Hearths of Fire (14 page)

Gunny didn’t reply right away, but instead thought through the request like he did with all of them. He was very methodical, which was in part why he made such a good leader. Add on the fact that the man was a solid mass of muscle that stood six foot three inches with the ability to carve a man’s heart out with nothing more than a pocket knife, and he was one formidable foe. Neal would follow him through the gates of hell.

“Home as in Hearth, Missouri?” Gunny planted his boots on the asphalt and crossed his arms over his chest. “I thought your parents moved to Florida.”

“Yes, to Hearth. But this doesn’t have anything to do with my parents. They’re fine.” Neal knew he’d have to come clean, but he’d just gotten a ration of shit from Daegan. He didn’t need it from the rest of the team. “A friend might be in trouble. I wouldn’t ask for personal leave if I thought I could handle this any other way.”

“Have you spoken with Starr yet?”

“No,” Neal replied, noticing that Starr’s red BMW Alpine Z8 convertible was already parked in the lot. It didn’t come as a surprise that their superior was the first one to arrive this morning, or any morning for that matter. She was also always the last to leave. “I’ll talk to her before block training starts. I just didn’t want you blindsided and I wanted to be able to tell her I’d already spoken to you.”

“This friend…would it happen to be a woman?”

“Charlotte.” Neal said her name, knowing full well what the opinion of his ex-fiancée was within the team. “And before you say anything, this has nothing to do with our past relationship. Her sister is getting involved with a boy who belongs to a local cult, and after speaking with her I think she has reason to be worried.”

“Cult?” Gunny rubbed his chin, contemplating the information that Neal was putting in front of him. “Are the police involved?”

“You and I both know that unless a cult has done something outrageously illegal the average rural county sheriff’s office will leave well enough alone.” Neal looked at his watch and grimaced, knowing he wouldn’t have enough time to speak with Starr if he didn’t get his ass in gear. He spared a glance at the one hundred and twenty thousand square foot warehouse with an attached hangar. He knew if he looked over his shoulder he’d see
The Promise Land
, the one thousand four hundred fifty ton, three hundred six foot converted Crosley-Class High Speed Transport, or APD. It was one hell of a massive ship and highly modified for their specific kind of mission. Red Starr HRT was a first class operation and their first assignment back in the saddle was not only imperative to its continued excellent reputation, but also personal. “Gunny, I give you my word that I’ll be caught up on the drills by Monday. I know how important this is to you.”

“Which is why your request for leave is granted.” Gunny’s lips compressed into a thin line and indicated the solemnity of his words. “I understand the need to protect what is ours. Join the rest of the team in the operations room for block training and I’ll inform Starr of your plans.”

Neal nodded his appreciation and was about to go into further detail regarding his plans when the rumble of Daegan’s Harley could be heard pulling into the lot. The sun glinted off of the shiny chrome, but it was nothing in comparison to the flash of gleaming teeth from the smile on Daegan’s face. He’d finally got his baby up and running. Revving the engine for show, he gracefully pushed back the tail end of the six hundred and fifty pound hunk of metal into a slot in the reserved motorcycle parking area right up front.

“That idiot isn’t wearing a helmet,” Gunny muttered, his words barely recognizable over the drone of the bike’s engine. He turned and started walking toward the entrance, but he wasn’t far enough away that Neal didn’t catch his next statement. “His head’s going to hit the pavement and he will be uglier than he already is.”

*

Neal took a
seat beside John “Trigger” Dixon, who had just given a sit command to Diesel. The German Shepherd hadn’t been officially trained to be a working dog, but by the time the duo had arrived at headquarters Diesel knew and obeyed every command that was needed to carry out his duties. His full coat of golden brown and black fur covered a robust frame, and damn if the dog’s teeth weren’t brighter than Daegan’s.

“Starr warm up to him yet?” Neal asked, setting his coffee down on the surface of the table. They were situated in the multi-tiered mission briefing room for their block training that would be displayed on a twelve-foot screen with the high tech eighteen thousand lumens 3D HD projector mounted on the ceiling. Each of them had gotten the opportunity to operate the complex computer based system. They had each been assigned and given a personal history PowerPoint presentation as part of the initial team building exercises. The banter had amped up from the very start. As always, Gunny and Starr were positioned on either side of the large screen, although every now and then she would cast a look toward Diesel. The dog seemed to have become infatuated with the woman, much to her dismay. Rumor had it that Starr had even made a wager in regards to Diesel, although Trigger hadn’t divulged what the stakes had been. “I swear I saw her scratch Diesel’s backside the other day.”

Catori Starr did her best to come across as a hard-ass, but Neal knew the retired Marine Master Sergeant has a soft spot in there somewhere for the highly intelligent beast. Their superior was in her early forties and of Apache and English heritage. She had long black hair with the darkest set of brown eyes he’d ever seen, but every once in a while he would see them soften when she glanced Diesel’s way. Why she pretended to dislike the dog was beyond him, but damn if it wasn’t funny to poke Trigger with a needle every now and then.

“Are you sniffing your own meds, Doc? The only thing she wants to do to Diesel’s backside is kick it,” Trigger remarked with a laugh.

“I think Doc’s right,” Aaron “Stick” Scott exclaimed, taking a seat next to Trigger with a Coke in hand. His preference for soda was widely known and it didn’t instill you with confidence, considering his job. His nickname came from his military occupational specialty of diffusing IEDs, as in stick of dynamite—not his frame. The man was built like a brick shithouse. Diesel now sat in between the two although had yet to tear his gaze away from Starr. It was downright comical. “I saw her give Diesel some type of treat last Thursday when we were going into the simulator.”

“Treat?” Trigger asked wearily as he looked between Starr and Diesel. “You don’t think she’d poison him, do you? Doc, can you run some blood tests?”

Neal shook his head as Stick kept jabbing with the needle and stirring up shit where there wasn’t any. Daegan finally walked in and went straight over to where the coffee maker was situated. It didn’t take him long to grab his mug and saunter over, taking a seat next to Neal. He gave a contented sigh and it was clear that he was finally satisfied with how the custom job turned out on his bike.

“Just so you know, Gunny granted my leave. Three days.”

Daegan nodded, although didn’t say anything. For some reason, knowing that he thought Neal was making a mistake in returning home wasn’t setting right. It wasn’t like he needed to explain his actions and he damn well hadn’t asked for any advice. So then why did he feel that Daegan had a point? The past should be left in the past.

“All right, shut the hell up,” Starr announced, picking up her coffee and fortifying herself with a heavy dose of caffeine before continuing. “Let’s get this day started shall we, ladies?”

Starr didn’t waste any time as she pressed a button on the remote she held in her hand to start the presentation on the screen. She’d created Red Starr HRT with her husband, Brendan “Red” O’Neill. From what Neal understood, Red and the first team assembled had been killed on a hostage rescue mission that had gone south. Due to the fact that no bodies had been returned to the States, they had all been declared MIA. Neal remembered the news hitting the airways, which was why he’d been surprised when Starr had said that Red Starr HRT was reopening its doors after a two year gap.

The rest of the morning flew by and although Neal had listened closely to the discussion and guidelines of the upcoming drills, he couldn’t prevent his thoughts from drifting to the phone call he’d had with Charlotte. She’d never once asked him for help, not even when her parents had died. Was that the reason he was willing to drop everything and try to alleviate her fears? The questions wouldn’t stop hammering his brain and he knew he had Daegan to thank for that. It wasn’t like Neal still loved her, but when someone was in your life for as long as Charlotte had been in his the feelings just didn’t turn off like a light switch. He still cared for both Charlotte and her sister as if they were his own family. And hadn’t Gunny summed it up by saying they took care of their own?

“I can smell the smoke burning from here, Doc,” Daegan murmured when Starr and Gunny had stopped the projection to discuss one of the positions of a team member laid out on the screen. “If you’re not careful you’re going to burn out that one watt light bulb you got for a brain.”

Neal could see Starr looking their way so he bit his tongue to keep from replying. He’d never been one to keep things close to his chest. He was an open book, but now he understood why Daegan kept his personal shit personal—it kept the needling and bloodletting to a minimum. Neal would take the jabs, return to Hearth for two to three days, and come back to someone else being in the ring—most likely Diesel and Trigger.

‡

C
harlotte sighed with
relief as she flipped the sign to indicate the bookstore was closed. It was a Friday evening in the month of October, which meant closing hour was five o’clock. High school football was taken seriously in Hearth as well as the fall festival, which happened to start this weekend. The game kicked off the festivities and the town’s excitement was palpable, although all she wanted to do was curl up on the couch in front of the fireplace and bury her head under an afghan.

Walking back around the counter, she glanced down at her cell phone. Mandy hadn’t called after school and Charlotte knew that if she were to call her sister, all it would do was instigate another argument. Lately, that’s all they seemed to do. She had no choice but to go home, change into warmer clothes, and attend the football game to see for herself that Mandy was all right. It was better than waiting up until midnight for her to get home. Charlotte was just grateful that Mandy was still abiding by her curfew, although tonight might be an exception considering all of the extracurricular events going on.

The bell above the door jingled and Charlotte looked up with every intention of telling the person that the store had already closed for the evening. The words caught in her throat when she saw Neal Bauer standing there, looking every bit as attractive as she remembered. He was wearing a black long-sleeved shirt that molded over his broad chest and a pair of jeans that hugged his upper thighs just right. His dark blond hair was short on the sides and slightly longer on top while his green eyes reminded her of a tiger hunting its prey. She knew that predatory gleam wasn’t for her so much as it was on behalf of Mandy, for she’d cut those ties with him long ago. She often questioned herself, wondering if she’d made a mistake all those years ago…but
what ifs
wouldn’t help her situation now.

“Neal.” Charlotte swallowed and then berated herself for such a pathetic reaction. She resisted the urge to see if her long hair was still upswept into the clip she’d put in this morning and walked around the counter. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

“I said I’d be here on Friday, didn’t I?” Neal glanced around the store, although she couldn’t ascertain the reason why. Did he want to ensure that no one else was around for what he might say? Or did he just want to see what she’d done with the place? The bookstore had been her mother’s business up until the accident. Charlotte hadn’t been so sure she could continue running it in that first year. Things were quite hectic after the funeral services, especially considering her relatively younger age and all of her new responsibilities. At first the bookstore seemed to be more than she could shoulder. Neal hadn’t come in here during those brief few months that he’d returned home from the military and he hadn’t seen the changes that she’d implemented. She was relatively sure he didn’t care and she didn’t blame him. His gaze finally came back to hers. “You’re looking good, Char.”