Talon: Combat Tracking Team (A Breed Apart) (32 page)

“Girl, just come back.”

Aspen cradled her head in her hand as she Skyped with Brittain, who was on the other side of the world. “I can’t.” She fought the urge to cry. There’d been enough tears lately, and she was through being weak. “Austin is here. I am not going home till I find him and figure out what’s going on.”

“Is that a ring on your finger?”

Aspen straightened, feeling the heat in her face. “Yeah.” She slid it off. “It’s part of our cover while we’re here. In fact, we’re supposed to be staying with some missionary in the city, not here on the base. But Talon’s still recovering from a cut on his paw and the heat.”

“What are you going to do about Mr. Don’t Trust Me?”

Aspen groaned. “I have no idea.” She raised her hands. “What does that mean?”

“Hello?” Brittain laughed. “It means don’t trust him.”

Rolling her eyes, Aspen sighed. “But why would he tell me that? It makes no sense—and it defies what I feel. When he said it, I just couldn’t move. It wouldn’t…process, especially after he almost kissed me.”

“What?”

Shoot
. “Um…never mind about that.”

“Oh no.” Brittain’s face drew closer on the screen. “No, you can’t do that to me, girl. You need to spill. Now.”

“Look, it’s…an unusual situation.”

“Uh-huh.”

No, she wasn’t going to lie about this, wouldn’t downplay what she felt. “I like him.” She looked at the flat surface that held her friend’s visage. “He’s strong—internally and externally. He has helped
me
stay strong when I just wanted to puddle up. And even though he said not to trust him, there aren’t many people I’d trust the way I trust him.”

“Uh-oh.”

“I know what you’re going to say, so don’t say it.”

“All right. I won’t. But you need to hear it anyway—I can smell what’s happening from all the way over here. You’re falling for him, hard. Be careful, Aspen. If this guy is warning you not to trust him”—she let out an “are you dumb” laugh—“then you probably need to be listening to the man. Ya know?”

Fingers digging in the curls at the back of her head, Aspen nodded. “I know, but…”

“Look, girl. The only time you’ve got a bigger
butt
than me is when you’re trying to rationalize.”

Aspen laughed. “Normally I’d agree. But this isn’t rationalizing. I… it feels different.”

“What does?”

“What I feel for him”—she knew Brittain would jump on that, so she leapt ahead—“and the motivation behind what he said.”

“You have such a good heart. Always have.”

Aspen cringed. She knew what would come next. “But…”

Silence stretched between them, and she watched her friend, who stared back unmoving. “Aspen?”

“Yeah?”

“Someone’s at your door.”

Lying on her bunk with the laptop, she glanced over her shoulder. Through the small filmy square window, she saw a shadowy form.

Two solid raps hit the metal door—and banged against her heart as she rolled off the bunk. “Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

“No!” Brittain said with a laugh. “What if it’s him? I’ll go so you two can talk.”

After a quick good-bye, Aspen hurried and opened the door.

A man wearing ACUs saluted. “Aspen Courtland?”

“Yes?”

“Here, ma’am. This just arrived for you.” He handed her a cream envelope.

Three-by-four inches, the envelope was small and only had her name written in all block lettering. “Weird.” When she looked up, he’d already started away. “Thanks,” she called after him.

Back in her room, she dropped onto the gray mattress and crisscrossed her legs. Opening the envelope, she wondered who’d written it. She plucked a single sheet of paper out. Opened it.

Did you find the coin?

Boys’ orphanage, tomorrow, Djibouti City

Cardinal sat in the outdoor restaurant, the remains of his dinner in front of him. The weight of the band on his left ring finger anchored his mind to it. Elbow on the table, he stared down, rubbing his knuckles along his lip.

“I trust you.”

Three deadly words.

At least, they had been for his mom.

“Do you trust me, Eliana?”

“of course I do, but…”

“There is no but. Only yes or no.” The colonel held her face in his large
,
powerful hands. “You said you loved me.”

“I do! I swear it!”

“Then trust me!”

Swiping a hand over his stubbly mouth and chin, Cardinal sat back. Pushed his gaze to the walkway, where seamen, airmen, and soldiers made their way to and from dinner.

“You’ve always been a great lover.”

Crack!

Nikol jerked
.

A thousand tiny splinters snaked through the large pane of glass from the bullet
.

“and,” the colonel hissed, “a horrible liar.”

Crack!
The fractured glass rushed down like a mighty waterfall
.

“No more.” With a great thrust, he shoved her backward
.

Then the angel flew
.

“Hey!” A clatter erupted.

Cardinal blinked. Someone stood in front of his table. Only as his mind emerged from the past and his brain aligned with his surroundings did he manage to respond. “No need to yell. I’m right here.”

“When I have to call your name three times—”

He squinted up at the woman. “Maybe I was waiting for you to talk nicely.”

Timbrel dropped into the chair, and next to her, Candyman joined them. “Listen, I might have been wrong about Rankin—”

“Might have been?” He couldn’t believe how easy it was to annoy her. And keeping her unbalanced would make her do more stupid things. It’d keep the
balance
of power in his hands.

“But I’m not wrong about you.” She leveled a gaze at him. “If you pull a stunt like that again, I’m going to Burnett and having him yank your sorry butt stateside.”

Cardinal lifted his bottled water and sipped. “According to him, I’m married to Aspen and under orders to make it look authentic.”

Anger exploded across her face.

“Wait,” he said, an authoritative tone in his word. “First—you came in before we kissed. It didn’t happen, thanks to you.” It ticked him off how she seemed to gloat under that revelation. Ah, let her have this one. It worked better for him. “But if it had, it would’ve been real. I like her. She’s a good woman. I’m not going to play her.” His heart careened at the admission. “This isn’t my first op. I know how to work the angles without messing with the heart.” At least, he hoped he did. “Besides, it won’t happen again.”

“Why not?” Timbrel scowled. “You jumping ship on her that fast?”

“No.” Man, she gave him no credit. “Thanks to your accusations, she doesn’t trust me. And I don’t want her to. Not here, not while her mind is wrapped around finding her brother. Her emotions are high, her adrenaline higher. What she’s feeling can’t be trusted.”

Candyman grinned through his thick, mangy beard. “You’re not sure she likes you for you or for the hero role you’re in.”

“Exactly.”

“Markoski! Candyman!”

The shout from down the path drew their attention, Candyman coming out of his chair even before the sound of his name finished.

At the command building, Watterboy waved them down. “Move! Aspen’s MIA!”

    Twenty-Two    

W
hat do you mean, she’s MIA?”

“Checked the base, the kennel, her temporary bunk, mess—everything.” Captain Dean Watters stood, hands on hips, as he relayed the information. “She didn’t sign out of the base, but she’s not here.”

Lance Burnett flung the Dr Pepper can in the trash can across his office. It hit the wall and clattered into the metal bin. “How in Sam Hill does a person go missing on a military base?” He stabbed his fingers through his hair and clenched his fist. “Look, you know what? I don’t care
how
she got lost.” Glaring into the webcam, he made his foul mood known. “Just get her
unlost
. I don’t need any more gray hair than I already have.”

“Yessir,” Watters said, his grim expression betraying his displeasure.

Whether that was for Lance’s anger or Courtland’s MIA status, Lance couldn’t decipher. “You take that irritation, Captain, and you aim it at finding this young woman. She might be former Air Force, but she’s not seen combat. Out there in a city that is ninety-something percent Muslim is
not
a recipe for Granny’s homemade pudding. Got it?”

“Yessir.”

“The last thing I need is for some beautiful former JAG assistant to go missing, end up in the hands of terrorists, and have that all over the news. Because the Good Lord knows that it will soon come out that her brother went missing, too. And how will
that
look?”

Via live video feed, Lance again surveyed those gathered. “And where in Sam Hill is my man?”

“He said he had a few ideas.”

The pot of hot water that sat beneath Lance’s backside—the one Payne and the others would use to scald him right down to private—began to boil. “Ideas? About what? I want him on this feed right now. VanAllen!”

“Sir.” Candyman straightened.

“Drag his sorry carcass back in there. Now. I want words with that no-good—”

Light ballooned against a wall in the small conference room at Lemonnier. A dark shadow slid across it, then the explosion of light winked out.