Operation Summer Storm (22 page)

Tate knew if they were going to make it back to the States alive in order to testify against Tréago—once they had the evidence to secure their innocence, of course— they’d need to place their lives in the hands of Duffy and his men.

“You need to sleep,” Summer said quietly, interrupting his thoughts.

“I can’t...I still have to figure out a way to get us back to Bali, to get that file,” he said, raking a hand through his short hair in frustration.

Summer caught her lip between her teeth uncertainly, as she eyed Tate then made a decision. “You don’t have to worry about getting back to Bali,” she said.

Tate’s gaze snapped to hers and she saw the muscles in his arm bunch as he watched her warily. “What?”

“It’s not important we get to Bali, the file isn’t there,” she told him slowly.

“The deal was, you handed over the file,” he warned, his gaze growing steadily colder as he looked at her. “Where is it?”

Summer felt four pairs of eyes honed in on her every nuance.

Swallowing, she winced. “Not in Bali.”

The utter devastation and disbelief etched upon his face made her hasten to explain. “I didn’t know you, any of you,” she added, including the startled faces around her, “not when I set out…I had to be sure you wouldn’t get rid of me once you had the evidence.”

“Summer, where’s the damn file?” Tate demanded.

“I don’t have it,” she admitted quietly, fearing the sudden anger she saw rising inside Tate as he stared at her.

“You’re saying the evidence doesn’t exist?” he asked disbelief echoing hollowly in his voice.

“Of course it does,” she assured him, taking a small step back, as his anger radiated toward her. “…I just don’t have it anymore.”

“What!” Tate said making her jump. “What the hell are you playing at here woman? We risked our lives to keep our end of the deal.”

“I know I—” Summers explanation was cut short.

“I should have known you were lying,” he swore violently under his breath but it was loud enough to make Summer wince.

“I wasn’t–”

“I can’t believe this!” he roared, taking two steps to bring him standing before her.

“Tate, I’m trying to tell you—”

“God, you must have been laughing at how stupid we were,” he growled.

Summer just shook her head and stared at Tate in frustration. She’d given up trying to explain. He was so angry she couldn’t get a word in.

“You sat there and lied to us Summer—after everything we did for you—you lied to us,” he yelled throwing his head back to look up at the ceiling in frustration. “Your good…real good. It’s not often I fall for a con, but I’ll admit it—this time you got me,” he said with a snort.

“Are you finished?” Summer asked realizing she had to stop this ranting before things went too far. “What I was trying to tell you is that I don’t have the evidence because I sent it to the lawyer who will be trying your case.”

“You did what?” Tate exclaimed, his expression remaining incredulous.

“When Willow left instructions for me, in case something happened to her, she made me promise to follow her instructions, exactly…so I did. After I made contact with Pete, and arranged to meet with him—you, I sent the file off to the name Willow wrote down. Michael trusted this guy and intended surrendering all the evidence to him in exchange for the exclusive on the story of course,” Summer added.

“We don’t know anything about a lawyer. How the hell do you know this guy isn’t working with Tréago?” Del asked, his gaze narrowed and suspicious.

“Because, Michael had been on his way to pick you guys up, and meet with him,” she told them sadly.

“Then that’s it, we’re screwed,” Tate growled.

“Haven’t you been listening to me?” Summer demanded.

“I’ve heard everything, crystal clear. You’ve sent the only thing that clears us, to someone, who may, or may not be trusted to use it to get us off, and you lied to us in order to make us extract your sister.”

“This is getting us nowhere, why don’t we all sleep on it, and work out where we go from here tomorrow,” Maloney stepped in smoothly, ever the peacemaker.

“You sleep on it, I’m going out to get some fresh air,” Tate said, ducking back out the doorway, without a backward glance.

Maloney sent a glance toward Summer and gave a shrug, “He’ll calm down, get some sleep.”

There was little other option, she could barely think straight, and there was nowhere to go to escape—not for a lone female in a place like this. Finding her mat, she laid down, facing the wall and doing her best to steel herself from the lingering glare of betrayal and mistrust, she felt radiating around her in the small hut.

* * * *

Summer hadn’t mastered the art of sleeping where ever and whenever she got the chance like these men, and no matter how tired she knew she was, there seemed to be no way she could make her frazzled thoughts stop circling inside her head. Slowly creeping toward the door, so as not to wake any one, she stepped outside into the early morning sun. The air still had a crispness to it, and the sky may have only just lost the last streaks of the sunrise, but already, there was movement all around the place.

Standing outside the hut, she searched the immediate area, until her gaze settled on Tate, sitting with his back against a wall, across a wide courtyard area. Nervously, she made her way across to him, too scared to let her gaze wander left, or right, instead, fixed firmly upon Tate

Coming to a stop before him, she waited patiently for him to acknowledge her. Slowly he lifted his gaze, and she fought to hold his angry glare.

“Tate, I’m sorry, I mislead you about the file…”

“Save it Summer,” he said wearily.

“No, I won’t,” she snapped, she saw a slight flicker of reaction flash in the depths of his dark eyes. “I did what I did to save my sister, but I was also telling the truth about making sure the men who’d died, Michael included, were not going to be forgotten. I sent that file away because it was too important to risk holding on to.”

“Why did you wait until now? You’ve had plenty of opportunities to come clean about the file, what were you planning on doing when we arrived back in Bali and wanted you to hand it over?”

“I wanted to tell you about this earlier…but I just couldn’t seem to find the right time. Then all this happened and—” she threw her hands up in the air in despair. “I figured when the time came to hand it over, I’d slip away and leave a note to tell you what I’d done,”

“So, you were never planning on handing it over.” he asked slowly.

“I never expected this to get…personal. It started out in my head as just a business transaction. In the end, we’d both get what we wanted. The file automatically assured you of your freedom. I just neglected to tell you, before you agreed to help me find Willow.”

So it was personal, he thought to himself bitterly. That was the problem, everything seemed to be personal now days, and the fact that it was personal, was clouding his usually clear judgment.

He saw the logic in her thinking, and in the same position, he supposed he could imagine doing the same thing. But discovering that she had been planning to give him the slip, even up until just a few days ago, well…it hurt. Even acknowledging this, made him want to shrivel up inside. Hurt feelings? Him? It would have been laughable if it didn’t hurt so damn much.

He saw the vulnerable look in her eye and felt his tough heart begin to melt. She was trying to be so damn brave, everything she’d done, even coming to a rundown bar to meet with him in the very beginning, blind Freddy could see she was completely out of her element, and even now, after all they’d gone through, she was still trying her best to drag up a courageous smile. She may have risked their lives, but in all fairness, she’d made sure she’d protected every one of them, by sending the file to the one guy, who could give them their freedom.

“I’m sorry Tate, I’m truly sorry. My only defense is, that she’s my sister, and I was desperate. You guys live by your code of honor…I guess it’s the same thing I live by, so we’re not that different after all.”

Tate got to his feet and looked down into her solemn eyes, twining his fingers with hers, and gently led her back to the hut they came from.

“Do you want me to stay awake and keep watch, or something?” she asked nervously, glancing toward the doorway

“Nah, come and lay down. It’s probably safer if I know where you are,” he told her dryly.

Summer shot him an unamused look but did as he asked, lying on the mat next to his. After a few moments, she gave a surprised squeak as he slid her mat backwards and wrapped his arm around her—tucking her firmly against him.

He noticed it didn’t take her long to relax against him and fall asleep.

* * * *

That night they were the guests of honor at dinner. They ate inside a large mess hall. The meat was cooked over an open fire, surprisingly tasty, the aroma making Summer’s mouth water as she sniffed the air appreciatively. Ration packs were becoming a bit of a monotony. She tried not to stare open mouthed at the band of men who turned up en masse to feed.

She couldn’t believe it…mercenaries—these guys were the real deal. If she’d had an image inside her mind of what Mercenaries looked like, it was this lot. They were also her only defense against the people who wanted them dead.

They were dangerous—mean looking men. Most wore a variety of army fatigues, of which country, or code—she had no idea. Many of them had scar’s in varying degrees of seriousness—and all carried guns. These men were battle-hardened soldiers of fortune—and they scared the living bejesus out of her.

Duffy was his usual charming self—he eyed her with those calculating eyes whenever his gaze happened to fall on her. Summer kept close to Tate and the others—terrified of what might happen if she were stupid enough to bump into any of these men alone.

After the meal, Tate spoke with Maloney, before he turned to face her. “Maloney will take you back to the bunker.”

“Where are you going?” she asked nervously.

“We have to take care of some man stuff,” he said with a shrug.

Summer lifted an eyebrow skeptically, “I shudder to think.”

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised.

Summer and Maloney walked back through the camp. “Are you disappointed you’re missing out on all the Man stuff going on back there?” she teased as they reached the bunker.

He tossed her a smile and shook his head, “Trust me—we definitely got the best deal,” he said.

“All right, now my curiosity is roused, what does ‘man’ stuff entitle exactly?” she asked sitting cross-legged on the sleeping mat.

“Sorry—can’t tell you. You’re a woman,” he answered, sitting down opposite her.

He offered a bottle of dark brown liquid, and Summer shocked herself by reaching out to take it. With a reckless air she thought—why not? and took a hearty swig—almost choking as it burnt a track down her throat.

“What is it?” she gasped.

He shrugged. “I didn’t ask. Probably some kind of moonshine they’ve made.”

Summer hesitated when the bottle was offered once more, but discovered once the initial burning stopped, it had a rather pleasant warming effect.

“It’s not some big orgy, or anything is it?” she asked getting back to their previous conversation. God only knew what that bunch of depraved maniacs were capable of.

“Honey—if they were having an orgy—trust me, I wouldn’t be here babysitting you.” he chuckled.

“Thanks a lot,” she said dryly.

She studied the man across from her and frowned. He had the look of a military man—but if you looked closer—he didn’t. She’d seen him in combat of course and he was as lethal as the rest, with a gun but she’d also watched him treating wounds, and the same hands that held a weapon to kill—had helped to heal.

A rustle outside made Summer sit up in alarm. Maloney’s’ hand was on his gun but he dropped it once he saw who it was and relaxed once more. Tupper’s head came through the doorway and she let out the breath she’d been holding.

“Don’t tell me they sent you to baby-sit as well,” Summer said rolling her eyes in disgust.

Tupper just flashed his little boy grin at her and shook his head. “Nah—thought it might be more fun out here.”

“What on Earth are they doing?” she demanded.

“Men stuff,” Maloney told her again, passing the bottle to Tup.

Summer listened to the men bantering back and forth comfortably and smiled. They were like brothers she thought to herself. None of them had ever made a pass at her or tried anything funny—except Tate, and she wondered if there had been some kind of unwritten law, about territorial boundaries—or whether Tate had simply warned them to back off.

She wasn’t under any illusions she was a sex goddess—but these were men who had presumably been without, or with very limited, female company in the last eighteen months—surely at this point even if she were toothless and bald—to a desperate red-blooded male she’d still have looked good.

The bottle went around a few more times and as she placed it to her lips, Del walked in. Summer eyed him cautiously from across the room. They hadn’t exchanged words since the jeep episode and she was sure he was going to ignore her as he had been—but he moved across the room and took a seat beside her.