Raptor 6 (35 page)

He lifted the print from the feed bin at the printer and paused when he realized it’d printed two on the same piece of paper. He ripped it in half and pinned one to the wall. He stood back. He’d never seen her without the hijab. A half-dozen images of the woman who’d pursued a passion to watch out for children. Teach them. Protect them through knowledge and education.

Protect.

Something he hadn’t done for her. Something he couldn’t seem to do for anyone who mattered. He couldn’t protect Eagle from watching his wife go through the unimaginable. Couldn’t protect Hawk from getting shot. Couldn’t protect Ellen from dying ten years ago.

Or Mom and Dad twenty-two years ago.

He closed his eyes and tucked his chin, hands running over his buzz cut and down the back of his neck. The paper in his hand crinkled, dragging his attention back to it. Swiping a thumb over her image stirred something in him.

“If you can’t use my given name the way a friend would, if all I am to you is a liability …”

Friend and liability in the same sentence. Strangest part—it was true. Friends were a liability. Not because of a twisted attitude, but because those he cared about seemed to shrivel up and die. As if his presence proved toxic.

It was just the way it was. A curse, he guessed. The only friends he kept were his team. They had a morbid way of living, a violent method, but they stayed alive. Thrived on the camaraderie amid the adrenaline, amid fighting death face-to-face. Zahrah didn’t fit in that world with hardheaded, smelly grunts. She was sweet, beautiful, and soft.

And I already failed you
.

The kiss she’d planted on his cheek teased his mind. He hadn’t expected it. Didn’t give it a second thought.

Liar
.

Okay, maybe not a third thought. He hauled his brain out of the fog she’d blasted him into. It’d been a simple gesture, a thanks, but—

Her light touch on his arm.

His gaze slid to the spot, where he could almost see her long, thin fingers. The floral smell that wrapped his brain in that fog …

I’ll find you. I swear on my life
.

She might not belong in his world, but she didn’t belong or deserve what they’d do to her in captivity.

Which was why he had to sort out Burnett’s lies.

Going in alone didn’t make sense. They’d figure out who Burnett was and rip the truth right out of his skull. Bleed him—literally—of national secrets.

And Behrooz.

The bombing.

Staring at her oval face, Dean probed possibilities.
What’s he doing?
This wasn’t like Burnett.

That’s the point
.

But … why? how?

A concussive boom from that explosive revelation heated Dean’s chest.
No
. The general couldn’t be that stupid….

“Hey.”

Dean jerked up and glanced over his shoulder to find Falcon crossing the room. “What’re you doing here? Thought you were going to grab some rack time?” He folded and slid the picture into his tactical pant pocket.

“I did. Four hours.”

Dean shot a look at the clock. He grunted.

“Been here all night?”

“Yeah. Lot to think through, maps to pore over, intel chatter … She’s out there, somewhere.”

“You haven’t slept in thirty hours.”

“I’m fine.”

Falcon’s dark eyes bored into him.

“I’m
fine
.” Dean pushed to his feet and went to the small coffee-maker. Started another pot.

“Got a minute?”

The way Falcon asked that, with tension and gritted out, pulled Dean around. And he saw it. The storm that had been simmering on the horizon had blown in full force. “Sure.” Dean fixed his coffee then returned to his station.

“Look, I just need to clear some air.”

Cuppa joe halfway to his lips, Dean paused. “A’right.”

“I think it’s time we ditch the Australian.”

Nuke out of left field. “We need him, especially with Eagle gone.”

“We
don’t
need him. He’s duplicating a role.”

Dean eyed his friend, the Italian who’d been a wrecking ball when he’d first come into SOC. “Your role.”

Falcon’s mouth twitched. “He’s stepped in on me more than once.”

“His advice is solid, tactical experience invaluable, and he’s been right there more than once.”

Lips tight, jaw muscle popping, Falcon looked at the ground. “He’s stirring up trouble—and what’s with you letting him bring in that tat artist to ink Hawk?”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh. “Hawk had that coming. You and I—”

“That’s right.
You and I
…” Falcon’s face reddened.

“Sal,” Dean began as he rose to his feet again. “You’re my first, the team daddy. Titanis—”

“Shouldn’t be here. And if you can’t see that, then—”

“Then what?”

“Have you even realized how long Eagle has been gone? Or checked his Facebook page?”

“I’ve been a little busy running ops.”

“So have I, and it takes exactly one minute to find out his wife died.”

The words knifed Dean’s heart. “Wha …? When?”

“Yesterday.”

“Nobody informed me.”

Falcon’s fury left but not his tenacity. “And Knight.”

“What about him?”

“He’s been reassigned. We lost him.”

Dean shrugged. “He wasn’t ours to lose.”

“But we need a dog like that. Ddrake saved our sorry backsides out there.”

Still scrambling—no,
reeling
that his friend’s wife had died … that he hadn’t been there for him—and frustrated with the line of questions, the thinly veiled accusations, Dean drew in on himself. Coiled up the ball of tension and pitched it behind the vault that held him in check. But Sal had hit a nerve. “What’re you saying?”

“I’m saying, you’re not all in.”

That bass drum thumped against his chest again. “That right?”

“I’m not accusing—”

“Don’t play me, Sal. We’ve been friends long enough, been through enough—”

“Exactly. And the last few weeks, you’ve been distracted.”

Dean blinked. Laughed. “Distracted by what?”

“Ya know, I wasn’t sure at first, but now …” His steady eyes considered Dean. “I think it’s the girl.”

“What girl?”

Sal snorted. “You’ve always been a bad liar, Dean.”

“There is
nothing
more important to me than the team, the mission. You know that. I’ve always held our team in top priority. Show me one time I’ve been derelict, where I’ve been
distracted
and compromised a mission.”

With a shake of his head, Sal distanced himself. A tactical move to disengage. “I can’t.”

The satisfaction of the answer didn’t touch the insult his friend had thrown, that he’d compromised the team.
Distracted!

“I think this is about you not liking that SOC put Titanis on the team, that he’s a top-rate soldier and can hold his own against you. I’m not going to ask for his removal. He adds too much to the team.”

“Yeah.” Sal pursed his lips. “Maybe you’ll listen to him … maybe with him, you don’t deflect the truth by pointing the finger back at me.” He turned, walked out of the room, and punched open the door.

Crap. Dean lowered himself into the seat and buried his head in hands. Sal was right—he’d deflected the blame. But seriously, he felt ambushed by the accusations. He’d thought he held it together pretty well. Then an RPG soared straight into a concealed area—his heart.

Sub-base Schwarzburg, Camp Marmal
Mazar-e Sharif, Balkh Province
26 June—1040 Hours

“Is that right?”

“Yes, sir.”

Lance considered the soldier standing at ease. “That’s a serious charge against your commanding officer, Russo.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I know, sir. I didn’t feel I had a choice.”

“No, I guess you didn’t.” Lance folded his hands. “But tell me, how do you plan to go back to the tent, sleep, eat, and operate with Captain Watters now that you’ve reported him on something based on
suspicions
? How will you look him in the face?”

“Sir.” He tensed. “Not suspicions. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. He’s compromised. Not thinking clearly.”

“Russo, do you have a psych degree now?”

“No, sir.”

“Then leave it to them to write the diagnosis.”

“But, sir. His past—”

“Is as screwed up and ugly as mine.” Lance gave him a smile. “Are you going to my bosses now to tell them I’m compromised?” He saw Watters headed this way from down the hall. Well, great. This could get interesting.

“No, sir. But I do believe he is compromised because of his past.”

“Your concerns are noted.”
In the back of my head
. Put this on Watters’s record, and the guy would get passed over for major on his next performance eval. Speaking of—Watters ducked into the briefing room. Time to get rid of Russo. No need to aggravate the situation. “Dismissed, Russo.”

Confusion rippled across the guy’s brow. He saluted then pivoted and left.

He saw a collision down the hall with Russo and Watters. The two bumped shoulders, apologized, then stiffly went in opposite directions, bringing Watters to him. Dean glanced back at Russo once before knocking on the door.

Lance waved him in.

“Sir, a word?”

“Shut the door.”

Watters entered and closed the door behind him.

“Just had a talk with your team daddy.” Something in Watters’s expression shifted, but something so slight, Lance almost didn’t notice. So, Watters knew about Russo’s concerns. “D’you have something you wanted to talk about?”

The facade slipped back into place. A granite one. “Sir, I do.” Watters hesitated for a second. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Always.”

“I’m going to the event with you.”

“I told you I’m going alone.”

“You also said you’d met Nemazi in Kabul in ‘04. But I know you didn’t.”

Lance struck his most menacing pose and leaned forward. “You calling me a liar?”

“Perhaps a bender of the truth, sir.”

“Explain yourself.”

“Nemazi wasn’t in Kabul in ‘04. He was in Jalalabad.” Watters swallowed—hard.

“And what proof do you have?”

Lips tight, Watters fisted his hands. “The scars on my back, sir. Nemazi was my captor, the one who beat and tortured me.” The man’s chest rose and fell in a run cadence.

“So, you’re saying I lied to you and the entire team?”

“I’m saying you altered the truth, sir.”

“What reason would I have for doing that, Watters?”

“To bait me, sir.”

Lance laughed. “Bait you? Did you forget I’m your superior? Why would I bait you when I can just order you?”

“You needed me to come to this decision on my own, sir. Or I’d have fought you all the way.”

“Kicking and screaming,” Lance said with a smile.

“Like a little girl.”

“Now that you’ve taken the bait, tell me why you’re doing this, son.” He pointed to the door Russo had exited a few minutes earlier. “Your team sergeant thinks you’re distracted.”

“I am, sir. But not in the way he thinks. I can’t let go of this mission, of what the end game is for these people. I just know it’ll be unlike anything we’ve seen, sir.”

“Agreed. And with Zahrah, the knowledge in her mind …” Lance saw a dozen different scenarios with the American military being crippled, with U.S. national security compromised, buildings crumbling, nukes detonating … And that young woman—Pete’s daughter. “And you’re sure about Zahrah?”

“Sir?”

“You’re sure this is about just the mission?”

“Sir, it’d be foolish for it to be about anything else.”

Lance almost laughed. “A lot worse has been done for love.”

The guy looked like someone punched him. “Sir—that’s not going to happen. I’ve known since I signed up that I wouldn’t get married. I knew before that. Men like me don’t marry. I’m smart enough to recognize that.”

“To recognize it, or avoid the effort it’d take to make things work?”

Watters snapped his gaze to the wall, lips tight.

“Made you mad, huh? Over what? You said there wasn’t anything there.”

Nostrils flared and his jaw flexed.

“I have to be honest with you, Dean.” Lance almost felt like a father to this soldier. “I know about your family, what you’ve been through, and I can’t help but wonder if Russo has a point.”

The man flinched. Face red, he said nothing.

“You
are
distracted.”

“Sir—”

“No.” Lance took a moment to gather his thoughts. “You’re going to hear me out. I’m one of the few people you can’t shut down, you can’t control.”

Surprise marched through those young-but-seen-too-much eyes.

“You’re an excellent soldier, Dean. You know the drills, you know tactics. And for the most part, your team has your back because you’ve earned their respect. It’s the mark of a real leader.” Lance didn’t like digging into the personal affairs of his men, but this time, personal got public—and militant. “I think you
do
have feelings for this girl. But maybe you can’t see it because you’re too scared to tempt the demons inside you.”

Watters looked as if he’d puke.

“Which is exactly why I did bait you, why I laid the trap so you’d enter it. I knew you’d risk something you fight every day to avoid.”