Her Survivor: A Black Eagle Ops Novel

by Vonnie Davis

“Why can’t you just forget about me? Live your life the way you want and let me—”

  In a flurry of movement, Tony yanked her arm and jerked her to him. “Live my life the way I want? Hell, you stupid bitch, I can’t be seen in public. I’m on the run. I’m in hiding all the fucking time. I’m like a cockroach that can only come out at night and scurry through the dark. You stole my life!”

  She stared him in the eyes and prepared to throw down some attitude. “And you stole the lives of those kids you murdered.”

  The crack of his backhand sounded throughout the kitchen. Blood burst from her cheekbone. Stars exploded in her vision. Where was everyone? Junebug was lying down, but couldn’t Clint and Fran hear the shouting?

  The cold steel of his handgun’s barrel rammed under her chin. “How would you like the top of your head blown off, you motherfucking snitch? We don’t squeal on family members. We stick together.” She tried to struggle, but his other arm had coiled around her waist so tightly she could barely breathe. Humbling fear replaced haughty attitude. She was going to die just like those scared children in that shipping container and Tony wouldn’t have a moment’s regret over the killing.

  —

  Dustin was relieved when JJ barreled out of the house toward the cement block coop, dodging in a zigzag pattern, with Nance by his side. “How’s Alonzo?”

  “Fixed up as best I could do. He’s passed out from half a bottle of whiskey.” JJ bent to hug his dog and praise her for being such a good girl. Nance kissed his face in return. “Kelcee was a great help. She worried me at first with her paleness, but she showed a lot of grit.” His gaze slid across the two windows. “What the hell is with the shooting? Which direction is it coming from?”

  “The shooter keeps moving. At first he was beside the stables. Probably scared our mares into labor.”

  “Sonsabitches have no respect for animals,” JJ growled. “Then”—Dustin pointed to a copse of pines—“shots came from over there between the second and third pines.”

  “So, two shooters or one doing a lot of running?”

  “Same gun. I figure same shooter. Trying to make us figure there’s more of them than there really are.”

  Squeaking wheels from the tunnel drew their attention. JJ offered to go down the steps and help ZQ carry up whatever he had in the cart. Dustin would go down a couple steps to do a handoff, making the job quicker.

  “What the hell’s happening?”

  JJ filled the commander in. ZQ told him to lift one end of the cart. He claimed together they could carry it up the steps. JJ called Nance to attention and she sat stone still.

  Once the two men had the cart on the floor of the old coop, Dustin grabbed a Kevlar vest and put it on. ZQ handed him a wireless earpiece and a .300 Winchester Mag sniper rifle. Dustin hefted its weight in his hands and rubbed his palm over the black stock. A similar rifle had once been his mistress, his slave, his dominatrix until it was blown from his hands in Syria.

  “It’s fitted with the same type of scope you always preferred, Dust.”

  “I see. You remembered well, Commander.” He checked the clip in it and put two more in the back pockets of his vest. “I’m headed for the roof of the house to do some recon and see who all’s out there. Any specific orders, sir?” He looked ZQ straight in the eyes, waiting for his command.

  “Clean kills. A convict on the run threatens one of my men and his woman, then comes onto on my ranch, shoots a longtime employee and friend. He and whoever’s with him gets no goddamn mercy.” A muscle bunched in ZQ’s cheek. Fire practically blazed from his eyes. The Old Man was right damn pissed.

  Dustin nodded once. “Fuckin’ A. Get your headgear on so we can communicate. I’m making a quick perimeter around the left side of the house. JJ, the right side is yours. Check all the windows. JJ and I are from larger cities. We lock our doors. You small-town Texan people don’t. I want to make sure no one’s inside—uninvited. I find it odd no one’s done any shooting for the last few minutes. If everything is clear, I’m going topside to the roof.”

  “Hoo-rah.” JJ closed his flak jacket, grabbed a rope, patted his leg, and Nance moved beside him. “Perimeter check, girl. Quiet.” He gave the dog some hand signals. The rifle slung over his shoulder, the two of them loped for the right side of the house.

  Dustin ducked and sprinted for the log-and-brick home, using any cover he could find. At times, he had to drop and roll when there was nothing to hide behind. He peeked around one of the windows into ZQ’s office and flattened himself against the log siding. He tapped the voice piece twice to alert ZQ.

  “Kee-rist! One unfriendly in office in hand-to-hand combat with Clint. Fran gagged and tied up.” His heart beat erratically. “Let me find Kelcee before you help Clint. The old fart’s holding his own.”

  “Roger that.”

  One tap; JJ’s signal. “On addition’s roof. Junebug in bed.”

  “Roger that.”

  Dustin ran for the kitchen windows. His back in contact with the brick portion of the house, he turned his head, barely edging his face toward the window, where he got a clean visual that damn near body-slammed him with a heart full of fear and pain. A man with a dark ponytail held his Kelcee captive. Her face was bleeding and her eye swollen.

  He tapped his mouthpiece twice again and curled his fingers around the mic before he whispered, “Hold off on office attack. Kelcee being held prisoner. Man holding a revolver to her throat.”

  “Can you get a clean shot?”

  “If I can sneak in the back door without his hearing me.”

  “The floor squeaks the first two feet in the laundry room. Can you grab the sides of the frame after you open the door and propel yourself in?”

  “To save her? I can run through a fucking burning ship. You did shoot in this weapon, right? Sights? Scope?” He needed reassurance before he aimed at a man’s head inches above his love’s. Dear God, keep my mind focused. My hands steady.

  “She’s ready to go, Dust. Both JJ and I shot it in.” Okay, he felt better. ZQ was two inches taller. JJ, the same height as Dustin. Their settings on the sights and scope ought to be close enough for his stature.

  He maneuvered silently across the porch and slung the weapon’s strap across his neck and shoulder. Slowly he twisted the doorknob, grabbed the wooden frame of the door, and swung into the laundry room just before the kitchen. He landed lightly and since the heated argument continued, he was sure he hadn’t been heard.

  “Killing you is going to give me great pleasure, bitch.” Tony shoved the revolver farther into her delicate skin. Skin Dustin loved to kiss. “You ruined my life. Tore apart our family. Mom and Sophia left Dad after he disowned you in court. They moved in with Mom’s relatives in Philly.”

  “So you think settling the score with me will correct all those things? You still won’t be able to show your face anywhere, you idiot. How will killing me benefit you in the end?”

  She isn’t struggling, thank God. I need her to keep still to make a clean shot.

  Tony jerked on her beautiful hair, pulling her head down, exposing more of his head. “I’ll have revenge. Sweet revenge.”

  Don’t move, Kitten. Hold real still for me.

  Dustin squinted through the scope, made an adjustment for the closeness of his target, and slowed his breathing. Once he could hear his heartbeat, he exhaled slowly and brushed his finger over the trigger, aiming for the top of Tony’s head.

  The explosion caused the walls to shake.

  Blood flew and splattered.

  Kelcee screamed, her hands over her ears from the noise of the blast.

  Tony hit the floor with a deadly thud.

  Dustin held open his arms and she ran into them, all but climbing over him as her arm and legs wrapped around his body. Frantic kisses and tears from her covered his face…and he trembled so badly, he slid alongside the washer to the floor. Emotionally, he wasn’t able to let go of her. In fact, his hold tightened. So did hers.

  He
could have shot her if the weapon hadn’t been sighted in correctly, a huge gamble he couldn’t dwell on a few seconds ago. Not when her insane brother was holding a revolver to her neck, threatening to pull the trigger.

  “Baby,” he whispered into her ear, “I love you. I will always love you. Always protect you. Sweet Lord, but I need you in my life.”

  “Copy that.”

  “Fuck you, Old Man.”

  “Isn’t that what we were leading up to?”

  Laughter static filled Dustin’s ear and he tore off his earpiece, flinging it across the kitchen floor. He hadn’t realized he’d had it turned to continual talk.

  “You’ll never be in danger again. No more living in fear, Kitten.” He kissed her fiercely until the adrenaline rush of terror started to ebb. He’d have fallen to fucking pieces if his aim had been off and he’d had to watch sweet Kelcee’s life fade away and her eyes turn vacant. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and, with a shaky breath, inhaled the aroma of jasmine. “Baby, baby, baby,” his soul groaned while he rocked her back and forth in his arms. She was alive, she was unharmed, and she was his.

  Chapter 20

  ZQ and JJ entered the ranch house through the front door. JJ signaled Nance to guard the exit. She’d stop anyone who tried to escape. As they approached his office, grunts and flesh hitting flesh grew louder.

  Clint straddled a man whose nose appeared broken, his lip split, and his right eye swollen nearly shut. “How many of you are there? Your buddy’s dead. A SEAL already shot him. You heard the blast. We’ve got more men on this ranch than you can imagine. All of them know how to shoot and inflict unspeakable torture.”

  The man on the floor spat in Clint’s face. Dumbass. ZQ had to admit he was surprised at Clint’s swiftness when he raised enough to flip the man over and pull back his arms to the point of dislocating his shoulders. Clint slid an arm around the man’s elbows and pulled on them while the dude screeched in agony. When the former Ranger rammed his knee up the prisoner’s ass, ZQ had to laugh. Hell, Clint kept talking about retiring. The old coot had a lot of life left in him yet.

  “You know, I’m kind of comfortable like this,” Clint bragged. “Maybe you’re slow at counting, is that it? The dead guy in the kitchen makes one. You make two. Is there anyone else?” He jammed his knee so hard, the prisoner would soon know if his nuts tasted like pecans or almonds.

  “Nyet. No. No more.”

  Clint glanced at ZQ and damned if the old guy didn’t appear to be enjoying this. “One more question, my friend.” He tugged harder on the man’s arms and his screams filled the house. “Who is your leader? Who heads the Morozov Circle?”

  “I’ll be dead if I tell.”

  “Think this through. You’re alone in Texas. We work for the CIA. Ever heard of the C…I…A?” Clint’s knee rammed the man’s crack every time he uttered an initial. “Who’s going to save you but you? Best to look after yourself, son.”

  The room was quiet for a minute…two. “JJ, would you mind untying my wife. She’s got to be a mite uncomfortable by now. Fix her a drink. My crack-buddy and I might be here like this all day.” He pulled on the Russian’s arms again.

  “Adrik! Adrik Vlaslov!”

  ZQ gave Clint the thumbs-up and hurried to his desk to jot down the name. The U.S. Marshal had gotten the identity of the one person no one else knew.

  Clint slipped a large knife from his boot and twirled it between his fingers in front of the prisoner’s eyes. “Now we come to the matter of how you treated my wife. You know I love that woman more than my own life. So, do I cut off this ear or that one?”

  The man pissed himself.

  —

  Kelcee raised her head and placed her hand against Dustin’s face. He’d protected her. This SEAL with a heart of gold, no matter how much he denied it, had been her defender. “Thank you for saving my life, big guy. While Tony pushed his gun into my throat, I kept thinking of all the things I’d never get to tell you. All the things we’d never get to do together.” Her gaze swept the room. “Can we go sit someplace else? Even with one eye swollen shut, between Alonzo and Tony, it’s so bloody here. My stomach and nerves have had all they can take.”

  “No anger toward me for killing your brother?” His blue eyes regarded her, tension lines fanning out from their corners.

  She rubbed her cheek against his. “No. The person you shot ceased being my brother the moment he shot a helpless little girl. I’ve known how he wanted to kill me, lived with that terror, and now, thanks to you, I’m free. You were right. It was Tony who ran me down. Now, let’s go to another room, please.”

  “The lady’s wish is my command.” Dustin stood and scooped her off the floor.

  She wrapped her arm around his neck as he slowly picked his way through the kitchen, hunting for spots on the floor less stained. “Gee, will it always be this way?”

  “Ah, so the feminine manipulation starts.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m a generous man, but make no mistake about it, I’m most definitely a demanding alpha. I think the fighting in ZQ’s office is over. The screaming has stopped. Let’s go join them. First, I want to wipe off your face, see how badly the sombitch struck you.”

  He carried Kelcee into the guest bathroom. “Baby, don’t look in the mirror. Listen to me now.” He set her on the vanity and drew water to make a washcloth wet. With gentle pressure, he cleaned off her bruise. “You’re going to need a couple butterflies on this cut.” He handed her a wet bar of soap. “Lather your hands while I wipe the worst of the mess off your face. Then rub soap over it.” Within a couple minutes, her skin was cleaned to his satisfaction while he wiped off her hair. She knew she must be a blood-splattered mess.

  Someone stomped down the steps to the sitting room as they came out of the little bathroom. Junebug, who looked like she’d been pulled through a knothole backward, wore a pair of flag-decorated sunglasses and lipstick applied in a zigzag smear over her lips. Across one arm hung an open shotgun and her tattered blue robe was on inside out.

  “I am a Texan, born and bred. I can take most anything, even a hellacious migraine. But today has been the exception to that and some sorry-assed sombitch has got to pay.” She turned in the direction of her kitchen and pulled down her sunglasses, took one look, and clasped her heart before dashing into the guest lavatory to throw up. She flushed the commode, water ran, and she stepped back into the sitting room. One glance toward her kitchen and she pivoted into the lavatory once more to repeat the nauseating experience.

  She exited in a pale condition, leaning against the doorframe. “Where…where is my son?” Her deepened voice was the sound of impending doom.

  Both Kelcee and Dustin pointed to the office and followed her as she roared into it like a tornado wearing bright pink lipstick from her nose to her chin. “Zane Austin Quinlan! You want to explain to me, before I die from shock and an empty stomach, why one of my boys is drunk on my kitchen floor with a nearly headless dead man lying next to him and every inch of my kitchen covered in blood and hair…and…and?” Her voice rose to mother-freaking-out levels as she waved the arm not holding the shotgun. “That mess is everywhere! Floor, walls, my new stove, curtains, counters…” She paused and puffed up as if she were inhaling more steam. “You know how I abhor violence!”

  “Yes, ma’am.” ZQ wiped a smile from his face.

  Her gaze settled on the Russian handcuffed and lying on her floor. She sniffed the air. “Did he just piss on my waxed wooden floors?”

  Fran evidently couldn’t keep silent another minute. “He sure did. Peed his pants like a sissy. He’s Russian. His name’s Dimitri, and he called me a fat cow!”

  “What? Oh, not one of my friends, he didn’t.” With an upward flick of Junebug’s arm, the shotgun closed and she shot the man in the balls. He grabbed his crotch and writhed on the floor, crying. She leaned over him. “We don’t talk to our women like that in Texas.”

  “Mom!” ZQ charged toward her. “Give me that gun!” />
  “Oh, fudge and buttermilk. Don’t get so excited. It was only beanbag loads. With the Russians always beating their chests and saying how tough they are, Dimitri ought to be able to handle a couple BBs in his PP.”

  ZQ slapped a broad hand over his eyes and shook his head. No one else ventured to voice a response.

  Junebug jerked off her sunglasses. “Now, here’s how things are going to go around here. I’m going back to bed until this migraine decides to move on.” She pinned everyone with a hard glare. “I don’t want to hear one more gun blast, one more scream, one more tussle on the floor. No noise! You feel me, as the young kids say? If a fly so much as farts, I’m coming back down with my shotgun. Are we clear on that?”

  Everyone nodded, their mouths gaping.

  “And Zane Austin Quinlan, I refuse to cook in that kitchen after what I just saw. There’s no way I can ever get it clean enough to suit me or erase the memory. I want a complete remodel. All new cabinets, counters, flooring, appliances, walls…everything. If I don’t get it, I don’t cook. Now, I’m going back to bed before this migraine makes me cranky.” Her speech over, she stormed out the same way she’d stormed in and stomped up the stairway. Everyone jumped when her bedroom door slammed.

  “Well,” ZQ whispered as he closed the double doors to his office, “that went over as smooth as butter on warm biscuits. I know what we’ll be doing the next few days. Ripping out the old kitchen and installing a new one. And I’m fixing that ugly hole in the ceiling Mom’s insisted I leave alone.”

  “When you see it, ZQ, you’ll understand why she freaked.” Kelcee gave an involuntary shudder. “It’s beyond gruesome.”

  “We really should move Alonzo to a more sterile environment so I can check his wound and clean him up.” JJ looked at Kelcee. “Come here. Let me look at that cut to your cheekbone. I’ve got some disinfectant and butterflies for that. Do you know what room Junebug planned to put him in?”

  “The yellow bedroom.”

  “That’s next to Dustin’s. We’ll use the outside entrance. With Mom’s room upstairs in the original part of the log homestead, maybe she won’t hear us moving around the bedroom in the new wing of the first floor.”