She gulped. “I try to get along with everyone in the team.”
“You’ve done a good job of that. I know when you were assigned to us, a few of the guys had some questions about it. But you brought a lot of skills we needed. I’d been yelling at Command to send us a translator who spoke the local Pashto language. We were desperate for someone who could translate for us.”
“I took a one-year Pashto immersion course at the Navy language school in Monterey Bay,” Ali said, nodding, her hands gripping the mug. Unsure of where Wyatt was going with this, she said nothing more. She did notice that he looked pleased, though. Whew!
“You’ve helped us enormously, Ali. All the villages we work with look forward to us coming because they can talk to you, and tell us what they need—whether it’s food, medicine, or something else. I’m very pleased about that.”
Okay. So maybe this wasn’t a whupping? Her confusion increased, and she frowned slightly, waiting for the next shoe to drop.
“The relationships we’ve built these past months have been good for intel gathering,” she agreed.
“Hey, it’s far better than that,” Wyatt said. “You’ve single-handedly built a strong connection with the women in these villages, and they tell you everything. The men might not—because in their belief system, women are never in power or control—but these ladies have given you incredibly viable intel that we’ve acted upon—with good results. In fact, we’ve gotten more top Taliban leaders since you’ve been with us. You’re a great asset to us, Ali.”
“Well, thanks,” she said carefully. “I’m glad to hear that.” Had Wyatt called her in to pat her on the head?
“And you’re also a sniper, like me, and you’ve more than proven yourself in that area, Ali. I like having two snipers and two combat medics on my team. We really lucked out with you. You’re the whole package.”
She was flabbergasted. No longer able to restrain herself, she gave him a sharp look and said, “I guess I didn’t expect this, Wyatt.”
“Oh?”
Shrugging, she said, “I know it hasn’t escaped your all-seeing eyes that Torres and I get along like oil and water.”
“My granddaddy always said it doesn’t take a genius to spot a goat in a flock of sheep,” he drawled.
Tilting her head, she smiled. “Is this one of your famous Texas sayings, Wyatt?”
He grinned back. “Sure is.”
“Am I the goat or the sheep?”
Wyatt’s grin broadened. “Your mama didn’t raise a dummy, did she? Excellent question.”
He slowly sat up and placed his mug on the desk in front of him. “Well, now, ever since you were assigned to us, I’ve seen Torres being the only member of the team not to accept or integrate you. He’s the goat. You’re trying to be a sheep and fit in with the rest of the sheep under my command. But he’s never totally fit into our team, Ali, and you have. The other men fully accept you as one of them now. They trust you. And you can’t make someone like Torres, who is a goat, turn into a sheep so that you all get along with one another. That’s what I’m sayin’.”
Blinking slowly, she assimilated what he’d said. “I’ve really tried to get along with Torres.”
“I’ve watched,” he murmured, nodding slightly.
“I know he doesn’t like me on the team,” she admitted quietly.
“No, that’s not it. He doesn’t trust women in general. That’s a horse of a different color you’ll have to adjust to, Ali.”
“Why doesn’t he trust women?”
“Can’t say. That’s for him to tell you, not me. But as team leader, it’s my job to make my team into a well-oiled group that works a hundred percent with one another. We’re stronger together. If I have one person in my team withholding trust toward another member, that’s not good.”
“But I’ve tried to get along with him, Chief. I really have!” Her heart was racing, adrenaline surging into her blood stream. Was Wyatt going to make her the reason why Torres was the way he was? Anger flashed through her, thinking he was doing just that.
“If you find yourself in a hole, Ali, the first thing you do is stop digging.”
Rolling her eyes, she muttered defiantly, “I’m afraid I’m not following the message from your Texas sayings, Wyatt. Can you just spit it out and tell me where this is all going?”
One corner of his mouth twitched. “Torres doesn’t trust women. It comes from his growing up years. When you came onto the team, Ali, it raised the issue within him. I’ve tried a couple of times to take him aside and tell him to give you a chance to prove yourself because you are trustworthy.”
“Well,” she snorted, “that sure as hell hasn’t happened! He questions my every decision, especially if it involves the team as a whole.”
“Right. He’s got an inflated view of himself as the dog that protects the herd of sheep. He believes it’s his duty to protect others.”
“He’s a goat,” she muttered, scowling, “not a sheep dog.”
“But that’s how he sees himself,” Wyatt said gently. “You see him differently, of course. But his lens on reality is focused on him being the protector.”
“He’s never protected me,” she said.
“You’re absolutely right,” he agreed, his expression shadowed.
“He’s the only one I can’t trust, Wyatt. I learned early on not to rely on him when I was out in the field. I know I’m on my own. All the rest of the guys do have my back. I even have Torres’ back, whether he realizes it or not.”
“Yep, we’re seeing things the same way. And I’m pleased that you’re a team player, Ali.”
“Then what am I doing in here, Wyatt?”
Wyatt looked at her, sizing her up. “Look, Ali, I can see that Torres’ way of handling the situation is not helpful to you or to my team, and I want you to know that I have your back. This situation must be dealt with and Torres has to stop distrusting you, or he’ll be leaving my team.”
His honesty took her aback. “I thought . . . well, I thought you were going to blame me for the situation.”
Again, his boyish smile came and went, that glinting intelligence in his eyes telling her that he missed nothing.
“There’s a saying that every quarrel is a private one, and outsiders are never welcome. But in this case, I’m going to interject myself into this scene. Torres won’t like it, but I’m hoping that after discussing this issue with him, that he’ll stop it so our team can be tight again. We need to be one-hundred percent accepting of each other to function at our best. We’re not there now, and we have to get there quickly.”
She sat there, digesting his words. “I know enough from Psychology 101 to see that you feel Ram is projecting onto me.”
“Yes, ma’am, he’s definitely doin’ that. I’ve taken a lot of psychology classes, and spotted it right away. I was hoping that Torres would come around, eventually. The fact that he’s Mexican-American and you’re Yaqui Indian and Mexican-American seemed like an easy way for him to accept you on the basis of your shared blood and backgrounds.”
“But it hasn’t. Manny Felix and I have bonded, for sure. He’s Mexican-American, too.”
“Right, but Torres was the goat standing outside his pen of sheep. He didn’t want to fit in.”
“Why? Why does he distrust women so much?”
“He just does. We’re now at the point that if I can get Torres to understand by not having your back he’s hurting the team as a whole, maybe he’ll accept you. If he can do that, I’ll keep him. But if he can’t, he’s outta here in the blink of an eye. We need your expertise, Ali. And you’ve worked hard to become a member of the team. I appreciate that.”
Ali frowned, thinking about Ram. “You know, he seems to be tightly bonded to the guys from what I’ve seen. He does his job and he does it well. But I never see him joking around or teasing the others, or vice-versa, Wyatt. He doesn’t talk about his family, or share a photo that he carries of his wife or kids—if he’s married. I never hear
him discuss his mother or father. I just feel he’s in some kind of emotional lockdown, and he’s not letting anyone in.”
“No, he’s not gonna let anyone in, but I was hopin’ over time he’d relax and let you in. I’ve watched all the other guys gravitate to you, Ali. They treat you like a sister. And out in these Afghan villages, you’re the person the locals can’t wait to see. The children love you. The women cluster around you and squeeze you to death. You’re accepted and trusted because of who you are. That big heart of yours, I’ve decided, is probably the size of the state of Texas.”
She found herself reddening with embarrassment. This was certainly not the way she’d expected this interview to go!
Wyatt continued as if not noticing her chagrin. “Every man here in the team, with the exception of Torres, dotes on you. They use you as a confidante, they pull you aside and tell you things they’d never tell another guy or even me. I’ve watched it go down. You might be a helluva sniper out on an op, but you also have a lot of nurturing and maternal instincts that you’re sharing with your team—as well as with the villagers. You’ve added a layer to my team, a good one. A woman’s energy and expression is different from a man’s and I’m very pleased with you being among us. But this situation with Torres has to be resolved—and soon.”
“That’s hopeful sounding.”
Nodding, Wyatt said, “You can lead a horse to water, but that don’t mean he’s got the brains to drink. This isn’t your fault and I don’t want you to think otherwise.”
“Have any of the men complained to you about me?” She might as well get everything out on the table. She was relieved that Wyatt saw her clearly, understood she was a valued member of his team, and it dissolved most of her dread.
“No one to a man,” Wyatt said. “They respect you, your skills, and your professionalism.”
“Has Torres come to you?”
“Nope. He’s locked up tighter than Fort Knox. He’s not available to anyone. He’s never said anything about you to me. From time to time, I’ve heard him try to badmouth you in front of others, but he’s always been stopped. They tell him to knock it off. He’s not being a team player, and they don’t appreciate that.”
Wincing, Ali whispered, “He’s not a bad person, Wyatt. Surely you’ve seen him with the little boys in these villages. They love him. He always keeps candy in his pockets to give to them. They just adore him.”
“I’ve seen it,” Wyatt said, leaning back and rocking a little in his chair. “And I’ve seen him be good with all the men on my team, as well. He doesn’t open up to them, but he’s a good listener, and sometimes he’ll give another guy his two cents’ worth when asked.”
“God, I don’t want to be the reason he leaves,” she sighed.
“You aren’t. He just needs to learn to adjust and recalibrate how he treats you. Often, when a person projects something bad that happened to them when they were young, they take a shotgun approach and include everyone around them. In this case, it’s his distrust of women.”
“Is he married? I never hear him talk about himself. Not even to the other guys.”
“He’s footloose and fancy free. Never been married. No rug rats, either.”
She smiled a little. “Rug rats” was an affectionate military term for children. “There’s good in him. We’ve all seen that.”
“And here you are defending him even if he won’t treat you with respect and as an equal.”
“I don’t believe in throwing out the baby with the bath water, Wyatt. Torres is your best shooter. He’s really, really good. A 4.0.”
“I won’t disagree with your assessment. That’s why he’s comin’ to my woodshed,” and he looked at his watch, “in about an hour. I’m hoping to thread the needle with him on this issue and hope he’ll change his attitude toward you.”
“I wish,” she began softly, looking away for a moment, “I wish there was something I could do that would help him ease into that transition, but I’ve run out of tools to fix what’s not right between us.”
“I’m with you on this. He’s a good man, but he’s badly wounded in ways that I’m not sure any of us can help him fix. What I can’t do is allow this to continue, Ali. What we do out there on ops is life-and-death. We must trust one another during every step of that op.”
“I feel so bad. I guess I shouldn’t, but I’ve always seen the good in people, Wyatt. I’m an optimist with a healthy dose of reality thrown in. I’ve seen Ram help the other guys, and he’s always been there for them.”
“But he’s not there for you, and I can’t have that on my team. This isn’t yours to fix, anyway,” he added sternly. “It’s my job. You’ve tried and I’ve been silently cheering you on, hoping one of those peace offerings will take hold. But it just hasn’t worked, so it’s time for me to step in.”
Ali nodded, her stomach tightening.
“Every one of us is composed of light and dark, good and bad,” he agreed. He rose from his chair. “Now, why don’t you go get some sleep? We’ve just come off a pretty stressful op.”
“Okay.” She set the emptied mug on his desk and stood up to leave, realizing she felt terrible about Ram Torres. The man hadn’t changed in the three months she’d been assigned to the team. Could he really change now? She didn’t know.
“See you later,” Wyatt said.
Turning, she opened the door and closed it quietly behind her. The passageway was empty, everyone still asleep, exhausted from last night’s op. Walking lightly down the hall because the ply-board bedrooms were not soundproofed, she headed to the end, where her room was located. Exhaustion swept through her. She had to eat first and then put in her volunteer time at the medical clinic.
Wyatt was right: it had been tough, six-night-long black ops. They’d nabbed three Taliban leaders from the area, thanks to local village women giving her their names and locations. Rubbing her tearing eyes, she pushed open her door and walked inside. It was a ten-square-foot room made completely of unpainted ply-board, and furnished with a metal cot and a few wooden crates she’d stacked together to act as a dresser.
There was no way Ali wanted Ram Torres to be jettisoned from the team. He was a highly intelligent man with a bear trap mind when he was on an operation. Wyatt had said he was “wounded.” What had happened to him when he was younger that had caused him to distrust all women?
Would she find out later that Wyatt had fired Torres, giving him orders to leave their team? In her heart, she hoped not. He was a respected warrior with an open wound that had yet to heal. But she hoped that over time it would, for all their sakes.
CHAPTER 2
Ram Torres could barely keep his eyes open after his alarm clock went off at 0900. For whatever reason, after a brutal six-night op in the mountains of Afghanistan, his boss had ordered him into his office at 0915. What the hell! Eyes burning with fatigue, he threw on a clean t-shirt, grabbed a fresh, if rumpled, pair of desert cammo trousers, then pulled on his boots, and added his sidearm.
His stomach grumbled, echoing how he felt at the prospect of an official interview this damned early. Not only was he sleep-deprived, but every joint in his body ached and he desperately wanted to crash and burn. All he needed was another ten hours in the sack. Was that too much to ask?
Cinching up his webbed belt, he took a swipe at his short black beard, and ran his fingers through his shaggy hair, yanking open the door. His room was only a few steps down the hall from Wyatt’s office.
Absently, Ram wondered how the hell Wyatt could even be half alert at this point. Gritting his teeth, he knocked on the door and silently told himself, Cool down, Ram. Being an asshole won’t get you anywhere with this guy.
A beat, then two. “Enter,” Wyatt drawled.
Ram pulled the door open. Lockwood was bent over one of the many reports stacked in a wobbly pile on his desk. It looked like a bomb had gone off on that desk, but Ram knew his boss was always playing catch up. The snatch-and-grab teams at J-bad were on the job nonstop
, and the paperwork trail lagged far behind.
“You wanted to see me?” he asked, grabbing a chair. He waited for Wyatt to motion him to sit down. Despite his annoyance, he had real respect for Wyatt and the job he did.
“Yeah,” Lockwood said, putting down his pen, “I do. Have a seat.” He folded his hands and gazed at Torres. “I want to speak to you about something that happened last night on that op.”
Ram sat down. He was taken aback. “Sure. What was it?”
“You and Montero were checking out our three Taliban captives sitting outside the hut. If you recall, they were already flex-cuffed with their hands behind their backs.”
Ram scowled. Lockwood had hauled his ass out of bed for a replay of last night’s capture? Rubbing his beard, he said, “Okay. So what?” Normally he’d have a debrief on the latest mission two or three days later because they were all whipped and exhausted. Why the hell was his boss bringing this up right now? It made no sense.
“So,” Wyatt said, “I looked over at you two and noticed you weren’t watching Montero’s back. It was her job to not only check that the cuffs were tight enough, but she also had to go through each man’s clothing looking for maps, photos, and anything else she could find. You were looking elsewhere when your focus should have been on her.”
“She didn’t need me. She knew what she was doing.”
“That’s not the point, Ram. You were chosen as a team to go do it together. One person searches, the other watches his or her back. You stood off, your rifle barrel pointed down at the ground. And you were staring everywhere else but at her.”
Snorting, Ram muttered, “And you got me out of my bunk for this?” He knew he was nearly overstepping bounds between a petty officer and a chief. A chief had a lot more clout than he did.
Lockwood’s mouth tightened. “I want to know why you weren’t focused on Montero and her activities.”
“She’s very capable. She didn’t need another set of eyes on her task.”
“And what if one of the prisoners had slipped out of those cuffs? What if he’d grabbed her? You were standing twenty feet away, looking elsewhere and paying no attention to her.”
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