Tactical Deception: Silent Warrior, Book 2 (22 page)

Now he was contemplating not letting them out of his sight for a good long while. Every time he did, bad things happened—Menendez’s assassins after them, the boys kidnapped, Lauren attacked by Conrad Gardner. The list was bad.

But with both Gardner and Menendez in jail and in solitary confinement until their trials, he’d thought Lauren and the kids would be safe going back to Atlanta for a few days to arrange the sale of her house.

She’d made the decision to start a new life in Fayetteville and had moved into an apartment fifteen minutes from Fort Bragg just two weeks ago. He’d stayed with them most of the time, just as he had at the Wilmington Beach house she’d rented through Labor Day.

They had yet to make their commitment to each other official yet. Currently, their plan was to let his daughter, Livy, and Matt and Mitch get used to the idea of being around each other first. He and Livy had just reconnected since his divorce from Jill four years ago and he didn’t want Livy to feel she was losing him to Lauren and the boys before she’d had some quality daddy time. Besides, he’d wanted to do this right, proper engagement and all.

He’d been carrying a ring in his pocket for a week, waiting for the right time to ask Lauren, but something always intruded. Now was as good a time as any.

“Is it morning yet?”

“Can we race now, Mr. Jack?”

“We’re ready.”

Jack looked for the tiny moles to tell which one was Matt and which one was Mitch. Matt, mole on the left. Mitch, mole on the right. When he considered all that had happened since he’d shot Bill Collins in Lebanon it was a total miracle that they were a part of his life.

“Yes, it’s morning, Matt. Yes, you can race, Mitch. And it’s good you’re ready, but first I have a surprise for your mom.” Emotion clogged his throat as he smiled at the boys’ hope-filled expressions. He tightened his arm around Lauren. Thank God they were all here to intrude and to hell with the proper moment.

The boys cheered and gave up their pretense of being quiet and zoomed about the room with their cars.

Shifting slightly, he managed to rouse Lauren as he reached into his pocket, only to have his cell phone vibrate. Teeth gritting, duty had him pulling his cell phone out instead of Lauren’s ring.

It was Beck.

“This had better be good,” Jack said. He couldn’t make out Beck’s reply above the roar of a car engine on Beck’s end and the noise the twins were making, but he heard several alarming words—shot at, almost killed and Dugar.

“Say what?”

Lauren sat up at the alarm in his voice and he rolled from the couch, whispering to the boys that he’d be right back. He moved to the kitchen and Beck’s story came through loud and clear. “Surf and Mac are with me. The commander set them up for watch at 0-dark-thirty outside the Butner ACP (Access Control Point). They pretty much saved my ass too. We’re heading north on 401 tailing Dugar to see where he’s hiding. He’s driving Neil’s ’57 Chevy. Have you been in touch with the commander? We can’t reach him.”

“Not since last night. Don’t lose the SOB. I’ll find the commander and call you back.” Jack wanted the yellow-bellied Dugar in his gun sights so bad he was half tempted to hop in his car and head north. Some evil just needed to be sent back to wherever the hell they’d come from ASAP. Anything else Jack might have said to Beck died the second Jack’s phone buzzed and Rico’s emergency signal for help flashed along with a latitude and longitude.

ANGEL
.

“I’ll call you back, Beck.”

“Bad news?” Lauren asked as she slipped into the kitchen, holding a thermometer in her hand and worry in her gaze.

“Worse than that. All hell seems to be breaking loose,” Jack said as he dialed Dekker. The general was going to be pissed that he’d seen Rico last night, but brothers had each others’ backs and that was the bottom line. “What’s their temp?”

“Down from before. Ninety-nine point eight and their throats hurt less, so I’ll wait on the doctor.”

“Good.” While the line connected, he moved over and brushed his lips against hers. “I’m going to Roger’s office and don’t know where else or when I’ll be back, but I’ll stay in touch. Don’t leave the post. As of this morning, we’ve a sniper in Fayetteville too.”

Lauren followed him from the kitchen. “Is this more of Menendez’s hidden agenda that you-know-who helped plan?”

Jack shook his head. “No. And don’t borrow any more trouble than you’ve already had to bear.” “You-know-who” was code for Bill, the boys’ father, who’d played a deadly game of terrorism and lost. The collateral damage he’d left behind was partly responsible for some of the political meltdown between a number of countries and that fact weighed heavily on Lauren’s heart.

Dekker’s number went to voice mail. Jack bent down and whispered to Matt and Mitch. “Gotta go get some baddies. We’ll do four races when I get back, okay? Meanwhile, your soldier’s orders for the day are to help your mom rest.”

“Yes, sir.” They solemnly saluted then looked at each other with excitement bubbling as they held up four fingers and jumped around enough to bring Sasha and Sam, their white German shepherds, running from lookout at the front window. Shaking his head and smiling, Jack grabbed his keys and sent Lauren a hungry look that promised everything when he returned.

“Hold up. You forgot something.” Lauren crossed to him, lush mouth smiling, blue eyes promising everything a man could dream or hope for.

She grabbed the waistband of his jeans and he nearly groaned with want. Before he could tell her he had to leave right then, she zipped his fly up for him then pressed her fingers to his lips. “Don’t worry about us. Do what you have to do and we’ll be here when you get back.”

Her words were like a blessing of love that eased a ton of worry from his shoulders. He still had some knee-jerk apprehension that any woman could deal with his line of work and not turn bitter. He walked out the front door, feeling as if he had the freedom to focus on what needed to be done. He left Dekker a short message and called Senior Airman Holly Gear, who’d flown down to Atlanta early this morning. She answered first ring.

“DT?”

“Rico’s in trouble.”

“More than you know. General Dekker is ready to kill him. Instead of coming to the FBI as planned, Rico’s been running around as if he’s looking for clues on the sniper. Now the FBI isn’t so sure and believes he’s buying time to cover up evidence. The body of the agent tailing Rico this morning was found at Piedmont Park where Rico was last seen. The FBI is making some nasty suggestions.”

“Holly. Stop. Listen fast. I saw Rico last night. I gave him an emergency cell and he just activated the signal. Rico needs back up now. Find Dekker and move.” He gave her the coordinates.

“General Dekker’s right here. He’s on the phone with President Anderson. I’ll get the FBI on this now. Hold on.”

Jack waited less than fifteen seconds.

“This is SA Gibson. Just exactly when did you see Corporal Santana?”

“Can we have this conversation after you get to him?”

“Already have closer agents heading to the coordinates and we’re on our way. Now talk.”

Jack relayed his midnight visit to Angie’s and exactly what surveillance he’d bypassed and where.

“Heads will roll,” Gibson replied.

“Not too hard. It’s my job to infiltrate undetected and I am good at my job. Otherwise I’d be dead. Have Senior Airman Gear or General Dekker call me the second you reach Rico and let me know if Angela Freemont is with him or not.” Jack prayed not but he had a sick feeling that she was and that was one call to Lauren he would dread making.

“We’ll let you know.”

Jack disconnected and as he drove to Commander Weston’s office, he dialed every number he had for Roger. Everything went to voice mail. On a whim, he cut over to Roger’s apartment first. Neither Roger nor Mari were there. More disturbingly, when he checked at the apartment next door where Roger had been bunking, he’d learned that Roger hadn’t been there since the day before.

On the road to Roger’s office, Jack’s cell rang and the commander’s name flashed on the screen. Relieved as hell, Jack answered. “Tell me Beck’s got Dugar.”

There was a long silent pause then a girl spoke. “Oh God, if you’re a bad guy Jace is so gonna be ‘I told you so’. Your number kept flashing on the screen and I kept thinking that I’d want someone to call back and let me know if it was me, so I’m calling. This cell phone here and a nasty gun are in the parking lot. Just laying here. There’s some blood too, I think.”

“Where?” Jack’s gut clenched.

“I’m at—but if I tell you then you’ll know where I am and you could be bad and that wouldn’t be good. Maybe I shouldn’t have called.”

“Whoa. We’re the good guys. My name is Jack. And you’re going to call the police then go wait someplace safe until they get there. But Roger is my friend and I’m coming too. You’d want your friend to come if you were in trouble, right? Roger must be in trouble.”

“Yeah, I would. Parking lot of the Holsten Inn in Fayetteville.”

“Have you touched anything besides the phone?”

“No.”

“Good. Don’t. Call 911 first. If you’re by yourself, run into the Inn and get the manager to stay with you. Watch the area where the gun is and don’t let anyone disturb anything. If you feel you are in danger or, as you say, a bad guy shows up, you stay hidden until the police arrive. Also call me too if someone shows up, okay? Can you do all of that?” The girl sounded all of sixteen or so. His daughter Livy was ten and were she in the same situation, he’d want her the hell out of harm’s way. He turned and headed to the closest ACP, planning to cover the twenty-minute drive to Fayetteville in ten.

“Yeah, but you’re scaring me.”

“Just call the police and do as I said. It’ll be all right.” Jack disconnected and called the CID office to alert them of the situation with Roger. Army Criminal Investigation Command (CID) first then General Dekker. Rico. Roger. Beck. Everything wasn’t going to hell in a hand basket; it was freaking rocketing there at Mach 6 and it wasn’t quite noon yet.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Atlanta, Georgia

1200 hours

Rico fought to stay sharp against the shock trying to take over his system. His pulse raced. A knife-wrenching pain had settled low on his left side, and he couldn’t seem to take a deep breath. The painful moaning from the man he’d shot moments ago soon turned to pleas for Allah’s blessings—odd he wasn’t begging Allah for help if he was in that much pain. No other gunman appeared. He’d heard nothing from Angie and he couldn’t stand staying away from her another second.

Against his better judgment, he left his hiding place and angled onto the hood of her car. The car shifted to the left and Rico bit back a groan of frustration. Any seasoned pro would know exactly where he was now. Rico moved forward, faster now, uncaring if he was silent or not. If the SOB wanted to nail him, then Rico was going to at least know if Angie was okay.

She lay slumped against the steering wheel and unmoving. The air bag had deflated. He eased her hair back and her pale face came into view.

“God, Angel,” he whispered as he crawled onto the dashboard to reach her. She was ghost white. Blood dripped from the corner of her mouth and her head lolled to the side. She didn’t respond when he touched her and her skin was cold to the touch. A quick check to her carotid artery at the side of her neck told him her heartbeat was strong and regular. She was breathing as well, but something was very wrong. She’d been out too long.

He didn’t dare move her. The sound of a footstep in glass from behind him had Rico twisting sharply to his right to cover Angie’s body, his bad arm was so useless that he couldn’t even move it completely to free a clear shot with his left. The man with the Uzi was there, must have come around the back of the motel to come up behind. The man grinned as he aimed the machine gun at Angie. Rico wrenched harder to the side and shot from beneath his right underarm.

A spray of bullets from the Uzi ate up the ground between them and plowed into the hood of Angie’s car as the man’s finger twitched on the trigger. Then he toppled over, dying with a smile on his face and a bullet between the eyes.

The sound of sirens closing in on Rico penetrated his growing haze of pain. He looked down, thinking a bullet had hit him then realized what the pain in his side was all about. From the look of his misshapen side and mushrooming bruise, he had broken the hell out of his ribs.

Christ. He unscrewed and pocketed the suppressor from his Beretta then reached for Angie. He had to touch her. “Angel. I’m sorry. This is all my fault.” God, if anything bad happened to her he would die.

“Corporal Santana, can you hear me?”

Rico winced as his eardrums recoiled from the foghorn blowing at him. He shook loose the haze clouding his vision. “Bum Fuck Egypt could hear you, sir.”

He had to be dreaming, because that was General Dekker shouting at him and General Dekker was at Fort Bragg and Rico was—“ANGIE!” he yelled, everything falling nightmarishly into place. He tried to sit up but his ass was plastered to…what?

Shaking his head again, he realized he couldn’t see because his eyes were shut. He snapped them open and saw General Dekker’s mug glaring at him. Next to Dekker was Senior Airman Holly Gear with a grin splitting her face, and next to her was SA Gibson, who looked pissed enough to kick Rico’s ass to BFE.