Talon

by Ronie Kendig

  Ding!

  She landed on her back. Oof! Air whooshed from her lungs.

  The guy leaned over her. “You okay?”

  “Get away from her!” Amadore’s shout pervaded the club. “What’d you do, punk?”

  Aspen peeled herself off the mat, indignation creeping through her shoulders. She stretched her jaw and neck, amazed. He’d flattened her! Mario hadn’t managed that in a long time. Sitting, arms over her knees, she waited to catch her breath.

  “Angel, you okay?” Amadore hooked her elbow and helped her to her feet. He twisted around. “You, get out of my club!”

  “What a minute.”

  “Out!”

  Dane Whatshisname drew back, glancing between them. “You said you’d—”

  Chest puffing, Amadore tightened his lips and biceps. Coiled, ready to strike like the cobra tattooed on his arm. “I said if you survived a round.”

  Dane glowered. “I did.”

  “No, you knocked her out. The bell hadn’t sounded.”

  Grit out, she sighed. “He didn’t knock me out, Amadore.” She patted his side. “I’m okay. Just…” She shot Brittain and Timbrel a glance then looked toward the two men hovering near the far corner of the ring. Picking her pride up off the mat took everything she had. At the corner, she offered her glove to the winner. “Good fight.”

  Confusion and concern crowded his handsome features as he stood on the floor, looking up at her. “You’re a good boxer.”

  Holy cannoli! Was the heat in her face from blushing? No way. “Thanks.” She swiped a sweaty curl from her face, hoping she covered the red tint no doubt filling her cheeks. Whipping off the gloves, she smiled. Extended a wrapped hand. “Aspen Courtland.”

  “Dane Markoski. And for the record, you look nothing like your brother.”

  “I know. He got my mom’s side—full Italian. I got our father’s, Irish.” She wrinkled her nose. “So, Mr. Mar…”

  “Markoski. It’s not really hard to pronounce.”

  She shrugged. “I need to shower and change. Meet out front after?”

  “Works for me.” He turned and walked toward the men’s locker room.

  Aspen didn’t trust herself to talk anymore. Not here, not in front of everyone. And not after ending up flat on her back. She showered and changed, anticipation of talking to Mystery Man pushing her a little faster than usual. Disappointment dogged her steps as she waved bye to Nonno and made her way out the front door, where her friends waited on the wrought-iron bench.

  “Something’s not right about that guy.” Timbrel Hogan, another handler with A Breed Apart, crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the gym doors.

  “Is any guy right in your book?” A smile glowed against Brittain’s mocha-colored skin.

  Timbrel smirked. “A rare few.”

  Aspen tossed her gym bag in the back of her SUV. “I agree—something feels off. But if he was there with Austin and he knows what happened, then I need to explore this possibility.”

  “Just don’t explore him.”

  “Timmy,” Aspen chided, “I don’t care about him. Answers about my brother are what I’m after.”

  Timbrel’s eyes narrowed. “But I know you, Aspen—you’re soft where it comes to romance. And that guy—he’s trouble. He knows how to work people. I can just…tell.”

  Touching her puffy cheekbone, Aspen cringed. “He definitely worked me over.” She meant it as a joke to lighten the conversation, but Timbrel seized on it.

  “Exactly what I’m talking about. What kind of man would hit a woman?”

  Brittain laughed. “Girl, get off your hate wagon about men. Aspen challenged him in a boxing ring. She got what she asked for.” Her tall, African American friend brushed Aspen’s curl from her face. “All kidding aside, Timmy’s right: be careful. We don’t know nothin’ about this man. And it is strange that he shows up after all this time.”

  “I know. I know.” She touched her fingers to her temple. They were right. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been swayed by blue eyes and smooth talking. Unlike Timbrel who didn’t trust at all, Aspen trusted far too easily. She called it optimism. Her friends naivete.

  Was it her fault she wanted to believe people were good?

  “Why don’t I go with you to the ranch?”

  Hmm, maybe it wasn’t a bad idea. With Timbrel’s negative outlook coupled with her own positive outlook, maybe they’d find a safe middle ground.

  “Hey, won’t Daniels be there?” Brittain nudged her arm. “You said he was good people, that he had a strong ability to read situations.”

  “She’s right. Prince Charming has very good radar.”

  “Whoa.” The wind gust rifled its fingers through Brittain’s caramel curls that puffed up in a halo around her face. “Did Timbrel Hogan just pay a man a compliment?”

  “It’s a fact, not a compliment.” Timbrel bristled, but they all knew Daniels had pried a little sister out of Hogan during their mission in Afghanistan last year. The two behaved like siblings and had a mutual respect for each other.

  “Here he comes.”

  Aspen looked over her shoulder.

  Showered, changed, and looking quite handsome in a dark blue button down and jeans…A breeze tussled his hair and threw it into his face. Cut short along the sides and back of his head, his black hair glittered wet and shiny in the afternoon sun. Longer strands on the top whipped along his forehead and temples as he strode toward them.

  “Mmm,” Brittain muttered. “Yep, one fine man.”

  “Okay. That’s it. I’m going,” Timbrel said.

  Aspen started to glance at her friend, but Talon let out a low growl. “Out, Talon,” she said as she looked over her shoulder.

  Dan spoke up. “So, where to?”

  “A ranch that’s a half-hour drive out of the city.”

  “Should I ride with you?” he asked.

  “Absolutely not.” Timbrel pointed to his car. “Easier for you to leave after she throws your butt out.”

  Blue eyes, surrounded by olive skin and framed by black hair, held Aspen’s. “You do remember you invited me out.” He towered over her but not in a threatening way. In the six-inches-taller way. In a way that left her unbalanced and far too aware of a strange current that bounced between them. And the way his jaw was dusted with stubble. “Or did I misconstrue the note you sent via the studio?”

  Had he leaned closer?

  She took a step back.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as he looked at the three of them. “I feel like I’m intruding or something.” He fixed on Aspen. “You said you wanted to talk to me about your brother. But if I’m making you uncomfortable, or if I crossed some line, then I’ll leave.”

  “No.” Aspen cleared her throat, praying that didn’t sound as desperate as it felt. “You’re right—I asked you to come.” She started to touch his arm, a move to reassure him, but she thought better of it. “It’s no problem. Timbrel just doesn’t like men.”

  He studied the petite brunette for several long minutes.

  Timbrel crossed her arms again, squaring off with him. “What?”

  “Nothing.” He didn’t smile, but his eyes did—weird. “I just…if that’s your preference, great.”

  “Preference?” Timbrel’s eyebrow arched.

  Brittain laughed. “She’s not gay. She just…hates men, Mr. Markusky.”

  “Markoski.” Confusion whirled through eyes that matched the sky behind him. “Then who do you date?”

  “My dog,” Timbrel said through clenched teeth as she stomped toward her little import.

  His shoulders weren’t tensed. Eyes held no barbed-wire accusations, only…amusement.

  Aspen twisted toward him, her Asics crunching dirt and rock. “You did that on purpose, suggesting that.”

  “Sorry. I just don’t appreciate people questioning my character when they don’t know me.”

  “Don’t apologize, Soldier Boy. Anyone who can tie Timbrel’s tongue has my
vote.” Brittain turned, locked gazes with Aspen, and started humming the song “Getting to Know You.”

  Aspen flashed her friend a warning. Not the most suitable song. There was no king here. And if she recalled, the school teacher ended up falling in love with the king.

  So not happening.

  Trailing the white luxury SUV left Cardinal with more questions than answers. Things didn’t seem to be getting off on the right foot. Or any foot. Aspen was guarded, even more so with her posse of girlfriends. How do I get under her radar? What would it take to convince her to trust him?

  The truth.

  No way. That would risk everything—everything! His job and carcass would be on the line. Burnett would fry him. Then stick him in that smoker he raved about.

  As they crept out of the Austin city limits and dug farther into the countryside, he evaluated what he’d perceived of Aspen Courtland. The woman had grit, but she also had an…innocence about her. Ironic considering she’d been an airman. A pretty tough one from the records he’d seen. And the way she’d gone up against the Brass regarding her brother’s status—the very reason Burnett wanted her kept ignorant because this could get ugly fast—and the way she’d taken control of the situation.

  At least, she thought she had. He’d anticipated that about her. It’d worked. Exactly as planned. He banged his hand against the wheel.

  “You are weak!”

  Teeth grinding, he pulled himself straighter in the car. What was that? Dropping out of reality and drowning in the past would get him killed. Create mistakes. The way things were, he couldn’t afford a single mistake. He’d keep a line of demarcation between their two worlds. The line in the sand would be reinforced with powerful barriers.

  The SUV slowed, snapping Cardinal back to the present. To the country road. He applied the brake as the Lexus turned into a gated drive. The trellised ironwork stretched over his sedan with the words A BREED APART.

  The dog!

  He eased his car along the tree-lined road. Head on a swivel. Eyes and ears out. The old military lingo to watch his surroundings served as a good reminder. Ahead fifty yards, a brown home rose in quiet beauty. Glass and lines marked it with elegance, yet simplicity. Two men stood on a wraparound porch. Waiting.

  Aspen’s white SUV aimed toward a fenced-in area away from the house. Already her door opened by the time he pulled up alongside. He slid the gear into PARK, eyes on the rearview mirror. Well-muscled, sporting a Glock holstered to his thigh, a former Army grunt, if he ever saw one, approached.

  Cardinal stretched his jaw and snagged the bandana from the glove compartment. He climbed out, sizing up the competition who gave Aspen a warm familiar hug.

  “How’s he doing?” she asked.

  “Fine. Trin’s got him on his toes.”

  Aspen laughed.

  The man shifted and extended a hand. “Heath Daniels.” Though the words were friendly, his posture was not. The man had territory issues.

  Take it slow. “Dane Markoski.”

  Aspen motioned to him. “Dane was on the news—you might have seen him.”

  Daniels nodded. “Mr. Markoski.”

  “Oh, and this is Jibril Khouri.” Aspen turned, brushing a blond curl from her face. “He owns the ranch.”

  Cardinal shook the man’s hand. “The land is beautiful.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” Khouri’s gaze lingered longer than it should have. He was right to be cautious. They all were.

  Behind the fenced area came the barking of dogs. Heart rammed into his throat, he looked toward the broad gate marked Training Yard. “Training?”

  “Yes,” Khouri said as he motioned and started walking. “The ranch is a training facility for working dogs.”

  “Hey.” Cardinal glanced to the side where Aspen walked with them. “Austin’s dog—whatever happened to him after…?”

  Aspen’s expression fell, but she crammed a smile into place.

  Cardinal felt like a jerk for asking the question he knew must twist that dagger in her heart, but he shoved aside the feeling.

  “He’s here.” Aspen opened the gate. “I adopted him after Austin went missing.”

  “I…I thought dogs were—” He cut off his words but knew she’d understand where he was going.

  “A new law protects the dogs. They’re currently classified as equipment, so I had to pay to bring him home once they wrote him off, but it was worth it.” Aspen stepped into the training yard and strode toward the center.

  A yellow Lab lumbered toward her, ball in mouth.

  “Two months ago,” Daniels said, “Talon wouldn’t lift his head to even look at her.”

  “Seriously?” Cardinal watched the handler and dog. “What was his problem?”

  “PTSD.” Daniels’s gaze locked on to him. “So, you were with him in Al-Najaf.”

  Cardinal feigned distraction with the dog. Maybe the woman. She had confidence yet a brokenness that felt familiar. He met Daniels head-on. “Oh. No, Kariz-e Sefid. That’s where I worked with Court.” Had he noticed Khouri limping? “That patrol, the bombs—it wiped out my career. Put me flat on my back for two months.”

  “With what?” Relentless, Daniels tucked his arms under his armpits, gauging, monitoring. There was a reason he’d been a Green Beret.

  “Broken back. TBI. PTSD.”

  “You have no noticeable scars.”

  “It’s the invisible ones that get you.” Cardinal needed to extract himself from this interrogation. “Excuse me.”

  Had Daniels figured things out? He’d never been unraveled that fast. And he doubted it’d happened already here, but there was no time like now to put distance between him and the man who’d dig deep enough to find some holes.

  Another dog bounded toward them. Lowered her front and tipped up her tail, snarling at him. Cardinal reached out a hand to try to show her he was her friend.

  She snapped.

  “Trinity, out!” Daniels looked at him and shrugged. “She’s protective. So am I.”

  Something wet nudged his hand. He glanced down to find the Lab sniffing his hand. And prayed hard his plan worked.

  To his relief, Talon sat at his feet and stared down the obstacle course.

  Wide-eyed, Aspen gawked. “He knows you.”

  “You sound surprised.” Technically, the dog should know him if he’d worked with Courtland, so this was a good test marker to also gain Aspen’s trust.

  A pretty blush seeped into her milky-white complexion.

  “You didn’t believe me.” He tried to sound surprised.

  “Sorry.” More red. Matched her pink lips. “I’ve just been fighting to get him back, so it was a little strange that I’d never heard your name till you showed up on the news.”

  “But you’re willing to believe me because of him.” He pointed to the dog.

  Aspen ruffled the Lab’s head. “Talon knows people. Better than I do.” She clipped a lead on his collar. “If he accepts you, then I will.”

  “You didn’t before?”

  Her lips quirked, and she shrugged. “Your name wasn’t in the official report.”

  Cardinal held her gaze, infusing it with reassurance as he spoke words that could unravel…if they weren’t the truth. “That’s because I don’t exist.”

  WATCHING

  St. Petersburg, Russia

  Age: 14 Years, 3 Months

  The world sped by in a whirl of greens as the train spirited Nikol Tselekova toward Brno. Though he sat with his eyes closed, his mind was alert and rampantly going over every detail. Yes, his bed was made. No wrinkles or ripples. Windows spotless. Footlocker unfettered for inspection. Bedposts aligned with the grain of the wood floors that ran toward the towering window. Yes, all had been in place. He’d made sure. Stood there at the door to his room for ten minutes, inspecting. Obsessing.

  He tugged the backpack on his lap closer, tighter. It was worth it. To deliver the gift. To see her face. If only but for a second. It would be enough to hold him
over till he could attempt another excursion.

  The train slowed as it entered the city. Nikol glanced at his watch, mapping his time and journey. Still well within parameters. Fifteen minutes later, the train pulled to a stop in the heart of the Moravian capital city.

  He hoofed it through the streets, avoiding cars and cyclists and pedestrians alike. Invigorated with each step, he headed west, out of the city, up the country road to the missionary’s home. As he trudged up the road, he moved out of plain sight. Drifted farther into the trees lining the road. If he was right—

  Laughter sailed from a yard. He tucked himself among the trees. Watched. A group of children played among a cluster of small homes. He searched their faces, anticipation thick. On one hand, he wanted to see her—out in the sun, laughing, playing the way she should. She deserved that. And so much more.

  Reassured she was not there, Nikol moved forward. A young boy threw a ball toward his friend.

  “Dobrý den!” Nikol greeted them.

  The boy hesitated, then waved. It was not good that the child recognized him. That would be bad. Especially if the colonel discovered the secret. It would be a path straight back to Nikol.

  Sitting on the bench, his back to the main road, Nikol smiled at the boy and lowered the pack to his lap. “Petr, jak se mate?”

  The boy shrugged. “I’m good.”

  “Would you do me a favor?” Nikol extracted the white box from his backpack.

  Petr sighed. “For Kalyna? Again?”

  Nikol nodded. He would have to find another way to deliver the gifts. It was too known. The boy was as comfortable with Nikol as he was with his friends. Perhaps he should just send them via the post.

  But then, he would not get to see her open them. And that…that was what kept his heart alive.

  “If you like her, you should tell her.”

  The words brought a smile to his face, but Nikol merely nodded. With the eight-year age difference, it was not so simple as liking the girl.

  Fisting his hands on his brown corduroy pants, Petr huffed. “What do I get?”

  “Smart boy.” Nikol produced a bar of chocolate and a green banknote. “First, you must tell me—” He broke off when he noticed the boy’s gaze drift to the edge of the field. Following the gaze, Nikol tensed.