kandahar Airfield, Afghanistan
5 April—1445 Hours
“We need to talk.”
Sal entered the Command briefing room where Dean sat with Riordan. Should’ve known Dean would figure things out and call him out. Just as well. He’d come here to come clean with the higher-ups anyway.
“Have a seat,” Dean said, as he angled a laptop so the screen was visible. “Chris and I have been talking about the mission.”
“That’s why I came,” Sal admitted. “I—”
“Well, hang on.” Dean pressed PLAY.
The grainy, bumpy video seemed to be nothing more than a village foot patrol. “I… don’t understand.”
“Keep watching,” Riordan said.
Shadows and voices clogged the feed as the camera bobbed along. Angled around a corner then steadied out. The cameraman must have stopped. Sal leaned in trying to make sure he didn’t miss something. “I…”
A man emerged from a structure. He went to a car. Left. A woman and two children emerged.
Sal shrugged. “Not following. Sorry.”
“What’d you see?” Riordan asked, his tone speculative. Not condemning or demanding.
Resisting another shrug, Sal sighed and glanced again at the screen. He really just wanted to get this confession over with. Pack his bags and head into anonymity. Instead he complied. Thought through what he saw. “The man who emerged—his uniform suggests American military. Feed was too far to see his face or rank, but he walked as someone with authority. Head up. Straight on. Wasn’t afraid of being seen.”
Riordan gave a firm nod. “Good.”
“Who is it? Who else is in the house?”
“Why would you ask who else was in the house? You saw the woman, I take it?”
“An American soldier in a home with a woman, alone?” he snickered. “Not if you don’t want to get strung up by your manhood by both the ISAF and ANA.”
For several long seconds, Riordan studied Sal. “Before I answer your question, tell me what else you saw.”
First—that Riordan had an answer and withheld it bugged Sal. Had he missed something on the video? “Sorry, I only saw the soldier. And the woman and kids.”
“Surroundings?”
He shrugged. “Typical village.” And yet— “But not average.”
Eyebrow winging up, Riordan said nothing.
“It’s pristine. Intact. No damage. Plaster’s been painted recently—not dilapidated like most buildings out here. And it’s a multilevel structure. Most are one stories and bombed out. Curtains are bright colors, so they’re new. Wood door—a luxury.”
“The people?”
“Woman, kid—boy.” Something nagged at the back of his mind. He pointed to the screen. “Can I look again?”
Riordan gave his consent.
Sal tugged it toward him. Wound it back. Watched the feed—soldier exits. A woman and child emerge just as the soldier gets in the car and leaves. Watched it again. There. He magnified the screen. “Yeah.” That’s what he’d seen. “There’s someone shadowed in the doorway.”
“What about the people?”
Sal wasn’t up for mind games. “If I’m supposed to know something—”
“Her nationality?”
Irritation clawed its way up his spine. “Is there a point?”
“Would I ask if there wasn’t?” Riordan threw back.
“You’re a SEAL. Your brain gets waterlogged.”
With a smirk, Riordan eyed him. Amused. But still waited, insisting Sal answer his query.
“Woman is typical Afghan. Hijab. Maybe midthirties. Boy’s about eight. Traditional local dress. The person in the shadows—can’t tell.” Sal sent Dean a silent message, warning him this was getting old.
“You know how to zoom in, right? Check out the soldier who left.”
“Look—”
“Sal, indulge us.” Dean finally stepped into the walk-through.
Sal yanked the laptop toward him again. Went back in the footage. Found the soldier. Zoomed. The agitation he felt washed away as the face came into focus. “Ramsey.” He glanced at Dean then Riordan. “This makes no sense. Why was he there? Who was he meeting?” A thought struck him. “Is this where our terrorist lives?”
“Yes and no,” Riordan said. “But nobody else was there. Ramsey was alone.”
Nobody? “That… that’s not—he wouldn’t do that. It’d be a colossal mistake for appearance sake to be alone with a woman in a house.” He stared at the video feed, his mind tripping over a possibility he did not want to utter. It wasn’t just a home. It was the nicest home in a nondescript area. The woman wore clean, new clothes. The child, too. “I’m not following.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to follow, especially into the dark places his mind was taking him.
“Neither were we,” Riordan said, “until my team inserted with Raptor and that mission.”
“Sorry?”
Elbows on the table, Riordan held up two fingers. “I was tapped for a two-part mission since JSOC teamed my SEALs with R
aptor.”
“Tapped by who?”
“Burnett.”
Surprise quieted Sal’s questions.
“He had suspicions about Ramsey.”
“Burnett had suspicions about Ramsey and didn’t tell us? How is that possible when we were the team most affected?” Sal pinned Dean. “D’he tell you?”
Dean shook his head.
“Things didn’t add up,” Riordan said. “So Burnett threw fresh meat—me and my team—to the wolves—Ramsey. Convinced him we were there to keep an eye on Raptor. We had to get into Jin’s systems to verify Ramsey’s involvement.”
Sal’s mind had just jumped into reverse. “Hold up. You go from implying Ramsey’s sleeping with a native—which is bad news, but I can handle it… maybe.” Sal scratched his beard. “But now, you’re suggesting…” Oh crap oh crap. “You’re suggesting Ramsey’s the mole?”
“Might explain why he crashed down on us last night, wouldn’t it?”
Sal tried to digest the idea.
“Right now, we have little to back that up. No evidence. That’s why we had to get to the Towers. My team’s objective was to breach their systems internally—from within the Tower. We’d tried for months, as have many experts. But it was time to penetrate.”
Of all the… “You used us as bait to distract anyone who went in there.”
“No,” Dean said, sitting straight. “Raptor’s mission was legitimate. We needed—still need—Kiew Tang.”
“Unbelievable.”
“I had to get into Tower One and into Jin’s system. That’s why my team didn’t show up in time to save Bledsoe. I’m sorry, Russo. Truly.” Riordan pointed to the laptop. “We went in search of evidence to prove that Ramsey is feeding intel to Meng-Li.”
Sal couldn’t speak for the shock. He pressed his fingertips to the table and stared at the screen. Riordan was spying on his own boss. A one-star was the culprit behind the attacks… “No. You’re kidding me, right? He’s a brigadier. He’s invested decades to the Army.”
“You’re right,” Riordan said. “It makes no sense. But that woman—her name is Nawal Al-Bayati. I believe she’s the key.”
“To what?”
“Unlocking Ramsey’s airtight vault of alibis and secrets.”
CHAPTER 31
Kandahar Airfield, Afghanistan
6 April—0945 Hours
The cool of the morning burned off fast in Afghanistan and made Cassie miss her native Virginia. After a jog around the base, she showered and had breakfast, which consisted of a protein bar and a cup of black tea. Since Sal’s severance of her hope that things would work out, she’d refocused on her job. What she should’ve been doing all along. But being near him had knocked the good sense right out of her, just as it always had. Even now, sitting at her temporary cubicle, it was hard not to wonder where he was and why he wasn’t at the desk. If Raptor had been sent out on patrol or assignment, it meant he was in danger. Any venture outside the wire put lives in jeopardy.
It amazed her. All her life she’d worked hard to do the right thing, keep the peace so people liked her, but her entire existence seemed hardwired for backfiring and disaster. Like Midas with his golden touch, which killed his own daughter. But this, it was like the world was allergic to her. Why? What had she done to get dealt such a hand?
She could make herself crazy analyzing it, or she could lay it all at God’s feet. Since her path intersected with Salvatore Russo five years ago, Cassie had been forced to become adept at the latter, at surrendering things. They wouldn’t get better, so she had to leave them to God.
“Okay, God,” she whispered. “Help me do that. My fingers in that pot just made it worse. That’s what I’m good at. You’re my champion, so… defend me, Lord.” She closed her eyes and hunched her shoulders. “Please.”
She couldn’t deny it. She wanted things between them healed. She wanted Mila to know and love her father. Cassie wanted to know and love Mila’s father. But she had to accept that God’s plans were always better.
“Right, God?” Her gaze hit the computer screen, but something in her nose-dived. She didn’t want to be here anymore. In fact, a fire burned through her veins, compelling her to leave the base. Go home. She didn’t have any friends here anyway. Raptor, probably because of Sal’s reaction to her, viewed her as the enemy. Losing Brian in that tragic explosion made her the villain. No friends. No reason to be here.
So, why not? She could talk to Phelps. Pack her things in a box, set them to post, turn in her Army-issued weapons. By tomorrow, she could be cuddling Mila and reading her bedtime stories. Her heart ached for her daughter. Yes. That’s what she should do. Her mission had failed—both the official one with the CIA and with Sal.
But even as she considered it, something nagged at Cassie. A quiet whisper against a storm of accusation and condemnation. Pastor Marjorie, who had counseled her through facing pregnancy alone, delivering Mila as a single mother, and working through the abandonment she felt from Sal… she’d taught her to listen to those small whispers. Just as Cassie had trained herself in intelligence to pay attention to the little things. When she focused on those, God tended to reveal pretty big things. “Show me You’re here, Lord. If I know You’re here, I can do this. I can keep going.”
A swirl of floral perfume came in a rush of cool air as Brie Hastings slid a tall cup of coffee toward her. “You look like you could use this.” Taking the chair next to the desk, Brie sipped her own caffeinated brew.
Cassie wilted. “Seriously? You’re awesome.”
“Well, don’t think I’m too awesome. It comes with strings attached.”
Cup halfway to her mouth, Cassie hesitated and peered over the plastic lid. “What?”
Brie held her gaze for several long seconds then in a rush said, “Talk to me about guys.”
Cassie blinked. Then laughed—hard. “I am the last person you—”
“No, I see the way you hold your own.”
Surreal was the only word that came to mind. She wasn’t holding her own. She was sinking in a vat of her own making.
“Look, I need advice.” Brie bustled in closer, tucking her chin.
“About what?”
“Titanis.”
Cassie couldn’t help but smile. “So, I wasn’t imagining the chemistry between you two.”
“He terrifies me.”
Laughing, Cassie shook her head. “What? Why? He’s totally into you.”
“That’s why!” Brie ran a hand through the auburn fringe framing her face. “Have you ever had a bigger-than-life guy focused on you. Pursuing you?”
Cassie swallowed. “Yes, actually.”
“Russo, right? You and he—”
“Are over.” Cassie saw the way Brie flinched and felt bad. She touched her arm. “But talk to me about Titanis.”
Brie laughed. The striking, intelligent lieutenant seemed more like a sixteen-year-old with her first crush than a field officer who handled a team of special operators with more skill than many men Cassie had seen. Seeing her giddy excitement stirred an ache in Cassie’s breast. She’d felt that once. Been so convinced it was because Sal was “The One.”
“We were at the Towers, and he told me I intrigued him. He said he wanted to know how I felt.”
“And?”
Brie looked sheepish. “I told him the conversation was inappropriate.”
Cassie felt stunned. She said nothing. Couldn’t think of anything to say.
“See?” Brie groaned and dropped her head on the desk, thumping her forehead against a stack of papers. “I have flirted with the best of them. I wrangled wild and woolly special operators. I give what I get—they don’t scare me. Never have.”
“Until Titanis.”
“Yes!” Brie sighed heavily. Dramatically. “He’s gorgeous. Has that sexy Australian accent. And hello—have you seen him? Broad shoulders.
He’s an elite commando. He’s a gentleman. He’s respectful.” She gripped the sides of her face. �
�What more could a girl want? And yet, when he makes a move, I throw up blast shields and repel him!”
Laughing, Cassie could think of nothing to say. She wasn’t a love expert by any stretch of the imagination.
“What do I do?”
“I really think you’re asking the wrong person. If you’ll notice, Sal hates me.”
Brie waved at her. “That’s what his mouth says. But that’s not what the rest of him says.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look, I’ve worked with Raptor since they were an ODA team, before Burnett pulled them from black ops. Sal has never given a girl a second look. He has never been so…” She wagged her fingers as if that would drum up the right word. “… agitated—flustered!”
“Sal is not flustered.”
“Oh but he is.” Brie scooted to the edge of her seat. “Look, Sal is intense.”
“Tell me about it.”
“But he’s also intensely personal. He considers mission failures as an indication of his worth. Whatever happened between you two, I think he believes he failed.”
“No, I failed. I was jealous when his fiancée showed up, so I convinced the base commander to transfer her to Helmand. She died one week later in an IED attack.”
Brie blanched. “Whoa. That’s awful.” She straightened. “Wait, so you dated him while he was engaged to her?”
“I didn’t know about her at first, but yeah. And I’m not proud of that.” Cassie sighed. “He’s never forgiven me.”
“That makes so much sense.”
Cassie frowned but held her peace.
“Sal doesn’t hate you. He hates himself.” Brie nodded, as if agreeing with herself.
“I’m not sure I agree with you—”
“Of course not. You hate yourself, too.”
Cassie’s gaped.
“Sorry. I just mean—what you’ve said to me shows you’re remorseful. So you want the blame. I think you both need to bury that pain.”
“Trying,” Cassie admitted, “but just when I think Sal might, something explodes in my face. I’m like hardwired det cord of life.” She cleared her throat. “But you came here about Titanis, not my problems. I say go for it.”
Brie’s eyes glittered with anticipation. “I want to. But I was so scared when I was alone with him that I pushed him away. Now, he won’t come near me.”