Chapter Thirteen
Javier
“Heads up, Goof.” King’s voice rose over the motors’ rumble. “RP ahead.”
He followed up with a poke of his hand. Considering that I hadn’t gotten much sleep, it was totally unnecessary. I’d been awake for most of the way, pretending to be asleep, making a point not to check on the woman seated behind me, and trying to get over the memory of Missy’s expression when I hadn’t returned her hug.
She’d winced and her face had gone beet red. She’d looked… shocked? Sad? Angry? All of the above?
When she staked her gaze on her shoes, I’d gotten all bent out of shape inside. It was as if she felt ashamed, which couldn’t possibly be the case, because she had nothing to be ashamed of.
If anyone had grounds for shame, it was me. For all the reasons I’d so closely catalogued during my time with Missy, and again, during my feigned nap, I couldn’t have her. I wasn’t right for her. She wouldn’t want me. Not if she knew.
Still, the disappointment I sensed from her ached deep in my chest. And yet it was the way it had to be. What did she expect? I couldn’t act all lovey-dovey in front of King. Or at all. I wasn’t into that stuff anyway.
Was I?
No. There couldn’t be any of that between us, no hanky-panky, no monkey business. No more stolen kisses or sneaky touching. No more stupid longings or inappropriate cravings. My train had gotten off the tracks a few times during the extraction, but now that we were back on the main line, things had to stay strictly professional.
I had a good plan. As soon as we got back to Astor House, I’d turn Missy over to Thena and volunteer for the next mission. There were two other Astor sisters missing. I could find them. Surely, now that I had found Missy, I’d gotten myself enough clout to earn me another mission or two.
My hope was that the next op would take me as far away from the house as was humanly possible. The North Pole? Count me in. An infiltration in Siberia? Sign me up. A trek through the Himalayas? Me, me, me.
I stretched out my arms, sat up, and worked all kinds of kinks from my neck and back. My bruises had settled in, the stitches on my arm stung, and my stiff joints decried the abuse I’d taken when I fought Snake and his mercs. Not that I was gonna admit to any of that aloud. It came with the territory. Or else my ass was getting old and wrinkly and I was growing soft of body and heart.
Of heart, for sure . Missy had somehow melted my shields.
I’d never been so obsessed with a woman, the one woman in the world I couldn’t have. I couldn’t get her out of my head. How had I become so smitten with her in such a short time? When had she claimed all the space in my brain? Why couldn’t I shake my need to be with her, to please her?
I guzzled down a bottle of water, gave in to my impulse, and glanced at the backseat. Missy was curled on her side, resting the side of her face on her folded hands, asleep. She looked exactly like her call sign, which she had accepted, not from me, but rather from King.
Damn me . I trapped a grunt in my throat.
I wanted to reach back, run my fingers through her long, silky hair, and wake her up with a kiss. She wasn’t just smart, kind, and beautiful. She was irresistible. This made the next day or two very dangerous to me. I had to keep my distance from her come hell or highwater.
Snuggled in the seat behind Missy, the nuns leaned on each other, catching a nap, too. Well deserved. My little B Team had done an amazing job during the exfil. They were now A level. If I could, I’d give them all commendations.
“There it is.” King pointed to a sleek black Mercedes sedan parked on a side street by a bodega. “Pull over.”
As the van geared down and came to a stop, K-man got down and went to talk to the driver. He wore a uniform and the green-leafed logo for some resort or another. I liked the attention to detail. There would be hundreds of tourists transported like this around here. We’d just be two more.
I fitted my carbine in the big duffel and zipped it up. It made no sense to call attention to myself by carrying around a big weapon in a peaceful country. By the time I slid the door open, the women were awake. After conferring with the driver, King ambled around the back of our van and opened the trunk. Carrying my load, I met him there.
“This is for you.” He handed me a case and a midsize suitcase. “It would raise suspicions to check into a hotel without luggage and you’ll need the laptop to do the work. There’s stuff for you in there, and a few extra toiletries she can use.” He walked with me to transfer the stuff into the sedan. “I understand there’s a shop at the resort if she needs anything else. I also put in a couple of credit cards that match your passports, and a cash stash, in case you spent yours.”
“Thanks, man.” I tossed our luggage into the trunk and shook hands with my teammate. “I appreciate the assist.”
“You did the hard work all by your lonesome self.” King pulled me in for a shoulder bump and patted my back before he released my hand. “You kicked ass. Omega will see that. Hell, maybe even Bozeman will agree.”
A knot of emotion formed in my throat even as pride swelled my chest. I fought hard not to show it, but his words touched me.
“Micah Bozeman? Ha!” I hid my reaction behind a snort. “He hates my guts.”
“Meh.” King shrugged. “Maybe a little less than you think.”
Until this very moment, I didn’t realize how much I craved my teammates’ approval, their trust. Doing something right felt good for a change.
“Keep up the good work,” King said. “We’re not out of the woods yet.”
“You watch your six, you hear me?” I cleared the emotion from my throat. “See you soon, bro.”
Strutting backward, Kai lifted two fingers in the air and gave me the peace sign. He detoured to the bodega to buy some bananas the nuns had requested. The feisty, diminutive barbed-tongued nun I’d grown to respect stepped out of the van and waddled over. She parked before me, her mouth straight, her arms crossed.
“Were ye gonna leave without saying farewell, wain?”
“I don’t do farewells.” I busied myself rearranging the luggage.
“There we go now.” Sister Janet dipped her square chin. “Farewells suck. I want ye to know. Ye’ve got me thanks fer all ye did fer us.”
“It’s me who should be thanking you.” I stopped fidgeting with the bags and met her stare. “Missy would be dead if it weren’t for you.”
“Don’t act like a gobshite, ye big lout. I’m sure ye would’ve thought of something clever.” She surprised me with her confidence in me. “And don’t thank me. Thank the Almighty.”
I flashed her a knowing grin. “You know I’m not religious, Sister.”
“God isn’t, either,” she said. “Humans are.”
“You’re so right.” I snorted a laugh. “Can I ask? Where did you learn to shoot like that?”
“Where there’s need, I go.” She flashed her crooked teeth and counted with her stubby fingers. “The second Congo war, the Syrian civil war, and the Darfur conflict. Yemen, Nigeria, and Haiti. I’ve had to fight fer the people I had to protect, like yerself did.”
I don’t know why there was so much emotion in the air today, but it was coming at me from all sides. I didn’t like it. I felt exposed, vulnerable. I did all I could to block out the emotions and keep myself in check. “Fighting is my career.”
“It’s also mine, only I fight fer souls.” She gave a curt nod. “This is why I understand yer pain so well.”
Unease roiled in my gut. “ My pain ?”
“Ye hide it well behind yer hunky self, but it’s there, in yer eyes fer meself to see. It weighs ye down. Ye carry it like an invisible yoke around yer neck.”
“I don’t—”
“If ye wanna confess, seek a proper priest, ye fool.” She perched her fists on her hips. “If ye itch fer forgiveness, ask fer it and ye’ll get it. But fer yer own sake, ye’ve got to work fer it. That’s how forgiveness works, from the inside out. Prayers are good but action counts.”
She was a giant in the skin of a sliver of a woman. “You see it all so clear.”
“That’s ’cause I’m an old cantankerous hag.” Her smile brightened. “On the day ye showed up at the orphanage, ye were the answer to my prayers, God’s instrument.”
“Hey, ho, slow down, Cherry Tart.” I scoffed. “Me and prayers don’t jive and God wouldn’t want me to be his tool. It’d be bad PR.”
“I doubt that.” She smirked. “But I do think yerself believes it.”
Time to eject out of this line of talk.
“There’s something itching at me.” I paused, then pushed out the question. “How did you know it was the right thing to do?”
“Ye mean about me firing yer gun?”
I nodded.
“Same as ye, lad.” She shrugged. “There’s right and wrong in the world. Folks try to tell us otherwise, muddle things up, but it’s simple now. I shot that pox of a man in Missy’s defense. She was me charge. I also shot the pox in yer defense. I believe in ye, Goodman.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s Goofman.”
“Nay, Goodman,” she countered. “Ye’re sound. God has a plan fer ye yet, even if yerself and Missy are a pair of fools.”
“ Fools ?”
“Ye know what I’m talking about.” She narrowed her little eyes on me. “Take care of our wain. If ye break her heart, I’ll come find ye and poke yer eyes out. I’ll make it hurt, too. If ye stole her from God, then give her what she needs from Him.”
I didn’t wanna ask, but I did. “And that is?”
“Love.”
I winced. The word hit me like a hammer to the head. “I don’t do that shit.”
“Ye do now, even if ye thick-headed sap don’t know it yet.” She slid my secondary gun from her pocket and handed it to me. “Here ye go. Use it with God in mind.”
I grappled for words, not knowing quite what to say. “Thanks?”
“Yer much welcome.” She turned around and took a few steps before she paused and cased me with her ageless gaze. “Ye’re a wee bit banjaxed, but ye’re sound.”
“ Banjaxed ?” I frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Banjaxed, ye know, as in broken, or perhaps a wee damaged.”
I opened my mouth to argue with her, but then I remembered. In those few instances when I dared to poke inside myself, there were a lot of loose shards grounding like glass against my raw wounds. I scratched the shadow of my beard. Maybe Sister Janet was right, and I was even more banjaxed than I knew.
“Have care of yer soul, lad.” Her steely gaze softened. “It needs mending. If anyone can help with that, it’s herself. Perhaps ye’ll let her… someday.”
***
Missy
“I’m not sure about this.” From my seat in the van, I eyed Javier as he talked with Sister Janet. “I should come with you.”
“We all have places to be.” Sister Elsa sat behind me, holding her folded cane on her lap. “The convent is not where you belong.”
“I want to see you to safety.” I turned around, sat on my shins, and perched my hands on the back of the seat. “Maybe, if I stick around, I’ll really connect with my vocation—”
“Bless your heart.” Sister Elsa beamed her beatific smile on me. “You’re so kind, but Kai will take good care of us. You’ve walked our path for three years. Now it’s time for you to return to your world and find your real vocation.”
“That’s the problem.” I took in a big breath. “I don’t know where I belong anymore.”
She blinked several times. “How’s that?”
“All my life, I was the younger, the weaker, the lesser. My father treated me as if I were a permanent baby and an imbecile to boot, and my fainting spells reinforced that impression. My sisters took care of me. I was a burden to them. After I graduated from nursing school, I went directly to work with the order, and I felt differently. As if I were capable. As if I had a purpose in my life. Maybe I do belong in the convent after all.”
“You’re capable in every way, child, but you won’t accept that unless you go back and reclaim your life.” Sister Elsa turned her cane between her long fingers. “It’s trial and error. I reckon you may yet find your purpose.”
“I’m going to miss you so much.” I swallowed a bunch of tears. “You’re the best.”
“True.” She grinned readily. “Although that Irish crone blabbering out there gives me a run for my money. I just look wiser, you know. More dignified.” She leaned forward, cupped her mouth with her hands, and still smiling, pretended to whisper. “I play the part better.”
I laughed at that and then, contemplating the unknown, sobered up. “I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“Growing up, I had my sisters to protect me,” I murmured, haltingly. “In the last three years I’ve had you, Sister Janet, and the order watching over me.”
“You know where to find us,” she reminded me kindly “You’ll always have us.”
“It’s just that… I’m not very brave.”
“Oh, my word.” She shook her head. “How wrong you are, child. You were so courageous when you faced those thugs at the compound. You were fierce last night when you fought those vile mercenaries. You ran like the wind to help Javier last night. You’re so much braver than you know.”
“And then I freaking fainted.” I grimaced and my shoulders slumped.
“So what if you were born with an on and off switch?” She reached out, found my hand, and patted it gently. “For three years, you’ve fought malnutrition and disease, and you did so with great courage.”
“I’m a nurse,” I huffed. “It’s what I’m trained to do.”
“You did more than your job. I reckon, in my heart, that you’re ready. It’s time to stop running, Missy. From your family. From yourself. From your dreams.”
I gawked. “You know about that?”
“Of course.”
“How?” I asked, my voice a little raspy. “Are you a dreamer, too?”
“Nonsense, child.” She waved a languid hand in the air. “It was easy to see.”
“I mean no disrespect, but you’re blind, Sister.”
“My eyes might be hard of seeing, but my ears are 20/20.” She flashed a mellifluous grin. “I heard you tossing and turning in your cot many nights. I noticed how you shot up from bed to find a poisonous frog in a bucket or a nest of scorpions in the pantry. You didn’t talk to anyone outside the compound, and yet you warned us about the troops coming to burn the orphanage.”
She might be blind but she saw more than everyone else.
“I pay attention,” she continued. “I heard you call out Javier’s name in your sleep. It was quite the shocker when a man called just so came to our succor. It was also a revelation and the reason I agreed to travel with him. You dreamed about him before he came to our rescue.”
So that’s why she’d been surprised when Javier first mentioned his name. I blushed so hard my face burned.
“You’ve gone quiet,” she noted. “Did I embarrass you? How unkind of me.”
“You were always kind to me. You both were,” I added as Sister Janet boarded the van and plopped down next to Sister Elsa. “Thank you.”
“Off with ye.” Sister Janet waved a stocky hand in the air. “He’s eagerly waiting fer ye.”
I followed her eyes to where Javier stood next to the car. “I doubt the ‘eagerly’ part.”
Sister Janet snorted. “Fer feck’s sake, wain, are ye blinder than Sister Elsa here?”
“What do you mean?”
“Ye fancy him and he really fancies yerself.”
I gaped. “He does?”
“Ye’re denser than a bowl of porridge, aren’t ye?” Sister Janet rolled her eyes. “Get on with it. Or don’t. Yer choice, but ye both need to stop pretending. Ye hear me?”
“Quit being ugly, you old coop.” Sister Elsa came to my defense. “Your sharp tongue will leave her with a mental concussion.”
“The wain’s not gonna break just because I tell her a few truths.”
I stole a look at Javier. “What if he doesn’t—?”
“There’s not a pot too crooked that a lid won’t fit,” Sister Elsa offered. “Go, become the person you’re meant to be. Love hard and love well. That’s how you find your purpose.”
I got to my feet, and bending over, gave each woman a heartfelt hug. When I was done, I zipped open my pack, slid out the communion bowl, and handed it over.
“Thanks for honoring our ways.” Sister Janet tucked it gingerly upon her lap.
I zipped my backpack and wiped off the tears. “I’ll miss you both.”
“We’ll miss ye, too.” Sister Janet sniffled, then wagged a stern finger at me. “Now, go. Whatever happens, don’t let the devil take yer soul and don’t yield to heaven’s call while it’s still yer time on this earth.”