Chapter 8 #2
“We promised them food. They looked starved. They aren’t fighting back,” Oliver said, voice lowered, as he crouched down next to Aberlour. He was still looking towards the children. Carlos had most likely secured them against the back wall of the 2nd floor, in plain view.
“I packed extra MREs in case—heat ‘em up for them.” Aberlour quickly came up with a plan. “We’ll need someone to guard them. Make a shift list.”
“Beat you to it. You’re slow, Dumber,” Oliver chuckled even as he straightened up and began to head back towards the children.
“And you’re just as fucking cocky as ever, Darling,” Aberlour replied, amused.
“Movement again. Three individuals. Heading your way again, Abe,” Marcus said.
There was a niggle of worry right at the back of Abe’s neck. What were the fucking odds? They’d been sitting here for two days and nothing. Suddenly, two kids show up and the nest begins to crawl with activity. How likely was that to happen?
“Darling,” Abe barked, tone low but hard enough to be heard.
Oliver silently crossed the floor. He crouched low next to Abe. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating off him.
“Tell me you searched them.” It was standard procedure, and Aberlour had no doubt Oliver had followed it to the letter, but he hated the hint of doubt creeping up on him.
“We did,” Oliver said. “Nothing but skin and bones. Their clothing are more rags than anything—not sure how they’re getting through cold nights in those.
” It was definitely hard to miss the empathy seeping through the words as he told Aberlour.
He understood. Really. They just—well, they couldn’t fucking afford it.
“I need your head in the game. They’re not kids—they’re personal landmines, you get it? Feed them, clothe them if you need to, but that’s it.”
And if he had offended Oli with his tone, Oli didn’t let it show. Instead, he seemed to read Aberlour’s mind.
“You think it’s a trap?” Oliver asked, just as the three men who Marcus had seen appeared in Abe’s scope. Just like the others, they entered one after the other, the last casting a thorough look around as if making sure he wasn’t being followed, before disappearing through the door.
“I think it’s a hell of a fucking coincidence,” he confessed with a frown.
“I’ll keep my head on a swivel,” Oliver promised with a sharp nod.
And God, Aberlour hoped it would be enough.
“Radio command. Tell ‘em we’ve got five males in the nest now.”
“Descriptions?” Oliver asked, all businesslike.
Aberlour rattled them off quickly from memory.
“Roger,” Oliver said before he was gone again.
It was several more hours until he was relieved from his shift.
Oliver tapped his foot three times, their usual code for switch.
Carefully, Aberlour slid off the makeshift sniper bed so his movements wouldn’t be spotted through any window.
He kept himself low to the floor, and only stood back up with his back to a solid wall out of sight of the windows.
Oliver was waiting for him there. He grabbed Aberlour’s arm to stop him from moving.
“The younger one is afraid—only the older kid spoke to us,” Oliver told him quickly and efficiently even as he kept his eyes peeled for any action on the road he would now have to cover.
Abe gave a sharp nod and nodded towards the sniper cache.
“Stay sharp,” he ordered. Oliver stepped out, getting ready to mimic Aberlour’s earlier movements, just in reverse.
None of them had gotten much sleep or rest over the past few days, but Oliver didn’t look any the worse for wear.
In fact, he looked damned good. His golden hair stuck out in every direction, giving the distinct impression he’d just gotten out of bed.
And fuck, what Aberlour wouldn’t give to be rolling around in a bed with this man right now.
Unable to restrain himself, he reached out and grabbed Oli, his fingers tingling with need as they grazed the exposed skin of the back of Oli’s neck.
Oliver turned, clearly surprised, one eyebrow hitched.
Abe opened his mouth—desperate for something to say, but couldn’t say a thing. No subterfuge to hide his desire, no pretense in order to cover his lapse in judgement.
He chuckled instead, unable to keep from smiling as Oliver’s blue gaze settled on him and plucked every corrupt thought out of his head.
“Aye,” Oliver said, his smile in response to Abe’s cheeky asshole grin firmly in place. Then he winked.
Aberlour clucked his tongue and abruptly released him, stepping away so he wouldn’t be tempted to stay even longer. Fuck—they’d left the scope unattended for at least a minute. If they’d missed anything, they’d be in deep shit.
Clearing his throat, and hopefully his thoughts, he headed over to the children, getting his first good look of them. Marcus was sitting a few feet away from them, eating his own MRE. He watched Aberlour approach, an all too familiar grin on his face.
“What?” Aberlour barked as low as he could manage.
“Nothing,” Marcus joked, shrugging. “Just enjoying the show,” he said, nodding towards where Aberlour had been standing just a few seconds ago. Abe did his best not to react. He focused on the children instead.
It was immediately clear which child Oliver had been talking about.
One was a tween, while the other was barely out of diapers.
The older one—a girl, if Aberlour had to wager a guess, had doe eyes that pierced right down to your soul.
Dark and wide, surrounded by thick dark eyelashes.
Aberlour forced himself not to meet them.
The younger one wouldn’t meet his gaze. It was a tiny thing—emaciated and dirty. The skin pulled so taunt over its facial bone structure that it didn’t even look like a child. Aberlour couldn’t have guessed their gender. Their hair was hidden beneath a tuque of sorts, what few strands it had.
Fuck. He wasn’t sure the poor little thing would make it through the night.
Aberlour grabbed his pack he’d stashed against the wall, and reached into it, pulling out one more of the extra MRE’s.
It had been a couple of hours since they’d fed them.
Enough time for their stomachs to handle another meal, hopefully.
As he prepped the MRE, their hungry eyes followed every one of his movements.
“I didn’t radio them in,” Marcus said, and it sounded like a confession. He supposed it was. Protocol was clear. They should have told base about the children. Should have mentioned their arrival and awaited orders.
Aberlour knew instantly why he hadn’t. He didn’t acknowledge the confession. If he didn’t, he might be able to lie his way through a polygraph.
Instead, he cast a dark look in Marcus’ direction, trying to tell him without words that he needed to stay quiet on the topic, and continued dividing the MRE into two portions.
It wasn’t anything fancy. Just some kind of boiled chicken, but when he handed two portions to the children, they snatched the food out of his hands so fast it was a blur.
“Slow,” Aberlour cautioned them, as they began shoveling food in their mouths. He looked over at Marcus.
His friend shrugged. “Where’s the harm?” Marcus whispered, but they both knew the answer to that question.
After a few more meals, the older one began to let down her guard.
Speaking in broken English, she thanked them charmingly and told them her name was Ali, and the other child was her sister Mia.
Oliver and Marcus bonded quickly with the two children.
Aberlour did his very best not to, but God, it was nearly impossible to remain indifferent.
Stakeouts were long and boring, which only sped up the process of their bonding with the team as the minutes turned into hours, and the hours turned into days.
Hours usually spent lounging or sleeping turned into quiet games of tic-tac-toe played on the dusty floor, and rock-paper-scissors matches, their muffled chuckles breaking up an otherwise somber mood.
It was all too heartwarming—a definite problem in a war zone.
Aberlour grew increasingly worried with each passing hour, and he dreaded the moment he’d have to order the team to leave the kids behind.
The look in Oli’s eyes said there was a plan brewing in that marvelously clever mind—one Aberlour wasn’t sure he’d have to strength to shoot down when the time came.
Abe shook his head in a bid for clarity.
He was on duty again and couldn’t afford any distractions.
Bringing his focus back to his primary task, he saw several men go into and then come out of the target house, looking no more suspicious than before—then the third evening came around, and a crowd began to gather.
The energy was different, and JD spent his entire shift noting details about the men that he and Abe saw go into the house. They believed there were at least seven now occupying the rat’s nest.
Headquarters believed this was the sign they’d been waiting for. Team Specter was told to stay in place, to organize their gear, and be ready to move out.
Aberlour passed on the orders to his men, still uncertain what they’d do with the children once the order came to get the fuck out.
As his shift ended and Oli came over to replace him, he shot him a confident smile.
“Marcus taught the youngest one the alphabet,” Oli told Abe, obviously forgetting every word of Abe’s advice that they should be treated just like landmines.
“Headquarters is getting ready to move in the other Special Forces teams,” he told Oli.
Oli scowled.
“I heard,” he said with an unhappy nod, clearly displeased that Aberlour wasn’t excited by the achievement of a four-year-old orphan.
Sighing and glancing quickly at the child, Aberlour did feel somewhat guilty, but he wasn’t sure what he should do.
“We’ll leave them whatever provisions we have left. I have cash—it might help,” he offered. Oliver’s gaze softened, then hardened immediately, yet another idea brewing.