Renner (In the Company of Snipers Book 19)

by Irish Winters

  But Kelsey did not. Decked out in skin-tight thermals beneath her wingsuit, she could only nod because if she said anything, so much as one word, she’d chicken out. It was cold up here, and she kept shivering. Alex would laugh if he were up here, and she wouldn’t blame him. Jumping out of a perfectly safe wooden and steel structure had to be one of the craziest things she’d ever thought of doing. And she’d asked for this? Yup. Crazzzzzzy!

  A dismal gray landscape faced her from the east. The last time she’d looked, nothing but cold hard concrete waited for her below. The full force of the forecasted weather front had yet to make land. For now, old man winter had stalled over the Atlantic, where it was churning whitecaps, gathering moisture, and gaining velocity. A blizzard might’ve hidden her disastrous descent if things went awry, but Kelsey didn’t need inclement weather complicating her first, maybe once in a lifetime, jump.

  Tara had assured her multiple times she’d be fine. She’d instructed Kelsey on how wingsuit flying was the best of both worlds, those worlds being skydiving and hang gliding, two worlds Kelsey had never wanted admission to, not even once in her practical, ordinary, somewhat boring life. She’d suffered through enough excitement during her first marriage. Normal and boring were solid career goals, though living with Alex had proven to be anything but boring. Yet here she was, branching out. Doing ridiculously scary things.

  Adrenaline was not her friend right now, and her heart wouldn’t stop climbing up her throat. Breathing evenly was nearly impossible to do. Staying calm was a whole different problem. Even something as simple as swallowing took effort. She hadn’t a drop of saliva in her mouth to moisten her poor parched tongue or lips.

  But she wasn’t doing it for the adrenaline high or the thrill. This was for Alex and Lexie. For all those poor homeless men she now carefully tended at Raymond’s Kids. Okay, so they weren’t children, yet in a way, they very much were. They were all homeless, most by choice. Each of them had been betrayed and seduced by Montego, all of them tortured. They would struggle for the rest of their lives adapting to their physical impairments as well as their confused mental states.

  They desperately needed someone to care. She’d taken most of them in after Alex, Beau, and Maverick discovered Montego’s gruesome pit. There were sixteen left of the nineteen original survivors. Three had already committed suicide, and Kelsey was darned if she’d allow the others to go that route. They’d been in shock when they were finally rescued. Some had suffered for years, others for less than a month. Some went home, but all returned when home became too much or too little to endure. One by one, Kelsey had opened Raymond’s Kids’ doors to them. She gave each a private room to recover, hide, or heal in. She enlisted the aid of psychologists, surgeons, and the Veterans Administration. Anyone who would listen to their cries for help, she now knew by name, office symbol, and phone number.

  But in the end, it all came down to her, a simple housewife who loved children, reaching out and doing what little she could to right a terrible injustice. It wasn’t a great leap to go from loving children to helping young men. Montego’s barbaric form of torture had reduced all her victims to frightened little boys, who now dreamed horrific nightmares they couldn’t escape and battled demons most people could never imagine. They were shattered men who cried at night for their mothers. Who drank too much, cursed vehemently, or self-medicated any way and every way they could.

  Gone were the dashing braggarts intent on saving the world. In their place remained young, vulnerable soldiers, airmen, sailors, and Marines, who, because of their extreme injuries, could no longer serve. Forced out of the military, they felt impotent and useless. Powerless. Which one by one, had led each of them to Kelsey. They needed someone to stand for them, to scream, ‘No more!’ And that person was her.

  Today was as much for those wounded warriors as it was for Alex and Lexie. Kelsey absolutely had to know how to fall safely out of Jed McCormack’s penthouse window. Because Catalina Montego needed to die.

  “Pretend I’m Yoda,” Tara quipped at her side, bouncing on the balls of her feet, slapping her thighs to keep warm, and blowing great puffs of frosty white into the void where Kelsey was soon to go. “Remember what he said?”

  “W-who?” Kelsey didn’t have a clue who Yoda was at the moment. She’d lost all ability to think coherently the moment she’d looked down. Which was her fault. Tara told her not to do it, but of course, that only meant she would most certainly look down. Not smart.

  Tara’s palm on her back was soothing, though. Warm. Sisterly. “He’s the little green guy in Star Wars. Tell me you’ve at least heard of him.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Anyway…” Another billow of crystal breath wafted out into the frigid air, hovering there, daring her to be as brave as she’d thought she was. “Yoda was very old and very wise. He told Luke Skywalker something like ‘Don’t just try. Get it done.’”

  “Ah huh,” Kelsey murmured, her heart pounding so hard she was beginning to see little black dots at her peripheral.

  “So, let’s do this!” Tara yelled as she pushed Kelsey out the window—to her death!

  Okay, not to her death, but she was falling with her eyes closed and—

  “Son of a bitch!” flew out of her mouth. She was channeling Alex! But what else had Tara said? Oh, yes. ‘Pretend you’re a bird. Spread your wings and legs to catch the updraft.’ Only she’d also warned that there’d be less updraft today due to the cold weather, which Kelsey only now realized had been a warning to maybe not try this crazy stunt in December.

  Here goes. Kelsey stretched her arms as wide as they would go, her legs too, and…

  WHOOSH!

  What do you know? It works.

  She ceased falling like a rock the second her wings caught the wind. Okay, that was kind of cool. She was nearly at ground level by then and floating. She and Tara were close to the same distance from the ground. Both hovering. Both falling. Earth was still coming up fast. Bend my knees. Hold my breath. Tuck, roll, and… what was that other thing?

  Touchdown!

  Glory, glory halleluiah! Kelsey lay still as death while her pulse stopped thundering through her veins. The enormity of what she’d just accomplished flooded her timid self. There was a time she’d been afraid of her own shadow. Not today. She’d been brave. Courageous. She could do anything!

  Scrambling to her feet, she was amazed at how much she’d actually loved flying. The rush. The sensation of being free and scared, but mostly, free. She’d conquered fear, damn it. “I did it! I did it!” she called out, dancing like an idiot.

  Until she remembered. “You pushed me! Off a building! You brat!”

  Tara grinned that big beautiful smile of hers. “Would you have taken that last step if I hadn’t?”

  All straight white teeth and blue, blue eyes, she really was a knockout when she wasn’t glancing over her shoulder, looking for that despicable creep she’d divorced. Jorge… Jorge... What was his last name? Couldn’t be Tumulty.

  “Maybe, but you didn’t know that. You owe me, girlfriend,” Kelsey all but squealed, her adrenaline still on high and her heart pounding at her success. “After you pushed me off that building, you owe me.”

  “Who, moi?” Tara asked innocently, her brows lifted in play and those bright eyes sparkling.

  “Yes, you,” Kelsey declared with gusto. “What’s your real name anyway. Your married name.”

  The second Tara’s lashes dropped, Kelsey knew she’d asked too much. The day turned back to dismal and gray. The muscles in Tara’s slender neck contracted as if swallowing were impossible. Instantly repentant for outing her friend, Kelsey said. “Forget it. You know I love you no matter what name you go by. You’re still you.”

  A big sigh. More frosty vapor. Tara’s chin came up. “You’re right,” she said quietly. “My married name was Poerbatjaraka. I haven’t had time to get it legally changed yet. Yeah, I know. Try saying that ten times real fast. B
ut I couldn’t go back to using his name. It was never mine to begin with. Does Tara Shanahan ring a bell?”

  “Oh, my. You’re her. But she was…” Kelsey bit her tongue instead of saying ‘happy.’ Her heart broke remembering that once sassy, vibrant young woman who’d turned America on its ear on her way to the Olympics. The darling who’d once danced in skis on the slopes was a shadow of the gaunt woman with dark shadows circling her eyes standing before her now.

  Kelsey asked what she asked every child who showed up at Raymond’s Kids. “Do your parents know where you are? Do you want me to call them for you?”

  Tara shrugged. “It’s too late. They weren’t happy when I married Jorge. My fault. I was drunk, kind of didn’t tell them their only daughter was a slut, ran off and had already eloped.”

  “Don’t call my BFF names. You’re not a slut,” Kelsey murmured as she grabbed hold of Tara and pulled her in for a hug. “You should call them. Parent’s don’t forget their babies. They still love you.”

  “I can’t. He’ll hurt them.”

  “Honey, he’ll hurt them anyway if he thinks he can use them to get at you. They need to know. Tell them what happened and where you are. At least warn them what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

  Tara sucked in a harsh breath. “You’re right. I never thought—”

  “Because he’s only threatened you so far, but trust me. Cruel men will do anything to strike back.” How well Kelsey knew. She’d lost her two tiny sons to the same kind of brutish man.

  “I… I have to go.”

  “Where?”

  “To Colorado. That’s where they live.” Poor Tara was coming undone.

  Kelsey handed over her cell. “Then take back your power and call them right now, Tara Shanahan. Here. That bastard doesn’t have my number. He can’t track me.”

  In a heartbeat, Kelsey was smashed into a teary hug. “I’m so sorry,” Tara cried, “for all that brought us here together, I’m so sorry for what you had to go through, but I’m so thankful at the same time. For you, Kelsey. Every time I turn around, you’re saving me.”

  Which wasn’t exactly true, but Kelsey would never correct her friend. But if not for Alex all those years ago, there’d be no Kelsey, Lexie, or Raymond’s Kids. There would only be two stone markers in a far-off place called Lakewood, Washington. One to mark where her boys were buried together, the other for a grieving mother who’d lost her mind to suicide.

  Kelsey had been that close to ending herself back then. If the cantankerous Marine she’d married hadn’t gotten fed up with the world, himself in particular, at that same time, she wouldn’t be here today. Alex was her miracle in a world gone dark as sin back then, so dark and bleak she hadn’t known who she was. Oddly, it was his initial unwillingness to help that motivated her today. Because in the end, that recalcitrant jarhead who thought he knew everything, had thrust himself squarely between Kelsey and the bullets of her murderous ex. But that was a long time ago. A lesson learned...

  Trembling now, Tara grabbed Kelsey’s cell. Hurriedly, she thumbed in a number and the best word in the world tumbled off her chapped lips, “M-M-Mom?”

  Kelsey turned away to give her emotional friend privacy. Scaffolding still climbed a good portion of the building she’d just conquered. Tattered plastic sheeting billowed off several lower levels. The structure stood tall, but she was certain that she, Kelsey Stewart, wife to the sweetest husband in the universe, stood taller. It was just steel, mortar, and two-by-fours, but she was a married woman, a survivor. Because of Alex she was alive and all but glowing at the incredibly brave thing she’d just done. And all because a crotchety jarhead had suffered the unexpected visit of a sickly, battered woman that day in the woods, and in doing so, in taking her in when all he’d wanted was a quiet vacation, Alex had given her everything.

  Some might call jumping off this building stupid, especially in cold weather. Others might call it brave, Kelsey certainly did. But she’d done it in spite of herself, and she could do it again. Only next time, she was taking Montego down with her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Hey, Ember,” Renner called out as he closed Mark’s office door.

  She waved back from her seat behind The TEAM customer service counter, her cheeks pink from the cold. “Hey yourself. Aren’t you supposed to be watching Montego?”

  He patted his butt pocket where he’d stuck his phone. “I am.”

  “Ah. You’ve deployed Tattle Tales.” She fluttered her fingers at him. “Hand it over. You’ve got plenty to do without monitoring them. Let me be your eyes and ears while you do whatever else you should be doing.”

  Ember Dennison was one-of-a-kind gorgeous and twice as smart as most agents. Blonde and built, she made everything she wore too sexy for the work place. Today she’d dressed in black slacks, flat-heeled shoes, and a red sweater, one with a sagging rolled collar that didn’t need to dip low to enhance her full cleavage. Ember had assets. The clothes didn’t make her; she made the clothes. And she made them all hot-damned attractive. Rory Dennison was one lucky bastard to have convinced her to marry him.

  Without a worry, Renner handed over his cell and watched her extract whatever codes she needed to copy data from the app on his phone to her network. She did have a nice setup. Banks of monitors lined the wall between her office space and other TEAM work stations. Multiple printers, CPUs, and towers were already booted up and humming.

  The entire station where she spent most of her days looked like something out of Star Trek, with more technical gear than Renner could name. But then his MOS, military occupational specialty, had never been techie or genius related. Not unless dialing in precise minutes of angle to tighten the point of impact with his target put him in the same league as Ember. Which it did not. She was the brainiac behind The TEAM. He was just a grunt who knew how to shoot and follow orders.

  “Mark authorized this?” Ember asked, her finger on the RETURN key, ready to activate the Tattle Tales.

  “Yes, he did.”

  With one tap of her finger, the views from inside McCormack’s penthouse displayed inside a grid of windows on Ember’s private, big-screen monitor. She handed a pair of dark glasses over her counter. “Here. Put these on. I’m going dark.”

  Apparently going dark meant something different to Ember than it did Renner. Her monitor flickered, then went blank. He slid the ordinary looking glasses onto his nose, and… All those little boxes of confidential information reappeared.

  “You’re amazing,” Renner breathed as he studied the lack of movement at McCormack’s place.

  “Yeah, I know. I keep privacy filters on all my other screens. Never had to worry about that until Miss Know-It-All showed up.”

  When Renner had nothing to say about Brinkman, Ember inserted an earbud and asked, “So where’s Jed?”

  “Still sleeping,” Renner replied, tapping his own earbud in case something he couldn’t see was happening at McCormack’s.

  “You didn’t put anything in his bedroom?”

  Renner shook his head. “Didn’t think we needed to. I’m no perv.”

  Ember grunted. “Understood, but if I was going to kill someone, that’s where I’d do it.”

  He had to smile. If she killed a guy in bed, he’d die happy.

  “And he wouldn’t die by sex, either, Renner. Get your mind out of the gutter.” She hadn’t looked away from her screen when she said that. Which was good. He didn’t need her reading his eyes like she seemed to be reading his mind.

  Ember wasn’t one of those women who flirted or trolled for action, then cried sexual abuse when a guy came onto her. She’d worked with enough sailors to understand how to talk with them as well as how to put them in their place. That she knew how to shoot and controlled monthly weapons certification was also no small thing. The woman could take care of herself, and she didn’t need the Equal Rights Amendment to do it for her.

  “Anyway…” Renner ground out. “Exac
tly how would you kill a guy in bed?”

  “Easy. Once I warmed him up, I’d cut his femoral artery and leave him there to bleed out.”

  Renner shook his head at the image of her anywhere near a guy’s femoral artery. Was it hot in here? “I need to go,” he said before he dug a hole he couldn’t climb out of.

  “Was that all you wanted?”

  Oh, yeah. “Thanks for reminding me. Can you run a lowdown on a Tara Tumulty? She was at McCormack’s last night and I picked up a vibe from her that she might be in trouble.”

  “Sure. What else do you know about her?”

  “Just her address and that she might be an adrenaline junkie.”

  Ember made a funny face. “I need more to go on. A picture or something.”

  “Hold that thought,” he told her as he texted a quick note to his mother.

  You wouldn’t happen to have a shot of the girl I was with last night on your security camera, would you?

  It took a minute before his mother answered. You betcha. I was just telling Mr. Duggan how pretty she was, and how good you and she looked together.

  Stop matchmaking, Mom. Send the pic.

  Aye, I suspected you’d be needing one. Should be in your inbox, luvvie. You get it?”

  Easing back from his cell, Renner checked his email, then sent a reply.

  Got it. TY.

  Will you be wanting a glossy next?

  She’s a client, not a friend. Talk to you soon.

  Renner disconnected before his mother turned into her busybody self. “Here, Ember,” he said as he transferred the file to her inbox. “Mom caught this shot on her security footage last night. Maybe you could run it through facial rec?”

  “Will do. I’ll contact you when I have something.” Ember cocked her head in that inquisitive, knowing way she had, her green eyes glimmering, asking questions he didn’t want to answer. Yet he said, “She’s a client. Just like I said.”

  “Oh, really?”