The Edge of Courage (Red Team) (19 page)

Rocco looked around at the team. No point telling them how easy it was to assume a false identity—they were all masters of that art. “I had the traitors branded before they left Halim’s hospitality. I wanted to be able to find them again if needed. And I made it clear that they were to make a similar mark on their brothers and associates—anyone Halim and al Jahni could trust once they came stateside.”

Kit slowly smiled, holding Rocco’s gaze. “What’s the mark?”

“A crescent moon and star right here,” Rocco said, pointing to the area below his left ear.

“It’ll be interesting to see how pervasive that’s become among the WKBers.” Owen said.

“We believe al Jahni is retaliating against the three of us for the damage we caused his supply chain. He’s learned who we are and where we live, and he’s sending a message to his associates—allies and enemies—that he’ll recoup an eye-for-an-eye if anyone dares move against him. At anytime. In any country. He may be building this into a
fatwā
targeted against anyone with military connections here in the U.S. in order to grow his power network back home.

“This situation is a Pandora’s Box. If it isn’t quickly contained, there could be a flood of retaliatory actions taken on our soil against our troops, peace officers, and even civilians—families of our warriors. Our warriors’ identities are concealed during missions, but not on base, not from the public, and not from the Afghan askars working with us. Once an enemy knows our name and our point of origin, they have everything they need to hit us hard here at home.”

Kit sent another look around the room, waiting for the full impact of his words to settle in. “Tremaine Industries has been retained to discover who al Jahni’s operatives are, how he manages them, how he put his team together, how he’s funding it. When we have our information, we bring them in for further questioning. We do not, and I repeat—we do not—have kill authority. We take the motherfuckers alive if it’s a kill or capture situation.”

Owen gave Rocco an assessing look. “So now you know what we’re up against. Before we go any further, I need to know if you’re in or out.”

Kit nodded, his expression grim. “Rocco, you met some of the key White Kingdom Brotherhood liaisons. You speak the languages of all the warlords in al Jahni’s network. You’re intimately familiar with their culture, their thinking, and their strategies. We need your knowledge and expertise.”

Rocco met Kit’s hard gaze. Truthfully, he knew he didn’t have what it took to do another long-term undercover assignment. “I’m done, Kit. I can’t go under again like I was.”

“We won’t be sending you overseas,” Owen told him. “We need you here working with us—stateside. I need you to stay in the game.”

Rocco looked away. It was no fucking game. Men’s souls were at stake. But Mandy was also in danger. So were these men and others like them—and their families. He looked around the room at the men Kit had assembled.

Val, Max, and Kelan were men he considered brothers, as were Kit and Blade. The others had to be made of the same steel, forged in the same fire. They had all survived the Program to become Red Team members. Every one of them was a well-honed killing machine. He glanced at Blade, who started to grin.

“Aw, hell. I’m in,” Rocco caved.

Kit came over and shook his hand, pulling him in for a bro hug. “I never thought you were out. Let’s get Mandy down here to go over what’s been happening.”

Mandy walked through the basement door that Owen held for her. She looked around the space that had served various purposes to her family since she was a child, but none this terrifying. In the short time they’d been here, the new team had assembled an entire war room, with maps, white boards, and computers lining the circumference of the rectangular space.

The old rec room, which was large enough for two suites of living room furniture, seemed to shrink in on itself with nine very large warriors in it.

She set her folders on one of the folding tables the team had brought, then went to stand near Rocco. He reached over and took hold of her hand, providing an anchor in a world that had gone crazy.

“Mandy,” Owen started, “as you may have surmised, the problems you’ve been having here aren’t the work of mischievous kids. It’s intentional sabotaging by some enemies of the United States, enemies your brother, Blade and Rocco faced overseas. It’s a big deal, and it’s why we’re here. Those enemies have brought the war stateside, and they’re using it as a distraction to cover their real purpose—growing their drug network.”

Mandy couldn’t hide her shock. She looked from Owen to Kit, then Rocco. Their serious faces drove home the fact that this was a major issue.

“The people in question are teaming up with the White Kingdom Brotherhood. You may have heard of them?”

The WKBers had a big spread less than fifty miles from the ranch. “Yes. Everyone here does. They keep to themselves up at their compound,” she said. “They’ve been there since before I was born. They’ve had a few clashes with the town and the law here and there, but none in a long while. They sometimes go to Winchester’s. Hal, the owner, has had some run-ins with them. But generally, they don’t give us any trouble, and we leave them alone.”

“They aren’t a benign biker gang,” Kit told her. “They’re colluding with Afghan criminals to take their drug network global. They’re still active, still lethal, still spreading hate, and they need to be stopped.”

Mandy looked around the room. “So that’s what this is about, then.” Rocco squeezed her hand, worried about how this added stress would affect her.

“Why don’t you bring the guys up to speed on what’s been happening here,” Kit prompted.

When Mandy finished, Greer asked, “What contractors has George brought onsite?”

“There were several bids, but I think he ended up going with just one who could handle the plumbing. He has an electrician on staff. And there was some flooring work, but he decided to keep that in-house as well. I brought my files so that you can look through them.”

“Wait a minute,” Rocco stopped her. “The sheriff said that plumber was the only plumbing and HVAC guy in town. He’s the one who worked on George’s furnace, too. And didn’t you say he was at the diner that day I felt an enemy?”

Kit frowned at him. “Whoa. What happened at the diner?”

“Mandy and I went there for lunch one day last week. I felt an enemy in the room. Triggered a nasty panic attack.” Rocco sighed and glanced at Kit, who exchanged a look with Owen.

“Look man,” Kit told him, “we all know you’re working through some shit. Your instincts are probably spot-on. They always were. We’ll look into the plumber.”

“It can’t be him,” Mandy argued. “He’s been here for two years. He bought out the business from its old owner. Everyone knows him. He’s not a stranger. And he’s not a drug addict.”

“It’s a place to start, Em. Nothing more. Nothing less,” Kit told her.

Rocco went to the maps and showed the team the areas where he could tell patrols had taken up observation positions. “These are the ridges where we’re vulnerable from sniper fire,” he said, pointing on the topographical map to a few high points that overlook the property. “In the morning, I’ll give you a tour.”

When the briefing concluded, Owen speared her with an intent look. “This is a sensitive operation, Mandy. You’ve been brought into it because you’re already in the middle of it. What we’ve discussed here is not to leave the premises. Is that understood?”

“Of course.”

“If anyone asks what the team is doing here, we’ve come for some R&R and to give you a hand getting the center open. Given the problems you’ve had, no one except the bad guys should doubt the cover. Under no circumstances are you to have visitors over or bring anyone down here.”

“I understand.” She crossed her arms to keep herself from surrendering to a burgeoning sense of terror.

* * *

It was late that night before Rocco, Kit, Ty, and Mandy gathered in the upstairs living room. Ty was absently running his fist over the knotted muscles of his thigh. She retrieved a towel and her massage lotion, then faced him.

“Let’s do that massage. The lotion I have contains a mild heating and numbing agent. It should help ease the pain. Tomorrow, I’ll massage it again. And I’ll give you some exercises you can do to help stretch and strengthen your leg.”

Ty leaned back against the sofa, spreading himself open for her as he gestured for her to begin.

“I need you to take off your jeans, please,” she asked quietly.

He stood and grinned at her. “Sure thing, sweet knees.” He dropped his pants, exposing the black boxer briefs he wore and his raging hard-on.

Kit cursed. “Cover that thing up, would you?”

“Mandy—” Rocco growled, warning her away from Ty.

“Enough you two. Leave the man alone.” She handed Ty the towel she’d brought.

“Yeah. I haven’t had any since before I was shot, you know. It’s not like I can control my reaction when a beautiful woman tells me to get naked.”

“Blade, I don’t think you need to be conscious for the massage,” Rocco warned.

Mandy knelt on the floor beside his leg. “The wound looks good, Ty. You had some excellent surgeons work on it. It will take a while to build up your muscle strength again. You’re favoring your thigh, which is throwing you off in other areas—your back, your hips, your shoulders. Let’s get this thigh a little more relaxed.”

She poured the oil into her hands and rubbed them together to heat it up. The light scent of flowers perfumed the air. She knew Rocco watched every stroke she made, but she forced herself to close her mind to his reaction.

“Mandy, how are you funding the construction?” Kit asked.

“Grandpa left me some money from his life insurance policy. And the town has held a couple of fundraisers for the center. I have two grants, one federal, one from a private investment firm.”

“Who was the private firm?” Rocco asked.

“RKT, Inc.,” Ty answered.

Mandy looked at him. “How did you know?”

“We invested in it?” Kit asked, a surprised pleasure in his voice.

“We needed a tax deduction. She needed the money,” Ty answered.

Mandy frowned at Rocco.

“The three of us started an investment company years ago,” he told her. “I had all that income from my salary that I wasn’t using. Blade started investing it for me, then we used it as seed money for larger investments. He’s got an instinct for it that neither Kit nor I have. He and Kit bought in. None of us needs to work another day if we don’t want to. We can live off the interest the fund makes. It took a hit a few years back, but it’s already recovered that loss and then some.”

She looked at Ty, then Rocco and Kit. “I don’t know what to say. I wouldn’t have been able to do this without your grant. There was one other donation, but I don’t know whom it came from. I found five thousand dollars in cash in an envelope on my doorstep one morning. There was a note that it should be used for the center, but no signature.”

“Do you still have the note?” Kit asked her.

“I do. It’s in the files downstairs.”

“Good. I’ll send it off for fingerprints. See if we get anything.”

As Mandy finished working on Ty’s leg, she heard Kit ask Rocco, “So what’s with the beard, man? Thought you said once you were stateside, you’d never have a beard again?”

It wasn’t so much the question that caught Mandy’s interest as the silence that followed it. She looked over at Rocco, waiting for his answer, disliking the changed tension in the room. She nodded at Ty, then straightened.

Rocco’s face was taut, his eyes bleak. “I’m going back.”

Kit cursed.

“Rocco, he’s gone,” Ty said as he drew his jeans up and fastened them. “We looked everywhere, talked to all our informants, and had our female translators question women from several villages. There was no hint, no whisper, not even any misinformation. No one took our bribes or payments or tried to swap favors. There was nothing.”

Had someone been left behind? Mandy wondered.

“And that didn’t seem like odd behavior? Didn’t make you suspicious?” Rocco asked. “They’re afraid. Terrified. They know something. Someone has him. He did not die.”

“What are you talking about?” Mandy asked Rocco.

His gaze slashed her way. She could tell he did not want to answer. “My son.”

Mandy felt the room spin. He had a son. First, a wife he didn’t think to mention, and now a son. How many more surprises was he keeping? She’d lost her heart to a man who did not trust her and would not share his life—his past or his future—with her.

He could give her only the now, and God knew, if that was all she could get, she’d take it.

Kit stood up. The cold glare he gave Rocco chilled the room. “You’d go back knowing they’d send one of us after you? You’re too dangerous to be allowed to go rogue. Your death would be sanctioned. You’d make one of us, your brothers, kill you.”

Rocco gave a dry laugh, an empty, humorless sound as he, too, came to his feet. “A Red Team assassin would be the least of my problems.”

Blade gripped his shoulder. “Rocco, Rocco, he’s dead.”

“No. I still feel him. He lives.”

“You feel what an amputee feels—a phantom reality. The horror of his death is too terrible to accept.”

The hard planes of Rocco’s face turned rigid. He shoved free of Blade’s hand. “No. I feel him.” Rocco pounded his chest. “Here.” His voice was raw, as if it came from his spirit not his throat. “He lives. He breathes. He cries for me.”

Blade put his hand on Rocco’s chest, his fingers spread wide. “That’s because this is where he lives. It’s where he will always be, where you will always know him.”

Silence. Rocco choked on a harsh breath. His gaze darted around the room. Mandy saw the panic in his eyes, fear the likes of which she’d only seen in abused animals. He stormed out of the house, slamming through the front door. The dogs cowered and looked over at her.

Mandy didn’t move. No one did. She covered her mouth, trying to bottle her emotions. She wouldn’t cry. She looked over at her brother. He blinked the moisture from his eyes and glared at Blade.

Blade stood with his hands on his hips, his head hanging low. Mandy started to follow Rocco. “Leave him,” Blade ordered.