Nightshade (Discarded Heroes) (9 page)

Bryce fell silent, but his eyes screamed at her. “I still think he has a right to know about this. You’ll want child support and alimony.”

Sydney’s heart broke. “Please.” She swallowed the grief and tears. “Just let me handle it.”

“He’ll be ticked that you didn’t tell him.” He looked at her stomach. “How far along do you think you are?”

She gave a light snort. “I can tell you the very night I conceived.” The day Max returned from his last tour of duty. “Almost four months.”

“You’ll be showing soon, so you’ll need to be prepared for when he finds out.”

“Well, he’s gone. He said he has a job that has him traveling.” She wiped her nose with the tissue her mother pressed into her hand. “I don’t need Max here to have his baby.”

A
whistle rent the night
.

Max ducked, his M4 held close as his gaze swept the field before him
.

Boom!

He flew into the dirt face first, the concussion scraping him over the ground. Scrambling for safety, he spit dirt and mud
.

“Eagle One, request immediate evac. Taking heavy fire.”

Turning, Max searched for his teammate radioing for the extraction. Thick smoke clouded his view. Flames danced along a thatched room, quickly consuming the small hut shielded beyond the smoke. Arm covering his mouth and nose, he coughed
.

What was that? He’d heard something …
.

He squinted. Blinked through the gritty air. His eyes watered
.

Again, the noise teased the air. It sounded like a child
.

There aren’t any children here,
he thought
.

A scream
.

Max jogged forward, tugging his bandana over his face, leaving his eyes to suffer the torched atmosphere. “Where are you?” With several deep breaths, he pumped his lungs full of air and rushed into the burning hut
.

A shadow scampered into the corner
.

He reached out across the open area and clutched a limb. Pulled. The child came easily. They had to get out of here before the next assault. “Come on,” he urged the child. But when he looked down…

Max leaped back. Dropped the limb. Only a limb
.

He jerked awake. Sweat drenched his pounding chest. He raked a hand through his hair.

“You okay?”

Max blinked. A sidelong glance told him Cowboy had seen everything. “Yeah.” His gaze skated down the line of men waiting in the hangar for the chopper. The others chatted or slept. Nobody else seemed to have noticed. “How much longer?”

“About fifteen.”

The rumble of the chopper vibrated through his boots. Max’s hand slid over his right leg pocket where he felt the curling edges of the photo through the material. Still there. Comfort wound around his heart.

But
she
was gone. For good.

Elbow propped on his knee, he cupped his forehead. With Christmas only two weeks away, he had nobody and nothing to come home to.

“Got your new bike yet?”

“No,” Max said, straightening. “It’s getting carbon-fibered.”

Cowboy cocked his head. “Come again?”

“Carbon fiber—changing some of the fiberglass out for lighter, stronger material.”

Deep and taunting, Cowboy’s laugh seeped past the heavy drone of the rotors. “Speed.”

“What else?”

“Bet that’s expensive.”

Max shrugged.

“I suppose you don’t have any other financial obligations. Like child support or alimony.” Cowboy tugged off the rag from his sweat-laden hair.

“Not yet.” But he would once the attorneys finished the paperwork. He’d instructed his lawyer to let Sydney have whatever she wanted. He didn’t need it. This was his fault anyway. Let her have the entire paycheck if she asked.

The chopper arrived, and the guys loaded up. Max tried to shake off the dreams and prying curiosity of Cowboy. Soon the noticeable descent of the helo seemed to rouse everyone. All glad to be home—in one piece. Gently the wheels touched down. Nightshade disembarked and headed into the hangar.

Showered and changed, Max stored his weapons and tactical gear in the below-ground locker and spun the dial. He stuffed his clothes and dirty duds into his duffel then donned his leather jacket. As he yanked the zipper, he remembered the small gift nestled at the bottom of his sack. He paused and reached into the bag. Drew out the box. He flipped the lid, a smile sneaking into his face at the sight of the pendant.

He hung his head. Threw a hard right into the metal door.

The loud bang crackled through the locker room.

Max ground his teeth.
Your anger is out of control
, she’d said. She was right. But he just couldn’t touch that vault unless he wanted to unleash the demons of his past. He’d seen and done too much. Lost everything.

“Let’s grab dinner at Jolly’s Tavern.” The Kid buttoned his shirt as he glanced around.

“I’m outta here.” Pack slung over his shoulder, Max started the two-mile hike to his apartment. If he could call it that. With only a cot and a lawn chair, it wasn’t much. He didn’t care.

The throaty rattle of a diesel rumbled behind him.

He glanced back.

The truck slowed, and the window slid down. “Wanna ride?” A wide-brimmed Stetson concealed Cowboy’s eyes. “Unless you’re a glutton for punishment.”

“I joined Nightshade, didn’t I?”

“That you did.”

“Look, man,” Max mumbled, glancing down the ice-slicked road. “I appreciate the offer, but I’d be miserable company.”

Cowboy smiled. “Misery loves company, right?”

What was it about this Cowboy? Didn’t he get the message? Then again, there was something about him that made Max want to reconsider the offer. The gift in his bag seemed to burn against his back. Maybe …

He grabbed the handle and tugged open the door. “Could you give me a lift somewhere?”

“I think you missed the point, Frogman. That’s what I offered.”

Settling into the passenger seat, Max shifted. “Not my apartment. I want to check on something.”

Just as Cowboy steered away from the curb, a black SUV ripped past them, horn blaring.

“Griffin has entirely too much enthusiasm after a mission and this late at night.” Cowboy eased his truck into traffic. “So, what happened to your marriage?”

Max stole a glance at the thick-chested man. He didn’t mince words. Then again, that was the way with spec ops guys. You lived and died together. No secrets. “I screwed it up.”

For a moment, Cowboy didn’t respond. Then, “I understand.”

“Yeah?”

“I have a three-year-old daughter.”

Curiosity piqued in Max. “You were married?” He motioned out the widow. “Take the next right.”

“Nah, had a head bigger than a bale of hay. Thought I was too good for everyone.” With his wrist hooked over the steering wheel, Cowboy pulled up to the light. He guided his truck around the turn. “I was in the service by the time I knew about her pregnancy. Then my girlfriend took off with another man shortly after McKenna’s birth. They found Meredith a month later, overdosed in a motel five miles north of the Texas-Mexico border.”

“Tough break.” He pointed out the streets as they wove through town.

“Yeah, I’m doing Nightshade because it allows more time with McKenna. I missed the first three years of her life; don’t plan to miss many more.”

“I thought your family was in Texas.”

“My folks picked up and moved out here this summer. Left Humble to start over.” Cowboy grinned. “Bought some farmland.”

Max gave a slight nod—but his gaze shot to the row of houses on the right. Mentally measuring out the distance between the road and the front door as the big truck slid past the home he’d bought with Sydney, the house they’d shared four of their married years, he tried to steady his breathing. He was far enough out, wasn’t he? This couldn’t be considered a violation of the protective order, could it?

Agitation wound tightly through his gut. Protective order. Against him. He hated himself for that night. She’d done the right thing. He didn’t deserve mercy for hurting the very person he was supposed to protect.

Lights flicked on in the living room.

His heart hiccupped. Four months. He ached for what he’d lost. For what he’d done. His mind cranked through a laundry list of things he’d never have with her again. Dinner. A movie. Endless rounds of Uno with more laughter than points.

What have I done?
Why did he let things get so out of hand?

Cowboy eyed him. “Love covers a multitude of sins.”

The words carved a long line through his heart. “Not in my life.”

Icy blackness spread a sheen across the roads. Olin clutched the collar of his wool overcoat tighter as he left the comfort of his car and slipped into the rear passenger seat of the waiting Suburban. Warmth bathed him in a cozy embrace.

The dome light between the two front seats cast a spotlight on the tan leather interior. A manila folder slid toward him. A new mission. He wanted to grin. Instead, he maintained his stiff facade and took the folder. As he perused the contents, pleasure coursed through him with the knowledge that his brainchild had become the new government pet. “I take it Nightshade exceeded your expectations?” He flipped a page and eyed the details. “What’s the timetable?”

“One week.”

He cast a glance at the chairman. “Our fees increase with the difficulty of this mission.”

“You’re already bleeding me dry.” The chairman tapped the paperwork. “If Nightshade can eliminate this problem, then my expectations
will
be exceeded.”

“I have a feeling you won’t ever admit to being impressed.”

“I don’t need to explain to you the delicate nature of this scenario. The political backdrop and repercussions are enormous. Nobody will touch it.”

A grin split Olin’s lips. “Nightshade loves a challenge.”