Renner (In the Company of Snipers Book 19)

by Irish Winters

  But tall, dark, and handsome Mark Houston was definitely chewing Renner’s ass. He made a thundercloud look cheery, standing there with his thick arms crossed over a wide muscular chest, glaring at Renner, who was no slouch. And Renner was certainly up in Mark’s grill. His gorgeous face hadn’t stopped scowling since his senior agent had arrived.

  Renner’s boots were spread, his shoulders back, and his chin jerking toward the exits, then the kitchen. Man, he was fierce when on duty. Tara wished she knew if that heated debate was about her not staying at the hospital like a good girl. Not that she’d intended to run home or stay in bed and lick her wounds in the first place. Not today with Kelsey about to face the most evil woman in the world. Friends showed up, damn it.

  Mr. McCormack’s advance team had arrived to set up some kind of a scale model just inside the lunchroom doors. Tara couldn’t see what it was from where she stood, but it didn’t take them long before they were gone.

  Jeremy had left when his shift ended; the kitchen staff, too. The bus had come and gone, and Tara had made extra sure all twenty-seven Raymond’s Kids were on it. She’d counted heads, then to avoid a “Home Alone” Kevin’s-in-the-attic! incident, she’d personally talked with each of her little angels and reminded them that Santa was definitely coming to Raymond’s Kids in a couple days—if they were good. She’d even had them singing Christmas songs by the time she’d stepped off the bus and waved goodbye. Almost made her tear up. Not quite, but almost.

  Besides Renner’s four-man team, Kelsey and Tara, the only ones left in these hallowed halls were Kelsey’s guys. All of them. Some were in the kitchen, helping out, filling plastic pitchers with fruit punch or ice-water, or whatever Tara asked them to do. A couple others stood ill at ease watching over the buffet table where paper plates, napkins, an ice bucket, and plastic utensils had been organized to ensure an even flow. Yet others patrolled the halls and perimeter.

  But all were armed beneath their bright red Raymond’s Kids hoodies, and all were wary, edgy as cats in a lightning storm. Tara imagined as much as they dreaded the return of their evil mistress, they yearned for it. They needed to see Montego’s ugly face again, if only to prove they’d survived her utter cruelty. That they’d lived despite her and they were still men. You could feel the tension radiating off Aaron’s guys. It was in the air. In the distance between each of them. You could almost taste it.

  That Montego would soon accompany Jed McCormack into this safe place where the remaining sixteen dangerous, angry, adult males she’d tortured now lived, spoke to either her insanity or that she really did own a pair of brass cojones. Which she’d probably cut off some poor guy. Because she was that cruel.

  Bile thickened at the back of Tara’s throat at the thought. It wasn’t even a bad joke, because Montego had done precisely that to the mystery nine, the guys who Tara now knew had contacted Aaron only a day ago. It’d be good to know if those men were real, and if they planned to crash Jed’s party. The sun had just gone down. The night was young. What a scary day this could turn out to be.

  Stacks of pillows stood ready to encourage or discourage the press or politicians who showed. Kelsey had personally arranged them, five to a stack along the outside of the cavernous room. Man, it seemed so much bigger without the lunch tables and chairs. Kelsey had also asked the kind folks at Dan the Man who’d delivered the pizzas, to cut them in narrow slivers instead of their usual robust wedges.

  “I didn’t even put out plastic utensils. Less is more,” she’d said with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Translated—the less food, the quicker everyone would leave.

  There was not, and never would be, any alcohol served, not here at Raymond’s Kids. This was a kid-safe zone. That made it safe for recovering alcoholics, too. Yet there stood Renner, standing up to his boss, his finger in Mark’s face, and doing it with a full flask of Jack or Hennessy or, hell, Tara couldn’t remember which Renner preferred—one poison was as bad as another—hidden in his jacket pocket.

  The two men were evenly matched, but damn. Tara couldn’t keep her eyes off Renner. He made his senior agent look meek and ordinary. Tame. Maybe it was just the leather jacket. Maybe it was knowing he dared carry a forbidden flask while on duty. But maybe it was just—him. All hard angles. But sweet. Considerate. Not a mama’s boy, but a man who respected and adored his mother. A man who treated women right, but wasn’t afraid to fight.

  Tara shook her romantic feelings off. She had her own mission tonight. She needed to be ready, which was why she’d taken up residence in the kitchen where it’d be easier to slip away when the time was right.

  Thankfully, the florist had come and gone already, the handsome, if not ostentatious, display of red roses now sitting on the floor in front of the wooden podium where Kelsey would soon stand and deliver her welcome. But they were blood red roses, the flower reserved for lovers. Tara had always found that pairing odd. Pink would’ve been better, it was sweeter. Maybe yellow, it was sunnier. Blue would work too, if you dyed the flowers to match the color of a summer sky. Any other color would’ve been better than fresh blood.

  But hey, what did she know? Only that love hurt like a bitch, and she’d tasted enough blood from mashed lips or a bitten tongue during her short, painfully sad excuse of a marriage. But love had had nothing to do with those worthless vows, had it? She’d never loved Jorge, not for a second. If anything, she’d lied to herself when she’d told herself to be daring and brave that night. That it was love at first sight. That he was everything he’d said he was. Then she covered her stupid mistake of a marriage with enough alcohol to pickle her brain. If it hadn’t been for Kelsey...

  Tara drew in a deep, cleansing breath remembering the night she’d arrived at Raymond’s Kids. Remembering her BFF’s genuine kindness and unconditional love for the filthy, smelly wreck of a woman she’d been. That kindness was why Tara stayed now. She loved Kelsey like a sister, and she intended to stand by her as Kelsey had lovingly stood by her. To be here for her friend no matter what happened tonight. Because one thing was certain. That bitch Montego would meet her match tonight. One way or the other.

  “Two national news vans just pulled up, ladies and gentlemen,” Zale’s big voice boomed over everyone’s earpieces. “Another’s turning in now. Are we ready?”

  “I am,” Tara said as she took a deep breath and smoothed a hand over her hair, which was natural and red at the moment. She dusted a stray piece of lint off her sweater and shouted across the expansive room, “Hey, Renner! Hey, Mark!”

  Both men turned and waved, but were much too involved in their discussion to answer. Which was just as well.

  She waved back, that one little chore accomplished. It was important they both see her. Now. While she was dressed inconspicuously in Rider jeans and a sweater. While she was still Tara, and before she transformed again. Which she had to make happen in a minute or two.

  It was almost showtime.

  Renner stepped back from Mark, pissed at the quandary Jed McCormack had once again put them in. Shit! Was dementia behind that arrogant son of a bitch’s decision to put Kelsey at risk? Had to be. The ass had just phoned Kelsey to tell her he’d turned the official presentation of his new wing over to LuAnn, as in aka Catalina-fuckin’-Montego. Like she was his wife or something. Like she deserved to breathe the same air as Kelsey.

  What was wrong with McCormack? He’d dropped Kelsey straight into that serial killer’s bloody hands. It was all Renner could do, to not march out and shoot the billionaire in the head the second the dumbass arrived. Jesus Christ! What else could go wrong?

  As if in answer to his question, the press arrived, those hellhounds all but running to the podium to set up their mics, and knocking Kelsey’s carefully arranged pillows out of their way. Trampling everything in their haste to be first with the story—whatever the hell that was—elbowing, complaining, and just plain being assholes. The two national reporters who’d arrived seemed more levelheaded. Their staffs were
by far more professional and courteous. But those local stations and the gossip rags? Renner wasn’t sure there was any such thing as free press anymore. They looked more like a pack of wolves and hyenas circling a kill.

  Renner had just been telling Mark all he knew about Aaron’s intel on the other nine men who had escaped Montego. Mark took that news well considering most of The TEAM was OCONUS, as in outside the United States. Several were absolutely unreachable and none were able to show up in time to assist. Not that Kelsey didn’t already have one helluva bodyguard presence between The TEAM and Aaron’s men. Still... Renner wished he had an army.

  Interestingly, Aaron’s guys weren’t tripping over each other’s feet like he’d expected. If anything, they worked in sync like a group of USMC cadets on parade, almost as if they’d practiced this scenario before. Which spoke to the leader Aaron was. For a man who’d endured what he’d suffered at Montego’s hands, Aaron Pope had made a startling comeback. Renner suspected Alex was behind that, too. The Boss had his fingers in everyone’s business.

  Fortunately, Renner had also informed Mark earlier that, instead of finger foods and wine, there would now be pizza, punch, and paper plates. Hence no tuxes, which made guarding Kelsey easier. No chance for broken wine goblets, and no dress shoes with slippery soles, either. A small plus in the middle of this ridiculous nightmare that could turn to shit in a heartbeat.

  Because of the press, the pillows were being stored, and Aaron’s men were tasked with setting up rows of chairs. At the moment Tara was out of sight in the kitchen. Kelsey stood at the cafeteria door with him and Mark, wringing her hands, ready to welcome McCormack and Tillis while Harv and Ricky hovered over her like guardian angels.

  Once that private welcome ended, Kelsey and her bodyguards would then usher the statesmen and Montego to their reserved seating in front of the podium. The rest of the hundred-plus fold-up chairs would be open to the press and whoever, politician or civilian, were interested enough to show up on a wintery night like this one. After everyone was seated Kelsey would welcome her audience and introduce Jed McCormack. After he said a few words, he was supposed to turn the mic over to LuAnn, aka Catalina Montego.

  Which would put her at the front of the room.

  She’d be exposed.

  No one else would get hurt if, say, someone should just happen to shoot her while she was out in the open.

  It’d be perfect. A double tap and down she’d go. Done. Eliminated.

  She couldn’t kidnap, torture, or murder any more military men. The nightmare would end.

  For one split second, Renner wondered at the gift old man McCormack had unknowingly dropped into his lap when he’d offered Montego the center stage. How easy it would be. Addled or not, it was the perfect opportunity to take her out.

  Made a man reconsider how much he valued truth, justice, and all Mark had said. But in the end, no. Hell, no. Renner shook that option out of his head. As much as he wanted Montego dead, he would not tarnish all The TEAM stood for. He would not betray Alex, Kelsey, or the family he loved. His dad, for Christ’s sake. He could never be as good a man, but he sure as hell would not betray Cody or Brenda Graves. Hell, no.

  Renner refocused, took a deep breath, and swallowed hard.

  Since the podium stood opposite from the kitchen, the length of the cafeteria between them, Montego, the press, and the audience could be easily observed. The kitchen was where Seth and Beckam would take up their final positions once the ceremony began. The kitchen window’s aluminum screen would come down, well, mostly down. The lights would go off, and, unbeknownst to everyone but Mark and Renner, two of the TEAM’s deadliest snipers’ scope would target Montego through the narrow slit where the screen and the counter met. Once she stood up to make her presentation, her head and upper body would be visible well over above the audience. She’d make one helluva target if she tried anything.

  Renner, Mark, Seth, and Beckam were wired, their earpieces keeping them in constant touch. Kelsey, Tara, and Aaron were, too.

  For now, Renner stood alert with Mark at the cafeteria entrance, where they could see all venues: both hallways, front entrance, rear exit, Kelsey’s office, restrooms, and the kitchen exit into the hall. But Renner’s burgeoning need to eliminate Montego had now combined with the sense of impending doom stalking him. It pushed his internal anxiety into the red zone. This media circus had better be over within the hour. He needed a drink.

  “Everyone ready?” Mark asked, his eyes somehow darker, deadlier tonight.

  Renner nodded as ‘Copy that’ came back from all major players. There’d been no sunset this afternoon, not even a break in the weather, just a bone-chilling drizzle in the dense, heavy fog. Outside, spotlights bathed the parking lots with a surreal mist that looked as if someone was shooting a horror flick.

  And shit. Renner realized his first mistake. The north and west sides of this building were not lighted as well as the south and east side were. Visibility outside was rapidly reducing to zero. Which shouldn’t matter since the only exits were south and east. But he should’ve considered any and all limitations Montego could now turn into advantages.

  “Tango One just arrived,” Seth advised. Another shit. Tango One, aka McCormack was the reason for this event. Only his entourage had pulled into the lot behind Raymond’s Kids. They were coming in through the rear exit instead of the front entrance Kelsey had meticulously polished to impress.

  Would’ve been nice to have known that in advance. Renner should have asked. Details, details. No operator could ever have enough details. Those were the things that plugged the holes that tore through every strategic plan ever created. More intel. More ammo. More time.

  “Copy that,” Renner replied evenly. “Mark’s on his way to you, Seth. Beckam?”

  “Tillis has a chauffeur. Did you guys know that?”

  “Focus, Beck,” Mark said as he marched to intercept McCormack and Montego at the rear exit. “Is Tillis here?”

  “Yes, sir. Front parking lot. He’s getting out of the car now.”

  “Heads on swivels, people,” Mark murmured. “You got eyes on Montego yet, Seth?”

  “Oh, yeah. She’s out of the car, no winter coat, but she’s wearing a helluva lot of sparkly nothing. That skirt’s so high and her top’s so low, she might as well have worn Band-Aids with straps. Of course, the reporters are swarming her. Lots of strobes flashing. Wait. McCormack... Shit, umm, sorry, Boss, but McCormack’s just standing there. She looks like a frickin’ Kardashian, but he looks like he forgot where he is.”

  “That’s it. I’m going—”

  “No, Kelsey. Follow the plan,” Renner bit out as he reached for her hand and missed. “Mark’s already on his way to intercept.”

  But the lady in question had already zeroed on her friend and was headed out of the cafeteria. “That poor man. I will not let him stand alone,” she bit out as her heels pounded the linoleum. “Not after losing Lois like he did, and not while I’ve got all these resour—”

  “No need, ma’am,” Seth interrupted smoothly. “I’m here and I’ll make sure he gets to Mark. You stay in the kitchen where you belong, and Mark’ll bring him straight to you like we planned.”

  “The kitchen?” Kelsey snapped even as she stopped and turned back to the cafeteria. “Where I belong?”

  “He meant with Tara,” Renner soothed. “Gosh, Kelsey, stand down. It’s not like he meant you should be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen. Everyone’s here to help. Give us a chance.”

  “I know, I’m just…” Kelsey growled, her eyes glistening as she rejoined him. “I just need this damned night over, Renner.”

  “Copy that,” he replied smoothly while he turned her toward Tara who stood at the open kitchen window waiting. “But now’s not the time to lose your cool, Kels. Let’s do this right, okay? Keep calm a little bit longer for Alex and Lexie. Let’s end Montego once and for all.”

  “And for my guys,” Aaron added qui
etly over the wire, his tone more controlled than Renner felt at that moment.

  “Yes, s-sorry,” she stuttered. “I’m sorry, Aaron. Of course. This isn’t about me. It’s about you and everything she did to your guys. I really do know that.”

  The poor thing was unraveling. But Jesus, the last thing Renner needed was for Kelsey to confront Montego. She might kill the bitch on sight. That could be good, and that could be bad. Especially with the press ready to twist and fabricate the truth to feed their propaganda machines.

  “Good evening, Jed,” Mark’s suave voice came over their earpieces. “Good to see you again, sir. May I take you to Kelsey? She’s been waiting all day for you.”

  “Why, why sure.” Jed’s halting confusion came over the earpieces loud and clear. “So good to see you again, too, but… where… where’s Lois? I took a wrong turn somewhere, and... I think we were going out for dinner. It’s dark and I’m hungry enough, but I’m afraid I lost her in this crowd. Do you know where she is? You’re taller than me. Can you see her?”

  “I’m sure she’s around here somewhere, now let’s get you in out of this cold,” Mark soothed.

  Renner bit his lip as he watched Mark usher the kindly statesman up the back steps, through the double-wide glass doors, and into Kelsey’s domain. Jed had just provided irrefutable proof for what Renner had suspected all along. McCormack was senile. Thank God, Mark had him now. But if he’d gone and married Montego since that press release yesterday… If he’d been stupid enough to forgo a lengthy, legal prenup…