INVITING FIRE (A Sydney Rye Novel, #6) (4 page)

A single muzzle shot in the dark smoke, like lightning from within the depths of a storm, and Frederica joined her friends and Malina on the ground. Then there was just me and the man with the gun. I stared through the haze of pollution as it thickened and thinned around him. He was tall, black hair, his white button-down shirt stained with blood and soot. The same as Blue.

I was standing in the grass, exposed, so dropped to the ground. He started up the hill toward me. The man couldn't be this stupid and be the only survivor, I thought, as I pulled my gun. He ducked into the grasses before my aim could be trusted.

Blue nudged my elbow with his nose and I looked over at him. My arm was still oozing blood. My bicep and forearm smeared in it. The drying rivulets pulled at my arm hair and itched my skin. Looking at Blue I watched his ears, letting his senses guide me. The ringing in my own ears was still distracting.

But then I heard that other sound. The sizzle of lightning. A bolt crossed my vision. It hummed there, bright and white, superimposing itself onto the world in front of me. The sound of thunder filled my senses and I gripped my machete in one hand, gun in the other, determined not to die today. No fucking way.

Blue's ears swirled and I looked past the string of light and saw movement in the grasses. He was coming. Blue went out to circle behind the man. I stayed crouched. The bolt began to fade. The sun was hot on my skin and sweat trickled into my eyes. The sound of thunder stopped abruptly and then I heard his footsteps and saw the rustle of the grass. I fired in his direction. The noise of my gun creating the ringing again. I didn't hear anyone fall. But would I?

Blue barked and I knew the man was still alive and coming my way. My eyes were stinging from the smoke and the sweat. My thighs burned from crouching and my right arm throbbed from its wounds. I thought I heard him moving away. It was possible the man didn't want to face me. I stayed still, waiting to see him. Then I heard Blue growl and a body hitting the ground. A gun went off. I was flying toward the sound, my fear for Blue stronger than any other instinct.

There was movement in the grasses ahead and I was suddenly upon them. Blue had the man's gun arm in his mouth, the gun now pointing in my direction. The man was wailing at Blue's body with his free fist, grunting with the effort. The man spotted me and was about to pull the trigger when I brought my machete down onto his wrist, almost severing his hand. Blood spurted out of the wound and I felt it land, warm and wet, on my hands and forearms. Droplets splattered my cheeks and forehead. He screamed, piercing and hardly human.

Blue held onto his forearm as the man struggled. His face was growing paler. His blood soaked into the dust. I walked up to the man and aimed my gun at his forehead. He went to speak but I pulled the trigger. The bang was loud. His eyes were open, the wound between them oozing blood slower than the severed hand.

I looked up at the sky. Clear blue above the cloud of black smoke that drifted between me and it. The sun further down the western side of the world. I couldn't hear the flies or the crickets. Blue pushed his forehead against my wrist. I let my fist, still clenched around the machete, brush against him, then rest on his fur as I looked back to the building. At the pile of bodies.

I walked down, weapons in both hands. Stepping into the plume of smoke I coughed. Blue followed me and when I stood over Malina, he sat and whined. Then his voice rose louder, into a howl. I felt the same.

A
sad numbness took root in my gut and it felt like I was more than paralyzed, I was frozen. Behind a wall of ice while the world around me kept going. Blue nudged me forward, my emotions as bombed out as the pickup truck I'd left behind.

I called from a dusty pay phone. The coins clunking into the machine. The line ringing. A man passed by me, his eyes roving over my body. I'd changed into clean clothing, bathing myself in the cow's water trough. The man smiled like he enjoyed what he saw. Anger lanced through me, shattering the shock around my heart. It pounded against my chest as I watched him walk away.

"Hello," Merl said.

"Merl," I said. "Extract me."

"Yes."

I watched the man continue down the street. He didn't look back at me. Blue tapped his nose to my hip. I hung up the phone and followed the man. The sun was setting, casting a soft pinkness over the landscape. It made the cinderblock buildings covered in dust appear beautiful. It made everything beautiful. The man noticed me coming and stopped to turn, his eyes lighting up with excitement. I realized he was just a surfer dude. His hair unruly, board shorts low on his hips, T-shirt tight against his strong chest. I stopped and he smiled. I shook my head. "Sorry," I said. "I thought you were someone else."

He stepped toward me. "Can I help?" he asked, his accent sounded like Southern California.

I shook my head. "No." He shrugged and I turned and hurried back to my Land Rover.

Less than four hours later I was facing Merl in person. He'd met me at the helicopter and we walked silently along the paths. Everyone was in bed. The only sounds came from the wild creatures we shared this jungle with. I expected to go to Merl's office but instead he took me to the kitchen. It was under the dining hall and the windows peered out into the trees rather than the vista above. When Merl flicked on the lights the windows turned into mirrors, reflecting back the clean and tidy stainless steel kitchen. Merl walked over to the fridge and began pulling out sandwich supplies.

"When was the last time you ate?" he asked.

"Not sure," I said, swallowing. "Malina and I got a bite this morning." I was thrown back into a memory less than a day old. Malina smiling at me as she made fun of my lack of language skills with the waitress at the cantina where we'd eaten breakfast. I could almost hear the tinkling laugh that had brought men to their knees and women to her side.

Merl began to make a sandwich. His dogs and Blue watched him intently. "She's...," a lump rose in my throat and I couldn't continue.

Merl looked up at me, his hands stilling. "She died," he said. His voice broke and he turned away from me. Merl's grief was too much to bear and I looked down at the floor. A hot tear escaped and I watched it fall onto the pristine linoleum floor. Blue moved closer to me, his weight against my leg.

I gave Merl an account of the day’s events—how what began as a seemingly safe reconnaissance mission had turned into mayhem.

"We started Joyful Justice knowing there would be casualties," Merl said, his voice sounding stronger. He started to move again. I heard the clink of a knife against glass, the opening of Ziplock bags, sounds of chopping. "She died fighting for what she believed in."

Blue licked my hand. "It's okay," I said to him. The message more for myself than the canine at my feet but Blue acknowledged it with another lick.

"Here," Merl said. I looked up to see a sandwich next to a glass of water. "You look dehydrated," he said. His eyes were still filmed but he smiled at me. "Sydney, Malina believed in this very strongly."

"We're gonna get him, right?"

Merl looked surprised. "The man who killed her is still alive?"

"The guy who pulled the trigger? Yes. He is dead. You know I wouldn't have come back if he was still breathing." Merl nodded. "But the one who we are chasing. The man who is responsible for that bunker even being there. We are going to get him, right?"

Merl pushed the sandwich toward me. "Eat, then we can talk."

I pushed the sandwich aside, that old anger back again, cutting through the pain, overriding the guilt. "Promise me."

"We will get justice," Merl said.

"I want to kill him."

Merl frowned, staring at me. "If you eat your sandwich we can—"

I hit the sandwich plate, shooting it across the counter. It smashed onto the floor, pieces of meat, lettuce, and bread flying in different directions. All four dogs looked at their masters, hoping for the clean up command.

"Don't do this, Sydney. Breathe."

"Fuck this!" I screamed, picking up the glass of water. I was about to hurl it across the room when Merl grabbed my wrist and removed it from my hand. I slapped at him, and he caught that hand too. With a very small amount of pressure against the inside of my wrist I was on my knees in front of him.

"Calm down," he said, his voice even.

I was taking heaving breaths. They turned into sobs. "Fuck you," I managed to say. Merl dropped to his knees next to me and pulled me into an embrace. "I hate it," I said against his shoulder. "I hate all of this."

"I know," he said, his breath uneven against my hair. "I hate it, too." Merl held me tight, rubbing soothing circles on my back. Both of us crying. Lamenting the loss of our good friend, our sister in arms, Malina.

M
erl was patient with me. It was dawn and the howler monkeys were making their morning roars by the time I'd finished telling him what happened. "I'm so sorry," I said.

"You did everything you could," he said.

We were still in the kitchen, light filtering through the trees outside. "I didn't save anyone," I said. "The other captives didn't even get away." I'd found their bodies in the field. As dead as anyone else there. Except me, of course, and Blue. We always survived.

"You tried, Sydney. There is nothing else for it." He stood up and took our dishes to the sink. "I need to ask you one more thing," he said as he turned on the tap.

"Go ahead."

"Did you see anything?"

"Yes, but it didn't affect anything. I mean, it was after everyone else was dead."

Merl nodded, his long ponytail moving up and then back down his back as he did so. "What did you see?"

"Lightning. And I heard thunder."

He nodded again. I watched his shoulder blades move under his T-shirt while he finished the dishes. When he turned back to me I could see that he was tired. "We should go to bed," he said. I agreed. "Sydney?"

"Yeah?"

Merl was drying his hands on a towel. "I'm taking you off active duty." I opened my mouth to argue but he held up his palm. "It's not a punishment. I just want you to spend some time recovering. I'm worried about you."

"Don't be, Merl," I said, my voice sounding cold. "I'm the one who always survives. If I were you I'd be worried about you and everyone else on this compound. My love is basically a death sentence."

Merl frowned. "No. It's not."

"Says the guy still alive."

I saw a flash of anger cross Merl's face. "That's not fair."

"Neither is you taking me off active duty. I need it."

"You'll be on watch duty."

"I'll offer you a deal."

Merl raised his eyebrows. "Willingness to compromise, I'm impressed."

"You haven't heard my offer yet," I said with a small smile.

"Point taken." Merl crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. "What is it?"

"Whatever happens with the head honcho, the guy in charge of the organization who put that bunker there—"

"Juan Carlos," Merl said.

I was surprised. Since I was not a member of the Joyful Justice leadership I was out of the loop on a lot of details. I was just supposed to be a soldier. Like any other. "Juan Carlos," I said. Merl nodded. "Whatever missions have to do with taking him down, I want in."

"Fine," he said. I smiled, feeling a part of me relax.

"Let me take a look at your arm before we go to bed," he said, walking toward the exit. I'd bandaged it myself, slathering on disinfectant from the first aid kit in the Land Rover and using bow tie bandages to hold the cuts closed. Then I'd wrapped the whole thing in gauze. Merl lead the way down the hall to the small doctor's office.

I
slept for ten hours. I woke up screaming. The bandage Merl had secured around my arm was unraveled. I was panting and hungry. And coming. Blue barked and pushed at the mosquito net. My eyes focused and I recognized where I was. It was like I could still feel hands on me though, snaking between my legs, running over my breasts, a tongue flicking at my ear. I shuddered as the last remains of the dream faded away.

Climbing out of bed I opened the patio door so that Blue could go out and then, leaving it wide enough for him to return, went to take a shower. In the bathroom with the door closed I finished the unbandaging job my dreaming self had started. There were three cuts and a bunch of scratches, none of them serious. The dull ache I felt was actually a relief, concentrating on anything besides my grief was good.

When I'd woken from my datura haze my body was covered in small scars from the days I'd spent in the Everglades. Over the last couple of months they had faded so that now only a few remained on my tan skin. They were fine and white and I stared down at one on my hand, part of me wishing it would never fade. It was a reminder of how strange life was. How it always continued, even if you didn't know it.

The water stung my fresh cuts and I closed my eyes, the dream coming back to me. I could smell the man. And there was a part of me that knew his name. But I didn't ever want to say it.

Clean and wrapped in a towel I walked back into my room. Blue was there, waiting for me on his bed. I went to my chest of drawers and pulled out underwear. Opening the middle drawer I pulled out a clean T-shirt. My hand brushed against a thumb drive and I looked down at it.

It was black and looked like any other data stick in the world. Dan gave it to me the last time he'd come to visit. On that tiny device was hours upon hours of CCV footage from my hospital room when I was unconscious. I'd watched it over and over, staring at my body as it followed requests from nurses and doctors. As it interacted with my friends and enemies. I'd put the drive in the drawer to stop myself from obsessively watching it. Picking it up now, I went over to my computer and sat down at the tiny desk.

I booted up my computer. There was a message from Dan.

Dear Sydney, I'm so sorry. Malina will be missed. Call me if you want. I'll be thinking of you.

I stared at the message, chewing on my bottom lip. I reached for my phone but my hand hung in the air, refusing to pick up the receiver. Closing Dan's message I plugged in the USB stick and opened the video file. It was organized by weeks. I'd been in the recovery unit of Fortress Global Investigations for over two weeks. And every single minute was recorded.