by J. L. Saint
He brushed his fingers along her cheek and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. His gentle touch and soothing manner were at odds with his rough soldier persona, but she didn’t mention it. She could tell he was totally into her, into comforting her, and easing her fears and it was because he truly cared about her. He wasn’t condemning or judgmental, although she was sure he knew death and danger on a level she couldn’t even imagine. There hadn’t been a lick of sexual anything in his embrace either. He’d reached out human to human to comfort her and she was sorry to say that was something she’d never gotten in her marriage. Why did the man think he sucked at relationships?
Before she could say what was on her mind, he spoke. “Don’t look at me like that, Lauren. I’m no hero.”
She didn’t argue with him at the moment, but did wonder why he was so down on himself, so uncomfortable with the truth. She eased back to her side of the car. “I need to call the others.”
He handed her the phone again. “Tell them that Bill was killed and that both Thomas and Edward have died as well and that you don’t think it coincidence. Tell them to get someplace safe and to let you know where so you can meet them. You need to talk to them about Bill.”
Lauren nodded. She called Ray in Savannah, Georgia, and left a message on his answering machine to contact her immediately. That he might be in danger. The same with Bob in Tampa, Florida. Conrad in South Carolina picked up after the first ring. “Thank God, you answered,” she said. “This is Lauren. Bill’s wife.”
“Yes, I know. I was just about to call you. I am so sorry. The news about Bill from Sao Paulo just reached me, I can’t believe it. Where are you? I’ll come and help.”
“No. Listen, Conrad. Something very wrong and very bad is going on. Edward was murdered in his home last night. They say a burglar. I think Thomas is dead too. A fall, maybe. But I don’t think their deaths were coincidental or accidental either. You need to get someplace safe fast and we need to talk about Bill. I’ll come to you, okay?”
“Thomas? Edward? Dear God. I can’t believe this. You’re really scaring me, Lauren. What in the hell is going on?”
“I don’t know. Maybe we can figure this out together. I’ll be at Lake Hartwell in a little over an hour and a half. Give me your address and please be careful.” She’d added a few minutes for traffic and so they’d have time to call the authorities about Thomas.
“I will.” Conrad then rattled off his address and Lauren wrote it down with the paper and pen Jack produced. “Call me when you get here.” Conrad hung up before she could say anything else.
She ended the call and frowned. The man had sounded more rushed than worried. Shrugging off the thought, she turned to Jack only to find him studying her.
“What did the man say to make you frown?”
“Nothing really. He was shocked at the news, but then didn’t ask many questions. He sounded rushed. Probably was in a hurry to get someplace safe. It won’t take us long to get there. It’s a straight shot up Interstate 85.”
“Good. There’s a pay phone at the front of the store. I’m going to give the cops an anonymous tip about Thomas and we’ll hit the road. You stay here. I don’t want you on the surveillance camera if they’ve got one on.”
“Why?”
“We don’t know exactly what Bill’s involvement in the Lebanon situation was, but his friends are dropping like flies. I’d rather there not be any concrete evidence connecting you to their deaths.”
“For my safety?”
“Yes, and because someone might try and say you had a hand in the murders.”
“That’s insane.”
“I learned a long time ago that when it comes to crap like yesterday and today nothing is impossible.” Jack reached into the back seat. He dug an oversized black windbreaker and a red baseball cap from his backpack. Within sixty seconds he was barely recognizable. The hooded windbreaker shadowed his face and concealed his short hair. Then he’d buckled his jeans about his upper thighs, leaving a hint of blue boxers to show between the jacket hem and the top of his pants. The major slouch he achieved as he stood from the car cut several inches off his height and put him among the notorious ranks of rappers and hip-hop teens worldwide. The way he sauntered to the pay phone should have won the man an Oscar. To the casual eye, he looked exactly in character. Even held a hand to his ear as if listening to a jiving tune as he bounced while dialing the phone. He made a return performance and they were on their way. Lauren didn’t have a clue what she would say to Conrad when they reached Hartwell. Just exactly how did she say her husband was a terrorist, and by the way are you one too?
Conrad danced a little jig as he hung up the phone, making his motor boat rock. Talk about luck. A genuine, juicy, Georgia peach was about to fall into his lap. A five-million-dollar one to boot. Surely by putting her letter with the three he now had, he’d be able to figure out Bill’s code. Edward’s letter really didn’t reveal much. The man hadn’t necessarily died in vain, but the clue hadn’t been all that hot.
There once was a king. He died on a throne. In his land of Grace, did the whole world mourn.
Damn. He didn’t have any more time to think about it now. He had some major shit to accomplish before Lauren arrived. He’d had all night to think and plan. He had done some planning, really he had, even though he’d relived—several times—every bloody, glorious moment of Edward’s demise. He’d come to the conclusion that the best way to move forward was to kill himself and then go after the other letters and frame either Bob or Ray for the deaths of Edward, Thomas and his own. Having Lauren arrive only sweetened the pot. He’d off himself before she arrived and then kidnap her when she got here. The perfect crime.
He was already on his boat, having calls to his house phone forwarded to his cell. He had to finish rigging the engine to explode and get his scuba equipment ready. After that, he’d wait for the right moment to create the spectacle. His boat would blow to smithereens and a short time later Lauren Collins would disappear forever.
It would go into the cold case annals as being the most unsolvable mystery of the century. His palms grew damp and his dick swelled with anticipation. Oh the things he would do to her. The ways he’d use her. He’d leave no fantasy unfulfilled. And he’d built up quite a few of them watching porn over the years.
The accident with Thomas had truly freed him, let the inner man come out and rule.
“Sex slave,” he whispered, just to hear the words out loud. He shivered with another wave of excitement. No more lonely nights jerking off to computer smut. He’d have the real thing for as long as he wanted it. He’d have five million. He could go anywhere and be anybody. This time he’d turn the tables and take life by the balls instead of it being the other way around as it has always been. He couldn’t wait.
Of course, she’d have that muscle with her, the man with the gun who was keeping her out of the clutches of the shooter at her house. Conrad would just have to prepare a little surprise for him. Something that would leave him Tango Uniform as they phrased it. Good old jargon for tits up or, as his grandpap used to say, dead as a door nail.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Fayetteville, North Carolina
1000 hours
Roger paced and the nurses running up and down the hospital hallway gave him a wide berth. He not only felt like hell, but he was pretty sure he looked it too. Beck hadn’t answered his phone despite the numerous calls Roger had made over the last few hours, and Roger had reached the point where he was going to have to let the brass and his cousin Paul, the President, know. They had to be made aware of Beck’s state of mind. That Roger had yet to inform them of Beck’s instability was unforgivable, but Roger had found himself between a rock and a hard spot. He had the responsibility of taking care of his men. That meant cutting Beck some slack when dealing with shit that Roger himself was struggling to handle.
If he took the human element out of being a commander then his men would lose heart for the team. Courage, lo
yalty, perseverance, everything that made a soldier stand true in the most hellish of battles came from the heart. He was keeper of their hearts and he’d failed miserably since Lebanon. His only hope was that they’d get through this. That his men would heal and they’d once again regain their solidarity for the team. Restoring the same respect that he’d had before wouldn’t happen but he didn’t necessarily deserve it now.
His phone vibrated and he read the text. It was from Beck. Gag order still in place. No guarantees though. In DC for the day.
The man’s destination had Roger biting another bullet. Since DT was in Georgia that left only Pecos for Beck to visit at Walter Reed. Pecos who had been blinded in the explosion. One minute in the company of his wounded men and Roger himself was screaming inside to be honest with them. Just exactly what shape was Beck going to be in when he got back?
But as Beck was on leave there wasn’t a damn thing Roger could do to stop him.
Which meant he had no more excuses to avoid Mari.
His cell rang and Officer Cain’s number showed on the screen. Hopefully there was good news. As in the madman after Mari was dead.
“Weston here.”
“Lt. Col., I think we may be on to something. Unfortunately, it’s bad news.”
“What do you mean?”
“We ran the name Dugar through the system along with Mari’s description of the man and if we’re right then the situation is serious. Ever hear of Frank Dugar?”
“It’s not ringing a bell.”
“Extremist. Part of the Washington Viper Militia the FBI took down two years ago.”
“The group behind the Vigilante Bombings?” The knot in Roger’s gut was practically suffocating. The Viper Militia had set themselves up as America’s judge. They were suspected of bombing abortion clinics, burning migrant camps and health departments for aiding and abetting illegal aliens, and assassinating several local judges and city officials for crimes against America when court cases or legislature didn’t line up with their philosophy. The FBI had raided their camp. Most of the militia had died when a cache of explosives had detonated during the gunfight. Several of the extremists, though, had escaped over the border into Canada and had disappeared.
“That’s right. Before hooking up with the Viper Militia, Dugar spent most of his life either in jail or in mental institutions. His last conviction was for aggravated assault. Nearly beat a man to death over a traffic dispute, but the judge went light on the sentencing because the other man pulled a gun on Dugar first. Sucker missed the shot and Dugar didn’t give him another chance. Stay alert and let me know if you see anything suspicious.”
“Will do.” Roger disconnected then looked up to see Dr. Stewart exit Mari’s room and it startled him. He must have been so absorbed in the conversation that he’d missed the doc going in. It could very well have been Dugar .
Kicking his own ass, Roger greeted the woman then asked about Mari. “So what’s the prognosis?”
“Good. The cramping is gone. Her blood levels are okay. The baby is fine as far as any tests can determine this early in her pregnancy. She can go home, but I am going to preface that by saying she absolutely must get into a prenatal care program and she must start eating properly. She’s going to need some help functioning with both her hands bandaged and the cuts on her knees are going to make walking painful, but she needs to get up and walk about the house every few hours until she is ready to venture out.”
“I’ll see that she does all of the above, Doc.”
“Good. Here’s my card. She needs to set up an appointment in about a week for her stitches to come out. The nurse will give both of you Mari’s home care instructions before you go.” The doctor glanced at Mari’s closed door and lowered her voice. “Two other things, she refuses to take anything for pain, afraid that it will harm the baby. I’m sending a prescription home with her, but if she won’t take that perhaps she’ll take Tylenol. Also, I think it would be good for her to see a counselor, one who deals with victims of violent crime. Mari may not have been seriously hurt in the attack, but emotionally she is very traumatized.”
“I’d already thought of getting her into counseling. She’s been through—a lot.” Roger then clamped his mouth shut. Mari had been through a lot and he was the man responsible for it. Thanking the doctor again, Roger stepped into the room and braced himself for the impact Mari had on everything about him. Emotionally and physically the sight of her delivered a one-two punch that had him reeling in his boots.
It didn’t make a damn bit of sense and had to be a mixture of his guilt and his long-starved libido. There wasn’t a thing about her that didn’t prey on his mind. He hadn’t seen her gloriously long hair since the grocery mart’s bathroom yesterday, but he could remember every nuance of the blue-black curtain. Her golden eyes were rich and perfectly framed by thick lashes. She’d been given a traditional Muslim headscarf and gown this morning and she hadn’t wasted a second before putting them on. The hospital employees had asked around after her admission last night, and had located the clothes for her to wear. He supposed he should have done that for her, but then, burying her beauty under a mound of clothing hadn’t been uppermost in his mind. Keeping her safe from being buried six feet under had.
An hour later Mari was discharged from the hospital and he’d driven his car to the front pick-up area for her. The nurse brought her out in a wheelchair. There were other patients loading to go home and he winced as he saw the numerous bouquets of flowers accompanying them. Something else he’d neglected to do. Exiting the SUV, he left it running and moved around the car to help Mari.
“It’s a beautiful day.” She gave him a tight smile. One that didn’t hide her painful grimace as she moved her legs to stand and used her elbows to try and push herself upright. He gritted his teeth for half a second and then couldn’t take it anymore.
“Too pretty a day to hurt. Let me help and we can work on the moving around bit a little later.” He scooped her quickly off her feet and into his arms. The nurse moved to open his car door and all hell broke out. The wheelchair Mari had been in seconds ago flipped over backwards as a high caliber bullet plowed through its vinyl back and shattered the plate glass window fronting the hospital behind them.
“Get down!” Roger yelled, crouching low, using his SUV for cover as he scanned the direction he thought the shooter might be. A nearby security guard drew his weapon and started shouting and pushing people down for cover. One lady ran screaming by him and Roger knocked her down to the ground behind a cement pillar. She lay there crying, but at least she was alive.
Another bullet ricocheted off the cement sidewalk less than a foot from where he held Mari. Roger had no choice but to get the hell out of there. Everyone else would be safer too. He had no doubt that Dugar, the crazy SOB after Mari, was on the other end of that rifle. The adrenaline, rage and fear pumping though him was unlike anything he’d ever known. He felt as if he would explode from the nuclear mix. Especially when he saw Mari’s pale face. She looked as if death had already claimed her and she was prepared to leave this world behind.
Over his dead body and damned soul! Neither of which were going to happen, so that meant nothing was getting to her EVER.
Lunging forward, he placed her on the floorboard then dove over the top of her for the driver’s seat. The car’s engine was already running, so all he had to do was shove the car into drive and steer. He did that and managed to stomp on the gas pedal. Within seconds, he sailed down the pick-up lane. The driver’s side back window exploded before he could turn the corner and Mari cried out as she huddled on the floor. He’d expected her to cry out for help, but she wasn’t. She kept asking for forgiveness.
He filed the fact and drove like a bat out of hell.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Fair Play, South Carolina
1200 hours
Jack crossed the state line from Georgia into South Carolina before he realized it. He’d been deliberating how to best approach C
onrad Gardner and had decided that a public restaurant would be their best option. He pulled into the parking lot of Pig Out’s BBQ. According to his GPS they were less than five miles from Gardner’s house.
Lauren had called her kids and Angie a few minutes ago to check with them and was still on the phone. He could hear the boys’ exuberance now that he’d killed the engine even without the speaker phone on. With Rico on lookout for Angie and the kids, Jack could relax a notch. Unless one of them made the mistake of communicating their location to someone else and the people after them overheard it—something he was positive the bastards were capable of—no one would be able to reach Lauren’s children. It was her he had to worry about.
“Yeah, Matt. I give you my solid oak. We’ll go to Disney World soon. I love you. Now let me talk to Aunt Angie.”
“Sorry about that,” Angie said. “I didn’t think letting them watch the travel channel would lead to any trouble. You’re likely to be out a couple of grand now.”
“That’s why I stick to Thomas the Tank Engine.” Lauren laughed.
Jack’s insides reacted to the sound. It made him tense, made him yearn. Not in a sexual way, but in an excited about life way, reminding him of the times when Livy was six and she threw herself into his arms when he walked in the door. He would swing her around until they were both dizzy and laughing. Back then it didn’t matter if he’d been gone for a month or just the day, she was always happy to see him. He missed it more than he’d realized.
“We did that first, but James and Henry had a spat in the episode. And, well, Matt thought James was in the right and Mitch thought Henry could do no wrong and World War Three ensued.”
Jack laughed at that and shook his head. Lauren just rolled her eyes. “Well, whatever you do, don’t resort to anything remotely to do with martial arts. The room won’t survive it. There’s always the classical music channel.”