by J. L. Saint
Dekker started to shake his head, clearly about to refuse the invitation, but when Holly bit into a slice and made a noise of satisfaction, the man headed in Holly’s direction and the food.
Roger decided to sit down before shock got the best of him. Holy moly, General Dekker had an interest or was developing an interest in Holly. Roger studied Holly’s expression as she fished drinks from the fridge but couldn’t tell from her expression if she knew it or not.
Then she popped open a beer, drank a long swallow. A longer swallow than Roger had ever seen her take. After, she arched a brow at the general and held up her beer. “What do you want?”
Her tone of voice told Roger all he needed to know. Holly knew it. Holly knew Dekker was sniffing and she wasn’t running. Hell, she was…enticing the man?
“I’d go for the beer,” Dekker said. “But I’ve got to be sharp for a meeting in thirty and who knows how long that’s going to last. Hand me a soda.”
Holly gave Dekker the soda and a plate then sat at the table to eat. Roger would have laughed, but couldn’t afford the explanation the two would have demanded. Holly moaned over the veggie pizza and Dekker lit into the meat pizza as if there was no tomorrow. Dekker was hard to read but Roger swore the man was not thinking about pizza as he glanced at Holly on the sly.
“So I gather from DT that you had a meeting about the sniper situation tonight?” Roger wondered why he hadn’t been notified of it at least.
General Dekker shrugged. “Nothing official. I called in Gear here, Beck, DT and a couple of our other top snipers to give me their opinion of the terrorist situation. I’m sure DT mentioned NCS and the FBI are questioning Corporal Santana in Atlanta. That boy seems to be a magnet for hard situations, but I’m pulling a few strings of my own. After my meeting tonight, I hope I’ll be in Atlanta first thing in the morning with a team of our best snipers as official consultants on the investigations. Delta might not be able to see any action on American soil, but a couple of calls can assure every means and every expert our country has is being utilized to catch these bastards. While I’m there I doubt anybody will stop me from talking to my own man, do you, Lt. Col.?”
Since the general didn’t say anything about Beck’s attitude, Roger breathed a sigh of relief then grinned at the general’s unexpected power play to counteract the NCS ass going after Rico. “No, sir. In fact, with your permission, I owe my cousin, President Anderson, a call and might mention that NCS is still giving us a few problems.”
Dekker took a long swallow of his Coke after finishing his last bite. It seemed to Roger that the man’s gaze was focused on the lip of Holly’s beer bottle. She’d just set it down.
“No permission required, Lt. Col. Keeping in touch with family is a good thing, and isn’t helping each other what families are all about?” Dekker glanced at his watch. “I’d better get to that meeting.”
Everyone stood and Holly moved toward the door.
Dekker followed. “I’ll see you at 0600 then, Senior.”
“With my gear, sir.” Holly opened the door.
Dekker nodded at her then glanced at Roger. “Let me know if your cousin has anything interesting to say about NCS or the sniper situation.”
“I’ll call first thing,” Roger said. Had the general made an about-face since his earlier lecture? Roger was more than just a little confused about it all.
Dekker turned on his heel and left. Holly shut the door. Roger opened his mouth but before he could utter a word, Holly lit into him. “Don’t you dare say one word, Commander. Not to me. Not to him. And not to anyone else living in this Fort Bragg fishbowl. I get he’s a superior officer and even though I’m in the National Guard, I’m still his subordinate.” She glanced at his closed bedroom door, clearly indicating Mari. “I’ve kept my mouth shut for you and expect the same in return.”
Holly’s defense systems were on high alert and the gleam in her eye gave him more than a hint of just how deadly she could be behind a rifle scope. He wasn’t about to get into a discussion about Mari either, but… “Okay, I won’t tell either of you that it’s a career buster, or that he’s probably twice your age.” He held up his hands in surrender. “But if you ever need any advice about climbing Mt. Everest, you can count on me.”
Holly frowned then shrugged. “Everest? Don’t you know that it takes one hell of a volcano to make a mountain that big? But we aren’t talking about that. Odds are I’ll be going to Atlanta in the morning for a day or so and won’t be here for Mari.”
“No worries. I’ll be here. So Beck’s not going to Atlanta even though he was at the meeting?”
“No. Only three of the eight Dekker called in are. Something’s up between Beck and Dekker though. Beck was all in-your-face attitude throughout the meeting and Dekker had him stay after. It wasn’t much better when they walked out and found me changing my tire. Both of them insisted on finishing the job, so I hit the restroom. When I returned, they’d seemed to have settled the problem.”
Roger seriously doubted Beck’s issues could be solved that quickly. But then, the change in Dekker between the ass chewing this morning and the pizza tonight was a total surprise to him. He let it go for now. “I have some errands to run. Wake me at 0600 when you leave, I’ll be on the couch next door as usual. And call me…for anything.”
“She was still upset before she went to bed?”
“You could say that. Have you seen the news clip?”
“No.”
“Mari did. So just call me if she needs anything, okay?”
“You know I will.”
“No, I don’t know. You regularly left the base and didn’t see fit to tell me that.”
Holly winced. “Guilty as charged.”
“We’ll talk later. Just know that with her picture all over the news, Dugar is sure to come gunning for her here now. If she needs to leave the base, I’ll be taking her. Are we clear on that?”
“Completely,” Holly said. “And just so you know, I’m thirty-two. There’s eighteen years between me and Dekker. Did you know that Mari is twenty-four?”
Roger stopped dead. He’d just assumed Mari was older. Had never thought to ask her. She’d been married to Neil for several years. She…was pregnant. And he was sixteen years older than her?
“Hell,” Roger muttered. He walked out the door of his apartment with a heavy burden twisting him inside out. The age thing was a shock but not a game-changer. But Mari’s parting confession on forgetting Neil was. Guilt had cleaved Roger in half. He’d not only caused Neil’s death but now he was erasing the man’s memory?
Chapter Sixteen
Atlanta. Georgia
September 12
0400 hours
“Daddy! Daddy!” Pigtails flying, the little girl ran toward her father. Missing half his head with blood and brain matter spilling from the gapping void, the father staggered to his feet. “Go back, baby. Go back.” She ran closer. Rico ran harder to catch her. The sniper bullet slammed into her back and blew a double-fist-sized hole through her chest, propelling her into her father’s defeated arms as bits of her heart splattered him.
“Rico!”
He turned to see Angie running to him with her arms opened. A spray of sniper bullets ripped up the ground between them. “Get down,” he yelled, running for her. The rifle boomed and the bullet whistled by his ear. He shifted his gaze and saw the bullet hanging in the air a foot ahead of him, speeding for Angie’s head faster than he could run. He threw himself forward and wrapped his arm around her to snatch her from the sniper’s shot, but his arm fell off and the bullet hit home, blowing Angie’s head apart. He reached for her but the heavens opened up and thousands of angels flew down, taking her from him. “She’s ours. You should have left her alone. Now she’s dead.”
Heart thundering, Rico’s eyes snapped open. Angie lay curled up against his left side, her head on his good shoulder, her soft breaths tickling the chest hair over his heart. Pulling her a little closer, he breathed in her strawbe
rry-and-cream scent, desperate to chase away the nightmare echoing in his mind. It may have all been a bad dream, but he’d seen too much death and violence in his thirty years for him to trash it completely.
It had been hours since they’d made love but he could still feel himself inside her—and her on him. They’d showered together after he recovered enough to stand up from the coffee table. One minute he’d been helping her wash her hair and her back, totally absorbed with just how damn beautiful she was—creamy skin, red hair and lush curves that demanded every homage his mind, body and dick could pay. The next minute, she turned around, rubbed her soapy hands all over him, then with a whispered, “I owe you one,” went down on him.
Shock and pleasure had rippled up his spine as her mouth closed over his growing erection. She brought him to full attention in a single suck then whipped her little tongue around his head in between deep-throated draws and ball-squeezing strokes that had him falling against the tile wall to stay upright. He’d spent his last drop and then some by the time she finished.
He didn’t remember much of the toweling off. He remembered stumbling with her to the bed, determined to one-up her, because as mind blowing as getting head from her had been, it left him wanting her with him on the journey again, feeling the same pleasure he was at the same time, and hearing her scream his name as she came apart in his arms. But the condom he’d planned on using lay unopened on the bedside table. He must have zonked minutes after his head hit the pillow.
Suddenly, the creak of a floorboard sounded. He rolled out of bed and snatched a brass candlestick from a nearby shelf, silently swearing that he’d have a weapon in hand ASAP. The FBI and NCS may be keeping his and Johnson’s name out of the papers at this point but there was no guaranty of his safety or Angie’s for that matter. Her connection to him was written in the police reports and he should be shot for not thinking of this last night.
“What’s wrong?” Angie sat up whispering as she brushed her curls from her face.
“I thought I heard a floorboard creak.”
Seeing him armed, she scrambled from the bed. “In the kitchen. There’s one that creaks. Here.” She reached into her bedside table and handed him a snub-nosed .38 special. It was new. She’d apparently taken action after he expressed concern about her living alone and unarmed.
She grabbed her cell phone and he pulled her to a protected corner, even though both the windows and drapes were shut. “Stay here.”
Her cell phone buzzed.
He moved to the door. She lived in a three-bedroom ranch where the bedrooms were down a hallway, separated from the kitchen by the great room.
“Wait. The text says, ‘You forgot to turn the coffeemaker on.’ What the hell does that mean? And who—”
“Damn DT’s ass. We might as well put some clothes on,”
Rico said as he flipped on the light and moved to whisper in her ear. “We have a visitor and odds are the NCS and FBI have ears on this place so follow my lead. No talking otherwise.”
“What? You mean—”
Rico pressed a finger to her soft lips and she hushed, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know she was going to be pissed he hadn’t made a point of people hearing them before now. She’d been a screamer.
Angie grabbed sweats at the end of her brass bed. And Rico slid on a pair of jeans. They left her bedroom together, him leading the way.
Penlight surveying the Chinese food and scattered clothes disaster in the great room, DT, dressed in all black, stood in the doorway to the kitchen. Rico considered strangling his teammate. Surely there was a better way to get in touch with him than a middle-of-the-night visit.
“I’m starved, Angel. What are the odds of getting breakfast this early in the morning?” Rico asked.
“Slim. Very slim.” Angie snatched her bra off the coffee table and glared at both him and DT as she passed them.
Not a good start to the day. DT was grinning from ear to ear. Strangling him would be too merciful. Maybe Rico should boil DT in oil. He followed Angie into the kitchen and fetched a piece of paper and pen.
DT took the pen first. Came to check on you. There’s a detail of four men outside. Surveillance van two houses up, across the street. Here are safe cells you can use, with trackers so we can find you. Code word Angel will bring help ASAP. DT pulled two disposable phones from his pocket and set them on the table along with his sweet Beretta M9 9mm from his locker at Bragg with the added bonus, a kick-ass suppressor and plenty of ammo—a man’s gun, and so much more effective than Angie’s pistol.
Rico slid the Beretta into the waistband of his jeans and set the ammo to the side. Yesterday had him feeling like a puppet dangling in the wind, but with a weapon in hand and his Delta team at his back, he was in control again. Georgia had firearm permit reciprocity with North Carolina, which meant he’d be legal to carry the Beretta as long as he stuck to Georgia’s laws. The suppressor was illegal period, but nice. Keeping a low profile was essential.
“Bacon, eggs and grits work?” Angie slammed a pot onto the stove.
“Beautiful in every way,” Rico replied, looking right at her, uncaring if DT heard the sensual nuance in his voice. It was the morning after the most incredible night of his life and he’d be damned if DT or any of the crap going on in the outside world was going to ruin it completely. And it was the truth. She was beautiful despite the 4 a.m. time, despite overlarge worn sweats hiding her curves, despite her wild and crazy curls spilling everywhere.
Rosy color flushed Angie’s cheeks and he could see a hint of a smile tug at the corners of her gotta-kiss-’em lips as her green eyes went misty. Only then did Rico take the pen from an amused DT. Thanks, I think. Your timing sucks, bro. The NCS SOO Director from the Menendez case is here. His name is Dick Djorkaeff. He’s playing good cop/bad cop with SA Aaron Gibson from the FBI.
Angie tossed another pen on the table and DT picked it up. Dekker is already on it. Official word, though, is to give you a wide berth so no one can accuse us of interfering in an international and/or federal case again. We haven’t been able to flush out the details of the attack at the park, though. What happened?
The scent of coffee filled the air and Angie set two steaming mugs on the table. Both he and DT grabbed a mug and sipped. Cream and sugar were luxuries they’d learned to do without. Rico gave DT the nuts and bolts of the whole day and asked for the suspect, Johnson, to get checked out by Delta’s resources. They’re building a conspiracy theory that I’m in cahoots with Johnson. They’re even trying to imply you, Roger and Beck are in on the attacks. We are all supposedly disgruntled soldiers out for revenge against the government.
Asinine. We’ll nip this shit in the bud. Still, do you need cash? I brought $10K just in case.
Rico met DT’s gaze at that. He’d only need cash like that if he was going to skip the country. Surely that wasn’t going to be necessary. And if it did end up getting that bad, would he really go? He couldn’t imagine not fighting for his innocence. He glanced at Angie. Or leaving her. But what about the nightmare? The one where he got her killed.
It was just a dream, damn it.
He nearly pressed the pen through the paper as he wrote. Money’s not necessary. I’m innocent and will prove it. I may be the only witness. I had to have seen something that will help nail these bastards.
Angie joined them and wrote. I have a bunch of pictures from the park yesterday on my camera that’s at my mom’s house. I’ll go download them this morning and hopefully we’ll get a clue from them.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re amazing?” Rico told her.
“You haven’t had breakfast yet. That might change your mind,” she said.
DT wrote to Angie. Lauren sends her love. I am taking her and the boys back to Ft. Bragg this morning. You can come too. She insists on it.
Angie shook her head and wrote, Thanks but no. I’m staying here.
DT nodded then left as silently as he had come. Rico didn’t argue with Angie about
leaving at this point, but at the first hint of trouble, he’d use the safe cell to call an angel for his Angel.
A chill went up his spine. DT picking the code name Angel. His dream, her death, the angels? Was it all coincidence?
Angie set the breakfast on the table and joined him. Rico ate quickly. “This is great.”
“Don’t know what you’re hurrying for. We really need to wait until at least six before we head to my mom’s. You’re eating as if you can’t wait to get the meal over with.” She shook her head and took a delicate bite of toast.
Rico shoved in another bite. “I can’t wait.”
Angie frowned.
Rico grabbed his last piece of bacon and stood. He moved in behind Angie. “I can’t wait to start where we left off last night.” He took the toast from her left hand and the coffee from her right, then pulled her sweat shirt off, exposing her succulent breasts. Scooting her chair around, he knelt on the floor and drew a rosy tip into his mouth and sucked until she moaned. He sat back and grinned as he handed her the toast back. “Finish eating. You’re going to need calories.”
He went for the other breast and worked her sweat pants down. She dropped her toast as he slid a finger along the slick groove of her sex and found her hot spot. This was a breakfast for champions that he could get used to having every morning. Surveillance was about to get another earful of his name.
Chapter Seventeen
White Aryan Vipers (WAV)
Militia Training Camp
Harnett County, North Carolina
“Wake up, Bean.” Dugar gave the snoring man a shake.
Bean sat up, alarmed. “Shit. What’s wrong?”
“Nuthin’ yet. Can’t sleep and figured we might as well have us some fun.”
“Wadda you mean? What the hell time is it?”
“It’s time. That’s all that matters. I tell ya. Lloyd wouldn’t let this sniper opportunity slide through his fingers, and I ain’t either.”