Firethorn (Discarded Heroes)

by Kendig, Ronie

  The general looked at the rest of the team of Mossad agents. “We’ve got two men still missing. I’d like them found—now.”

  Pulled back into action by the Old Man’s words, Griffin straightened. “What’s the last known on Frogman?”

  “Phone call to Sydney, then he went dark.” Lambert eased into a chair beside him. “Same with Dighton. I had sat imaging from the area, and they were both on a motorcycle. Next sweep, they’re gone. No communication since.”

  “We’ll assume they’re hiding,” Griffin said, his homing beacon squarely focused on Kazi, who was drifting closer to the intelligence meeting.

  “Leads planted everywhere imaginable. If either of them can get on a connection, secure or not, they’ll have bread crumbs to lead them home.” It’d been weeks, and the team was still fractured.

  “Oorah,” Griffin muttered, trying to show his support for their benefactor. “Okay, so what’s happening around the globe?”

  The Kid hesitated. “Say what?”

  “Well, to my way of thinking,” Griffin eased forward in the chair, “your old man goes after us—why now?”

  “Maybe he just pegged our identities.”

  Griffin shook his head. “I was put away six months ago for a crime I didn’t commit. This has been a long time coming.”

  Cowboy came up off the wall he supported. “Reckon he’s right. Something triggered this.”

  “What’s he trying to protect?” Griffin asked. “What’s he afraid we’ll find or interrupt? That is what we want to find.”

  The Kid turned to an agent beside him. “We need every organization, every benefit, every—“

  “We have already winnowed the field.” Aladdin pointed to a large-screen TV where a dozen or so names were listed. “These are the most consistent with data and activity—both domestic and global enough to cross paths with Nightshade.”

  “Have any of those organizations had an imprint on a site where we’ve interdicted?” Griffin asked.

  “Yes, several,” Aladdin said. “I’ve been working on this night and day.”

  Griffin nodded, his attention snagged for a moment by two men at the far end whose dialogue became animated. They both leaned closer to a screen, then the excitement died down.

  “Would you like to join us?”

  To the right of the men stood Kazi—now joined by Sydney Jacobs, inviting Kazi into the maelstrom of domestic fellowship.

  This won’t go well.

  Kazi hesitated, then gave a slow, curt nod before she allowed Sydney to lead her to the breakfast area where Cowboy’s little girl and Max’s boy drew on paper. Sydney laughed and said something to Kazi, but for the noise of the computers, clicking, and constant conversation, he couldn’t hear what. Kazi seemed to be holding her own. What a fool thing to say. The woman could bring down entire dynasties.

  “I think we got something.”

  Drawn back to the data, Griffin tried to realign his thinking on the mission. Max. Dighton. Getting them back. Figuring out who did this.

  Laughter spiraled out and noosed his mind. Kazi squatted next to Max’s Mini-Me, who was chatting a mile a minute. Light flickered through Kazi’s soft, pale features as she listened. Piper said something. And as Danielle nodded in apparent agreement, Kazi’s light flickered out. She pushed to her feet. The pallor that overtook her pulled Griffin upright.

  Sydney moved in, touched her shoulder, and said something—Argh! Why could he not hear them?—and Kazi smiled. A fake smile. He could tell by the way it didn’t pinch the dimple in her right cheek. Or crease her eyes. But as expected, she held her own.

  Relax, G. She’s got it.

  “Okay, and this.” Aladdin slid another data image print toward him.

  Griffin looked at it, but his mind ricocheted back to the pallor—pain—in Kazi’s expression. Pain. There was pain? Why? What—? He looked back to her to regauge the expression and stilled.

  She was gone.

  The stampede in her chest seemed to reverberate through the narrow hall. Kazi took the stairs two at a time. Panic pushed her harder. She’d never belong anywhere. She tried. To mingle. To laugh. To act like she could fit in. But those women were—

  “Kaz.”

  A featherlight touch of air scalded her conscience. She hesitated. Then leapt forward.

  “Hold up.”

  On the last step before the landing, she spun toward the gentle giant who’d riveted her heart to a bucket of emotional upheaval.

  “What’s wrong? What happened?” His voice was thick with emotion. Care. Did he really care? Was Sydney right? She shook her head, aches weaving through her breast as she looked down into the brown eyes that had registered as her center. Breathing hurt. Thinking hurt. Remembering hurt.

  “I can’t—” She sucked in a hard breath, surprised at the torrent of emotion roiling through her. It was one thing to run. It was another to tell him why. Her vision blurred. “It won’t work.” She gulped. Her eyes stung. Frantic, she shook her head. “I just can’t.”

  In the space of two heartbeats, he scaled the steps and pulled her into his arms.

  The firm impact knocked her tenuous hold on her pain from her grasp. A half sob popped from her throat. Kazi hooked an arm around his broad shoulders, and another cupped his head as she buried her face in his neck, holding on tightly as he lifted her from her feet. “Don’t—“

  “Shh.” He swung right, up three steps, then two paces. The glass door to the rooftop patio clicked open. Cool, salty sea air swirled her hair around her face as he carried her into the night, his hold never wavering or crushing. “It’s okay, Baby Girl.”

  She should explain why she was a neurotic mess. “I’m not…I can’t…I just can’t…”

  His biceps and pecs squeezed her into a firmer hold. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

  Her toes caught purchase, and she supported herself, still locked around Griffin’s torso. She should let go. Push back. Get a grip. But his arms were strong around her, his breath trickling down the back of her neck.

  “I wanted to, Griffin. I wanted to do it.”

  “Do what, Baby Girl?”

  Be your Baby Girl. She squeezed a tear back. Cheek pressed to his, she smoothed a hand down the back of his neck. “I’m not…I’m not who you think I am.”

  “You’re not Kazi-smeera Fronky?”

  She laughed, knowing his mispronunciation was intentional. “Those women down there, they’re strong. They know how to be a wife. How to be a mother. They balance life, they love their husbands, they have children, raise families, and still laugh and play and—“

  “Kaz, quiet.” He set her on the ledge, which gave her a three-inch advantage to look down into his eyes. See the moon reflected in the pure chocolate irises. She wanted to be what those women were for their men. She wanted to be a beacon of hope, strength, something good to come home to. To be that for him.

  The thought choked her as she looked to their future. He’d never want her. Once he knew what she’d done as Boucher’s whore, what she’d done for Carrick. “I can’t—“

  “K—“

  “It’s not—“

  “Kazi, listen—“

  “No!” Anguish carved a lonely trail through her heart. “Don’t you get it? I can’t—“

  “Shut up or I’m going to kiss you.”

  The air knocked into her throat as his breath and words skated over her mouth. Beyond the wall, she heard the crash of the waves and felt their pounding in her chest. She darted a gaze over Griffin’s face, mere millimeters from her own. Over strong, angular lines. Smooth complexion. Intensity unlike anything she’d ever seen. Quiet strength that rivaled the moon’s pull on the tide. Unwavering. Beautiful. Gentle.

  “Are you that afraid of me kissing you?” he said with a smirk, his mouth a whisper from her own.

  No, not afraid—desperate. She ran her thumb along the nape of his neck, her senses alive. Curled into the solid mass of a man, she savored his touch—the hands that presse
d her hard against him. The arms that bound her to his soul. Melded to one another—but not sensual. It was…beautiful. Safe. Secure. Like a fortress against a storm.

  I want this forever.

  Forever doesn’t exist. Kazi reined in her rebellious body and tried to shake off the potion of attraction that muddled her and had her clinging to Griffin.

  “I can’t figure out what you want,” he said, miserably.

  She pressed her forehead against his, willing the attraction to be tamed, lessened. Don’t move. She shouldn’t be so obvious. Don’t let go. Shouldn’t be entertaining this.

  Why am I so conflicted?

  His chest pressed hard against her, the breath he drew in labored. Like a cold wind, he severed the connection when he lifted his head and looked skyward. “You don’t even know, do you?”

  A different kind of panic furled her hand around his neck and drew his face back to hers. “Please…,” was all she could whisper, as she relished the comfort, the warmth of having him close. It spun her mind in a million different directions.

  Carrick would kill Griffin just for the psychological effect he had over her. Griffin would never want someone as messed up as her, anyway. He thought he was attracted to her—saw good things in her. Most men were attracted to her because of her ability to kick butt and take names. But nobody wanted to waste time getting to know Kazimiera Faronski.

  What would he think of that girl? Silly? Naive? That was a girl who had fantasies of Happily Ever After. Caressing the back of his neck, she wondered if he would. Were they not in the middle of this disaster, would Griffin want to get to know the real her? Even now, in his arms, she found herself angling for a kiss—and that was the seasoned operative side of her.

  He lowered his mouth toward hers.

  Her pulse skipped a beat. Then two as she moved in to receive his kiss.

  Griffin pulled off. Looked away.

  Why wouldn’t he kiss her? Didn’t he want it?

  Head down, mouth teasing the side of her cheek, he huffed. “What’s it mean to you, Kaz?” Husky with attraction, Griffin’s voice coiled around her mind.

  What did what mean? A kiss? Is that what he was asking? Who asked something like that? Would he cast her off for a kiss? He was noble, honorable. He lived for honor and respect. What if she gave the wrong response? Was there even a right one?

  “I…I don’t know.” Raw and vulnerable, the answer was the only thing that got past her fog-enshrouded mind. She didn’t care anymore what people thought of her. What Griffin thought of her. He’d find out soon enough that she wasn’t the angel he’d called her downstairs. She wasn’t anything close to that.

  Warm hands came to rest on her waist as Griffin pushed back. Though it was only a few inches, the distance felt like a frozen mile. “It’s a’right.” He swallowed hard. Blew out a breath. Then turned and stalked to the wall.

  She felt cold now. Alone. Rejected. “You’re mad.”

  “I’m a lot of things, but mad is not one of them.” Griffin hung his head, hands planted on the wall, making him appear gargantuan. Why didn’t he feel so big and overbearing when she was in his arms? How had the size difference vanished when they were together? The race difference? How did it all wash away till there was nothing but…him?

  “I don’t understand.” Kazi swept the bangs from her face.

  “I know.” He rolled around to face her and dropped against the wall, his hands tucked under his arms. “When you do—?”

  Crack!

  “Hey!” The side door flung open, and Marshall skidded to a stop, his gaze hopping between her and Griffin. “Um…” He backtracked, as if realizing he’d stepped into the middle of something.

  “What’s up, Kid?” Griffin asked in a cool, casual tone.

  “The Old Man.” Again, he checked Kazi before thumbing over his shoulder. “He wants you. Might have a lead on Frogman.”

  Griffin gave a curt nod.

  Which meant he’d rush back to his boys. Leave her jilted. Out in the cold. Kazi turned back to the wall and stared over the Mediterranean blue waters as Griffin and the Kid went back inside. “Just brill, Kaz. Ran off another guy.” How many times would Tina’s admonishment rake her soul? But this time, the accusation felt acute. Razor sharp. She closed her eyes and tucked her chin, warding off the tears. I wanted him…

  Like a sun-warmed blanket, something wrapped around her from behind. Realization washed over her—Griffin hadn’t left. He stood behind her, his torso melded to her spine and shoulders. A hand around her waist. Another on her hand. He bent close, his scent masculine and taunting.

  Heat crept into her cheeks as his face broke into her line of sight. She didn’t trust herself to speak, hating the way she responded to him, yet acutely aware of how she found his touch exhilarating.

  His soul-rich eyes bored through her last defense. “When you’re ready, Baby Girl….” Warm lips pressed against the sensitive spot along her jaw, just below her ear, and lingered for three fabulous seconds. She hauled in a breath as heat blossomed from the epicenter of his kiss.

  Then as swift as the mythical creature he’d been named after, Griffin was gone. The embers of his touch lingered on her waist and belly. She placed her hand over the spot where his hand had rested and willed for a happy ending.

  But with all the baggage from the past she’d had to pack, one thought plastered itself to her conscience: I’ll never be ready.

  Green World Health Clinic Compound, Uganda

  Staring up through a half-missing roof, Scott groaned. Coughed. Rolled onto his side. Had he been run over by a Mack truck? Or a tank? Only as he tried to take in his surroundings did it register that his left eye was swollen.

  Scott cringed at the howling the voice created in his head. He peered up through a throbbing brow. And stilled. Men in camo flanked Marie, their faces painted, their stances screaming their readiness to fight. They weren’t American. Or British. Geared up for battle, they looked drenched. Not from rain—sweat. The sixty-pound rucksacks that carried foodstuffs, ammunition, first-aid kits, specialty items…

  Man, I don’t miss that.

  He dragged himself off the ground, remembering the insanity that unleashed before he was knocked out—by a boot. Heel of his hand to his face, he propped himself against the wall. Marie passed him a towel with ice.

  “Sorry about the eye.” The words came from the man with an M16 strapped to his chest and holding a water bottle. “You were quick with the gun.”

  “Better quick than dead.” Scott pressed the makeshift ice pack to his face, hissing as the ice deadened the fire and burn in his face. He assessed the soldiers again. “Who are you?”

  “Would you like to sit down, have tea and scones, and discuss our history?”

  The shorter of the two men who’d spoken patted the other man’s stomach with the back of his hand. “It’s good.” He turned back to them. “We need to know your vulnerable points. The team can get to work strengthening those while we figure out our best course of action.”

  “Vulnerable points?” Marie laughed. “Try all the holes in the roofs and walls.”

  The man’s lips pressed into a flat line. “How long has the compound been like this?”

  Marie pointed at Scott. “Since he showed up.”

  The shorter man spoke to the other, then commands were issued, sending three men in each direction to assess and secure. Once the room was clear save himself, Marie, and the two commandos, the shorter one spoke again. “Why don’t you debrief us?”

  “About ten miles north of this compound there is a mine. Originally said to be harvesting diamonds, it’s issuing something far more lucrative—and deadly.” Scott wondered where Ojore and the others were at the moment. “One of my guys—“

  “Scott lives in the village near the mine, teaching the men how to farm and defend themselves.” Marie passed out water bottles, but what surprised Scott was the tone in her words. Pride. Was it really pride? His work had severed their relationship y
ears ago. How could she be proud if she’d given him the short stick?

  “What’s in the mine?” The guy didn’t mince words.

  “Yellowcake uranium.”

  He pivoted to the other man, shared a silent conversation, then turned back to Scott. “Proof?”

  Scott shook his head as he took a swig of water. “None.”

  “That doesn’t do any good.”

  “All we have to do is get the UN back to the mine.”

  “There’s a problem with that though.” Marie didn’t withhold her glare. “They know who he is and have already tried to kill him once. I expect they’ve doubled or tripled the security, and you can bet they’ll shoot on sight.”

  “Then we stay out of sight.” He looked at Scott. “You’ll give us detailed maps so we can get in and out.”

  Scott pulled straight. “I’m going with you.”

  “Sorry.” The man shook his head. “You asked for my help. You don’t get to dictate how to help.”

  “I know the layout. You don’t. It’s better to have experience on your side.”

  “You’re his brother!” Marie gasped.

  “What?” Scott’s mind bungeed over the words. “You’re—” The man had said he’d asked for help, and Scott just assumed he meant the details he’d provided here. “But…I didn’t think you’d come. I only sent one e-mail.

  The man shrugged. “I only got one.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Green World Health Clinic Compound, Uganda

  Fifteen years ago, he’d told Scott to forget about a relationship, that they were both better off living separate lives. Seeing his half brother, seeing the man he’d become rankled him. He’d missed out. On a lot. And the raging inferno behind those eyes, so like his own, made him wonder what fueled it.

  His brother’s face riddled with shock. “I can’t believe you came.” Scott ran his hands through his hair.

  Though he hated re-upping with Scott like this, he needed some answers. And fast, because the clock was ticking. Staying off the grid completely wasn’t possible. They had trouble coming. He could smell it. “How’d you get my e-mail address—it’s ancient.”