Talon: Combat Tracking Team (A Breed Apart) (30 page)

Y
ou’ll need to work her. Find out what she found. What it means.” Breathe. In. Out. “I will
not
work her.” Pinching the bridge of his nose—and grateful it didn’t hurt as bad as it did a week ago—Cardinal clamped down on his frustration.

“Cardinal, we don’t have time. Understand this: General Payne went ballistic when he found out you were there.”

“And how did he find that out?” Showered, he stuffed his arms in a clean shirt.

“No idea, but he’s yelling and threatening to have you hauled back here and thrown in prison for the rest of your life.”

“My job is to figure this out and find Courtland.” Cardinal stuffed his feet in his boots as he talked. “Your job is to keep the hounds off my back.” He huffed. “Don’t worry. I’ll find out what she knows, but I won’t work her. I’ll
ask
her.”

Burnett laughed, and the slurping of a soda filled the line. “What’s the difference?”

“Night and day.”

Burnett cursed. “For the love of Pete.” He muttered something. “Look, Payne’s storming down the hall, obviously planning to be a pain in my backside.” He grunted. “Listen, Cardinal—get Courtland and get back here before the dragon breathes fire down your neck.”

“Understood.”

Now to find Aspen.
Talk
to her. Give her the chance to be straight with him. So he could keep his conscience clear.

Feeling as if he’d been through a sauna after his shower, Cardinal made his way past the containerized living units, heat wafting off the cement. At least they’d been accommodated in the portable buildings rather than a tent—that, he knew, was for Talon to stay cool in the AC-regulated environment. When they’d arrived back at Lemonnier, Aspen and Timbrel went with the med staff to get Talon hydrated and cleaned up. They’d agreed to meet at the cantina after showers and a change of clothes.

The central path that snaked around “downtown” Lemonnier was known as Broadway and led Cardinal toward the cantina, theater, PX—and Aspen. At least, he hoped it did. She wasn’t in her building. As he made his way through downtown, he spotted a group playing basketball down the road a bit. Candyman with his thick beard and thick build stuck out. And so did Timbrel, though she stood at least a head shorter. She had more spunk than most women—especially to play a game with men nearly twice her size.

Cardinal slipped into the cantina, scanning the area. No go. He stepped back into the heat and made his way to the gym.

Bag in hand, Watterboy strode toward him.

“Have you seen Aspen?”

“Saw her heading to the chapel on my way in.” He shouldered past another soldier but called over his shoulder, “Hey. Briefing with Burnett in twenty.”

“Thanks.” Cardinal jogged toward the chapel, which looked more like something that belonged on the plains of America than in Eastern Africa.

Stepping inside stripped him of any preconceived notions as music rushed into him, drawing him deeper into its sanctuary. The door closed, and his eyes slowly adjusted to the Spartan interior. Certainly no St. Mary’s Cathedral. With wood paneling, fluorescent bulbs on the sloped ceilings, and black vinyl chairs serving as pews, the chapel was functional at best.

Sitting at the black upright piano, Aspen had her back to him. Immersed in the music filling the air. Peaceful. The tune coiled around his chest and drew him to the front.

As he came up beside her, she jumped and lifted her fingers. Silence dropped like a bomb and felt just as destructive. Somehow, her playing soothed the savage atmosphere.

“Please,” he said as he eased onto the bench with her. “Don’t stop. It’s beautiful.”

“I’m a
closet
pianist. I don’t play in front of others.” Her embarrassment glowed through her cheeks and shy smile.

“Where’d you learn?”

“My mother was a concert pianist, and though I inherited her skill, I did not inherit her desire and ability to perform in front of others.” She shrugged and flexed her hand. “It’s easier on the knuckles than boxing.”

Cardinal ran a hand along his face. “And jawbones.”

Aspen laughed. “Blocking helps that.”

“So, it’s my fault?”

She wrinkled her nose. “You just need more practice.”

The challenge sat in the quiet building like a warm blanket. Finally Aspen plunked a few keys, the higher notes tinkling through the cozy chapel. Then a heavy sigh. Her countenance was depressed, her song now somber.

“What’s going on?”

Chewing her lower lip, she again dropped her hands into her lap and stared up at the framed print above the piano. “I came in here to try to think through it all—why would he leave me, be alive and never tell me? Let me think he’s dead?” She bunched her shoulders. “I don’t get it.”

Considering he had something to do with all that, he had to tread lightly. “There are those who make sacrifices for their country most people will never understand.”

She considered him, her pale eyes piercing. “Are you saying he’s making a sacrifice?”

Whoa. Too close there. “What I’m saying is, unless you can talk to him, don’t try to understand. Just go with your facts. Let them talk to you.”

Aspen looked down at her hands. “They don’t make sense, like they’re speaking a different language.”

He’d have to nudge her. “You found something at the village.”

She whipped her face back to his. “How…?”

“There’s not much I miss.”

Guilt crowded her soft, innocent features. She was so easy to read, so easy to…Cardinal fisted his hand. He would
not
work her. This had to be natural. But his curiosity was killing him. “If you hid it from us, I assume you had a reason. A good one. At the same time, you’ve separated yourself since finding it.” He cocked his head and arched his eyebrow. “Those facts are talking to me.”

Her expression shifted, but was it one of being caught with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar or one of genuine curiosity? “What are they saying?”

“That you don’t trust me.”

She opened her mouth to speak and drew back. “I—”

“Let me finish.” He noticed her hand had moved to the pocket, probably where she hid the item. “Second, your seclusion and pensive disposition tell me whatever you found probably has personal meaning or evokes a memory. And somehow, it has pushed you into self-preservation mode.”

Her gaze darted over the white and black keys, her mind seemingly somewhere else.

“And last…you don’t trust anyone with what you’re thinking, what you’re considering, which is why you’re here in the chapel.” He lowered his voice because it just seemed appropriate. “Seeking the counsel of the divine.”

Just rip her open and read her heart like a book! How on earth had he figured all that out?

A nervous tickle pushed out an equally nervous laugh. “Remind me never to ask you to evaluate me again.” It was hard, sitting here next to him. Smelling the freshness of him after a shower. He hadn’t shaved again, and a thin layer of dark stubble shadowed his mouth and jaw. His black hair dropped into his face, still a bit damp. Hard to think. Hard to hold her ground.

“So, I’m right?” Something shadowed his eyes.

It almost looked like disappointment. Why did that thought corkscrew through her chest, the thought of letting him down? She couldn’t hurt him. Didn’t want to lose the little connection they’d established, even though he’d shoved her away not two days ago.

Dane stood and walked away.

Was he leaving? She twisted around and pushed to her feet. “Dane. Wait.”

He hesitated then planted himself on the first row of black chairs.

She didn’t want him leaving mad. “Please.” Panic clutched at her—she didn’t want him to leave at all. “It wasn’t my intention to hide this from you.”

Okay, yeah, she was trying to hide the token. But only because she didn’t know what it meant. And she hated that everything that had happened since arriving in Djibouti left her with that thought—she didn’t know. She was sick of not knowing why her brother did this. Why he let her believe he was dead.

She brushed the curls from her face. “Okay. Look, I’m sorry. That’s not true. I just…” She took the piece from her pocket and held it out to him.

Eyes on her, he took it. Turned it over. “A flattened penny?” Questions danced in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I…” He shrugged.

Taking it back, she lowered herself onto the vinyl padded seat next to him, rubbing her thumb along the smoothed surface. “After our parents’ funeral, Austin and I went back to our grandparents’ house.” The memory made her ache. “The house was filling with church members bringing casseroles, telling us all these stories about Mom and Dad, how wonderful they were, how they were in a better place, that we shouldn’t be sad.”

An unbidden tear strolled down her cheek. She brushed it aside. “It was hard…so hard to sit there, thank them for coming, listen to them go on and on.” More tears. The rawness felt new, fresh, not as if it’d been eight years.

“I always had a little more patience than Austin, but that day…” She tightened her lips as a tear rolled over them and bounced off her chin. “I just. Couldn’t. Take. It.” With the back of her hand, she dried the tears. “I went out back on the porch. Heard the train coming.”

She blinked and looked at Dane through her tear-blurred vision. “Austin came out, grabbed my hand, and led me to the tracks. When we were kids visiting there, we’d put pennies on the track and wait for the train to flatten them.” She held up the penny. “That’s what we did that day. And we agreed to keep them with us—always.” Aspen tugged a chain from beneath her shirt and revealed a second penny, equally flattened and smoothed.

His face remained impassive. As if he wasn’t catching on, but she knew better than that. Dane didn’t miss a thing—he even said so. In fact, he saw more than she could ever hope to notice.

“Austin’s here, Dane. He’s
here.”
The tears and hurt squeezed past her will to hold them back. “Why?
Why
is he here? Why did he let them lie to us, let me believe he was dead?”

Dane’s arms came around her and drew her close.

Clinging to him, Aspen cried, relishing the strength in his arms wrapped around her. His chest was firm and toned, yet comfortably soft. His heart boomed against her ear, regular, steady. Constant.

Dane. A veritable pillar of strength this whole time.

Clenching his shirt in her fist, she let the shudders smooth out her angst. But an epiphany stilled her. “He wants me to find him.” Elation nudged her head off his chest but was quickly tempered with confusion.

“What are you thinking? Tell me.” A smile seemed parked on his face, ready to flash.

She flicked her gaze to him and felt a giddy sensation thinking she might actually be on the right track, that Dane already knew what she was going to say. That he agreed with her. But the thought…it proved excruciating to voice. Her throat constricted. She hated feeling this way, feeling weak, betrayed. “Why…?”

“Go on. Finish that thought.”

“Why would he want me to find him when he’s been hiding?”

“What answers haunt that question?”

She swallowed. “I’m not sure I want to go there.”

“Explore every option.”

Aspen gave a mental nod. “Either he’s in danger and can’t let me know he needs help.”

“A bit far-fetched, considering his occupation.”

“True, but not
completely
implausible.”

“Agreed.” Dane brushed the curls from her face. “Go on.”

“Or he’s…” Adrenaline squirted through her. “It’s a trap.”

“Let me guess,” Dane said with a grin. “He got the brawn, you got the brains.”

“That black eye says I have some brawn, too.” Her heart spun in crazy circles as his hand slid along her cheek then down, cupping her neck.

“I deserved it.” Steel eyes seemed molten as they traced her face.

Aspen’s mind cartwheeled as it caught up with what was happening as his face came closer, his dark lashes fringing eyes that dropped to her mouth.

Oh man. They shouldn’t be doing this. But she’d felt connected to him since they set boot here in Africa. She had to admit she’d wanted this. For a while. A long while.