Her Survivor: A Black Eagle Ops Novel (19 page)

Alonzo cast worshipful eyes on her. “La Madre.”

She kneeled next to him and rubbed his hair from his forehead. “He’s been with us since he was fourteen. I taught him to read and speak English fluently. I helped him study for his American citizenship test.”

He held her hand to his cheek. “Junebug, my American angel.”

“Junebug, I need you to make a bed up for Alonzo. If you’ve got a rubber sheet or something to keep the blood from ruining your mattress, put it on.”

“I’ll make my boy a comfortable bed.” Junebug slowly stood, her knees cracking, and hobbled from the kitchen.

“You’re pressing on the right spot, Kelcee. His blood flow is stopping. I’m going to build a patch on the back first.” JJ rolled Alonzo toward his knees and began working as if it were second nature to him. “Did Dust mention he and I are going to see a shrink about our PTSD?” JJ was probably trying to distract her from all the blood so she didn’t hurl.

“He told me he was. He never brought up your name, but then he was talking pretty fast to keep me in the bathroom with him while he apologized. He did ask me to go along on a few sessions to learn how his mind works.”

JJ reached for another gauze pad. “Every vet’s mind works a little differently, depending on their personality when he went in. For me, I couldn’t handle the outside world. I have suicidal thoughts every day, yet I don’t want to die and leave Nance behind. How’s that for being fucked-up in the head?” A second pad covered the wound.

“I just wanted the thoughts, the horrific memories that controlled my mind to stop.” He reached for another piece of gauze. “That’s a strong part of PTSD. You have to realize those of us who have it, respond instantly to stimuli—and not always in a good way. As military, we’re taught to act and react quickly in situations. It’s ingrained in us. The result? Once we’re home, we wrestle with our demons every day. Sometimes in big ways, sometimes small.”

She gazed into his dark eyes. “Do you lose time the way Dustin does? Zone out and step back into a battle?”

“No.” He pressed on two more sterile pads. “Is Dust having problems with triggers? Flashbacks?”

“The hole in this kitchen ceiling reminds him of those in buildings back in Iraq. Now that he’s aware of it, he avoids looking at it. We went to a spy movie the other week and as soon as the gunfire and explosions started, it was as if he left the theater.” She glanced away and inhaled a deep breath. “He has these terrible nightmares.”

Having built a bandage that seemed to suit him, JJ taped it all in place and rolled Alonzo onto his back. He began cleaning off the entry wound. “Yeah, so do I. That’s why Nance and I sleep outside. I don’t want to wake up Junebug with my screaming.”

“If there was only some way I could protect him from them. I tried waking him and he threw me off the bed.”

JJ studied her. “No SEAL and I mean no SEAL would want his woman protecting him. See, we live to protect. Don’t take that from us. Next time a night terror starts, sneak out of the bed and move to the sofa. Let him battle them himself.” He spoke to Alonzo in Spanish and the ranch hand shook his head before JJ started stitching him closed. Low murmurs came from the injured man as he drank more alcohol.

Kelcee didn’t know if he was cussing or praying or both.

“There’s so much about the military mindset I don’t know or understand.”

“You better listen and learn.” JJ’s swift movements never halted. “We live to protect and serve. It’s just that simple. Not just our country, but our loved ones. Our minds often get messed up in the process. We carry those mental scars with us.”

JJ barked a harsh laugh. “Hell, I get pissed if I can’t find a parking space at the mall for my bike. People committing crimes make me want to beat them senseless. Did we fight and spill blood on some godforsaken land so people back here could mug old ladies and break into people’s houses? I don’t think so.” He snatched more gauze patches to wipe off the blood. “Sorry, but your brother has me pissed off. Alonzo’s injuries are so damn senseless.”

JJ seemed to reach the end of his rant, so she spoke. “From what I’ve read, most of the service personnel coming back to the States have some degree of PTSD.”

He nodded slowly, sadness filling his eyes. “True dat. But, mostly we can’t talk about it. Seeing this shrink will do Dust and me a lot of good. It’s time we both moved on, found some peace.”

Several
pop-pop-pop
s ripped the quiet air. Many more shots were fired. “It’s like being back in my old neighborhood in Baltimore,” Kelcee remarked. “Drive-bys were becoming more common.”

Once JJ had Alonzo patched up, he told Kelcee he was going outside to help Dustin and ZQ bring in supplies. Before reaching the back door, he asked her to get a blanket from Junebug to cover Alonzo, so he wouldn’t go into shock. JJ patted his leg and gave Nance orders: “Unfriendlies. Run low and crooked.” Nance growled deep in her throat.

Kelcee had never been to this ranch before, so she really didn’t know which way to go in the house. She found a hallway and followed her way toward faint feminine crying. “Junebug?”

Someone blew her nose. “In here. Third door on your left. The yellow room.” Junebug sniffled and blew her nose again.

“JJ’s through patching Alonzo, for now. He sent me for a blanket to cover him so he doesn’t go into shock.” No need to ask Junebug why she was crying. She was probably as worried for her son as she was for Alonzo.

She ran her crooked arthritic fingers over the clean bed she’d just made up. “Yes. A blanket. My Alonzo needs a blanket.” A blank look drifted over her eyes. “Where do I keep blankets? Where?” She grabbed Kelcee’s good upper arm. “Something’s wrong with me! I can’t think! All this emotional commotion has given me…has given me…what’s that disease people get when they can’t remember shit? I forget the name of it.” Junebug fiddled with a button on her bloodstained pink cotton blouse.

“You’re scared. That’s all. Fear chases away rational thought sometimes.” Kelcee hugged the older woman. “It’s okay that your mind’s gone blank. It’ll all come back once things around here calm down. I promise. Do you recall where you got the clean sheets?”

“Yes!” Her wrinkled face lit up. “Yes, follow me. How silly to forget the big linen closet ZQ built. He’s very handy around the house, you know. Why, my son can do anything he sets his mind to.” She shot a glance over her shoulder at Kelcee. “Except for finding himself a wife. I could understand it when he was in the SEALs. The divorce rate is so high with the separation and the wife never knowing where her husband is deployed. But he’s been out nearly a year now and the only woman he dates is that awful Wanda.”

ZQ and Wanda? Together? Talk about your odd couple. “You’re kidding!”
Oh God, I think I just threw up a little in my mouth.

“Huh, I wish I was. Believe me, I don’t like it. She’s a gold digger.” Junebug opened double doors to the biggest linen closet Kelcee had ever seen.

“A walk-in linen closet?”

“I know. Isn’t it grand?” Junebug reached for a heavy white blanket.

“Maybe one of the older plaid blankets would be better with all the blood on the floor.”

“No, he’s one of my boys. He was shot on our property. He gets the best.” She handed the white blanket to Kelcee. “Now, I’m going upstairs to take some medicine for this banger migraine coming on, put on a nightgown, and then I’m going to bed. I suppose that sounds odd to you, but it’s how I’ve taken to dealing with high levels of stress. It’s like if I’m not a part of it, it ain’t happening. A silly mind game, I know.” She raised her chin. “Even so, I’m pulling the covers over my head for a couple of hours and letting the world take care of itself.”

Junebug reached for a half-empty bottle of whiskey on a shelf and took a swig or two. “A little whiskey helps the migraine medicine slide down the throat better.” She took another long drink. “A woman’s home is supposed to be safe, dang it. Fudge and buttermilk, this is too much excitement for me with a headache pounding on my eyeballs. I can’t handle all these negative vibes. I like the serenity of my kitchen and flower beds.”

She turned and ambled toward the stairway to what Kelcee presumed was her bedroom.

Once she covered Alonzo, she started to pry his fingers from the neck of the whiskey bottle, then reasoned if he woke up in agony, he might need the alcoholic painkiller.

The floorboards creaked behind her and she straightened to see who it was.

“Hello, loving sister, you snitching rat.”

She stiffened at the voice she hadn’t heard in over two years and spun to look into the eyes of a crazy man. Her brother’s face was bloated, his eyes sunken into the chubbiness. His hair, once his pride and joy, was combed straight back into a ponytail. A gold ring hung from one earlobe and two smaller ones from his left eyebrow. He wore fatigues, sneakers, and a thick gold chain with a Russian Mafia symbol dangling from it.

Fear strapped to a Harley roared through her ears and every hill and valley of her system. Tony was heavier. His build matched the man who’d run her down. “How…how did you get in here?”
I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing how scared I am. He gets off on that shit.

He grinned. “Texans are the dumbest people I’ve ever run across. Hell, they don’t even lock their front doors. I just walked right in.” He waved his hand contemptuously. “Come here. Don’t you have a hug for your
favorite
brother?” He laughed. “Oh, that’s right. Kinda hard to hug with one arm, isn’t it?”

“Why can’t you just forget about me? Live your life the way you want and let me—”

In a flurry of movement, Tony yanked her arm and jerked her to him. “Live my life the way I want? Hell, you stupid bitch, I can’t be seen in public. I’m on the run. I’m in hiding all the fucking time. I’m like a cockroach that can only come out at night and scurry through the dark. You stole my life!”

She stared him in the eyes and prepared to throw down some attitude. “And you stole the lives of those kids you murdered.”

The crack of his backhand sounded throughout the kitchen. Blood burst from her cheekbone. Stars exploded in her vision. Where was everyone? Junebug was lying down, but couldn’t Clint and Fran hear the shouting?

The cold steel of his handgun’s barrel rammed under her chin. “How would you like the top of your head blown off, you motherfucking snitch? We don’t squeal on family members. We stick together.” She tried to struggle, but his other arm had coiled around her waist so tightly she could barely breathe. Humbling fear replaced haughty attitude. She was going to die just like those scared children in that shipping container and Tony wouldn’t have a moment’s regret over the killing.

Dustin was relieved when JJ barreled out of the house toward the cement block coop, dodging in a zigzag pattern, with Nance by his side. “How’s Alonzo?”

“Fixed up as best I could do. He’s passed out from half a bottle of whiskey.” JJ bent to hug his dog and praise her for being such a good girl. Nance kissed his face in return. “Kelcee was a great help. She worried me at first with her paleness, but she showed a lot of grit.” His gaze slid across the two windows. “What the hell is with the shooting? Which direction is it coming from?”

“The shooter keeps moving. At first he was beside the stables. Probably scared our mares into labor.”

“Sonsabitches have no respect for animals,” JJ growled. “Then”—Dustin pointed to a copse of pines—“shots came from over there between the second and third pines.”

“So, two shooters or one doing a lot of running?”

“Same gun. I figure same shooter. Trying to make us figure there’s more of them than there really are.”

Squeaking wheels from the tunnel drew their attention. JJ offered to go down the steps and help ZQ carry up whatever he had in the cart. Dustin would go down a couple steps to do a handoff, making the job quicker.

“What the hell’s happening?”

JJ filled the commander in. ZQ told him to lift one end of the cart. He claimed together they could carry it up the steps. JJ called Nance to attention and she sat stone still.

Once the two men had the cart on the floor of the old coop, Dustin grabbed a Kevlar vest and put it on. ZQ handed him a wireless earpiece and a .300 Winchester Mag sniper rifle. Dustin hefted its weight in his hands and rubbed his palm over the black stock. A similar rifle had once been his mistress, his slave, his dominatrix until it was blown from his hands in Syria.

“It’s fitted with the same type of scope you always preferred, Dust.”

“I see. You remembered well, Commander.” He checked the clip in it and put two more in the back pockets of his vest. “I’m headed for the roof of the house to do some recon and see who all’s out there. Any specific orders, sir?” He looked ZQ straight in the eyes, waiting for his command.

“Clean kills. A convict on the run threatens one of my men and his woman, then comes onto on my ranch, shoots a longtime employee and friend. He and whoever’s with him gets no goddamn mercy.” A muscle bunched in ZQ’s cheek. Fire practically blazed from his eyes. The Old Man was right damn pissed.

Dustin nodded once. “Fuckin’ A. Get your headgear on so we can communicate. I’m making a quick perimeter around the left side of the house. JJ, the right side is yours. Check all the windows. JJ and I are from larger cities. We lock our doors. You small-town Texan people don’t. I want to make sure no one’s inside—uninvited. I find it odd no one’s done any shooting for the last few minutes. If everything is clear, I’m going topside to the roof.”

“Hoo-rah.” JJ closed his flak jacket, grabbed a rope, patted his leg, and Nance moved beside him. “Perimeter check, girl. Quiet.” He gave the dog some hand signals. The rifle slung over his shoulder, the two of them loped for the right side of the house.

Dustin ducked and sprinted for the log-and-brick home, using any cover he could find. At times, he had to drop and roll when there was nothing to hide behind. He peeked around one of the windows into ZQ’s office and flattened himself against the log siding. He tapped the voice piece twice to alert ZQ.

“Kee-rist! One unfriendly in office in hand-to-hand combat with Clint. Fran gagged and tied up.” His heart beat erratically. “Let me find Kelcee before you help Clint. The old fart’s holding his own.”

“Roger that.”

One tap; JJ’s signal. “On addition’s roof. Junebug in bed.”

“Roger that.”

Dustin ran for the kitchen windows. His back in contact with the brick portion of the house, he turned his head, barely edging his face toward the window, where he got a clean visual that damn near body-slammed him with a heart full of fear and pain. A man with a dark ponytail held his Kelcee captive. Her face was bleeding and her eye swollen.

He tapped his mouthpiece twice again and curled his fingers around the mic before he whispered, “Hold off on office attack. Kelcee being held prisoner. Man holding a revolver to her throat.”

“Can you get a clean shot?”

“If I can sneak in the back door without his hearing me.”

“The floor squeaks the first two feet in the laundry room. Can you grab the sides of the frame after you open the door and propel yourself in?”

“To save her? I can run through a fucking burning ship. You did shoot in this weapon, right? Sights? Scope?” He needed reassurance before he aimed at a man’s head inches above his love’s.
Dear God, keep my mind focused. My hands steady.

“She’s ready to go, Dust. Both JJ and I shot it in.” Okay, he felt better. ZQ was two inches taller. JJ, the same height as Dustin. Their settings on the sights and scope ought to be close enough for his stature.

He maneuvered silently across the porch and slung the weapon’s strap across his neck and shoulder. Slowly he twisted the doorknob, grabbed the wooden frame of the door, and swung into the laundry room just before the kitchen. He landed lightly and since the heated argument continued, he was sure he hadn’t been heard.

“Killing you is going to give me great pleasure, bitch.” Tony shoved the revolver farther into her delicate skin. Skin Dustin loved to kiss. “You ruined my life. Tore apart our family. Mom and Sophia left Dad after he disowned you in court. They moved in with Mom’s relatives in Philly.”

“So you think settling the score with me will correct all those things? You still won’t be able to show your face anywhere, you idiot. How will killing me benefit you in the end?”

She isn’t struggling, thank God. I need her to keep still to make a clean shot.

Tony jerked on her beautiful hair, pulling her head down, exposing more of his head. “I’ll have revenge. Sweet revenge.”

Don’t move, Kitten. Hold real still for me.

Dustin squinted through the scope, made an adjustment for the closeness of his target, and slowed his breathing. Once he could hear his heartbeat, he exhaled slowly and brushed his finger over the trigger, aiming for the top of Tony’s head.

The explosion caused the walls to shake.

Blood flew and splattered.

Kelcee screamed, her hands over her ears from the noise of the blast.

Tony hit the floor with a deadly thud.

Dustin held open his arms and she ran into them, all but climbing over him as her arm and legs wrapped around his body. Frantic kisses and tears from her covered his face…and he trembled so badly, he slid alongside the washer to the floor. Emotionally, he wasn’t able to let go of her. In fact, his hold tightened. So did hers.

He could have shot her if the weapon hadn’t been sighted in correctly, a huge gamble he couldn’t dwell on a few seconds ago. Not when her insane brother was holding a revolver to her neck, threatening to pull the trigger.

“Baby,” he whispered into her ear, “I love you. I will always love you. Always protect you. Sweet Lord, but I need you in my life.”

“Copy that.”

“Fuck you, Old Man.”

“Isn’t that what we were leading up to?”

Laughter static filled Dustin’s ear and he tore off his earpiece, flinging it across the kitchen floor. He hadn’t realized he’d had it turned to continual talk.

“You’ll never be in danger again. No more living in fear, Kitten.” He kissed her fiercely until the adrenaline rush of terror started to ebb. He’d have fallen to fucking pieces if his aim had been off and he’d had to watch sweet Kelcee’s life fade away and her eyes turn vacant. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and, with a shaky breath, inhaled the aroma of jasmine. “Baby, baby, baby,” his soul groaned while he rocked her back and forth in his arms. She was alive, she was unharmed, and she was his.