Hard Man to Kill (Dark Horse Guardian Series Book 4)

by Armstrong, Ava

  Standing with her arm around Monique’s shoulders, she glanced at her friend. “You really stepped up to the plate, Monique. I’m glad I have you as a BFF.”

  Monique smiled. This time she looked like the old relaxed Monique. “Thanks, I couldn’t have done it without your encouragement.”

  “We helped one another.” Lara whispered. The ocean air felt damp and cool. Both women stood in silence as the waves lapped at the shore. “Ben will be here soon with the sailboat. He’ll get us all back ashore in short order.”

  Thirty minutes later, she could see the running lights of the sailboat. The outline of Ben’s figure moving over the deck as he moored it safely off the dangerous ledge, then he dropped his body into the water and she lost sight of him. Minutes passed, that seemed to stretch into hours. She listened to her heart pounding in her ears. As soon as she saw Ben step upon the pebbly beach, his eyes met hers. Lara ran to him, embracing Ben as if he’d been gone for months. She couldn’t help the tears of relief that welled in her eyes. “Oh, Ben, I was so worried…”

  She heard a loud crack. The undeniable sound of gunfire. Turning toward the sound, Ben reached for his weapon. “Get into the fort, quickly, zig zag….move!” Lara watched from the fort as Ben took cover behind a huge piece of granite. She looked at Monique. “Get the guns. It’s not over yet. Someone just fired at Ben out here!”

  Fort Gorges

  ~ Ben ~

  All bets were off. Ben was now playing a deadly game of tag with someone he couldn’t see or hear. Without the G’s, he was using only his senses. He reached for his phone in the waterproof envelope on his holster. His mind raced a hundred miles an hour as he dialed Elvis. “Hey, there’s someone popping off rounds at me out here at the fort. Jesus, who the hell is it?”

  Elvis replied. “We’re almost there. We’re just behind the sailboat in the inflatable. Hang on.”

  Ben breathed into the phone. “Do you have the G’s? I’m blind here. Don’t know where this guy is.”

  He heard Elvis’ reply, “Yup,” and the phone call ended.

  More rounds were fired. It was a large caliber rifle and the last shot just grazed the fort above him. He moved inside a granite encasement, with a small opening. It felt like he was in a cave with an opening above. Good in some ways, but no exit point. Damn. This could be a death trap. Texting Lara, he told her to get the Silver Shadows and take position at the casements, being careful to remain as hidden as possible behind the granite.

  Another bullet struck the hard stone surrounding him. He was the target, no doubt. But now he had brought the danger right where he didn’t want it to be. And he was putting the women and children at risk, exactly what he didn’t want to do.

  Damn! He’d counted fourteen bodies. That was what Saleh told him. He had depended on Saleh to tell him the truth. Maybe that was a big mistake. Trusting Saleh could become his undoing. Focus. He had to find out where the shooter was set up. With a rifle, he had to have a flat spot. He studied the topography of the island on his phone again. From where he was sitting, there were only two possible places.

  Like an idiot, he had taken his body armor off and he was shirtless. He took the dirt and smudged his face and chest to conceal himself, but realized it didn’t make much difference. This shooter had drawn a bead on him and if he emerged, smudged or not, he’d be dead. Angling himself in a prone position, he knew the range of the MK23 was significant. Dependent upon his hearing and vision, he got eyes on the one position he thought the rounds came from, maybe he could get a well-placed shot off. Ben detected movement. A well-concealed figure moved ever so slightly and Ben fired, getting off eight rounds before pulling back against the granite.

  Another burst of bullets peppered the granite that surrounded him, ricocheting all over the damned place. He called Lara on the phone. “Stay away from the openings. I know where he’s shooting from, but I can’t get to him. Bullets are flying all over here.” Ben heard the children crying and the muffled sounds of mothers comforting them.

  “Give me the shooter’s position.” Lara said.

  “About twenty yards southeast of your turret. Maybe a bit more distance than that. Damn, I’m sorry. I couldn’t be in a worse position. Stay covered and be ready to shoot if I get hit.”

  He called Bettencourt. “I know where the shooter is, I’m sending you the coordinates right now. Jesus, be careful. He’s got a high caliber AR and he’s a good shot. I’m pinned behind a huge piece of granite, well covered. I’ll give you my exact position.”

  Within minutes there was a suppressed burst of firepower, different than the sound of the AR. Ben instantly recognized the Silver Shadow’s muffled sound, then heard a body drop onto the ground less than a hundred feet from him.

  He heard Lara’s excited voice, “Did I get him?”

  Ben watched the figure on the ground for a few seconds. No movement. “Hold on. Hold your fire.” He walked toward the body on the ground and used his foot to secure the weapon. Still no movement. Blood was pooling around the lifeless man, creating a grotesque scene in the moonlight. She’d hit him center mass. When he pulled out his iPhone and searched through the photos, he used his phone to illuminate the face of the dead man. He had a match.

  He instantly called Bettencourt. “He’s dead. Lara killed the shooter. It was that Khouri bastard. The guy we had almost no intel on.” Within ten minutes, Bettencourt, Tom, and Rusty scrambled ashore to where Ben was standing. “Thanks, guys. Good response time. But, Lara beat you to it.”

  Lara emerged from the fort, and Ben ran to her. “Good shot, darlin.” He couldn’t stop the pride swelling in his heart or the stream of tears that ran down his face for that moment. It was dark. No one would see him crying. He was just so damned proud of her. He never imagined she’d have the fortitude to save his life, but she did. The woman he held in his arms was filled with courage, grit and determination. Never did he feel so fortunate to draw a breath.

  In the aftermath, he could not stop thinking, what if he’d been killed right there? There were so many things he hadn’t said to Lara. So many experiences he wanted to share with her. He wanted more time on this earth, and knew he nearly got killed more than once during the past few months. Now she was part of his black-op life.

  As he released her, Ben stepped back and watched as the team surrounded her, slapping Lara on the back. They all shook her hand. “Damn fine.” Tom said. Ben watched as Rusty tenderly embraced her. “Just how we taught her, right Ben?”

  Almost unable to speak, Ben felt the words emerging, “Yup, exactly. Let’s get the hell out of here.” He tried to focus on getting the women and children into the inflatable and onto the sailboat. They were going home. It was over, for now.

  ~ Lara ~

  Something shifted inside of her the night she killed Khouri. There weren’t words to describe the feeling she had when she pulled the trigger. It wasn’t elation or excitement, but a sense of satisfaction. The same feeling she had when she hit the moving targets’ center mass when practicing. Not the heart-racing adrenaline rush she felt when she killed the first time. But something changed. She had saved her husband’s life. Privately, Ben showered her with compliments, knowing she didn’t enjoy being the center of attention, even for something as positive as killing a badass terrorist.

  “You’re ready…” he whispered to her later that night, when they were alone.

  “I know.” She nodded. When she looked into his blue eyes, there was an understanding so powerful, she couldn’t describe it with words. Lara knew the obligation that came with becoming a black-op with Ben. It was an all or nothing proposition, an all-consuming way of life. But, she wanted it. She wanted him. She remembered his voice, the look in his eyes, when he spoke the words, “Think about it…”

  While she was pondering Ben’s proposition, day-to-day life for them had changed dramatically. News coverage was relentless. Lara hid behind the security guards at the bungalow when working with Monique on design plans. Ben was pestere
d at the university non-stop. Finally, the university made a statement to the press. But, nothing seemed to stop the thirst the media had for Ben and Lara’s brush with death. Terrorists, on American soil. It was the hot news story of the month, and they were the centerpiece of the mania. But, she knew, eventually, another news event would come along and take the place of this one. Oh God, it just couldn’t happen fast enough for her.

  The next month became a blur. The Dark Horse Guardians had moved back to their respective communities and kept a low profile, while Lara struggled to maintain a normal schedule. She hadn’t been prepared, mentally, for the aftermath of the shooting. The press chasing her, hounding her, was more frightening than the actual shooting, itself. Her nightmares returned. The only way to stop them was to push forward, confide in Monique. Meeting with design clients, she immersed herself into work. It helped, but at night, when she closed the windows at Clearwater Farm, the images of that horrific night were viewed in her mind’s eye as a movie playing fast forward.

  Killing Khouri stirred something deep and primal inside of her. It was similar to the feeling she had when she killed her attacker many years ago. A sense of satisfaction knowing she did something extremely difficult -- but for the right reason – he didn’t deserve to be among the living. For the first time, she contemplated what it would be like to work with Ben and his team undercover on a mission. She felt a unique bond with the men. They now treated her differently, as if she’d passed some sort of test.

  Ben was due home any moment. The familiar sound of the Indian motorcycle rumbled outside. It was the last day of classes at the university, meaning Ben was free for the summer. She opened the door as she watched him kick the stand under the bike.

  “Hey, handsome mystery man…” she called to him. Her heart always raced when his eyes first connected with hers. She craved the warmth of his embrace, his kiss, listening to his voice. She knew it would always be this way with him, even twenty years from now. She loved everything about him, even his faults.

  “How about a ride on this nice warm day, darlin?” he smiled with his whole face, eyes dancing, dimples displayed. The slight tan looked good on him, as if he needed anything to make him more handsome.

  “I’d love that.” She said, “Let me get my bag.” Moving back inside, she tossed a few items into her backpack and returned to him. “It’s like….before.”

  “Let’s go to the roadhouse for dinner tonight. I won’t keep you out too late.” He held her close and nuzzled her neck. “I don’t want you to get too tired.”

  “That would be fun. I didn’t have dinner planned.” She noticed a gleam in his eye. As she mounted the bike, Ben waited as she put on her helmet and goggles. He secured the strap and placed a light kiss on her lips. He waited until she wrapped her arms around his sturdy waist. With a blast of excitement, they were off. The smell of blooming flowers and fresh rain on the hot pavement moved past her. How beautiful and terrible life could be all at the same time. On the back of the motorcycle with Ben, she wished she could freeze this unspoiled moment in time.

  The roadhouse was filled with people on the warm June evening. As Ben walked through the door, he was met with handshakes all around. Surprising Lara, the men and women shook her hand, too. The veterans smiled and muttered things like, “Damn fine job.” It wasn’t celebratory as much as a form of recognition; a nod for a job well done. She soaked it in, secretly reveling in the feeling.

  When they arrived at their usual corner table, Bettencourt and Monique were there.

  “Damn, fancy meeting you here!” Bettencourt stood, slapped Ben and hugged Lara. The four of them decompressed over dinner and music. Lara and Monique talked about the small day-to-day crazy things. For the first time in weeks, Lara let herself go. She laughed uncontrollably. The veterans stopped by their table and included her in their humor-filled repertoire. She felt she belonged there. A unique dynamic was taking place; the men and women she so admired were accepting her into what was, possibly, the most exclusive club in the world. She never imagined she could feel this good in a crowd of people, but, she did.

  This was her place. These were her people. She never felt so at home.

  Central Intelligence Agency, Langley Air Force Base, Virginia

  ~ Director Ali Najjar ~

  Pacing the floor before the upcoming meeting usually helped Najjar focus on what he was going to say. Walking back and forth in his office often served to help him organize his thoughts. But, today there was only one thing on his mind. Lieutenant Ben Keegan was still alive. He wondered how the simple removal of the man had not been accomplished. What excuses would they have? He had already heard a few of them. And, if that was all they had, there would be hell to pay. He wasn’t fond of the Special Activities Director, Kip Larson, anyhow. The man was too conservative and protected Keegan way too much.

  A tap on the door from his secretary signaled it was time to go into the conference room for the executive meeting. He took the laptop and walked swiftly down the hallway to the room already brimming with people. Senate Intelligence Committee members and Assistant Directors. Once everyone was assembled, a hush fell over the room.

  “Let’s begin.” Najjar said sternly. “Khouri is dead. He was our man. What the hell happened? I want answers. The press is having a field day with this. Who’s going to start?”

  Kip Larson stood and walked to the front of the room, and stood next to the director. Najjar figured Larson would speak, but didn’t think he’d be so bold as to move to the front of the room next to him. The audacity of this asshole. Let him hang himself in front of everyone present. It would save him a lot of time and energy.

  “I’ll go over the details.” Larsen started, “But, before I begin, you need to know that Keegan was aware of this plan all along. Don’t ask me how he knew about it, but he did. That’s why he is still alive.”

  For the next forty minutes, Najjar listened as Larson described every move made by the terror cell to take out Keegan. It was, as he expected. Inexperience. Incompetence. Stupidity. Sloppy work.

  Keegan had to be eliminated; he knew too much and was more of a liability than an asset because of it. Larson was wrapping up his sad little account of what happened, or didn’t happen. Larson’s job was on the line, as was Najjar’s. Didn’t this idiot realize that fact? The president was furious. Someone’s head would roll for this. Maybe more than one. He wondered sometimes how the Agency even functioned. The bureaucracy had grown to an unwieldy machine, clogged with assistants, special assistants, and inexperienced simpletons. Kip Larson didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know.

  When Larson sat down, Najjar delivered one message to the room full of so-called experts.

  “I’ll deliver my report to the President. He will make the final decision as to who will be accountable for this inept sequence of errors. Meeting is adjourned.”

  Najjar left the room first, but could hear them buzzing as he walked down the hallway to his office. His recommendation would be to fire Kip Larson. The Special Activities Director had grown too close to Keegan. Plus, Najjar had someone else in mind for the position; a person who had ties to his consortium, The Muslim Fellowship Group.

  ~ Ben ~

  “Would you like to go to Prince Edward Island for a week or so?” Ben asked Lara at the roadhouse. He watched her eyes light up with delight as she smiled. Her expression said all he needed to know.

  “Yes, I’d love to.” Her hazel-green eyes met his and he felt his heart melt.

  “Want company? Or, just the two of us?” Ben kept his eyes locked with hers.

  “Maybe just the two of us for a few days, then company?” she said softly.

  The thought of the two of them alone at the remote cottage was thrilling. Just what they needed. The last time they were there was tenderly remembered as one of the best weekends of his life. He recalled every detail about it and hoped, in some way, to relive it all over again with her.

  “Fly or drive?” Ben queried,
watching her eyes for a reaction.

  “Oh, let’s drive and bring Einstein. We can stop overnight to see Alvin.” Lara suggested.

  “Good idea. I owe him.” Ben sensed her connection to the old vet, and loved that she recognized his talents. “I’ll ask Bettencourt and Monique to come up the second week…how would that be, darlin?”

  “Perfect.” She smiled. “A week alone, together, just us…..I miss that, Ben.”

  She had no idea how much he missed their time alone together. But any time spent with her was a bonus, and he always made the best of it.

  Mild temperatures and no wind made the motorcycle ride home a sensual delight. Although he’d danced with her the past few hours, he couldn’t wait to feel her hands around his chest. She moved one hand beneath his leather jacket and T-shirt until she touched the ancient coin she had given him. He felt her hand trace it, then his pecs, as he sped through the darkness with the bike roaring beneath them. Every time Lara touched him, he wanted her. The heady scent of blooming honeysuckle blew by them. Soon, strawberries would be in season. He could think of nothing but feeding them to Lara, then kissing her juicy berry-stained lips. How he missed the simple things with her when he was busy working at the university or on a mission. Tonight would be special. He’d make sure it was.

  Arriving at home, he secured the helmets and goggles, and took her into his arms. “Darlin, I have missed you so much. It seems lately, all we’ve been doing is working, fighting off the press, trying to put things back in order.”

  “Then, take me inside and we will play.” She said softly. He smiled as she took his hand and pulled him gently toward the door. Inside, the solitude of the house was soothing. Unable to wait another moment, he took her face into his hands and kissed her in the middle of the kitchen. Her lips tasted like the ginger ale she just finished at the roadhouse. The smell of her hair was musky and sweet; his tongue traced the seam of her full lips. She parted them slightly and a bolt of lightning shot through him.