Jameson (In the Company of Snipers Book 22)

by Irish Winters

  “There are medications that may help you regain some of your memory,” Doc Denton told Mel.

  Of course, Mel, who knew absolutely nothing about everything, waved that smart suggestion off. “Don’t use drugs. Never have. Not going to start now.”

  If true, that at least, was good to know. But he would take whatever medication Denton prescribed. Alex would make damned sure of that.

  “It would be smart if you discussed this life change with your lawyer, Alex. Take care of what details you can, now. Powers of attorney. Living wills. Trusts and estates. Probate issues.”

  Alex grunted. “That’ll be easy. He doesn’t own anything.”

  “Yes, I do!” Mel declared, his chest stuck out again, like the braggart he was.

  Again… there was no sense debating with a fool.

  “Please stay in touch, Alex,” Denton said with a distinct undertone of sadness. “I know how hard this is going to be for you. My wife’s mother suffered with Alzheimer’s for years. Don’t be afraid to ask for help when life gets too tough. There are plenty of good resources for patients and caregivers. I’d like to see him next week if that’ll work for both of you. Make an appointment at the front desk on your way out.”

  For years? Alex ran a hand over his head, the sudden yoke of caretaker for his elderly, belligerent father heavier than he’d expected. Guess that was part of the figuring-things-out stage. Which, until today, was something he’d always been good at. Making quick adjustments at the last moment. Plotting a sure azimuth in wicked, stormy weather. Only the monumental task before him now, felt more like a son of a bitchin’ category four hurricane than just a simple change of direction.

  “You bet,” he replied with a sigh. “Come on, Mel. Let’s go.”

  “Why, sure!” Mel exclaimed, as Denton helped him down off the table. “See ya later, asshole.”

  “Next week,” Denton replied calmly.

  “Thanks, Doc,” Alex said as he shook the patient, understanding guy’s hand. “Sorry about my dad—”

  “Call me,” Denton interrupted sternly. “Don’t think you have to go through this alone. It’s going to get harder. Reach out. I will always be here to help you and your family.”

  “Thanks. I will.”

  At the front desk, Alex made the next appointment while Mel flirted with some young thing in the waiting area, like the old letch he was. The ride back to Kelsey was quiet. Alex had a lot on his mind. He still had to deal with Mother’s demand to be made partner, and he’d soon be losing Ember to a couple months of maternity leave. She wouldn’t be there to provide solid technical support. Beau Villanueva had proven to be a top-notch techie, but he didn’t mix well with Mother. Like that was a surprise. Beau didn’t appreciate being bossed, and bossing was what she did best.

  The op with Jameson Tenney and Maddie had ended with them being secured at a nearby safe house. But Lucy Delaney—God, he hated that name—was still out there somewhere. She’d disappeared after Taylor and Maverick had tracked her down and confronted her. He’d sicced whatever TEAM agents were available on finding her, but so far, no luck. Eric had already phoned in a timely Sit Rep. All things at the safehouse were good. That, at least, was something.

  Best news was Harley’s earlier call to say he’d officially quit his veterinarian job as of last night, and he was staying with The TEAM. The possibility of him leaving for greener pastures had worried Alex for months, had also contributed to his daily migraines. Losing Harley would’ve hurt like a son of a bitch. The TEAM was great in that it had created a family out of some of America’s best, sometimes most-wounded, warriors. But losing any member of that tightly knit family sucked. Harley wasn’t just an employee, he was a friend. And Alex needed every last one of the friends he had left.

  “Let me out up ahead, shithead,” Mel grumbled, pointing somewhere off to his right. “By that there store over there. The one with red and green stripes.”

  “Why? Are you hungry?”

  “None of your business. I don’t butt into yours. Stay outta mine.”

  There was no sense arguing with a man whose mind was slowly being eaten away. “Kelsey’s waiting for you,” Alex reminded his father, striving to be gentle.

  “She is? You think Sissy’s there by now, too?”

  Not that again. “Maybe,” Alex breathed as he maneuvered his vehicle through the entrance leading to the gated community where he’d built his version of a stone castle for his queen.

  “Well, giddy-up, then. What’s taking you so long. Move it, you damn dummy!”

  Alex bowed his head, once again back in time, being treated like shit by a man who’d never taken a breath without poisoning it with put-downs and name-calling. “No cursing in front of my wife and kids, Dad. You’re the one who needs help, not us.”

  Mel had gotten hold of an extra fast food napkin from the console. He was doing one of those middle-stage tells, shredding the napkin without knowing what he was doing. And Doc Denton had said this stage could last years? God, help me.

  Alex felt as if he’d been sucked into an oozing tar pit from which there was no escape.

  “Yeah, well, I don’t need nuthin’ from you, not from anyone,” Mel groused. “Let me out. By that there store over there. See it? The one with red and green stripes.”

  The only thing within range that resembled anything close to a fast food store was the guard shack straight ahead.

  “Kelsey’s waiting for you,” Alex reminded his father again.

  “She is? You think Sissy’s there by now, too?”

  “Maybe,” Alex answered, certain he’d just entered the seventh level of Dante’s Hell.

  “Well, giddy-up, then. What’s taking you so long? Move it, you damn dummy!”

  God, help me to not kill him before we get home. Or after. Or ever. God, just please help me, damn it.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jameson heard the stealthy footfall outside the safe house a split second before Eric’s cell rang. Jameson was in the corner of the couch under the window opposite the intruder. Until that cell interrupted, he’d been discussing what happened the previous night with Eric and Harley, as well as what supplies came with the safe house. Sounded like Alex had thought of everything. Except how to make Maddie believe in herself.

  She’d excused herself from the conversation, said she was tired, and had gone back to bed. He didn’t blame her. Yesterday had been a son of a gun. As brave and ferocious as she’d been last night, she’d reverted to her timid, self-effacing alter ego today.

  “Guys,” he breathed, pointing to direct their attention. “Someone’s out there. North side. Six feet to the left of that window—”

  “Already got eyes on him. Single male. Can’t be more than twenty-years-old. Checking the meter,” Harley murmured from the same location. “There’s another kid across the street. They’re going from house to house. No problem.”

  “You’ve got eyes on him?”

  “I do. Windows are lined with UV blocking solar tint. I can see out; he can’t see in. His company’s mini-truck’s parked on the curb.”

  “Relax,” Eric assured. “All windows are bulletproof, and the walls are lined with reinforced steel. Besides, no one knows where we are.”

  Jameson’s sixth sense flared. That prickly feeling he was missing something persisted. “Something’s still not right,” he growled as he pushed off the couch, moving quickly to Maddie’s room. He didn’t need his cane to get around in close areas like this house, but skimmed his fingertips along the hallway wall as he went.

  Eric was instantly on his feet. “Fan out,” he ordered as he headed the other way. In the kitchen, he called, “Only vehicle on the street is the meter reader’s truck. There’s another parked a few doors north of us. Same logo.”

  Harley was checking the bedrooms. “Clear,” he called from his room, then another “Clear,” from Eric’s.

  Jameson cocked his head, listening earnestly for t
he sound of breathing as he opened her bedroom. “Maddie?” he asked as he stepped quietly inside, leaving the door open behind him. He knew the moment he said her name. “She’s not here,” he called out. “Window’s open.”

  That brought Eric and Harley into her room. Harley went straight to the window. “No, no, no. Damn it. That woman’s smart. She jury-rigged a bypass to the security strip.”

  “Why would she do that?” Eric asked.

  “She did the same kind of thing last night,” Jameson replied, his heart pounding as he realized how fervently she accepted responsibility. “Once she found the overhead vent, we had a plan for her to run get help while I created a distraction. But after she cleared the farmhouse, she changed her mind. She said she couldn’t just run away and leave, that she had to save me. That was when she found Agent Morozov, worked her magic on him, saved his life, then started the fire that drew everyone out of the farmhouse.”

  “That fire is how Adam, Eric, and Hunter found you,” Harley said.

  “And Morozov wouldn’t be alive today if she hadn’t changed the plan like she did,” Eric added.

  Jameson turned in the direction of his new teammates’ voices. “She always wanted to be a jarhead. She wants to serve. That’s what she’s doing now.”

  “By running away?” Harley asked.

  “She’s not running away. Not Maddie. She’s doing what every damned SEAL I’ve ever known would do. She’s going after Lucy Delaney.” He cocked his head, listening to the purr of a light-duty truck engine turning over. “How many trucks did you say, Eric? Two? Want to bet there are others canvassing the neighborhood, and she’s inside one of them right now, on her way to Boston?”

  “But we don’t know where Delaney is in Boston,” Harley muttered. “Or if she’s still there.”

  “I’m having a serious talk with that woman when we catch up with her,” Eric growled, then turned his head and said into his cell, “Boss. Damn it. Hate to have to tell you this, but Maddie fled protective custody about an hour ago. She said she was tired and was going to take a nap, but she bypassed the window security tape, and Jameson thinks she’s headed to Boston to go after Lucy Delaney.”

  Everyone in the safehouse could hear Alex’s explosive, “What?!” followed by a string of vehement expletives, some so anatomically impossible they were laughable. Then a terse, “Is she armed?”

  “Yes,” Eric reported evenly. “Nine-millimeter SIG, standard TEAM firepower. Two mags, courtesy of us wanting her to be able to protect herself.”

  Jameson ran both hands over his head, wishing he were telepathic and could reach out and touch Maddie, wherever she was.

  “Son of a bitch,” Alex hissed, his tone as sharp as before. “I… I can’t get away. Not right now. Son of a goddamned bitch! First Pops Delaney. Now Lucy Delaney. What the hell is Maddie thinking? She’s my Protocol Officer, not one of my snipers!”

  “Understood. Never mind. We’ll take care of it,” Eric promised. “No worries. Already got a plan. We’ll find her.”

  Dead silence hung between their pissed-off leader and his agents—for a couple seconds. Until Alex growled, “You’re damned right you’ll find her. You lost her. Do it.”

  “Copy that,” Eric answered smartly.

  But Alex had already disconnected.

  “Hey, guys…” Harley muttered, a boatload of hesitance in his tone. “Alex told me something else when I talked to him earlier this morning. It’s private. He wouldn’t want me sharing details about his personal life, but there’s something else going on right now. I think you two need to know. It’s why he can’t get away.”

  “Does it have to do with his father?” Eric asked. “Because you weren’t there when his old man showed up in Kelsey’s room at the hospital, and that guy’s not right in the head. I really thought Alex was going to knock him on his ass the second he saw him. There’s bad blood between them.”

  “Wish I had been there,” Harley murmured. Sounded like he’d scratched his head. “Should’ve quit my second job sooner. Alex needed me, but…” He blew out a deep breath. “Damn. I should’ve been there.” Said every guilty survivor ever…

  It was obvious that sharing a confidence was hard for Harley. Jameson reached out to him and settled a palm over his shoulder. Instant data poured into him. Harley was taller than him, which put him over six feet tall, but with a rangy build. Solid, but nervous. And exhausted. That came through loud and clear in the tone of his voice.

  Jameson cocked his head and said quietly, “You don’t have to tell us anything. If Alex needs an assist on the home front, we’ll handle that as soon as we find Maddie.”

  “He… he just found out his old man has Alzheimer’s,” Harley blurted, “at least that’s what Kelsey thinks. That’s where he probably is right now. Man hasn’t slept in over forty-eight hours, but he had to take his dad to a specialist, and… shit.” There went Harley’s hand again, over his head and down his neck. Every muscle in that shoulder felt strung as tight as a rod.

  “I should’ve guessed,” Eric muttered. He must’ve sunk down onto Maddie’s bed. His voice came from there. “Thought Alex was going to knock him out when his old man showed up out of the blue. Never seen the boss that ready to fight before.”

  “Mel’s never been part of Alex’s life and, yeah. He can’t leave his family right now,” Harley said. “He’s super pissed his dad even showed up. Hadn’t seen him in years. The old guy’s a loser, and Kelsey’s got the new baby, and—”

  “Alzheimer’s is life changing for the entire family,” Eric added somberly. “And now Alex has one more emergency to take care of.”

  “And it’s killing him,” Jameson surmised from the little time he’d spent with his tightly strung boss. “So let’s do this, guys. Best defense is a good offense. Let’s wrap this up before the sun sets today. Alex has the resources. Let’s use the fuck out of them and go get Maddie, so he doesn’t have to deal with this disaster, too.”

  Harley’s entire body seemed to relax. “Good idea. Only where do we start?”

  Jameson turned to face Eric. “She needed a ride out of here without being seen. I’ll bet she’s inside one of the utility trucks that were in the neighborhood.”

  “I’ll call Mother,” Eric said. “She can contact the power company and have them track those vehicles. At least find out where they are now.”

  “She’ll need to ask those drivers to check their vehicles to see if they’ve picked up a passenger they don’t know about. Tell her to tell them to be nice. Maddie will be scared. She’s only doing this to help.”

  “We should go to the airport,” Harley said. “Head her off at the pass.”

  “Good thinking,” Jameson said. “Maddie’s smart. She’ll trade vehicles the first chance she gets. Might already have done that. Let’s get to Reagan, guys.”

  And when I get her back, I’m never letting her go.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Alex stood over his sleeping wife with his cell still in his hand after the latest bad news from Eric, loving her with every fiber of his warrior’s heart and wishing he didn’t have to leave her again. Especially not today. Not with Mel so close at hand.

  But the need to join his TEAM in the field was a fire breathing monster prowling under Alex’s skin, demanding to be set free to get the job done. For years, he’d lived for his TEAM, buried too many of them, but always stood by them. When operations turned to shit, as they sometimes did, he’d stopped heaven and earth to rescue them, called in any and every favor he’d ever earned to get to them in time, and he would’ve died for them. They were his livelihood and his friends, the epitome of everything his Devil Dog soul stood for. If he were bleeding right now, he knew damned well he’d bleed red, white, and blue. He loved his country and his TEAM. He loved all he’d ever given, and he’d live every second of it again.

  But this gentle woman lying there with crimped dark chocolate curls spilling over her pillow…


  This goddess with the pretty little elfin princess sleeping in one arm and her sound asleep son—their son—in the other…

  They were his real reasons for breathing and living. They were his whole heart.

  Alex swallowed hard at the father and son reunion he’d never expected he’d have to face, and the quandary he’d never planned for. He’d always thought he’d meet his Maker at the end of a bloody gunfight, with that legendary round of hot lead he’d never heard coming, imbedded in his head or his heart. Guess not. But he hadn’t seen his TEAM ending like this, hadn’t seen it ending at all. And this abrupt change of plans wasn’t a hot round to his temporal lobe. Yet it would end him just the same. As fast as things were unraveling with Mel, ending The TEAM this way might be easier in the long run. This time around, his old man really was killing him.

  The time for service to country had finally come to an end. From here until who knew when, his life as CEO of one of America’s greatest teams was finished. A man couldn’t run a successful enterprise without pumping most of his time into it. Entrepreneurship took dedication, sweat, and long hours in the office, on Capitol Hill, and networking. No more. Taking care of his sickly, aging parent would take everything. The TEAM was done. Over. God, it was hard, letting go and moving on. All those upcoming goodbyes…

  Mel now lay sound asleep in the guest bedroom below in Alex’s basement. He’d installed his father there after they’d come home from visiting Doc Denton, after Mel took what had to be his first hot shower in days, maybe weeks. After Alex insisted he take the prescription the local drugstore had delivered while they’d been en route. Even that had been weird, more proof that Mel’s mental faculties were declining.

  He’d stoutly refused to do anything Alex requested, yet then he’d showered and, as docile as a lamb, he’d taken the two white pills Alex offered. Mel tossed them back with a tall glass of orange juice. But after he’d finished, just when Alex thought maybe this cohabitation might be doable, he’d swiped the back of his hand across his mouth, sneered, and spat, “You can’t make me do anything, shithead.”