Tactical Deception: Silent Warrior, Book 2

by J. L. Saint

  His gaze locked with hers, saying things he couldn’t bring himself to voice. He left, determined to get his hands on the sniper.

  Simultaneously across the country on Twitter:

  BREAKING NEWS: Sniper in Times Square. Three dead. No suspects.

  BREAKING NEWS: School bus driver shot in DC. 15 Students injured in crash.

  BREAKING NEWS: South Beach, Miami. Four shot while sitting at outdoor café.

  BREAKING NEWS: Reporters shot outside Seattle Courthouse. Update to follow.

  BREAKING NEWS: Chicago. Judge in 10th floor office shot from roof of adjacent highrise.

  BREAKING NEWS: Dallas/Ft. Worth. Two truck drivers on I-20 shot from overpass.

  BREAKING NEWS: Beverly Hills. Five shot on Rodeo Drive, mother and child among the dead.

  Chapter Six

  Fort Bragg, North Carolina

  Dekker jackhammered them to a bloody pulp and was still pounding away thirty minutes later. Roger clenched his jaw and weathered the assault, knowing he, Jack and Beck deserved the brutal beating. Just as he also knew they’d do it all over again. A fact that shed some light in the dark hole his decision in Lebanon had left in his mind, heart and soul.

  The TV screen just past General Dekker’s shoulder showed the chaotic protesters outside the Butner access-control point as he listened to what his superior had to say with a sinking stomach. It didn’t matter that the CIA infiltrated Menendez’s compound no more than fifteen minutes after they had. He and his men were the fall guys, likely because they had majorly pissed off one of the head assholes on Menendez’s case.

  Still, the situation in the world political arena was worse than Roger had known and Dekker was spelling it out at the top of his lungs. “This is the kind of FUBAR that happens when men step out of line. You three went half-cocked into Peru WHERE WE HAD NO JURISDICTION OR APPROVAL TO ACT. It doesn’t matter that you went to rescue Lauren Collins’s kids, their babysitter and Rico. THERE WAS NO OFFICIAL PLAN of any sort put in place. SO THERE ARE NO OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS or COMMUNICATIONS to prove our story of Menendez’s arrest. And if they decide to try him for terrorism in a civilian court rather than a military, the entire case is in jeopardy because YOU DID NOT HAVE THE AUTHORITY TO DO WHAT YOU DID ON FOREIGN SOIL. The result of THAT is the worldwide uproar and what is happening outside the gates right now. IF THE PRESIDENT wasn’t intervening for your asses there’s not much I would be able to do to save your careers and that comes from the brass at the top. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, MEN?”

  Roger caught something on the TV screen out of the corner of his eye and the room immediately faded into a surreal scene in which he was no longer in the same universe. Mari, with no headscarf, was in the middle of the protesters outside the base. She ran as if terrified for her life. Tears poured from her golden eyes as she desperately looked for help. Something was very wrong.

  “YES, SIR,” DT and Beck shouted.

  “Yes, sir. Permission to leave, sir,” Roger said. It practically killed him to stay in control. “I must go now, sir. Mari’s out there and in trouble!” He pointed at the TV screen then turned on his heel and left General Dekker’s office at a dead run. He’d barely hung onto the protocol that had been engrained into his soul.

  The last and final reason Roger hadn’t slept well in weeks had him by the throat—nightmares of Mari dying in his arms and him unable to do a damn thing about it.

  Roger ran from the building, set on reaching Mari ASAP. He slammed into his truck and barely remembered to look behind him as he shot out of the parking space. After getting his SUV’s window repaired from Dugar’s bullets, Roger had begun to use his old truck to keep Dugar off his trail whenever he left the base.

  Little did he realize Dugar was going to be the least of his worries with Mari.

  Before he could shift into gear, he saw DT and Beck run up. Then, holy hell, a third man too. General Dekker himself. The truck dipped as the three of them climbed into the back.

  Roger didn’t waste time, but hit the gas and headed for the access-control point. A million things ran through his mind and all of them centered on Mari and what she must be going through in that crowd. Why in God’s name had she left the post? Where in the world was Holly?

  Fear had him by the shorthairs. Dugar was a threat but an angry mob was worse. Roger thought back to what he’d seen on the television and held on to his sanity. He hadn’t actually seen anyone attacking her. She hadn’t appeared injured, just terrified. She looked as if she were in the middle of a war zone being bombarded from all sides.

  As he hurried, he passed snippets of normal life on the post—ladies standing outside of the family center and a group of uniformed men walking leisurely along, traffic was everywhere—it seemed so completely wrong. How could anything be functioning normally with what was happening in the world not only outside the country, but outside the very gates of their homes. He skidded to a stop at the access point and jumped from the truck.

  The noise from the protesters sucker-punched him. Military Police (MPs) were in force at the gate, clearly prepared should things turn really ugly. Right now they were far from pretty.

  DT, Beck and Dekker fell into line beside him as he marched for the guardhouse, teeth clenched. The anger and fear burning in him urged him to charge into the crowd, but some small sliver of his training had him nailed to sanity’s cross. He could easily make a bad situation worse. Local police had formed a line across the road in front of the gate. Standing shoulder to shoulder they faced the angry crowd. Camera crews were all angling for the best footage. The demonstrators kept the legal buffer before the access-control point, but they were still blocking the road. Police on bullhorns threatened arrest and officers were already in action. Where in the hell was Mari?

  He intended to speak to the officer in charge at the gate, but before he could say or do anything, he heard Holly Gear shouting. “Let her go! She’s pregnant and frightened. Call Lt. Col. Roger Weston on post NOW! I am Senior Airman Holly Gear and she is the wife of Major Neil Dalton.”

  Roger snapped his gaze to the right and saw Holly in the middle of being arrested by the local police. She and Mari had been separated out from the crowd and were on the post’s side of the police lineup. Mari sat on the ground. Even from where he stood he could see that she was distressed, breathing heavily, shoulders shaking, head bowed. She had her hands cuffed behind her and a jerk of a cop was pulling roughly on her arm, shouting at her to get up. She struggled to do as he asked, but slipped back down and the officer pulled out his nightstick.

  Roger saw red and moved like lightning. He barely registered that Dekker, Beck and DT were right beside him. The MPs at the access gate took one look at him and moved out of the way. He passed the gate and the cameramen filming the incident went for him like wild rats on a Cheeto.

  Roger wanted to tear apart the officer roughing up Mari and that rage rang loud and clear when he yelled at the policeman. “Let go of her now!”

  Dekker spoke up as well. “Release the women, officer, and step away. I am General Dekker. Senior Airman Gear is under my command and Mrs. Dalton is in our care. Who is in charge here?”

  An officer involved in Holly’s arrest stepped forward. “I am.”

  “Exactly what is going on here?”

  “Neither of them have ID and neither of them halted their approach to the post when ordered to do so. Especially her.” The officer nodded at Mari. “Given the way she’s dressed, we weren’t taking any chances.”

  Mari had on her black abaya.

  “Senior Airman Gear, what’s the story here?” Dekker demanded.

  To say that Holly was furious was an understatement. She managed to snarl at the policeman and yet address General Dekker with respect. “The OFFICERS HERE repeatedly refused to listen to Mrs. Dalton, sir. She wanted them to call the Lt. Col. She was frightened and they kept pushing her back into the crowd, which only made her situation worse. After handcuffing her, they refused to let me go get our IDs, which are
in the car about twenty yards back. The reason Mrs. Dalton left the car is because it is covered with out-of-control protesters who scared the hell out of her. The POLICE should be arresting THEM instead of us.”

  Dekker got in the officer’s face. “Uncuff them now and get these camera vultures out of here.”

  It a damn good thing the policeman uncuffing Mari had put up his nightstick, otherwise Roger would have decked the guy. Rationally he knew the officers were right to prevent anyone without ID from approaching the access gate, especially with this kind of crowd seething at the entrance, but roughing Mari up and pulling out the heavy club was way out of line.

  He clamped his jaw shut and let Dekker handle the situation because anything he could say at the moment would have gone over like a nuclear explosion. Other than put her hands in her lap after being uncuffed, Mari didn’t move. She sat gasping for air, either from crying or from fear. He didn’t know which. She had her head bowed to the point that her midnight curtain of hair covered her face. He set his hand on her shoulder and squatted down next to her. “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry…I can’t stop…this is all my fault.”

  He exhaled hard, not even sure how long he’d been holding his breath. “It’s all right. We’ll get you to the doctor and have you checked. Come on.” He went to pick her up, but she turned away from him, clearly embarrassed.

  “Please. My shame is so great already. I can walk.” She still gulped for air, but her voice sounded a little steadier.

  “Are you dizzy at all?”

  She nodded again. “But I must walk.”

  He clenched his fist, determined to hold back his frustration. Inside he wanted to shout at the world and curse the rules that had her so constricted…so afraid that she couldn’t even accept…damn… He couldn’t even think he was so furious. A pregnant woman, in a foreign culture, surrounded by a mob and being harassed by the police should NEVER consider it a SHAME to accept help. “At least let me help you stand, okay?”

  She nodded, still not raising her face to him. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t want anyone to see her face. It was considered a sin. Her so-beautiful-it-made-him-ache face was not to be seen. Creamy skin the color of warm honey, a smile that could light the darkest dark, and wide-set golden eyes that haunted him day and night were all to be hidden from the world.

  He helped her rise. She wavered a few moments then steadied. He still kept hold of her elbow and glanced at the others.

  The officer uncuffed Holly, who snapped General Dekker a salute. “Good to see you, sir. I can explain—”

  “At ease. Save the explanations for later,” Dekker said. “SFCs Hunter and Walker, accompany Senior Airman Gear to her vehicle for whatever possessions she needs until the local police can clear up this incompetent mess.”

  DT, Beck and Holly left at a run.

  Delta didn’t wear uniforms or regulation haircuts. Roger had on jeans and a button-down shirt over a sleeveless T-shirt. He slipped off his shirt and placed it over Mari’s head. She made a grateful moan and clasped the edges of the shirt about her. She still didn’t look up, but her breathing noticeably eased.

  Dekker eyed the officer’s badge who’d claimed to be in charge. “Officer Clayton, I suggest you set up barricades on both sides of the street and call the post’s provost marshal for tips on effective crowd control. You have one hour to make this demonstration civil or I will be in contact with your superiors.”

  Roger left Dekker to the job and urged Mari toward the access-control gate. Holly, DT and Beck ran up just as they reached the guardhouse. Holly handed Roger Mari’s ID. She appeared as if she was about to explain what happened and he shook his head. At the moment anything he could say would only upset Mari more. His anger and curiosity as to why in the hell they’d left the base when Dugar was still at large could wait until after he was sure Mari was all right and she was comfortable and safe.

  Once they were past the guard station, DT set a hand on Roger’s shoulder. “Unless you need us, Beck and I are going to hang with Dekker and see you later.”

  “Fine,” Roger said, still finding it hard to speak past his emotions.

  DT squeezed his shoulder. “It’s hell, but it gets better.”

  “What?” Roger lifted an eyebrow.

  DT looked pointedly at Mari then turned around and left. Roger frowned. What the hell did that mean?

  Chapter Seven

  Atlanta, Georgia

  Angie watched Rico maneuver away and swallowed hard, but her heart remained lodged in her throat. She turned back and focused on Franz’s wounds. With the stage shielding them from the sniper, she had enough room to give first aid.

  Liz Freemont ran from a copse of trees to the left.

  “Franz! Dear God. How bad is he?”

  “Mom. Get down and stay there,” Angie yelled even though she knew her mother wouldn’t listen. At least her mother kept low and mostly within the cover the stage provided. Another person to help came as a relief.

  “Hide while you’re exposed? You’re asking the impossible.” Liz brushed her fingers to Angie’s cheek, her gaze full of love, worry and relief to see her daughter all right. Angie shifted her chin to return the love. Then Liz bent down and kissed Franz’s cheek. “How is he? Can we move him?”

  “From the direction Franz was hit, Rico is sure we’re safe here. Still, keep your head lower than the stage and elevate Franz’s feet for me.” Franz didn’t respond to Liz’s touch, adding to Angie’s growing worry.

  Minutes ago, before Rico left, she really thought Franz would be all right. Now she wasn’t so sure. His loss of consciousness, rapid pulse and clammy skin screamed shock. Yet with the pressure to his wounds, he wasn’t losing a lot of visible blood, but he could be bleeding internally. Franz lay on his stomach with a rigged pressure bandage to his chest while she applied direct pressure to the bullet’s exit wound in his back.

  Liz moved to Franz’s feet and put them in her lap then massaged his calves in an upward motion, returning blood to his heart and head. He moaned after about a minute.

  Angie took his pulse again, still rapid, but stronger. “Franz, can you hear me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank God,” Liz said and Franz tried to turn his face to see her.

  “Stay still.” Angie adjusted her pressure hold.

  “Liz?” Franz called out.

  Liz tapped his legs then kept rubbing. “Right here.”

  “Damn, if I’d known getting shot would get your hands on me, I would have done it a long time ago.”

  Liz rolled her eyes. “Best friends are sacred and forever. Lovers come and go, luv.”

  Angie knew Franz had developed a thing for her mother after his divorce a couple of years ago. She also knew her mother would never commit herself to anyone or give up her independence. Angie’s father had abandoned them, and though her mother had had lovers over the years, she never committed herself to anyone. Angie loved them both and hoped Franz would win her mother over.

  “We’ll see,” Franz said.

  The original panic among those at the MetroSouthern gathering had eased and folks were now focused on helping each other, adults calling out, checking on others and reassuring crying children. Several men plotted to go after the sniper.

  As much as she wanted Rico to have help, she knew why he’d gone alone and spoke up. “Everybody, Rico’s in the military. He wants you all to stay here and hidden until help arrives.”

  A rifle shot ripped the air and Angie jumped. Her heart and mind reeled with worry for Rico. “Dear God. I am so glad Matt, Mitch and Lauren aren’t here.”

  “You and me both,” Liz said. “I wish you and Franz weren’t either. Seeing him shot and then you up here on the stage too—” Liz’s eyes filled with tears.

  Angie leaned over and pressed a kiss to her mother’s cheek. “We’re all going to be all right, okay?”

  Liz nodded.

  Franz groaned again. “Right now I’m wis
hing Caesar was here. He could have gone with your man to get the bastard.”

  “Rico went alone after the gunman?” Liz asked.

  Angie sighed. “Stopping him would have been like making the earth stand still. As for Caesar, he may look and sound badass, but that wolfhound is nothing but an attention-needy marshmallow. The last time I dog-sat him, he barked crazily at the UPS man, but the second I opened the door for the package, Caesar went on his back, paws up, begging for a belly rub.”

  Franz tried to laugh, coughed then groaned. “Teach me to go after the biggest dog out there thinking he’d be the most ferocious. Should have gotten a Chihuahua. Shorter stride, easier to catch when it runs off, and it would at least bite toes rather than lick them.”

  “Exactly. How are you feeling? Any major dizziness or numbness?”

  “A little dizzy. No numbness. I can tell you dislocating my shoulder at the homecoming football game my senior year was worse than this.”

  “It’s not the pain I’m worried about. It’s the bleeding.”

  The wail of emergency sirens brought a breath of relief, but then another rifle shot rent the air and Angie’s heart kicked, flipped then raced harder.

  She knew Rico was well trained, but she also knew how debilitating his shoulder injury had been and just how limited his physical capabilities currently were despite his recent surgeries. She had little doubt he could reach the sniper without being shot. Maybe even disarm the bastard because he’d have the element of surprise on his side. It was the subsequent hand-to-hand confrontation that had her knotted up inside.

  But then, she’d been that way in one form or another since the moment he’d sauntered into her hotel room weeks ago. His deep voice with a hint of Latino had her insides vibrating like a tuning fork at perfect pitch.

  Everything about him did something to her. He’d turned her so inside out that she, a trained nurse with years of experience to buffer her objectivity, couldn’t separate herself from him. She hurt when he hurt, and he’d been hurting since day one. He’d never said it. He’d never complained, but she could see the pain and the worry in his dark eyes.