“That’s different.”
“Really?” She made herself as comfortable as possible, hoping Sal would do the same. His color was just short of being pasty. “Explain it to me.”
“It just is.”
She ignored that and set her teeth. “We’re getting out of this together. Deal with it.”
“You’re as stubborn as a Georgia mule.”
“And what would you know about Georgia mules?”
A faint smile touched his lips. “I grew up on a farm. And there’s nothing more stubborn than a Southern-bred mule.”
She tried to distract him. “I have a hard time picturing you as a farm boy.”
But Sal wasn’t playing. “You go get help. Bring it back.”
“And where will you be while I’m getting this help?”
His lips flattened over his teeth. In pain. Or desperation. She wasn’t sure.
“Trying to stay alive.”
She glanced at the sky, saw the gathering clouds. “We’re in for a storm.” A storm meant cold and wet. Sal wasn’t in any shape to endure either.
She gritted her teeth and pushed herself up, then bent to help him to his feet. “C’mon. We’ve got to find somewhere to get out of the storm.”
Sal leaned heavily onto her. “Georgia mule,” he murmured.
“I wish we had one right now.”
FIFTEEN
Taking as much of Sal’s weight as she could, Olivia tramped through the forest, steps dragging. She focused on putting one foot in front of the other.
There.
A cave. Shelter. And possibly a bear. She pushed that image from her mind. Right now, they needed a place to hole up where Sal could rest.
She dredged up any information she knew about bears. They hibernated in the winter. Right? So late spring should be safe enough. Any bears around would be out foraging for food. Unless they were seeking shelter, just as she and Sal were.
She left Sal at the entrance to the cave and went to check it out. When she discovered it was empty, she went back for him. “C’mon,” she urged. “You need to rest.”
Once they were settled and Sal was as comfortable as she could make him, she dumped out her briefcase, looking for the granola bars she routinely stashed there. She saw a flash drive, the one holding her pictures of her time in Vermont. Something was off. She looked more closely and realized that it wasn’t the leaf-peeper drive as she’d thought but the one she’d taken from Calvin’s drawer.
“I mixed up the drives,” she said, explaining what had happened. “That’s why those men are after us, isn’t it?”
“We don’t have all the pieces of the puzzle,” Sal said. “Until we do, we’re operating in the dark. When we get out of here, we need to stash it somewhere.”
Even though the police had a copy of the file, she’d feel better if the original were in a safe place.
“I have a safety deposit box at my bank.”
“Perfect.”
She found the granola bars. After she and Sal devoured the meager meal, she leaned back against the wall of the cave and wondered how she could take his mind off their predicament. There’d be time enough to worry about that later.
Sal solved the matter by tapping the cave wall. “This reminds me of Afghanistan, staying in grape huts.”
“What are those?”
“Houses. But they’re made of mud with the thickest walls you can imagine. They were great at keeping out the heat and the cold. Of course, if we were trying to find out if a target might be in one, they made it almost impossible to gather intel.” He grew silent, apparently lost in memories.
“We could use a grape hut right along now,” she said. The temperature inside the cave was significantly cooler than that outside, and she wished she had something more substantial than her summer-weight navy blue suit jacket to ward off the cold.
“Come here.”
She nestled against Sal and relished the warmth he gave off.
“Tell me more about your time with Delta. You must have some really great stories.”
“There’s nothing great about war.”
Sal had always been protective of her and had never wanted to bring the ugliness of war into her world. It had been one of the stumbling blocks between them, his reluctance to share all of himself with her.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. But war is ugly. I know, that’s a cliché. But it’s true. It’s not just the dying—and there was plenty of that—but the things we were asked to do.”
“If you want to talk about it, I’m a pretty good listener.” With that, she knew that she truly wanted to know what caused the shadows in Sal’s eyes, the pain in his voice when he talked about his days with Delta.
What was he holding back? She knew he’d seen his fair share of action. What didn’t he want her to know?
Sal would never do anything dishonorable. Of that, she was certain. His honor was deeply ingrained, an integral part of him. She held her breath, sensing Sal was going to share something more than the usual war story, horrific as that was.
“Our unit was under heavy fire and pinned down. I managed to get to the enemy’s machine gun and take it out.
“I was hit in the shoulder and must have passed out. When I woke up, I was in an army hospital. The CO was there. He told me I’d be getting a medal.” Another shake of his head. “That was the last thing I wanted. We lost three men that day. When I told him how I felt, he said that the medal wasn’t for what I did but for living with it.”
Olivia wanted to offer comfort, but what could she say? She reached for him, but he pulled back.
“I know. There’s nothing to say. In the end, I asked for a different assignment.” His laugh was hollow. “That’s how I ended up as a spotter.”
“A spotter?”
“I identified targets for a sniper. I made certain the conditions were right, wind, etc. At least then I didn’t have faces to go with who I was killing. I got the call name of Hawk.” He met her gaze in a hard stare, as though challenging her to condemn him. Waiting for it.
“This is what you didn’t want to tell me? Why you walked away two years ago.”
“Don’t you get it? I all but put targets on the enemy’s back so my partner could take them out.”
“You were obeying orders.”
His laugh turned bitter. “That’s what I told myself. Over and over. But in the end, it didn’t matter. I couldn’t live with myself anymore. So I got out. While I still had part of my soul left.”
Her heart bled for him, a man who had given everything to his country until he had nothing left. His sense of honor and duty had warred with each other, taking chunks of his soul as casualties in the battle.
She’d thought she knew him, but she’d been wrong. These parts of him that doubted his worth, his heart, his honor, those were new to her. They added layers and vulnerabilities and made him more attractive than ever. She was having a difficult enough time resisting his appeal as it was.
What must it take for a man as strong and courageous as Sal to question himself? What another man might pass off as the necessities of war had carved scars in his soul. Though invisible to the naked eye, those scars ran deep.
“I wish you’d told me this two years ago.”
His nod was part acceptance, part pain. “Maybe I should have. I don’t know.” He looked down at his hands, turned them over as though they held the answers he was seeking. “I haven’t told my parents. That’s why I stay in Atlanta. I don’t want to see the disappointment in their eyes if they find out what I’ve done. What I was.”
“Your parents would never stop loving you.” Two years ago, Sal had told her about his family and how m
uch they loved each other.
“When I enlisted, I thought I knew everything. Turns out that I didn’t know anything at all. And now...” He shook his head.
She took his hand, trying to tell him what was in her heart through touch because she didn’t have the words.
“I would have understood.”
“How?” The word came out in a harsh growl, and he yanked his hand away. “How can you understand when I don’t?”
“I don’t have answers. But I know Someone who does. He understands everything because He endured everything.”
Sal’s nod was weary as if he’d heard it all before.
“Do you think Christ wants only those who are perfect to come to Him? He wants everyone, including the worst sinners among us. He can heal even them.” Her voice broke, and tears stung her eyes. “Sorry about that. Talking about the Savior does that to me.”
Sal lifted his head, his penetrating gaze locking with hers. “I know you’re trying to help, but right now, I’m not ready to hear how the Lord can heal me. Maybe I’ll never be ready.” The last was said with such anguish that she felt it clear down to her soul.
How she wished she could share her belief with him. Her faith was such an integral part of her that she couldn’t imagine her life without it. When her mother had died, she and her father had turned to each other and to the Lord. Their faith had sustained them then as hers had when he died a few years back.
Clearly, Sal wasn’t ready to accept the Lord into his life, and she backed off. She wanted to reach out once more to take his hand and press it to her heart, to promise that she would never turn away this man who had given so much.
Sal looked at himself and saw a man beyond redemption. She looked at him and saw a man who needed love. Hers and the Savior’s. Maybe one day she could convince him of that.
* * *
Sal woke, disoriented and fuzzy-headed. The worst of the pain had passed. He’d slept fitfully, afraid the dream would come. At times of extreme fatigue or stress, it pulled at him. Last night had been no exception.
The faces were there, the faces of the men who died because of him. Why wouldn’t they let him go? He had a drawer full of medals, including a Purple Heart and a Bronze Star. He’d give them all back in a heartbeat if it meant he could erase the nightmares that continued to plague him.
Scrubbing his hands over his jaw, he looked around for Olivia and saw her slumped against the wall. Dirt smudged her face. Her hands were clenched as though to fight off attackers.
A small smile lifted the corners of his lips. She’d done everything and more than he’d asked, had reset his shoulder, kept them moving, and then found shelter so that he could rest and get his strength back. He wanted to tell her what was in his heart but knew he couldn’t.
The very last thing Olivia needed was for him to complicate matters by telling her that he’d never forgotten her, never forgotten what they’d shared. She was under enough stress as it was.
Though he hated to wake her, he shook her gently. “Olivia.”
She blinked, rubbed her eyes.
“It’s time we got out of here.”
“Are you all right?” she asked, and he knew she was asking about more than his shoulder.
“Better. A lot better. Thanks to you.” He stood with difficulty.
She hurried to her feet to support him. After a moment’s hesitation, he accepted her help. “Thanks.”
He tested his feet, found that he could walk. Outside the cave, he got his bearings. “Ten miles east, we should find a town.”
They covered a few miles, and he discovered he had cell coverage. He called Nicco and gave the coordinates from his GPS-equipped phone.
Nicco showed up, took one look at Sal and gave a low whistle. “You just can’t keep out of trouble, can you? First stop is the nearest hospital.”
“Correction, first stop is the bank. We’ve got a deposit to make. A very important one.”
On the way to the bank, Sal made introductions. Nicco darted questioning looks at Sal, who ignored them. Skilled at picking up on nuances, Nicco probably felt the tension that radiated between his brother and the client.
“If what you’ve got is so important, why not take it to the police?” Nicco asked.
Sal darted a look at Olivia, asking for her permission for him to confide in his brother. She nodded. They’d already discussed the pros and cons of keeping the drive versus handing it over to the authorities. The police had a duplicate. That should be enough.
Sal provided Nicco with a brief rundown of the case. “They have a copy of it. Plus, I have a feeling we’re going to need the original before this is over. When we get things sorted out, we’ll give it to the police.”
At the bank, Olivia went through the procedure of checking out her safety deposit box and putting the drive inside while Sal stood by her. Their bedraggled appearance caused several brows to rise. But nobody questioned them.
As they returned to the truck, Nicco asked, “Now can we take you to the hospital?”
Not long after that, Sal was treated for his injuries and rejected the doctor’s suggestion that he stay overnight.
“I need your truck,” Sal told Nicco.
“No problem. I’ll arrange to have yours towed and repaired.”
Sal clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Thanks. I owe you.”
Nicco’s grin was infectious. “You can be sure that I’ll collect.” He handed the keys to his truck to Sal and took off.
“What will he do for transportation for himself?” Olivia asked.
“Don’t worry about Nicco. He’ll find something. He’s nothing if not resourceful.”
“Where do we go from here?” she asked once they were outside the hospital.
Before he could answer, they were stopped by Agents Timmons and Jeppsen, the Homeland Security men they’d encountered earlier.
Though the agents didn’t draw their weapons, they made no secret of the fact that they were armed, letting their suit jackets flap open to reveal they were each carrying a suppressed Elite Dark Sig Sauer P226. The weapon was a favored one in law enforcement, carried by a number of Texas Rangers, as well as those in the Spec Ops community such as Navy SEALs.
Their brusque manner told Sal that they were on the hunt. What it had to do with him and Olivia, he couldn’t guess.
“We heard you had a bit of trouble,” Jeppsen said.
Olivia lifted her chin. “We were run off the road, shot at and nearly killed. So, yeah, I guess you could call that ‘a bit of trouble.’”
Her retort nearly caused Sal to grin, but there was nothing funny about a visit from the DHS. “Why is Homeland so interested in us?” he asked.
“Terrorism.” The agent’s voice snapped Sal back to the here-and-now.
Terrorism. Sal felt his body respond to the word. His muscles tightened, his stance battle ready. He’d suspected it, but having it confirmed sent his instincts on alert.
“You’re saying that Calvin was part of a terrorist cell and you think I’m involved as well?” Olivia was in shock. He heard it in her voice, saw it in the uneven rise and fall of her chest.
“He wasn’t in the cell per se,” the agent said. “But he knew what was going on. He made some very dangerous people very angry at him. In case you were wondering, these are the kind of people you don’t want mad at you.”
Sal got what the agent was saying. Chantry had been eliminated. It was as simple and as brutal as that. No matter what the man had done, he hadn’t deserved to burn to death.
Olivia, regal even in her filthy clothes, drew herself up. “I don’t believe you.”
“Believe it. Your friend was fronting for a Russian terrorist cell.” Timmons looked from Sal to Olivia, his gaze narrowing as it rested on her. “You’re saying that you
had no idea of what he was doing?” Skepticism colored his voice and had Sal’s hackles rising.
“Of course she didn’t.” Sal wasn’t about to let that go unchallenged.
Olivia flashed him a grateful look. “No,” she said, turning her attention to the DHS agent. “I didn’t.”
“We’ve been following Chantry for months. We knew he was dirty, but we didn’t have the goods on him. Now he’s dead, and the connection to the people he was fronting is gone.” Disgust was plain on his face. Disgust and suspicion.
Though Sal knew that Olivia didn’t have anything to do with Chantry’s possible treason, he could understand—almost—why the agents were not inclined to believe her. She’d made no secret of her longtime friendship with Chantry or her affection for him. To Sal’s mind, that made her appear even more innocent, but not so to the DHS agents.
“That’s regrettable but certainly not my fault,” Olivia said with dignity.
Timmons flushed an ugly shade of red.
Sal wanted to applaud Olivia for her grace under fire. Timmons had all but accused her of being part of Chantry’s plan, and she’d firmly denied the implication.
“Maybe if you’d told us what was going on, we’d have been able to help you,” Sal said in a we’re-not-going-to-take-the-blame-for-your-screwup voice.
“It was classified, but—”
“That’s always the way with you Homeland boys, isn’t it?” Sal cut in. “Everything’s classified, and you’re so afraid of sharing what you know with someone else that you’re chasing your own tails.”
“People higher up the food chain than us have since given the go-ahead to share limited parts with you,” Timmons continued as though he hadn’t been interrupted.
Sal thought about telling them about the USB drive but was reluctant to do so. The DHS agents had accused Olivia of plotting against the United States. How did he know they weren’t part of the plot and looking to divert suspicion onto someone else?
“When did you catch on to Chantry’s part in all this?” he asked instead.
“We’ve had him on our radar for the last year. Things heated up when he went missing.”
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