Alex’s door bumped open as a very exhausted man headed straight for Mother’s workstation. Her gaze hit the floor. This might be the tipping point she’d been working her darnedest to avoid. How on earth could she form these next words? Worse—how could that demented woman be the one behind Kelsey’s disappearance?
In the end, Mother had no decision to make. He’d overheard.
“Tell me what?”
She whirled around in her chair, her throat so dry she couldn’t speak.
Tired blue eyes blinked at her, waiting for her genius to provide the way forward, a way she desperately wanted to give him. God, she loved him in her nosy, busybody way. How could she hurt him? Her hands shook. I can’t, but I have to. If I don’t…
“Tell me what?” He raised an impatient brow. She knew that look. He would not wait much longer.
“The fingerprints on your back door,” she blurted before Ember or the guys could beat her to the punch. This kind of news should only come from her.
“Yes?” He was wide awake now and strumming his long, elegant fingers on the counter. “Whose are they?”
She couldn’t stall any longer. “Ethel Durrant’s. She’s been at your house, Boss. I’m sorry.”
Her heart stalled when his upper lip lifted in a sneer.
“Are you absolutely sure?”
She could only nod. “Don’t worry. I made sure that big guy’s face went out to all the news agencies. They should have—”
“You did what?” he roared. “Who the hell told you to do that?”
Never one to ask permission, Mother cringed. “No one. It seemed like the best thing to do. People need to be looking for him.”
“People need to mind their own damn business until Kelsey’s home!” Bowing his head, Alex shut his eyes as he composed himself. “My fault. My error. I should’ve told you to hold that information back. I didn’t want... I don’t want....” Feral rage seemed to build deep inside him. With a growl, he turned on his heel and stalked back into his office.
Rory waited until Alex’s door slammed shut. “Will one of you spit it out? Who’s Ethel Durrant?”
“Kelsey was married before Alex found her,” Ember whispered, her eyes on the door across the hall. “Her name used to be Durrant. Ethel is her psycho ex-mother-in-law. Nick Durrant murdered Kelsey’s boys and—”
“And he almost killed Alex and her while he was at it,” Mother finished the ugly story. “It was awful. I’ve never seen Alex so, so—”
CRASH!
Rory leapt to his feet and bolted across the hall. “Call Murphy,” he called over his shoulder. “Tell him to get his butt back here. Now!”
Sonofabitch! Now he knows we’re looking for him!
Pushed beyond the limit of his endurance, Alex lost control. The first thing he laid his hands on flew toward the window. The office chair shattered the plate glass and tumbled two stories to the street below.
Every muscle, every nerve, and every cell in his body ached like he’d never hurt before. He missed Kelsey and now his lack of forethought had put her in danger. The possibility that more harm might come to her because of Mother’s initiative literally sucked the light out of the sun and the breath out of him. All he had left was—sonofabitchin nothing!
Some stupid ass knocked on his door. When he turned to bellow his invitation for that fool to go to hell, Rory Dennison was already inside and closing the door behind him. He acknowledged Alex with a curt nod and, “Boss.”
“Back off,” Alex ordered before his junior agent had a chance to say anything more. Embarrassed and still livid, he didn’t need mollycoddling, and he wouldn’t accept advice. No. He needed something to hit. Ethel Durrant’s ugly face came to mind.
The bitch! The cold-blooded, drunkard pig of a murdering coward! Give me one minute alone with her!
Rory planted his feet.
Alex couldn’t stand to look at him. He bowed his head as rage swept through him, a wildfire he’d let get the best of him once again. Damn it to hell. There had to be a better way to cope with the thousand pound hole in his soul. He could barely breathe with her missing. Why did he think he could manage his stupid business? How dumb was he?
Shuddering with that grim possibility, he faced a man he could actually hurt. Rory stood poised with his arms at his side, fists clenched and his eyes dark. Alex wanted to hit him. He thumbed his chin, his fist curled and ready to strike.
Damned smart-assed punk thinks he can take me on because he’s been in one war?
Rory stood tall and straight, equal as far as weight and skill were concerned. Both Marines, all this kid had going for him was his youth.
“What’s next, Boss?” He nodded to the small conference table. “Another chair? Your desk? Your call. I’ll help you toss whatever you want. Been a helluva day. Might do us both some good.”
“Shut the hell up.” Alex breathed hard, his edge gone.
“Mother’s ordering dinner.” Rory kept on talking as if nothing extraordinarily asinine had just taken place. “Pizza and sandwiches. You in?”
“Get out of my office.”
Rory took a step toward him, his voice gentle and true. “No, Boss. Not until I’m sure you’re not flying out that window next.”
Alex looked away. God, he wanted to, but no. That day was passed. He’d thought of ending his life in the dark days following Sara and Abby’s funeral, but Kelsey had shown him a better way. It was just so difficult to walk it without her. The pain of not knowing was bad enough, but knowing Ethel Durrant had her? Hell. Pure living hell.
Still, she was out there somewhere. Jed was right. Alex had to have faith in that little brown-eyed gal who’d come to him so beat up and damaged. Of all things, his finding her had saved her life—and his.
“I’m not that stupid,” he ground out, knowing damned well he was exactly that stupid.
“No, but the universe is sure kicking the shit out of you right now,” Rory said softly. “I might be thinking it if I were in your shoes.”
Alex slanted a quick glance to his junior agent. He’d not expected Rory to sound so wise or so old. Maybe he did have something going for him besides youth.
“I’ve been there.” Rory’s words hit Alex’s heart the same moment Rory’s hand reached his forearm. “Trust me, Boss. I know what you’re going through. Sometimes all you can do is hunker down and head into the wind, even when it’s a sonofabitchin’ hurricane.”
Alex lowered his gaze, uncomfortable he didn’t know Rory’s background well enough to know what the guy was talking about. His steady hand offered support, not coercion. Not guidance. Not restraint. Just presence.
“You good now?”
Alex didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The fire was gone. The need to kill with it.
“Okay then.” Rory removed his hand. “Let me know next time you need furniture moved. Many hands make light work. I’ll yell when the food’s here. Will there be anything else?”
All Alex could offer was another quick nod and, “Plywood.”
“I’ve got an extra sheet of CDX in my garage. That do the job?” Rory sized up the shattered window like he did this kind of repair work every day. Like he’d not just witnessed his boss being an incredibly stupid ass. “How about I sweep up before I run home to get it? I can be back in under an hour.”
“I’ve got this.” Alex had been taking care of his own messes for years. That’s why the broom and vacuum stood in the back of his office closet. He never knew when his anger would get the best of him.
Without a single patronizing comment, Rory pivoted on his heel and exited, closing the door behind him.
Alex sank into his chair, weary to his soul. A breeze swirled in through the broken window, filling his office with all the smells she loved. He groaned, his eyes squeezed tight against the hole in his heart. “What do you want from me? How much do you have to take?”
The fragrance of spring and new birth drifting into the room unleashed the memories he’d tried to stif
le all day long—the feel of her hands on him, the smell of her shampoo in his nose, and the light in her eyes. Everything he might never know again.
Sighing in resignation, he lowered his forehead to his steepled fingers. Tonight, he would break the oath he had made when Sara and Abby died. If only because Kelsey believed he would too. She made it easy. She showed the way.
“God.” He bowed his head in humility instead of anger. “Just... Please, God. Damn it. Not her too.”
Thirteen
“Where is we going?” Raymond asked when the camp was no longer in sight.
“Home,” Kelsey answered. It sounded easy, but Ethel had a vehicle and means. Kelsey had Raymond.
He looked around the forest. “’S getting dark.”
She caught the worried tone. “Don’t worry. We’ll stop soon. I’ll build a fire.”
With his usual, “Ah huh,” they resumed walking. Kelsey would have preferred a quicker pace, but as big as Raymond was, he was also clumsy. Besides, she was worried. A more dangerous animal than bears and skunks roamed the forest. There was a time Kelsey had hoped she and her ex-mother-in-law might become friends, but then, she’d thought Nick could change too. She was wrong on both counts—wrong, naïve, and just plain stupid.
Life had taught her a hard lesson. Not all people were gentle like she’d been raised to be. Some were predators—cruel, calculating, and without conscience. They preyed on silly bookworm types who believed in common courtesy, obeying traffic laws, and random acts of kindness.
Once upon a time, Kelsey had been that bookworm, outmatched and outwitted when it came to the likes of the Durrants. Raised by strict parents, she and her older sister, Louise, led a sheltered life. The parochial schools they’d attended offered academics and preparation for college, but no social skills to maneuver the twenty-first century. As trusting as she was, she never stood a chance.
Well, no more. Kelsey was plenty educated now. Alex had taught her how to shoot and defend herself. If only she had her gun, but they didn’t carry while they walked their dogs. Who needed a gun when two of the most lethal weapons in the Stewart household trotted obediently at their sides? Whisper and Smoke. She missed her four-legged boys almost as much as Alex.
Suddenly, Raymond stumbled, every breath labored. He plopped to the ground, panting like a big dog, his tongue hanging out and his face clearly flushed.
She crouched beside him. “Are you okay?”
He planted both palms to the ground and sucked in great draughts of air, his belly expanding with every huff. “Ah huh. I gotta breathe, so I can keep on going cuz... I’m a big guy, and big guys gotta rest more... than most people.... Ya know?”
“Shh. Stop talking.” She pressed two fingers to the pulse in his neck. It raced like he’d just run through the forest instead of their very leisurely stroll.
“Walking... makes me woozy.” Raymond couldn’t shut up to save his life. “Please... don’t be a scared of me. I ain’t not... gonna hurt you, so... you don’t hafta be a scared. I just out of breath.”
“Shush. I’m not afraid of you. You’re my friend.” Kelsey looked around, contemplating what she’d need to do. They’d barely walked a mile.
“I is your friend?”
“Of course.” She rolled her eyes at his verbosity. “You’ve had friends before, haven’t you?”
He shook his head no even as he answered in the affirmative. “Yep. I kinda... had a friend once. He was named Stinky Fred, and he was old and wrinkly, like my other shoes before...” He sucked in a deep breath in order to continue, “I found some new, old shoes. I kinda stayed with him for awhile, only... he didn’t need anybody as dumb as me cuz... I guess I’m a big dumb person, ya know.” Raymond took another deep breath. “And ’sides, he was kinda stinky, and so... I don’t have a friend named... Stinky Fred no more.” By the time he finished his lengthy explanation, Raymond was barely able to breathe.
She pushed him flat to his back. “No more talking. Rest. Take slow breaths. You’ll feel better in no time.” She hoped.
He gazed in childlike wonder at the towering red oaks overhead. “Wow. The trees is really tall.”
She looked up without answering. The trees were tall all right, but more worrisome, the last light of day announced their first night of sleeping in the great outdoors. Neither of them had eaten all day. The snack bars wouldn’t make one meal for Raymond, much less last until they got to safety. She sat in silence until his breathing leveled out. When at last he seemed himself again, she pushed off the ground. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
“Where is you going?”
“To gather firewood. Don’t worry. I’m not going very far.” She headed into the shrubbery.
In a second, he crashed through the brush behind her. He held up a branch as thick as his forearm. “Like this?”
“Perfect.” Before long she’d built a tidy little fire. He’d collected more branches than they needed, but that was okay. A bonfire would chase the gloom away. It might also draw Ethel in, but Kelsey had a plan. Two could play that game.
She spread the tarp and unrolled the sleeping bag on top of it. The bag smelled of body odor, but it was better than nothing. Kelsey blocked the mental picture of sleeping beside Raymond, who had his own particular fragrance. The bag wasn’t large enough for two, so she decided he could have it. It would be a long, cold night.
Dropping beside the crackling fire, she opened the backpack and handed him a bottle of water and a couple granola bars. His ration was gone in one swallow so she gave him another bar.
“Is you okay?” he asked.
“Sure. Why do you ask?”
“Cuz you is bleeding, and you looks kinda like a scary zombie only you gots all your face and your chin.”
She wiped the trickle of blood off her cheek, amused he’d thought she looked like the living dead. The poor guy did have a vivid imagination. “It’s just a head wound. They tend to bleed. Don’t worry.”
“I not worried,” he declared, his poor excuse for a meal completely gone and his fingers licked clean. “I is with you, and you is taking me home. We is gonna be okay.”
Kelsey looked away. She sure had him fooled.
When he finally fell asleep, Raymond snored like a banshee, not that Kelsey would have slept if he hadn’t. They were too exposed. She did not intend to be target practice, not one more time.
One of the good things about being married to a country boy from Virginia who’d served in the Corps was that Alex knew how to make do. Simple things like three fist-sized stones, patches of the torn pillowcase, and the cotton cord from the tarp were easily transformed into a small bolo. It took awhile to locate a sharp enough stone to saw through the rope, but Kelsey was determined. She had all night.
Listening to the dark forest around her, she couldn’t have slept if she tried. But it was peaceful. She had no sensation of being watched, and she’d heard nothing but the normal sounds of nighttime. Settling for a compact weapon instead of a cannon, she labored on. Her victim days were behind her. The bolo she crafted was crude at best. It would not stand against a gun, but it was better than nothing.
A study tree branch became a good enough walking stick that, with a little more thought, turned into a spear. She sharpened the end with her primitive knife. Kelsey practiced throwing until she knew it would never work. Determined, she started over and found a stronger and straighter branch. This one served her purpose much better.
Finally satisfied she’d done all she could, Kelsey looked up to Raymond’s curious stare from the sleeping bag. He looked like the product of two fairy tale giants, still full of innocence and wonder despite his magnificent size. His eyes were thick with sleep.
“I was dreaming,” he told her.
That made her smile. What could he possibly have to dream of? “You were? What about?”
A goofy grin eclipsed his gnarly face. “Hamburgers.”
Of course.
With her hands behind her head, she lean
ed back onto the tarp. Finally ready to sleep, Kelsey relaxed. Stars in the velvet black sky twinkled through the leafy trees overhead. Raymond started to snore again. Morning would come soon enough.
Miriam was as good as her word. They’d passed through an entire village of makeshift cardboard habitations. Harley had to trust her; she had the only light, kind of like a guardian angel, leading him farther into who knew where.
Abandoned shopping carts lined some of the walls. One of the things rolled along behind them for awhile. He kept an eye on it. What was up with the shopping carts in this godforsaken country? They didn’t belong here. Why were they after him? Thank goodness it couldn’t follow for long. Too much garbage on the floor.
Stepping quietly through the next doorway, they entered a larger room, the ceiling overhead once lined with windows. The pale spring moon cast an eerie glow through the skeletal bones of broken window frames. Shadows moved in the dark. He could hear them. Some whispered. Others shuffled. It was slow going.
“I need to rest.” His bad leg screamed to cease and desist.
“Just a hair farther,” she coaxed, her arm linked through his, pulling him along.
The gear bag weighed more with each step, but onward they went. When the moonlight faded, she flicked on a lighter. She seemed to pull the oddest things out of her skirt. Within seconds, gaunt faces were illuminated in ghastly shadows, startling him they were so close. They weren’t alone. More refugees ducked from the stark bright light of her fire starter. Others scurried away.
“Get back,” she hissed.
“Only passing through,” he reassured them in case they thought he was a soldier in the Iraqi Republican Guard, not like it mattered. He couldn’t speak Farsi, Iraqi, or whatever these folks’ native tongue might’ve been. Most of them looked like the transients he’d seen back home on the streets. Funny how the poor kinda looked alike the whole world over.
At last, the pain got the best of him. “No more. I gotta stop. Let me go.”
She stopped moving, but she did not release his arm until he shrugged out of her grasp. Damn. Miriam had gotten awful clinging the deeper into the tunnel they’d gone. Harley aimed for the nearest wall. Without releasing his bag from his shoulder, he leveraged himself against the wall and used it to get him to his butt. The throbbing in his leg had turned to jackhammering. No more. He’d reached the end of his road until he got a few minutes rest.
Harley (In the Company of Snipers Book 4) Page 11