Walker (Bad Boys of X-Ops #1) (22 page)

Life

NOTHING.

“Not working, Justice,” I snarled.

Anything.

I will give anything.

Everything.

I spoke through clamped teeth. “I need you to tell me how to save her.
Now
.”

“Madge. Med kit, under the seat. Grab it. Prep the epinephrine.” Justice took a hard right, growling under his breath, and I watched out the back window to make sure Bane and Storm hadn’t fallen overboard.

“Take the alcohol wipes, Walker. Swipe down her chest.”

He watched me follow his instructions like I was the cadet and he the drill sergeant.

Another fucking RPG ripped into a building far too fucking close to us.

With a scant nod, Justice gave Madge the go-ahead to give me the long needle.

“Insert the needle through the fourth intercostal space. Into her ventricular chamber.”

“I swear to fuck if you swerve while I’m doing this—”

“You got about five seconds.” Hitting the brakes, Justice stilled the vehicle. “Because we gotta get out of here.”

He turned in his jump seat. “I can do it if you’re too close to—”

“I got it.” Bracing myself above Jade, I punched the long, wicked looking needle into her.

Instantaneously, her eyelids peeled wide open. She gasped loudly.

I pulled out the needle and tossed it to Madge while Justice gunned the engine, driving like a madman.

Flailing up in my lap, Jade huddled against me. “What? What? What happened?”

“
Shhh.
Jade.” I pulled her ripped shirt together across her breasts.

She stiffened. “I . . . I died.”

“I’d never let that happen.” I kissed her hair.

The strands were matted, tangled. She was covered in bruises, pockmarked with needle entries all along her arms.

She’d lost weight.

Three days.

Three fucking days.

She felt frail in my arms. One foot in this life. The other in the grave.

Justice rolled to a stop outside a warehouse inside the middle of Beirut. He hopped out and Madge took over his seat. Quickly rolling open the doors, he directed us inside before closing us in a brightly lit capsule we’d alarmed and kitted out earlier that day.

Hostage situations always meant injuries. And we hadn’t known ahead of time how extensive Jade’s would be.

Briskly taking charge, Bane appeared, opening the door of the Humvee. He and I lifted Jade onto a gurney Justice had rolled toward the vehicle.

Bane attached portable monitors to her chest, pushing me out of the way.

I held her hand as he rushed her toward the triage we’d set up. “Hang on, baby.”

Jade clutched my hand, her face dead pale, a ghostly mask. “It hurts, Walk—”

She slumped down. She let my hand go.

If Jade died I’d relive every moment of this night for the rest of my life. I’d never forgive myself.

“V-fib!” Bane yelled.

Justice hurtled forward, cranking open the doors to a room where the rest of the equipment was waiting and ready.

The two of them rolled her inside where blinding bright white lights shone. I tried to shoulder inside right after them, but Storm blocked me.

“You don’t need to see this, Walker.”

“Fuck you!” I rammed forward, throwing him aside.

Pulling the doors wide open, I nearly collapsed. They had Jade draped in a blue cloth with bags of clear liquid hung over her. Justice compressed her chest while Bane got ready to shock her with the paddles.

Bane held up his hands. “I don’t know what they gave her.”

Justice halted the CPR. “Get her heart started then run a tox screen?”

“Don’t know how far gone she is . . .”

“You’re just gonna stop?” I barreled forward, hearing the shrill alarm on the monitor telling me Jade was dead.

“Get the fuck out, Walker.” Bane’s menacing scowl warred with sympathy on his hardened face.

“Madge has the bags. What they drugged her with. MADGE!” I shouted.

She rushed in and handed over the IV bags.

“Tell me you’ll save her, Bane,” I bit out.

He held the paddles, prepared to shock Jade. “Can’t promise that.”

I dropped to the floor, cranking my head in my hands.

“Let them work.” Madge curled over me. “You will be strong for her, Wakiza.”

Under her guidance, I got woodenly to my feet, but every fiber of my being started unraveling.

Take me.

Take me.

Take me!

Not this. Not again. I couldn’t . . . I huddled on the cold floor outside of the room.

Seconds, minutes, hours?

I didn’t know how long I waited in that fucking bleak blank area outside the rough-and-ready ER for news on Jade.

I paced. I stepped outside, almost eating the cigarette I bent between my shaky fingers.

Hours.

I stalked to the door Storm barred with his hulking mass.

Grinding down on my teeth, I snarled, “I need in there.”

“No chance.” He formed a human barrier between me and the woman I loved.

“Let me in!” I punched him in his solid gut, and he planted me face-first to the wall.

I bucked against him until I squirmed loose then swung around to grab him in a headlock.

“They’re doing the best they can,” Storm choked out. “You need to stand dow—”

His voice froze in his throat when the outside doors busted open with a resounding bang.

I sprang off Storm, immediately handling the semi-automatic rifle. He shored up beside me, and we kept Madge at our backs, all of us guarding the door and Jade whose life hung in the balance behind it.

Ten troops filed into the ringing space, their features hidden by headgear and tinted visors, their boots sending up a hollow cadence. They’d come bristling with firepower, all of it aimed at us.

“Drop your weapons!” I belted out.

As one, they continued their steady march toward us.

“Drop your fucking weapons or we open fire!”

Beside me, Storm primed his pump-action shotgun, his sights on the obvious ringleader.

“You don’t want to do that, Walker.” The person at the forefront of the armed contingent spoke with a smooth feminine voice, accented the same as Jade’s.

Just then, Bane cracked the door. “I think she’s gonna make it, man.” Seeing the oncoming threat, he lowered his voice. “
What the fuck?
”

My relief about Jade’s condition was overwhelmed by a surging sense of danger.

“Close that fucking door and barricade it, Bane,” I chewed out before aiming at the forehead of the black-dressed bitch who’d spoken. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

Death

WE FACED EACH OTHER in a standoff, the tension mounting until a bead of sweat trickled down the side of my face. When I was about to squeeze the trigger and start a hailstorm of fire, the woman motioned to her team and they lowered their weapons en masse.

“We’re from the Special War Ministry.” After holstering her pistol she held up her hand in a peaceful gesture.

I glared at her, still prepared to rip holes through her and her entire team.

Withdrawing her hand, she took off her helmet, revealing a disfiguring scar across one cheek. “We’re here for Jade.”

The days of nonstop stress, seeing Jade in the worst possible condition, holding her while her heart fucking stopped . . .

No way in hell was I handing her over. “I don’t think so. I don’t even know who the fuck you are.”

“I knew you’d be difficult.” Leaning forward, the woman halted when I realigned my aim. “I have a message for you.”

“No.” I shook my head. “No way.” I pointed at the soldier. “I don’t care what you say, you are not taking her from me.”

“It’s for Jade’s own good.”

“How the hell do you know that?” I railed back.

“This is her job. The Ministry is her life.”

Groaning as my chest grew more and more depressurized, I slung my gun over my shoulder. I stepped up to the woman and breathed out through my nose before nodding my assent.

She spoke lowly, just one word.

Pain seized me. The word, that goddamn codeword Jade had told me the night in the cabin, in front of the fire, after we’d made love.

In case of emergency, she’d said. “
If it comes to the worst.
”

I’d laughed it off then, rolling her to her back and rising above her, telling her nothing bad was going to happen. Then I’d fucked her with her legs wound around my hips, her neck arched back, her body the most tantalizing sight when I’d risen to my knees and pulled her onto my lap. Words of love had spun between us, as hot and fiery as the blazing hearth next to us.

She’d wanted her team to come to her rescue.

Not me.

“No! GODDAMMIT!” I denied the truth that bled through me. “I just got her back!”

“Walker. What do you want me to do?” Storm stood beside me, his weapon at the ready.

At a motion from the leader, four burly troops moved in on us.

“Wait!” I blocked the door. “Fucking wait! I don’t even know if she’s gonna live!”

“It’s time you moved out of the way. We can make this really ugly if you want,” the woman in charge said. “We could demand Majedah Chehab return with us too.”

At the sound of her name Madge gripped my arm. “Walker? What would Jade have wanted?”

How could I be sure? I could barely process anything beyond the fear of losing her again.

“You’re lucky we don’t detain you for kidnapping her and putting her life in danger.”

Refusing to relinquish Jade, I widened my stance in front of the door. “You tell me there’s a goddamn medic with you right now.” I swung the machine gun forward. “Or I shoot you all so motherfucking full of metal you’ll be unidentifiable by the time I’m done with you and fuck the consequences.”

“Duly noted.” She dipped her head, her body tensile-tight. “She’ll be taken care of with the best medical attention.”

I forced my feet to move one wooden step at a time. His eyes on me the entire time, Storm did the same, drawing Madge with him, away from the door.

Jade’s team rushed the room.

My voice lodged in my throat, I followed inside, staying long enough to tell Bane and Justice to stand down.

The two of them looked at me from where they’d been working over Jade.

“Walker?” Jus asked.

I clenched and released my fists. “She’s with them.”

I harshly swallowed—acid, bile, anger . . .
the pain.

Jade’s team didn’t waste any time. It happened in a shutter-stop of a moment. Jade transferred to their stretcher. Jade unhooked from our equipment.

Alarms blared again.

Blinded by tears, I raised my gun. “You better fucking fix that right now or everyone’s dead.”

Bane grabbed my shoulder. “They just need to—”

I shrugged him off, almost cold-cocking him in my fury.

The medic beside Jade replaced the pads on her chest leading to his portable equipment.

Her heartbeat tripped across the new monitor. I could see it. Red spikes. Her heartbeat. She was still alive.

When they wheeled her out on the gurney, I hurried after her. The compact monitor continued its noise:
slow blip, slow blip, slow blip.

Jade was hooked up to so many cables I could barely see her face.

“Stop! Fucking STOP!” I yelled.

The wheels halted.

Our guns were holstered.

None of us were enemies anymore.

Reaching Jade, I grabbed her limp hand.

I didn’t give a fuck who saw me losing it because of her.

With my hand cradling her head, I brushed her lank hair behind her ear so I could whisper over and over and over, “I love you.
I love you.
I will always love you,
mahasani
.”

Then they were gone.

Circling the Drain, Mt. Not-So-Pleasant, SC

RETRIBUTION MC. ONCE AGAIN. I didn’t know what the hell kept drawing me back to the place. Sure wasn’t the company.

I scanned across the interior of the club. Even though it was a Friday night and the guys and gals were getting rowdy, no one would meet my gaze.

Hmmm
.

So maybe it was me who was bad company. Probably. Slumped against the far end of the bar, I scowled into my glass of whisky. Hunter’s whisky Coletrane kept well stocked. Guess I didn’t cut the most welcoming figure.

Just as well. Didn’t want to talk to anybody anyway, and if Hunter tried to fob me off on his fucking therapist like he had Bo, I’d have to knife him.

Despair and loneliness had settled deep inside my bones.

Fuck. I was so not doing this falling in love crap for a second time. I curled over the glass of amber liquid, slowly obliterating the sights and sounds of the MC one damn drink at a time.

Hunter had been so glad to see me darken his doorstep again.

Not.

My R&R after getting Madge exonerated had amounted to this. Getting hammered.

Trying to forget.

Jade had wanted her team to come for her.

Not me.

Tail stomped over and slammed his empty on the bar. “What up, Walker?”

With a wry twist of my lips, I gave him the big middle finger, never once lifting my attention from my bottomless glass.

“What the hell is this? Loserpalooza Numero Dos?” he boomed out, shaking his head in dismay. “Who wants to shoot some pool?”

Only Brodie and Coletrane took him up on the offer.

I didn’t want to play pool, and—considering the funk I was in—the only thing I wanted to shoot was people . . . more people.

I wished I’d shot Jade’s people.

The return trip to the States eight weeks ago had been stifling. In the plane, I’d stationed myself far away from everyone else. I’d sat stiffly with my eyes shut, almost meditating. More like concentrating on how to contain the emotions boiling over inside me.

The last moments with Jade as she lay broken and pale and unconscious. More dead than alive.

Pain the likes of which I’d tried for the past five years to make sure I never gave into again.

Falling in love. What a schmuck I was.

But it didn’t make a damn bit of difference. No matter how much I felt like the fool, I could not forget the harrowing terror when Jade’s breaths had stopped.

I had no choice but to close every feeling down or I’d simply snap.

Once more we’d smuggled Madge onto US soil, because we weren’t done with her yet. But I was just about done with that motherfucking mission, and Blaize Carmichael could chew my ass out for the rest of days for the downward spiral this op had taken from the moment I’d laid eyes on Jade and decided her cause—
Majedah’s cause
—was the right one.

I did not give a fuck anymore.

Storm, Justice, Bane, and I had occupied a new safehouse right under the government’s nose in DC. We’d kept Madge under wraps until the story broke. The story
we
wanted the world to hear.

I’d shut down any attempts at conversation. And Madge’s endless apologies for endangering Jade’s life only made me hunker down more inside myself.

“Wasn’t your fault. Jade made an exigency plan,” I’d gruffly told Madge.

That was one sour point I just couldn’t get past.

As soon as Madge was delivered to safety under the auspices of the UN Security Council, I was out of there.

I’d fulfilled my promise to Jade.

I didn’t owe her anything anymore.

I’d flown out to Wyoming, picked up my Indian Scout, and cut loose from all responsibilities.

The more miles my bike ate up and spat out, the more the recriminations and guilt—the pain and loss—chipped away at me.

Without even thinking about it I ended up in the South Dakota Badlands, at the reservation. Spring had started to erupt, bright wildflowers and rich, dark green grasslands finally beating out the last of the late spring snowfalls.

I visited with friends and old folks and my mom and dad, and helped with the daily workload for a few days, but that wasn’t the reason for my unannounced visit.

On the fourth day, I left the big cabin and the feeling of tribal community behind. I camped in the woods for a couple nights while I constructed a platform from wood I cut down and lashed into place.

I couldn’t go back into the cabin, not with all that had happened between Jade and me—it was her ghost that haunted me now. But this time I wasn’t running.

Dad joined me every day, working silently beside me.

When it was finished, I sat in front of the scaffolding we’d built. A hawk soared overhead, spiraling higher and higher. I heard the heated snuffs of deer beyond the break of the clearing. I smelled the sap and the bark, and the grasses shooting through the soil in spring bounty.

I closed my eyes and imagined Kimmy and Winona freed from this earth and this life. I saw them together, hand in hand.

When my father rode up on his horse, I bowed to the North and the South. The East and the West.

He stood beside me as I placed on the platform soft cuttings of their hair I’d kept with me, but Winona’s dream catcher I kept curled in my palm. I was never going to part with it again.

Dad combed out my customary braid, chanting in his gruff voice. Life and death, the infinite balance of our people. He cut a thick piece off the end of my hair and set the black strands in my palms.

Transferred to the scaffold, the offering was small, but I gave part of myself to my wife, to my daughter.

The fire beneath caught with a great breath-sucking
whoosh
as I lit the pyre.

I hadn’t been at their burials. I couldn’t bear it.

Now I said goodbye as day turned into night.

I stood beside my dad, quietly crying. He sang in a deep, clear voice, the flames lofting higher into the ink-dark sky.

We stayed there, watching the wooden platform crackle and spit and waft up into the air.

We watched it burn to blue embers and black cinders.

We watched until I had no more tears left, and dawn broke the surface of the horizon.

“You are letting Jade go too?” he quietly asked.

I nodded as the sun burst free of its nighttime blanket of hazy clouds, gilding the whole world in gold.

“Maybe she’s one you should hold onto, Wakiza.”

I’d left several days later. Trying to locate Jade turned out to be a lost cause no matter how many favors I called in. She’d vanished into thin air.

So long as she lives.

That was what I kept telling myself. I’d tried to make do with that thought. Except I didn’t know if she was alive or not. And that alone was doing my head in.

I could probably easily track down her parents. And say what?

“Howdy there. My name’s Walker. Jade probably never mentioned me because until recently she wanted to stick a knife in my back. You see I’m kind of a spy, just like your lovely daughter, except you’re not really supposed to know that. Anyway, she sort of disappeared on me after I got her into a whole bunch of trouble, so I was wondering if she’s sent you a postcard or anything recently?

Not gonna happen.

I had to face the facts. Jade wouldn’t be found unless she wanted to be.

And the next time I saw her we could be holding each other at gunpoint again.

Better to leave the past in the past and get on with the reality. And the reality was—I looked down at my empty glass as I propped up the bar at Retribution—I needed another damn drink.

Coletrane and Kinkaid—both full members of Retribution MC who were still left doing the bulk of the scut work—had mesmerized me with their thorough washing and polishing of glasses and replenishing of drinks.

Or maybe that was the whisky talking.

Fuck. I needed a life.

“Heads up.” Cole’s huge chain cuffs rattled when he knocked me on the shoulder.

“What?” I lifted my face.

“Hunter. Coming your way.”

Ugh.

I thudded my head to the bar top.

I did not want to see his all-knowing amber eyes or look at his smug
so in love
smile. And commiseration on my misery—that was also way the fuck unwelcome.

“You are in a bad way, my man.” He slid onto the stool beside me.

I kicked it away with my foot.

“And you have it bad for Jade,” he added.

“Jade’s a viper. Medusa. A siren. A man-killer,” I gnashed out.

“Well, that’s what I always thought.” He raked his fingers through his raven-winged hair. “But you two made one hell of a team. And you made the best of a really fucking bad situation.”

“Did. Done. In the past. Go away.”

“Did you see the latest about Majedah?”

Hunter did
not
go away as asked.

Asshole.

Justice—the Internet whizkid—had done some fancy footwork with the recording from the hotel hostage situation. He’d clean edited the audio to remove anything that could pin Jade or me at the scene. After adding some impressive voice recognition software even Hezbollah diehard Qasim Hassan couldn’t wriggle out of, Justice had spun Qasim’s loud, proud, maniacal confession out into the World Wide Web.

How better to get the word out than to hand it over to the proletarian, political youth movement. The underground movers and shakers who had their eyes and ears attuned to real government conspiracies all over the world. Instant Internet overload because the story about Hassan’s guilt and Majedah’s innocence went viral.

If we’d played into the agencies’ hands, they’d have quashed the story until Madge remained nothing more than a traitor to her people.

This way she was goddamn exalted.

Buzzfeed
that, motherfucker.

After that I’d handed Madge over to the UN. She’d been freed to return to Lebanon.

The story had finally aired on MSNBC, CNN, all the primetime channels, and of course Faux News:

In a bizarre turn of events, the international manhunt for Sheikah Majedah Chehab has been called off. In light of new evidence, her husband, the self-titled Emir Qasim Hassan is being indicted for crimes against humanity.

The sheikah is exonerated and returning to her family citadel in Hasbaya as a hero of her people and homeland.

But the latest Hunter hinted at was last night’s broadcast when Madge finally got her soundbite on CNN’s
Hardball
.

“There are two people—two special warriors—I must thank for bringing me home. Of course, as always, they shall remain nameless, but they will always be in my heart and prayers.”

Didn’t I feel special?

I was the instant daredevil of T-Zone. No disciplinary action taken. At least not until they started what would no doubt be an extensive internal review into my actions. Now I was out partying it up.

Yeah, right.

Too bad it all left a hollow ache in my chest without Jade.

Hunter pulled my glass away when I reached for it. “There’s someone I think you want to celebrate with, and it sure as fuck is not me.”

He nodded across the room.

Swiveling around on my stool, I almost fell off, and it wasn’t the drink talking that time.