Chapter Two
Nomad
Nomad stood at a polite distance as the Iniquus escort knocked at the thick wooden door with Strike Force War Room on the name plate.
Well, he couldn’t say White hadn’t warned him.
“Hey, White, come on in.” She stood back. “Nice to see you.”
White passed into the room and turned to gesture his way. “This is Nomad.”
Lynx extended her hand, dainty and pale, but her shake was firm. She wore a wedding ring. He wondered what kind of person this phenom, as White described her, would choose as her spouse.
And he couldn’t help but think she was too young to be married.
“So glad to meet you. Won’t you come in?
” She gently shut the door behind them and turned.
“Let’s see, quick housekeeping first. Nomad, White knows her way around and knows how to make herself at home.
” She flourished her hand toward a buffet table.
“Refreshments. I don’t know where you are in your day, or if you’ve had an opportunity to eat, so if you need more than snacks and drinks, I can have the kitchen bring something up.
” She took a step to the side. “To the right, you’ll find the bathroom.
And other than that, just pick a chair and move it where you are most comfortable sitting.
I find that being comfortable when my brain is busy is best, don’t you? ”
White was already heading to the corner of the highly polished conference table to a place that looked like her home base. She pulled out the captain's chair and caught Nomad’s gaze. “Dibs.”
Nomad walked to the buffet and poured a glass of water for himself. “Can I bring anyone anything?”
“No, thank you.” Lynx pulled the seat from the top of the table, gesturing toward a coffee mug that rested on a coaster.
“Lynx doesn’t have any blood in her body. She circulates caffeine instead,” White said as she adjusted in her seat.
“True story,” Lynx laughed, dragging a chair backward so she was sitting in an open space, then smoothed her voluminous skirt under her as she sat.
No ponytail, Nomad noticed as she moved a curl back over her shoulder.
White had said the ponytail was a good sign.
Nomad wandered around the far side and took a chair that would keep them in a triangle for easy conversation.
He had no idea what to expect from today’s meeting.
White had handed this woman the scantest of information with which to work: the images he and Red had captured throughout their mission, a vague understanding of the geographical locations they worked in, and the public-facing information available in local news outlets.
White looked tense.
And if Lynx noticed, she said nothing.
But she was noticing him. Her gaze went from head to foot and back again.
Her eyes traveled down his arm and rested on his hand, where she paused, then did the same on the other side.
Scanned. It might feel a bit unnerving, but if it helped stop the terrorist attack that White believed was about to head across the Atlantic to the United States, he was willing to sit there and let her take his measure.
“I don’t mean to be insensitive,” Lynx said with a tip of her head. “But before I begin, let me ask you about your eye patch. I know it’s a result of the accident. But I don’t know why you wear it.”
“Yes, certainly,” Nomad said. “In Morocco, the attack on Red and me started when we were rammed by a delivery truck. There was a subsequent fight.”
“Four against one,” White said.
Lynx kept her gaze on Nomad as she sat silently.
“Through the attack, I sustained a head injury, perhaps whiplash or a blow, that caused occipital neuralgia. This has made me light-sensitive. Bright lights, such as the sun’s glare, can cause a sharp, dizzying pain that is debilitating.
Though the doctors hope that I will eventually self-heal, there is little they can do beyond pain medications to rectify the situation.
I’ve discovered that it is only in the one eye, so the patch does the trick. ”
“If I dimmed the lights to an acceptable level, would you be comfortable removing the patch while I review this information with you?”
“I don’t mind,” Nomad said.
Lynx stood and walked toward the light switch.
Nomad turned to White. “I’m trusting the process,” he mouthed, then waited as Lynx slowly dimmed the lights. “That’s comfortable there, thank you.” And he took off the patch, sliding it into the thigh pocket of his tactical pants.
Lynx came back to her seat. “I’d like to ask about Red. I’ve never met Red in person, though we share people and circumstances. Do you mind my asking how she’s doing?”
“Yes, well, we’re unsure at this juncture,” Nomad said.
“At the accident site, she gained consciousness first, though, I think I was only out momentarily. She couldn’t feel her legs, and we were concerned that her spine had been severed, and she’d become paraplegic.
This was not the case. The accident caused a traumatic disc herniation that pressed on the cauda equina—the horse tail—bundle of nerves.
We were fortunate that the CIA got her to Spain quickly, where she received immaculate care.
But, of course, given who she is and what she knows, she needed to be back in the USA and under supervision lest her medications loosen her lips, and she reveal State secrets. ”
Lynx pressed her lips together into a sympathetic pout.
“Since the accident, Red has regained her ability to walk for short distances, but she’s reliant on a wheelchair for getting around as she has substantial leg weakness and balance issues.
It may be years before we know if her nerves will be able to heal or if she has sustained a permanent disability. ”
Lynx nodded, then settled her gaze on his hands, followed by the very unexpected, “The injuries you and Red sustained are both very unfortunate and without a doubt what was needed for you to follow your hearts.” She lifted her eyes to meet his.
“I’m sorry, that’s what it took. Going forward, I wish you both a full recovery. ”
A sizzle went through Nomad’s entire body when she said that.
Could she read minds? Was that possible?
This was a synthesis of a conversation that he and Red had whispered together after Red’s last surgery.
They each felt a responsibility to their teams, to their work—Red with the CIA, he with Delta Force Echo—because so many people relied on them.
That reliance meant that unless there was an external catalyst, they would probably follow the same life trajectory.
And yet, they both wanted love.
Without the accident, their opportunity would be dashed.
They’d be the proverbial ships that passed in the night.
They would say goodbye, and he’d be off on another mission, and Red would be back in the field turning over rocks, seeing if she couldn’t find the people who meant to cause harm to America or her allies.
Red had been in the field long enough. It was going to kill her or destroy her mental health. Nomad had to admit that was true for himself as well. He’d seen a lot and been through a lot in his decades of service.
A patch worn in bright conditions was a small price to pay to have no choice but to follow a new path.
Red was paying dearer. But she, too, took her condition philosophically. Destiny could not be denied, she’d mused; they were meant to live, and they were meant to love each other.
“And now you and Red are in a committed relationship.”
It was a statement, not a question, and Nomad wondered if this was a technique or if Lynx really did know secret things when she spoke. “We plan to be married as soon as she’s recovered from this latest surgery.”
“Congratulations.” Her smile was warm and sincere. “Every happiness to you both. Please convey my best wishes to Red.”
“Yes, thank you.”
White had a shit-eating, told-you-so smile on her face. She’d tried to prepare him. He was not, in fact, sufficiently prepared for a stranger to know more about his plans than his own family.
“I might ask some strange-sounding questions as we go along,” Lynx said. “And they may feel intrusive, perhaps too personal. It’s not my intention to pry. It’s my intention to understand the dynamics and your word choices.”
“I’m a big boy, Lynx. I will be forthright. My only goal here is to prevent further terrorist attacks. I feel responsible for calling the mission complete without asking further about the men who were on the same path that Red and I took.”
“That, and the person you love was attacked and permanently harmed. You’re a human being.
I think it’s okay to have that piece in there as well.
Moving forward, I’m going to tell you your story as I know it.
Just the highlights needed for my work. I’m watching for micro-reactions that tell me that your brain knows more than it’s telling you. ”
“Interesting,” Nomad said. “That’s fine.”
“Okay, good,” Lynx pulled an elastic band from her wrist and reached up to gather her hair into a ponytail. “The men you’re looking for, the ones from the videos you sent to me, you need to track them down.”
“That would be perfection.” The ponytail told Nomad they were getting down to business. He read it as Lynx putting on her thinking cap. He flicked a glance toward White.
White licked her lips and popped her brow at him. “Told you,” she said under her breath.
“The story: Your work crossed with Red’s assignment when you were both trying to get your eyes on a ring called the Fire of the Desert.
There was a reward of forty million dollars, which Zayd Ali Kamal posted about a year before it was found.
Zayd wanted to give this ring to his fiancée, Sireen, on their wedding day.
That explains the huge payout from a man with bottomless pockets.
I read about it at the time of the wedding and saw pictures of Sireen wearing the ring at the reception. It was quite beautiful.”
“Correct. Zayd and his wife now have the ring,” Nomad said.