Chosen (28 page)

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Authors: Denise Grover Swank

Tags: #Fantasy, #Comics & Graphic Novels, #General, #Contemporary, #Fiction

BOOK: Chosen
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“What took you so long to get here?” the young man asked with a sneer. “Your deadline was yesterday.”

“As I mentioned before, we were detained. After the truck exploded, we were chased into the woods and we got lost. She wasn’t in much shape to travel, considering she just watched her son die in an explosion.”

“And it took you two days to get out?”

“We were on foot, unarmed at that point, lost in the woods. Your guest was incoherent with grief. We weren’t traveling very quickly.”

“How did you fight off eight men if you were unarmed?”

Will leaned forward with his elbows on the table, glaring at the younger man. “Is there a point to this conversation? Because last time I checked, I was hired to deliver her alive, which I did.” Will leaned back again and shrugged. “Sure, she’s slightly damaged, but after what we went through, you’re lucky you got only slightly damaged.”

“But you didn’t deliver her on time.” The young man’s eyes narrowed on Will. “A lot of good she does us now.” He turned to Kramer, curling his upper lip. “I still say she’s not the one.”

“Alex,” Kramer said, his voice stern. “Many disagree with you. Even our opposition believes she is.”

Will watched Alex out of the corner of his eye. He was a complete asshole but something else about him grated on Will.

“You were told to have her delivered by the fourth day,” Alex said. “Today is the fifth. Even if it wasn’t too late it would be most difficult given her condition.”

“What would be most difficult?” Will asked, his instincts screaming something was off.

“Alex,” Kramer interrupted. “I’ve told you time and time again that you can’t force destiny. You can only try to harness your side to it.”

“And as always Scott, we shall agree to disagree. We can’t lie around waiting for things to happen. Sometimes we have to make them happen. We wouldn’t be in this situation if you had listened to me sooner.”

“Alex…”

Alex crossed his arms and scowled like a petulant child. Will would have found him amusing if he weren’t so potentially dangerous to Emma.

“So you say I’ve delivered her too late,” Will said. “If she’s too late, then why have me deliver her at all?”

“Because not all of us fall under Alex’s philosophy,” Kramer said. “We shall simply wait.”

“Wait?” Alex spit out in disgust. “That’s all you do Scott, is wait. Waiting is what has us in this predicament.”

“Alex, no one else sees a predicament but you.”

“Again, I ask is there a point to this conversation?” Will interrupted. “She’s here a day late and I’m more than a dollar short.”

“If I have anything to say about it, you won’t be paid at all,” Alex said.

“Alex,” A disarming smile lifted the corners of Will’s mouth and his eyes held Alex with a razor-sharp focus. “I did not just go to hell and back to
not
be paid. However, you are correct. I did not meet your deadline. So if you choose to not pay me, I understand, but I will be taking your guest with me when I leave.”

“Now, now,” Kramer lifted his hands and patted the air. “This is nonsense. Mr. Davenport, you will most definitely be paid. The assignment turned out to be more than we expected which brings me to our next topic.” He paused and opened the folder in front of him. “I told you this assignment was also a test, which, of course, you passed.” He glanced up from the folder, a grim look on his face. “Things are changing.”

Will felt the air around him turn cold. The mark on his arm grew uncomfortably warm as apprehension spread like a choking vine.

Kramer didn’t seem to notice. “We are entering a new, unprecedented era. We find ourselves in need of associates with a different sort of skill sets than we are used to having at our immediate disposal. Skill sets you possess.” Kramer looked down at the file. “William Marcus Davenport. Age: Thirty-two. Born: Kansas City, Missouri. Profession: Mercenary.”

“Mercenary has such negative connotations,” Will said with a sarcastic tone. “I prefer freelance security.”

“University of Missouri, Bachelors’ degree in history, summa cum laude.”

“This blast from the past have a point?”

“Bear with me. You should be proud of these accomplishments.”

“Yeah, that stellar history degree has been extremely helpful with my career choice.”

“U.S. Marine Corp, Recon Unit, served seven years, rank E-6, dishonorable discharge, reason classified.”

“Yeah, I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you,” Will smirked. He really didn’t like where this was headed.

Kramer smiled. “Lucky for us we have contacts who can obtain such information.” He pulled a pair of glasses from inside his suit jacket and placed them on his nose. “Looks like a mission went bad, disobeying direct orders from a superior, a school full of children was involved.” His face lifted as he peered over the top of his glasses at Will. “Does any of this sound familiar, Mr. Davenport?”

Will gripped his coffee cup, wondering how it didn’t break from the pressure. If Emma weren’t depending on him, he’d punch this guy and walk out. Instead, his cocky grin lifted one corner of his mouth and he winked. “Like I said, I’d have to kill you. Fortunately for you, I’ve reached my quota for the week.”

“Were you given a direct order to not infiltrate the school?”

Will leaned back in his chair in a casual pose that belied his demeanor. “Tell me again why we’re having this discussion?”

Kramer removed his glasses, setting them on the table. “I assure you, Mr. Davenport, it will be well worth your time.”

“I had a decorated military history before the incident as well as an interesting and widely varied professional career since. Isn’t that why you hired me, Mr. Kramer? I see no benefit to discussing it.”

Kramer sat back in his chair, resting his elbows on the armrests and tapping his index fingers together. “I told you earlier I believe you are a man who sees what he wants and doesn’t let things get in his way. Before your
incident
you had a history of ruthlessness. Was this the case in the incident involving the school?”

Inwardly, Will squirmed at the memory. He had spent the last three years doing his best to forget it. “I was given intelligence that led me to believe a high-ranking terrorist official was located on the premises. I believed we had the element of surprise on our side. I believed we could get in, capture him and get out without civilian casualties. I was wrong.” He spoke with a casualness that surprised him. A few sentences of explanation that sounded so logical, so justified. If only it quieted the screams haunting his memories.

“And you were court-martialed?”

He sighed. This was pointless. “You have all of this information. What are you getting at?”

“Did you give any thought to the fact that you were disobeying direct orders?”

Will’s face hardened. “I believed the benefits outweighed the risks.”

“Excellent.” Kramer’s face beamed.

Will raised his eyebrows. “Excellent? Excellent that dozens of kids were killed?”

“No, of course the loss of the children’s lives was most unfortunate, but did you obtain your suspect?”

“Yes.”

“You saw your objective and you went after it. That is exactly the type of man we are looking for. We need someone to think bigger than the rules. We need him to consider the objective and to go after them, no matter what the cost. The end justifies the means.”

“Even if forty kids lost their lives?”

“Your objective was achieved. How many men, women and children would your suspect have killed? Twenty? Fifty? One hundred? Thousands?”

Will shook his head. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m deadly serious.” The glint in Kramer’s eye told Will he was. “We believe your skills will be a benefit to our organization.”

“You’re telling me that you want to hire me because I’m responsible for burning up a bunch of kids? What kind of organization do you run?” Will felt nauseated. It was bad enough he committed such a heinous act, now this guy applauded it. His skin crawled knowing these same people wanted Emma, for a reason he still didn’t comprehend.

“One you want to work for,” Kramer said with pride. “Our director will be arriving this evening to meet our guest. He will want to meet you as well and he’ll share the details of your employment opportunity. I think we’re done here.”

Kramer closed the file, but Alex put his hand down on the table. “Not yet. I want to know what took him so long to bring her here.”

Kramer turned to Alex. “That was already resolved.

“Not to my satisfaction.” Alex drummed the table top with his fingers.

Will raised an eyebrow and waited.

“It’s what, a two-day drive from Texas to South Dakota? You arrive in five days. The math doesn’t add up, but then again, you were a history major. Maybe math isn’t your thing.”

Will wouldn’t mind ripping this guy’s head off and it looked like a pretty simple task. But outwardly, he appeared unperturbed. “Well,
Alex
, we had to make a few detours. You know what those are, right? When you can’t go the way you’re supposed to because something blocks your path? Yeah, well that just so happened to be a bunch of SUVs full of men with M16s. I was told you wanted your delivery alive so I did my best to ensure that happened. That meant hiding, sometimes backtracking and several times it meant actual gun battles. All of this added up to a few extra days. My apologies.”

Alex didn’t look appeased, but remained silent.

Kramer cleared his throat. “Mr. Davenport, I’m sure you’re tired after the last few days so we’ll have you escorted back to your apartment. I will let you know when you can expect to meet with Mr. Warren.”

Will walked out of the room, his thoughts racing. Emma was deemed necessary, yet Alex didn’t think she was
the one
. What did that mean and did it have anything to do with the marks on her shoulder? What would happen if Alex found out about them?

Alex was dangerous.

Worrying was wasted energy, yet his mind refused to listen and it spread like a cancer, eating through the neat little container he tried to contain it in. He wanted to chuck it all and go to Emma, to know that she was safe. But he’d just have to wait.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

 

 

Emma woke to searing pain in her leg. Her eyes flew open in alarm and realized she was in a hospital bed. She turned her head to scan the room. A nurse sat on a stool in the corner of the room, writing on a chart. An IV pole hung at the top of the bed, with several bags attached.

“Where’s Will?” she asked, her voice a whisper from her scratchy throat.

The young woman glanced up from the chart with a smile. “Oh, you’re awake.” Putting down the pen, she walked over and put her stethoscope buds in her ears. “Are you in pain?” She placed the cold metal end on Emma’s chest.

“My leg burns,” Emma moaned and reached down, but the nurse grabbed her hand.

“That’s normal. I can give you more pain medicine. Don’t touch it, you don’t want to rip out your stitches.”

“Where’s Will?”

The nurse took the stethoscope out of her ears and wrote something on the chart. “Who?”

“Will. Where’s Will?”

The woman looked up, confused. “I’m sorry, I don’t know who that is.”

Emma’s head swam with pain and confusion from the drugs. “He’s the man who brought me here. Where is he?” Her voice raised in panic.

The nurse patted Emma’s arm. “I’m sorry. I have no idea who that is but you need to calm down. You’re body has been through enough stress.”

“I want Will.” Even through the foggy chaos swirling in her mind, she knew he wouldn’t voluntarily leave her. Why didn’t the nurse know who he was?

“Emmanuella, I don’t know who Will is, but I can try to find out for you.”

Terror kindled in her heart and spread like a wildfire, the flames licking at her limited control. The nurse knew her real name. “Why did you call me Emmanuella?” The monitor beeped faster.

“Emmanuella…” the nurse’s voice rose in alarm.

“Stop calling me that!” Emma sat up in the bed. Pain shot through her leg and up to the rest of her body; she gasped in surprise. Blackness eroded the edges of her mind. She took a deep breath to push it away, jerking on the IV lines. She had to get out of here. She had to find Will.

The nurse pushed a call button. “I need help in here.” She grabbed Emma’s arm, trying to pull down. “Emmanuella, lay down. You just had surgery!”

“Let go of me!” Emma twisted out of her hold and threw the blanket off her leg, revealing a thick bandage wrapped around her left thigh.

Two men in dark uniforms rushed into the room. One stood next to the nurse and the other came around to the other side. The nurse ran to a cart next to the wall. The two men grabbed Emma’s arms and pushed her down on her back.

She tried to pull away, but they pinned her shoulders and hips to the bed. Emma kicked and pain stabbed her left leg, overwhelming her consciousness.

“Emmanuella, you need to calm down!” the nurse shouted. “You’re going to hurt yourself!”

“Stop calling me that!
Will
!” Emma screamed.

The nurse grabbed Emma’s hand while Emma jerked and twisted.

“Hold her down! I’ve got to give her this sedative before she hurts herself.”

One of the men lay across her upper arm and chest, smashing her into the bed. The pressure crushed her chest and she fought for breath, adding to her rising hysteria. Ice filled her veins and a dark heavy cloud filtered through her head until there was nothing.

 

***

 

Will stood at the entrance of the school. His team advanced past him, down the darkened hallways. The only light came from the small windows of the classroom doors. Children studied in their classes, eager for their day to be dismissed in another hour giving Will plenty of time to get in and out. Surveillance told him that the terrorist was holed up in the upper floor. It was perfect; the sick bastard was using kids as a shield. It gave him a false sense of security. No one would risk the lives of children to capture him.

The son of a bitch was wrong.

Will waved two fingers, telling the men to continue on down the hall. He had the element of surprise on his side and he planned to use it. The brass in D.C. had told him to wait, but they were notorious for waiting, wasting precious hours with their theoretical debates. It was so easy for them to sit in their comfy chairs in an air-conditioned room looking at their PowerPoints and scenario boards. Will and his men didn’t have that luxury. They melted in 130-degree heat and faced the reality that men like this asshole created. How many terrorists had Will seen get away? How many times had this man gotten away? Will was done waiting.

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