Talon: Combat Tracking Team (A Breed Apart) (43 page)

N
eil Crane stuffed a wadded-up T-shirt against his chest, biting through the pain.
“What
was that?” Glowering at Lina, he waited for an answer.

Hatred spewed from her eyes. “I told you—leave Cardinal alone.”

“No, you said I couldn’t kill him.” He flung the rag across the room and yanked off his soiled shirt to see his wound.

“And you just might’ve. If he’s dead, then—”

“Then what?” he hollered. “Are you going to shoot me? Kill me?”

“I should.”

Which meant she wouldn’t. But he didn’t care. He was too ticked off. Coupled with this Russian woman. Someone he thought he knew.

Thought he loved. But didn’t know the first thing about. When she ripped off the mask of innocence, he couldn’t have been more shocked at the demon beneath.

Now he was totally screwed. Back to where he was eight months ago. Nobody to trust. No answers. Just a barge full of trouble.

He stomped to the back room and cranked the knob on the rusting sink. Water poured out of it, brown, then slowly cleared. He lapped water against the wound, hissing.

Soft, gentle hands touched his side.

He flinched and looked at her.

“I need to sew it up.”

Why? Why wasn’t he surprised she knew how to do that? “Why would you?”

Her blue eyes lingered on his, soft then razor sharp. “Because you’re more useful alive than dead.”

Neil grunted. “Thanks. Good to know.”

“Come sit down.”

Neil muttered a curse and gripped the edge of the sink. This was totally messed up. If he had
any
options, he’d ditch her. Vanish. Just disappear into the vast sea of people who populated this crazy planet and become a real nobody.

“Stop brooding.”

“You’ve gotten sassy since you ditched the whole innocent-damsel-in-distress routine.” He turned and stalked into what used to be a family room of the abandoned apartment.

“And you’ve gotten grumpy.”

“Nah, I’ve always been that way.”

“That’s true.” She pushed him into the chair and went to her knees, a small bowl and supplies set up on a towel on the floor. He grunted—cold. Her fingers had always been cold.

“You’d better hope Cardinal is not dead.”

“Actually, I’m hoping he is.”

She pinched her lips together as she cleaned the wound then used scissorlike tongs to reach into it.

Neil pulled his head up and clenched his eyes shut as pain burst through his abdomen. Fresh warmth oozed down his side. She dabbed. Probed. He thought he might vomit. A groan wormed through his chest.

“Sorry.”

Clunk
.

“There.”

He glanced down and saw the fragment. They’d nailed him on their way out. But he’d landed a few of his own in them.

“What…?” Lina’s voice was whisper-quiet.

He looked at her, surprised at the sudden rush of innocence that flooded her expression and mentally pushed him back a foot or two.

“What if he didn’t betray you?”

Neil watched her. Tried to read her. She looked…stricken. Could he believe her?

No.

But there was something different here. Something…weird. The change in her had been too drastic. Cardinal had taught him to pay attention to little things like that. Follow them to their logical conclusion or end. “If he didn’t, then who did?”

She dropped her gaze. “Would it matter? Your vendetta has been against Cardinal. If he didn’t shoot you, then…”

Why would she even bring this up? He’d already shot the guy. Killed him, if the fates were on his side. “I guess it doesn’t matter now, huh?”

“You’re stupid.” She snatched up the supplies and pushed to her feet. “You deserve what’s coming.”

“What part of ‘stealth’ don’t you sorry excuses for soldiers understand?” Lance Burnett’s pulse pounded against his temple warning him to calm down. Like he would. He banged a fist against his desk, glaring at the bearded face in the monitor.

“Sir, with all due respect—”

“Don’t even go there.”

“Sir, Cardinal’s down.”

Lance felt as if someone had dumped ice down his back. “How in Sam Hill did that happen?” He grabbed for his Dr Pepper and hit the top. The drink toppled over. He cursed as he leapt up to salvage the disaster. “What happened down there, VanAllen?”

“Unknown, sir. We encountered some unfriendlies while in the hold but neutralized them and continued. On our way out, we came under fire. Several were hit, Cardinal went down.”

“Down? How down?”

“Unconscious, sir. Dr. Helverson came over from Lemonnier.”

“Good.” About time something went right. “Well, what’d you find down there?”

“Exactly what we expected to find, sir.”

“God have mercy.” He mopped his brow then used the napkin to mop up the spilled soda. Things were out of control. Someone was down there picking off his men. Uranium oxide sitting in the port.

“We could go down there,” Lieutenant Hastings offered.

Lance chewed the idea. “VanAllen.”

“Sir.”

“Keep me posted.”

“Yessir.”

Ending the call, he leaned back in his chair. “What’d he send?”

Hastings handed the digital reader to him. “Video footage of the lockers. More than fifty of them. All marked dangerous. You’ll see he opened one of them. Radiation readings are high.”

“We’ll need to force that ship not to leave port.”

“Already done,” Smith said from the chair beside Hastings. “Seems there’s a problem with their permits.”

Lance grunted. Man, he felt like crud. He reached for his DP, more carefully this time. “How soon can we be down there?” There were too many variables involved for him to manhandle this from another continent. And he had this twitching feeling that if he could dig deep enough or reach far enough, his fingers would coil around the neck of one General Payne.

Hastings smirked. “Flight leaves in an hour.”

Lance laughed. “Got my suitcase packed?”

“On its way up from the front desk as we speak. Your wife says she’ll miss you.”

He laughed again. “More like she’s partying now that she got rid of me for a while.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face. He felt old. Old and out of shape. Maybe he should’ve listened to the doctors.

Well, too late for that. And now he had a brewing international disaster. Cardinal was done—that went beyond bad to the hellfire and damnation bad. That man simply could not die. Because with him went a bevy of information and contacts and resources. Not to mention that Lance’s obligation to the man, long overdue, had yet to be paid. If the Grim Reaper came for Cardinal, he’d come for Lance. Sooner rather than later.

“Where’s Payne?”

Smith lifted his chin. “Officially? Taking personal time with his family.”

“Unofficially?”

“Security cameras at Lemonnier have a man who looks just like Payne.” Hastings tapped another picture into view. “That’s a mighty deep pocket, reaching all the way to the Dark Continent.”

“Let’s empty that pocket. Give Payne a little pain of his own.”

Arms wrapped around her waist, Aspen stood as the doctor emerged from the room where he’d worked on Dane. “How is he?”

The doctor hesitated, glancing at Candyman.

What? Was it bad news, and he didn’t think she could handle it?

Candyman gave the doctor a nod as Timbrel came to her side.

“He was hit twice—head and neck. And he lost a lot of blood.” Dr. Helverson accepted a bottled water from Rocket, uncapped it, and guzzled. “He needs to rest, but the bullet did not nick his carotid, thank goodness. If it had, we’d be planning a burial.”

“Two hits?”

Aspen closed her eyes and turned away.

“What about the head?”

Candyman’s questions drew her back round.

“Just a graze. Head wounds are messy because they bleed a lot.” His eyes seemed to bore into her. “How’s your head?”

Her fingers went to the knot almost on their own will. “A headache, but I’m okay.”

“Dizziness? Blurry vision?”

“No.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way,” Helverson said as he started for the door. “If she becomes disoriented or she doesn’t make sense when she talks or her speech slurs, call me. She could have brain swelling.”

“I think she already does,” Timbrel said. “She likes that guy in there.”

Aspen couldn’t resist the smile but shook her head at her friend. “At least I can admit when I like a guy.” She rolled her gaze toward Candyman.

Timbrel stiffened.

“Night, folks.” Helverson glanced at his watch. “Make that, morning.”

“I’m going to go in with him.” Aspen clicked her tongue at Talon, who lumbered out of his sleep and onto his feet to follow.

As she slipped into the next room, which was barren of furniture or decoration save a chair, a sink, and the table upon which Dane was stretched, she allowed Talon in. He curled up in a corner, apparently exhausted from the excitement an hour ago.

Feeling drawn like a flower to the sun, she went to Dane. A blanket draped over his legs and waist, his upper torso bare. Two white bandages glared against his olive skin, one on his neck, one just above his temple.

In the chair, Watterboy sat up and gave a sleepy “hey” then pulled to his feet. “Doc says he’s going to make it.”

At the table, Aspen took in the man she’d fallen in love with. So incredibly familiar, as if she’d known him all her life. Yet a stranger. A very handsome, rugged, brooding one. But handsome all the same.

“Thank God,” Aspen said. “Hey, if you want a break, I’ll stay with him now.”

A small divot of his hair had been shaved near the graze at his temple. A shame. She’d liked the way the strands near his temple always dropped into his eyes. She brushed the hair back. He probably wouldn’t let her do this if he was awake. He’d tell her she didn’t know him, tell her not to trust him.

“He’s a good man.”

Her heart zigzagged. She’d almost forgotten Watterboy was in the room still. “Yeah, he is.” But she sensed that the team leader was trying to tell her something else, something
more
.

She looked at the man with the dark hair, still garbed in his tactical gear, blood on his shoulder and chest from hauling Dane into the space that became the surgical bay. Candyman had radioed en route for a doc, and thankfully, Helverson had been at the hospital, just minutes away.

Watterboy was a stark contrast to Candyman, who was all play and games. The man before her took his job seriously and himself even more so. What was his hidden message?

“Do you…
know
him? I mean—really know him, Captain?”

“You care about him?”

Aspen couldn’t hide the blush if she wanted to and let her focus return to Dane, still unconscious. Sedated. A beautiful face. She swiped her thumb over his cheek and rested her hand on his shoulder. Did she care about him? “Yeah.”

Oh, it went way beyond that. Seeing him with all that blood, thinking of him being dead, leaving her alone—it terrified her. More than anything she’d experienced losing her parents. Losing Austin. They all seemed like the end of her world. But then Dane came, and she felt like the world was a good place to be again.