Falcon: The Quiet Professionals Book 3 (17 page)

“Fine,” Mila said. Then she whipped her head around, watching something. She lowered her face back to the iPad. “Malcolm’s in trouble.” She swatted hair from her face. “He’s been a bad boy.”

“Have you been good?” Chin propped on her hand, Cassie soaked in the sweet face and voice. Such a glorious respite from war.

“Yes.” Mila bobbed her head. “I’m an angel.”

Cassie laughed at the unadulterated honesty and innocence.

“That’s what Uncle Byron said,” Leila popped back into the conversation.

“Okay, bye!” Mila vanished from the screen and then could be seen across the room, gathering up stuffed animals and plopping them into a small plastic stroller.

“Sorry about that.” Amanda returned to her spot on the stool. “Malcolm’s been a demon lately. Not sure what’s gotten into him.” With a frantic shake of her head, Amanda scrunched her shoulders. Then refocused. “So, still going to be there for another few months?”

“At least,” Cassie said.

“I thought we were pulling out?”

“They are. But things are worse, chaotic, da—” Telling her sister things were dangerous was not the right conversation to have, especially with the kids in the background. “Anyway, yeah—it’s messed up.”

“I see, I see,” came Mila’s husky little voice.

Amanda rolled her eyes and lifted Mila back up.

Elbows on the counter, Mila pushed her dark hair from her face again. “I know my colors!”

“Let’s show her.” Amanda reached for something. She held up a card. “What color is this?”

“Boo!”

“Blue,” Amanda corrected, emphasizing the
l
in the word.

“Buh-lll-eww,” Mila said, sticking her tongue out on the
l
.

“And this one?”

“Red.”

Tears welled up in Cassie’s eyes. She was missing out on so much. “Good job!”

“I gotta go. Bye!” Mila made a noisy kissing sound then squirmed out of Amanda’s arms.

“Bye, Mila.” Cassie blew a kiss at the camera.

“She’s just like you—never stays in one place very long.”

Laughing again, Cassie could only shake her head. She should feel better, but after watching Mila—so full of life and unaffected by what was happening on the other side of the world… in Cassie’s world… combat… death—that innocence seemed a lifetime away.

“Well, we’d better go. Dentist appointments in an hour.”

“Okay, love to all!” After a round of good-byes, Cassie signed off. The screen went black. And a ghostlike image appeared on the glossy surface. Her heart thudded as her brain registered what she saw. Someone behind her. But it wasn’t just any ghost.

Sal!

Cassie swung around.

He stood there, silently watching. His gaze flicked to the device. Then back to her. “All hands at Command. Zero nine hundred.”

Including me? Since when?
“You want me there?”

His left cheek twitched. “Skip it if you want. Won’t bother me.”

Of course.

His gaze again hit the iPad. “Who was that?”

Panic thumped in her breast. She’d been so careful. “My sister, Amanda.”

He stood there for several long, painful seconds, staring at the blank screen before confusion rippled through his dark eyebrows. “Your sister named her kid Mila?”

Cassie swallowed hard. “I did. I—I named her.”

He jerked back as if he’d been punched.

She knew what he was thinking. But she didn’t want to go there. Didn’t want to open Pandora’s box. A deadly box of shattered dreams and broken promises.

Sal scowled at her. Backed up a step. Then another. “Zero nine hundred,” he said in a clipped manner. And then he was gone.

She let out a breath weighted by deception and fear. If he ever learned the truth, what would he do? He already held Vida’s death against her. He hadn’t forgiven her for that sin. If he found out about Mila, forgiveness wouldn’t even be in his vocabulary. Only murder.

Kandahar Airfield, Afghanistan
30 March—1840 Hours

Sal stalked out of her tent, hating that he’d lied to her. She’d show up tomorrow and find out there was no all-hands. But he’d needed to see her. Something had possessed him to go to her bunk. What he had in mind once he got there, he didn’t have a clue. But being trapped in that tunnel unlocked something in him.

Weakness.

No. No, he was too familiar with weakness.

Desperation.

Could be. He was desperate to quell the storm in his gut. To douse the fire. Seeing her again, being around her—
kissing
her. He snorted and shook his head. He’d blame that on the painkillers, but they hadn’t given him anything strong enough to justify that level of stupidity.

What pushed him to Cassie?

Habit. Having her around—had it tricked his mind into falling into old habits established back at Fort Huachuca while stationed there for training? He’d work then find her and they’d go out. Catch a meal. Maybe a movie. A hotel room.

Sal rubbed the back of his neck as he sat in a lone chair by the old Boardwalk. A real class act.

She named her niece Mila.

Had she driven a dagger through his heart, it would not have hurt as much. Scratching at his beard, he told himself it didn’t matter. They weren’t together anymore. He didn’t want anything to do with Cassandra Walker ever again.

And yet, he’d been shackled to her on this mission. To find the one who killed Burnett and dozens of others. A mission he couldn’t accomplish to save his life. They were missing something monumental. And it was his job to figure out what. And he’d gotten exactly nowhere.

His near-death experience and Burnett was gone. Dean was off liaising, working from the top down to find this sicko. The team had next to nothing on this moron who’d attacked the security protocols of the military computers. That put everything at risk and vulnerable to repeated attacks.

Failing. Again.

Why exactly did God have him on this earth? To screw up? Make others look good? To aid the Angel of Death?

Light glinted off steel. Sal blinked at the Ka-Bar in his hand, unaware of drawing it from the sheath. He leaned forward swiping his thumb over the blade. He tightened his fist around the handle and placed it on his bicep.

“Hey, got a minute?”

Sal jolted and jerked the knife away. Held it low, out of sight as he met the probing gaze of Hawk. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?” Sal taunted as he slid the knife back into its sheath.

“Nah, I got hours still.” Hawk slapped his shoulder. “What about you, old man? Shouldn’t you retire?”

With a laugh, Sal shook his head. He only had two years on Hawk. But retiring sounded better and better every day. “How’s your girlfriend?”

“Fiery, gorgeous, mouthy, puts me in my place.” Hawk grinned. “Perfect.”

“About time someone put a leash on you.”

“What about you?”

Sal frowned beneath the lone stadium light a couple of yards away. “What?”

“You and Walker.”

Sal snorted again. “I thought you had something serious to talk about.”

“Very serious.” Hawk’s gaze burned through Sal’s attempt to casually blow off the intrusion into his personal life. “You’ve been different since she showed up.”

That was true in more ways than the one Hawk implied.

“She has power over you.”

“You’re crazy.” Was he an open book?

“You avoid her. You won’t confront her—I’ve never seen you do that. You’re in my face all the time. Do the same to everyone. But not this chick.” Hawk leaned against a post and crossed his legs at the ankle. “What’s she got over you?”

“It’s not your concern.”

“Wrong,” Hawk said, but then he crouched with his back to the post. “Her presence has altered the way the game is played.” He spread his hands. “Look, I’m not here to cause trouble, but I think this needs to be in the open.”

“Leave it alone.”

“What happened?”

Relentless had to be Hawk’s middle name. And unless Sal gave the guy something to chew on, he wouldn’t let up. “How about the biggest, juiciest steak of reality, served up cold and heartless?” Just the way Cassie had served it up.

Hawk finally had nothing to say.

“She killed my girlfriend.” Sal hated himself for saying those words. They weren’t entirely true.

“Seriously?” Hawk punched to his feet then slowed. “No, no that’s not true. I can see it on your face.”

“I said leave it alone.”

“I will—when you come clean.”

Sal huffed. “Cassie worked at Huachuca. We met. Went out. Things got… heavy.” He gritted his teeth, the images of those nights blazing through his visual cortex. “When my girlfriend—”

“Girlfriend? I thought—”

“When Vida PCSed there,” Sal pushed on, unwilling to address any more questions, “Cassie got jealous. Used her spheres of influence to have Vida transferred to Helmand, knowing it was the most dangerous province. That more American lives were lost there than anywhere else. Vida was killed within a week.”

“Dude.”

Sal glanced down. “Cass sent her there to get rid of her. Permanently.” His chest heaved with the volatility of saying those words.

“Dude, that’s messed up.”

The words vindicated Sal’s feelings.

“But you were dating them both? At the same time?”

“I broke up—” Sal bit off his words. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to justify himself to anyone, especially not Hawk. “Is there a real reason you’re here?”

Hawk nodded. Straightened and took a step back. “Thought I’d stop you from carving up your life.” He nodded to Sal’s right. “And your arm.”

Sal stood.

A shadow shifted behind Hawk, freezing Sal. He took a step forward.

Hawk held up his hands. “Hey. I’m not—”

“Shh,” Sal hissed, scowling as he tried to see through the two buildings that held the shadow. “Someone’s there.”

Hawk turned.

A figure slipped beneath a singular beam of light. He wasn’t in uniform. No buzz cut. Sal sprinted across the foot-hardened path. Damp, rank air of the alley permeated his senses. He tore through it. Skidded to a stop as he scanned the road. Searched for the man.

“What’d you see?” Hawk panted as he caught up.

“A man watching us.” Sal turned a circle, watching the corners and shadows. He’d seen him. Right here. “I swear, he was right—”

Hawk pointed. “There!”

Sal took off in that direction. Not toward the center of the base but toward the perimeter. Heck no. He wasn’t letting this guy get away. The bruises and aches from the cave-in slowed him, but not too much.

The guy scrabbled over a cement barricade.

Sal sped up, using his momentum to sail over the obstacle like a hurdle. The move gave him an advantage. The man was only a couple of feet away. Sal spotted the hull of an MRAP that had eaten an IED. He jumped to the side. Toed the steel hull. And launched into the air.

He sprang forward. Drew back his fist. Slammed it into the back of the man’s head. Landed on him. His teeth clacked as he landed hard.

The man groaned beneath him. Pushed onto his hands and knees. Then collapsed. Unconscious.

Breathing with a heady sense of vindication and triumph, he stared with a crooked smile at the man. Then grinned and turned. “Hey, Haw—”

Sal froze.

Hawk lay on the ground. A dark stain spreading over his chest.

CHAPTER 14

Kandahar Airfield, Afghanistan
30 March—1945 Hours

H
awk!”

Sal lunged toward his fallen friend. He skidded on his knees across the dirt. “Hawk! Hawk, talk to me.”

But there was nothing. No response. No movement.

Sal pressed three fingers to Hawk’s thick, sweaty neck and waited, his gaze on the still-unconscious intruder.

Hawk was alive. His pulse was steady. So was the blood flow. But the heart rhythm could change at any second.

He tugged out his sat phone and dialed up Dean.

“It’s late—”

“Hawk’s down. Someone shot him.”

“Where?”

Rocks spat at him. Dirt peppered his cheeks.

Shots! Someone was shooting at him. Sal threw himself to the ground. Snagged Hawk’s drag strap on his tac pants. Keeping as low a profile as possible in the vehicle graveyard, he scooted backward, tugging a limp Hawk with him.