Collateral Damage: Silent Warrior, Book 1

by J. L. Saint

  Jack pulled back into the shadows. “Stay here. Let me check the area first. Whoever made those footprints could have left or could be on the other side of the fence.”

  He reached the fence and after checking through the cracks, he put his gun away, and stepped back. He signaled for her.

  Lauren rushed up.

  “Relax. They’re safe.” Jack motioned for her to go ahead. She almost stumbled as her knees went weak with a relief she couldn’t quite grasp. What did the footprints mean?

  Angie, harried and disheveled with her red hair a corky mop in the breeze, opened the gate. The Shepherds bounded inside, nearly knocking her over. She laughed. “You know. When you go on that sex date, we’re going to have to get you a babysitter three days in advance. Otherwise you’re going to be too tired to enjoy anything. These monsters are murder on energy.”

  Lauren froze, except for her mouth which opened and shut like a fish out of water.

  Angie turned around, gasped then yelled, “Matt. Get down. I told you that you must ask your mom before you can use the diving board.”

  “But she’s not here and I want E-hart to fly now.”

  At Jack’s barely audible chuckle, Lauren unstuck herself and hurried through the gate, sure her face was beet red. Matt stood on the diving board situated at the deep end of the pool, bouncing with his race car in hand. Mitch had his race car at the shallow end of the pool and was racing it down the stair rail, thoroughly happy to stay within the safe parameters Angie had set.

  “Off the diving board now, Matt.” Lauren thanked God that she found her sons safe.

  “But, Mom!”

  “No buts. You disobeyed Aunt Angie and that means you forfeited your opportunity to use the diving board this time.”

  “But…but… MOM!”

  “Now. Next time you’ll remember that you can’t just do what want to do without facing the consequences. When Aunt Angie is babysitting you, you have to obey her. Do I need to add another punishment as well?”

  Matt shut his mouth and backed off the diving board. He had his jaw set at a stubborn angle though, telling her that he hadn’t come close to learning any sort of lesson. The heat of Jack’s body behind her penetrated her consciousness even before she heard him shut the gate. Both her sons and Angie came to a surprised standstill, their gazes wide.

  “Oh my,” Angie said. “Didn’t realize you had company.” Rather than appearing contrite at her sex date remark, she looked entirely too pleased. “I’m Angie Freemont.” She stepped up and offered her hand.

  “Jack Hunter.” Jack shook her hand.

  “I tried to call, and became really worried.” Lauren said. “Someone ransacked my house at some point since last night.” She again glanced at her sons, so thankful they were safe, but still fully aware they were all in a bad situation. Would they ever be safe again? Danger had parked a vulture on her shoulder that continued to tear at her heart. At the moment the boys were hugging Sasha and Sam and running their race cars down the dogs’ backs.

  “My phone took a swim.” Angie waved her hand, drawing Lauren’s attention then narrowed her gaze. “Looks as if you did too, my friend.” She glanced at Jack. “What aren’t you two telling me?”

  Lauren looked down at herself and blinked with surprise. She’d forgotten the tear gas, the shower and that she was wet, or damp to be precise—a fact that had likely contributed to her earlier chill. Everything had flown from her mind when she thought Mitch and Matt were in danger.

  Jack spoke up. “The ransacking visitor apparently didn’t find what he was looking for and came back for your friend.”

  Angie’s face paled and she clasped Lauren’s hand, tightly. “Are you all right?”

  Lauren squeezed back. “More than okay. Now.” Matt and Mitch ran up and Lauren let go of Angie’s hand to wrap her sons in her arms. Their blue swimsuits and gray tank tops were damp.

  “Are you the police?” Angie questioned Jack sharply, her earlier welcome gone.

  “No, but close.”

  “Which still needs to be explained.” Lauren gave Jack a suspicious glance as she hugged Matt and Mitch close. She had to let Jack know that she expected some answers, and now that the immediate danger had passed, he needed to start talking.

  “You fight bad guys?” Matt demanded, wiggling from Lauren’s too-tight hug.

  “My Uncle Jason does,” Mitch added, pulling back from Lauren’s arms and joining Matt in staring up at Jack. “He’s in the army. We’re going to go help him when we grow up.”

  “Keeping others safe is an important job to have,” Jack said.

  Unable to let go of her sons, Lauren rested her hand on each of their shoulders and reassessed Jack. His easy tone of voice, but still commanding manner as he met the twins at eye-level, man to man, had an interesting effect on her sons. They instantly focused their complete attention on him, their usual fidgeting gone, even their race cars came to a standstill.

  “How do I know who is who?” Jack asked.

  “Mole on the temple,” Lauren said. “Matt’s is on the left. Mitch’s is on the right.”

  Jack’s emotions gripped him hard once he got over the shock of seeing identical twins whom he literally could not tell apart and whose features were very similar to the man he’d killed in Lebanon. Lauren’s boys stared at him with something akin to worship in their gazes. He’d been in their shoes as a boy, looking up at a large man and instinctively knowing that man embodied everything a little boy could dream of becoming. Jack’s own father, career military, had been Jack’s hero.

  His gut knotted and his heart twisted. He’d killed their father. He hadn’t had a choice in the matter, would have to make the same decision if he had to do it all over again, but those truths didn’t diminish the emotional impact of what he’d done—nor how it would affect them for the rest of their lives. They were the same age Livy was when Jill moved out. Livy had had nightmares for a while because she missed having her father around. It was the one thing that had prompted Jill to tone down her bitterness. Jack tossed away the memories, but the ache for the boys still ripped him inside.

  Intellectually, he had walked himself through the ins and outs of having to take another man’s life in battle. He knew that man was a son, brother, husband or father to someone. He knew that man, be it right or wrong according to Jack’s belief grid, was fighting for a cause, or a reason, just like Jack. Though, he didn’t know if Bill Collins exactly fit that scenario or not. Bill’s dying words didn’t make it seem that way. Still, the emotional impact of taking a life in battle hit Jack harder and more deeply than ever before.

  “So do you fight bad guys?” Mitch asked, repeating Matt’s earlier question that Jack had side-stepped.

  “Yeah.” Jack’s throat squeezed tight. He wanted to turn around and run the other way. Instead, he forced himself to meet the little guys head on. “My job is to make the bad guys go away.”

  “How?” Matt challenged, his face skewing with doubt peppered with morbid curiosity. “Like this?” He pointed his finger mimicking a gun. “Pow.”

  “Only if they are trying to kill someone else,” Jack said even though that wasn’t necessarily true anymore. Not since congress stuck their two cents into things, tying a soldier’s hands in warfare, and making life and death second to political correctness. Jack fished in his pocket and held up a quarter for the boys to see. He showed them that his hands were otherwise empty. Then as he spoke he made the quarter disappear with a slight of hand. “We also do other things to stop the bad guys. Being a soldier is a lot of hard work and practice but it is important work and it starts with you obeying your mom and your Aunt Angie. If you can guess which hand it is in and promise to better obey then you can have the quarter.”

  “Pomise,” they said in unison. “We give our solid oak,” Mitch added.

  Solid oak? Jack had to ask Lauren about that one. He held out his fisted hands. “Then choose.”

  The boys both picked Jack’s right. He opened h
is hand and there were two quarters sitting in his palm. “Looks like there’s one for each of you.”

  The twins squealed in delight, their eyes as wide as saucers as they each picked up a quarter with care, as if the coins themselves were magical.

  “Oops, I forgot.” Jack reached behind Mitch’s ear, ruffled the boy’s hair and pulled out another quarter. He handed it to the kid.

  Matt twisted his neck around and dug at his right ear. “Do I have one too?”

  “Let me see.” Jack fished around Matt’s ear, already seeing himself in the kid’s impatience. “Hmm. Here it is. Must have sneaked to the other side when we weren’t looking.”

  Matt laughed and grabbed the coin like a grand prize winner, then turned to Mitch and started a conversation about what they might be able to buy at the dollar store, a conversation that took them in the direction of the pool.

  Jack stood and met Lauren’s gaze, which held a stormy mixture of fear, relief, anger, and what he supposed was a healthy suspicion. “I really can’t say what your husband—”

  “Ex. Her ex,” Angie said firmly, but in a low tone that wouldn’t carry to the children.

  “Ex?” Jack studied Lauren’s expression, realizing that would go a long way to explaining some things.

  “In another few days,” she glanced at the boys. “Bill and I have been separated for about eighteen months. Even though you have literally been a life saver today and I don’t know much about Bill’s recent activities, I’m still not willing to talk about anything unless I know who you are and why you’re here. You’re the one who told me to consider everything suspect. Your convenient appearance in the middle of what is happening isn’t coincidence.”

  “I don’t know anything about what’s going on here, but I am going to find out,” Jack assured Lauren. He slipped his cell phone from his pocket, wincing at the dozen missed calls. Weston was probably about ready to court marshal him. Jack Googled his commander’s name and pulled up the article on President Anderson’s family on the lit display. He gave Lauren his phone. “Read this. Especially the last two paragraphs.”

  She took the phone and Angie moved over to read as well, their expression grew increasingly doubtful. “Your name’s not listed,” Lauren finally said. “Surely you don’t expect me to believe you’re related to the President?”

  “No. I’m not, but my commander is his cousin. See, Lt. Col. Roger Weston.” Reaching over, his hand steadying hers, he used his finger to scroll to Weston’s name in the article. Then he pulled up his missed call list, which showed the dozen calls from Roger Weston. “Same guy.” He released Lauren’s hand and stepped back not at all pleased with how much he’d enjoyed touching her.

  “Same name.” She arched a skeptical brow.

  “Hit the call button. Talk to him. He’s not going to be happy. I left the hospital without being officially released.”

  Jack watched as Lauren pressed the button. He heard it ring and braced for what would be coming. Weston’s voice boomed over the line. “Jack! Where in the hell are you? The hospital is all over my ass and there are major problems going down here at Bragg.”

  Lauren jumped at the shout. She pulled the phone away from her ear, wincing. Jack couldn’t blame her, even his heart rate kicked up a notch at the anger raging through the phone. Jack took the phone from Lauren and answered his commander. “I’m with Collins’s family. Can’t talk right now, but I’ll get back to you.”

  He hung up the phone before Weston could order him back. It was a small thing, but Jack could at least tell himself he may not be where he was supposed to be—a useless hospital bed—but he wasn’t disobeying direct orders either.

  He looked at Lauren and her friend and pled his case. “I’m going to check the cars and the area. When I get back, we need to talk. You think about it. All I can say is that if the people after you are the people I suspect your ex was involved with, then you’re in very serious trouble. This isn’t a local situation. This is international. The police aren’t going to know what in the hell to do about it. I’m not even sure I can get the military on board either, because they don’t quite believe me, which is why my commander has his boxers in a wad. But the professional assassin after you tells me I’m right.”

  From the look of fear and confusion on both women’s faces, Jack’s words had hit home. They believed him. He’d gotten his urgent point across. Still, he felt like hell as he turned away. He reached the gate, peered through the crack in the privacy fence, then made an about face.

  “Time’s up,” he said softly, but deadly serious. “Men in black with guns are in Angie’s backyard. Their alias might be Smith and Jones, but they aren’t the Smith and Jones.”

  It wasn’t easy to gauge three acres away through a smattering of overhanging leaves, but he was pretty sure one of the guys was the attacker from Lauren’s house.

  This joker had quick resources. Bad news.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Fayetteville, North Carolina

  “Fu-ah-udge.” Roger barely stopped himself from dropping the F-bomb as Jack hung up on him. Every man, woman and kid in the ER waiting room was staring at him, hanging on his every word. Not that he hadn’t already given them an eyeful and earful since following the ambulance to the local trauma center. He’d paced constantly and had asked about Mari’s condition no less than fifty times in the ninety minutes he’d been here. When the EMTs said they were transporting Mari here, Roger didn’t argue. The local hospital was closer than Fort Bragg by about ten minutes and he’d heard some nightmarish tales about the wait at Womack’s ER. He’d rather pay for Mari’s treatment out of his own pocket if it meant she’d be taken care of faster.

  “Roger Weston?”

  “Here.” He whipped around to see a woman in scrubs. Her dark gaze was sharp and her manner competent.

  “I’m Dr. Stewart.” The woman held out her hand. Roger shook it impatiently. “From Bragg? My father’s career Army,” she added.

  “Best kind.” Roger nodded. “Is Mari all right?”

  “Mari gave her consent for me to speak to you,” the doctor continued. “She is going to be fine, but she has suffered a shock. With a little bed rest and proper nutrition, I think she’ll avoid any complications. I’m recommending she stay here a day or two. She is frightened and wants to talk to you first, though.”

  “What about her baby?”

  The doctor nodded toward the double doors. “Come with me and I’ll explain what I mean.”

  Roger was sure his knees would give out at any second. Every muscle in his body shook like Jell-O on a roller coaster. Each moment since he’d turned Mari over to the EMTs, he’d prayed she’d only need a few stitches, get an all’s-well report, then he’d take her…where?

  To her house to be alone?

  Another couple’s house where she’d be more apt to feel the loss of Neil that much more?

  Or where he really wanted to take her, where he could be reassured at any moment that she was fine. His house.

  Damn.

  He faced the doctor, calling a halt to their walk. “Don’t dress it up. I want straight facts. Is the baby in danger?”

  “Yes and no. But let me explain before your mind takes you down the wrong path. Right now she’s experiencing some stomach cramps. We’re doing more tests, but going on the ultra sound results that everything appears fine. From what I can determine, she’s about twelve weeks along. I think her cramping is likely a combination of stress and lack of nutrition. Her last meal was sometime yesterday, she thinks. She’s not eating properly, or taking prenatal vitamins. She hasn’t seen an obstetrician yet and she needs to. Aside from those concerns, we want to keep an eye on her tonight in case she has any additional swelling around her trachea. Four fingers on her right hand are fractured. We’ve splinted them. She has a total of twenty-seven stitches to the cuts on her left hand. We’ve cleaned the glass fragments from her knees. No stitches needed there. She’ll have minor scarring, but there’s no damage to the u
nderlying muscles or ligaments. From what I hear happened, she’s very lucky she wasn’t hurt worse.”

  “Yeah,” Roger said, but he didn’t see it that way at all. The bastard who did this to Mari was going to pay. “The police need to ask her some questions about what happened. When would you suggest?”

  “By tomorrow morning we’ll have her test results back and I suspect the cramping she’s experiencing will subside. I’d save any major questioning until then, but you can ask her what she’d like to do. Having the guy who attacked her caught sooner may be less stressful for her. Is there someone she knows who can stay with her while she’s here? Not that she doesn’t have good reason, but she’s very nervous. Startles every time the door opens and doesn’t do well with any stranger who approaches her. She needs someone who makes her feel safe in order to rest.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” Roger searched his mind for an acquaintance that Mari would feel comfortable with and came up short.

  “Good. She’s in the last room on the left. Let me know if you have any more questions, and I will be in touch as the test results come in.”

  “Thanks.” Roger nodded and hurried down the hall. He reached the door and knocked then eased the door open. “Mari, it’s Roger. Can I come in?”

  “Yes, please. I am thankful you are still here.” Mari sat semi-reclined on the stretcher, swallowed in blankets from the neck down, except her bandaged hands. His towel still covered her hair. Monitors beeped softly. The scent of betadine and alcohol bit at him. An IV hung from a pole dripping fluid and she appeared adrift in deep water.

  “I’m not going anywhere. Not until you’re safe.”

  “Is that possible? To really be safe? He stole my purse. He knows who I am. He said he would kill me.”

  Roger dug in his pocket for Officer Cain’s card. A hundred scenarios ran through his mind and none of them were good. “You didn’t mention he stole your purse. The police need to know.”

  “I’m sorry. I was just so upset. That elderly clerk died because of me. I shouldn’t have—”