1. Before It All Began
Before It All Began
“ Cherry blossoms.”
There was no response, and that was unacceptable, so she tried again.
“Cherry blossoms, Bear. Cherry blossoms !”
As usual, her enthusiasm finally outweighed his reserve. “Yes, Juniper, cherry blossoms.”
The Colonel was not the sort of person who indulged in blatant displays of public affection, at least in theory.
But in practice none of his rules applied to Juniper, so when she eased closer and nestled her head against his shoulder, he put his arms around her, gave her a squeeze, and kissed the top of her head.
“It’s almost worth living in the city,”
Juniper mused.
She inhaled deeply, and he wondered if she could actually smell cherry blossoms and not the putrid scent of decay from the overly full garbage bin in the nearby alley.
Washington DC was a far cry from their former home in Africa, and yet Juniper had expressed very little in the way of culture shock since her arrival.
But that was one of the many things that made Juniper unique and precious, her ability to go with the flow of their otherwise crazy life.
How many women would willingly stay alone in Africa with three daughters when their husbands were recalled to DC because she wanted a free-range childhood for their girls? Only brave and independent Juniper.
It was John who insisted she join him in DC.
Unable to live without her a minute longer, he had finally convinced her that Poppy would be no worse the wear for a couple of years spent in the city while she finished high school.
And Poppy was thriving, fully immersed in city life now as she spent her days visiting bakeries and cafes, in preparation for culinary school, post-high school.
Jane, the most citified of their three girls, was happily nestled in New York for college and Bailey, finished with the Naval academy, was now fully immersed in her career as a marine.
Except this week they were all miraculously home.
And The Colonel, who never imagined himself with a family until Juniper fell back into his life, now felt melancholy as he stared as his girls, knowing this might be the last time they were all under one roof for years to come, if ever again.
So if Juniper wanted to feel a little weepy and overwhelmed at DC’s unrivaled cherry blossom season, he was fully on board with her nostalgia.
“This line is forever,”
Poppy whined, and even that brought an almost smile from John because it was so very Poppy to be impatient. He could almost script what would happen next.
“You’re about to have a very rude awakening in life, if you don’t learn to be patient now, Poppinfresh,”
Bailey said, poking her little sister in the shoulder.
“Stop it,”
Poppy replied, smacking her fingers, a dangerous proposition only she was brave enough to attempt.
And when Bailey replied by quirking an eyebrow in her direction, Poppy wisely ducked behind her mother.
Jane, oblivious, ignored them both and continued reading the giant textbook she’d brought along.
Books were her constant companion, and everyone within her family had become used to keeping an eye on her and redirecting her when she steered off course because she was too busy reading to watch where she was walking.
Bailey had become especially adept at keeping her alive, and John was glad because it gave his eldest an outlet for her hyperactive protectiveness, one that was wasted on Poppy, who wanted no part of her big sister’s interference.
The Colonel studied his daughters in silence that bordered on anxiety.
He lacked Juniper’s ability to intuit their inner workings, relying instead on signals that often misfired.
Were they well? Were they happy? Were they safe ? All signs pointed to yes, but it could change on a dime, especially if boys were involved.
Of the three, only Jane had a steady boyfriend, which had come as something of a surprise to them all.
How the shyest of his daughters was the first one to date was a mystery he still hadn’t solved, especially after observing the way boys had always eyed Bailey, as if she were some exotic treasure they’d like to own, and the way Poppy’s eyes followed every boy with the same expression and intent.
Bailey made boys crazy and Poppy was boy crazy.
He supposed he should be glad that Jane was off the market, even though the boy, Nick, left a lot to be desired, in John’s estimation.
Then again, who could ever be good enough for his girls?
“ Y ou spelled Vietnam wrong.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did,”
Darren insisted. “Unless you think it has two m’s.”
“That’s not an M, that’s how I make my N,”
Amelia argued, turning her back to her brother to block his view of her paper.
“Then how you make your N is wrong,”
Darren replied, reaching around her to flick her paper.
“Mom, make him stop talking,”
Amelia begged.
“Amelia,”
her mother replied, pressing a thumb to the middle of her forehead. “You know that’s not possible.”
“Mom.”
Darren’s exclamation was almost drowned out by Maggie and Sam’s laughter. Johnny, delighted by their amusement, also started to laugh, adding an impromptu hug for Amelia that made her smile.
“Classic Darren and Amelia,”
Sam said, giving Maggie’s hand a squeeze.
Her answering smile was halfhearted, but he didn’t seem to notice as he scanned the horizon around them. She wondered if his distraction was a response to hers and decided to do something about it.
“So, I wanted to talk to you about something,”
she said, shaking out their joined hands to get his attention.
His gaze traveled to hers, brows aloft.
“You know how I’ve worked in the campus library the last three and a half years?”
she began.
“Wait, was that you I’ve been sneaking in to make out with in the hidden stacks?” he said.
“Yes, that was me, and you passed the first test. Good job with the facial recognition. So, here’s the thing, though. I went to talk to my advisor about my career path and, as it turns out, my major is pretty useless.”
“What? Are you joking? Majoring in Middle East studies seemed like an amazing idea three years ago,”
Sam replied.
“I know,”
Maggie said, tossing her hands wide and letting go of his in the process. “But apparently picking a major based on the fact that you want to get to know your boyfriend’s culture better and learn his language is a bad idea or something.”
“That’s anti-feminist,”
Sam agreed.
“Right?”
Maggie said. “Anyway, I really like working at the library. I’ve sort of become the research paper whisperer, to the point where whenever the rugby team has something due, they come to me for help because they know I’ll take over and do all the work for them.”
He pointed at her. “There’s your career. There’s a lot of money to be made in selling jocks well-written papers.”
“Yes, but then you have to spend your life with jocks, and I don’t think I’m well-suited for that level of testosterone. I’m team nerd, all the way,”
Maggie replied, and they high fived.
“Anyway, I’m thinking of continuing my education and getting my masters in library science,”
Maggie continued, tucking her hair nervously behind her ears. It was hot and muggy in DC, a far cry from the cool springtime of home, and she would have preferred to wear it up, but Sam loved it down. She tugged it to the side now, offering some relief for her swampy neck.
“Great,” Sam said.
“No, you can’t agree before thinking it through.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s going to affect you, too. I won’t be able to get a job right away, school will cost money. And, statistically, librarians don’t make that much, hardly enough to justify such an expensive master’s degree.”
“Maggie, which one of us are you trying to talk out of this?”
he asked. “Who cares if you defer a job and pay for more school, if it makes you happy?”
She groaned and pressed a hand to her forehead. “No, see, this is the problem. You’re too love-addled to be rational.”
“I am fairly love-addled,”
he agreed, giving her shoulders a squeeze.
“That’s all well and good for our upcoming wedding, but I need a proper sounding board,”
she lamented.
“Sounds like you need someone completely rational, filled with inflated opinions, and who has no regard for your feelings whatsoever,” Sam said.
Maggie nodded, and they turned around together. “Darren,”
Maggie said.
Darren, who had secretly been trying to tie the ends of Amelia’s long hair together unnoticed, jumped guiltily and dropped his hands. “What?”
“What would you think if I went back to school after I graduate, to get my master’s in library science?”
He tipped his head, studying her. “Statistically a master’s in library science is a poor return on investment. It also involves a fair amount of actual statistics, and math has never been your strong suit. On the other hand, your degree is useless as it is, so obviously you have to do something else. And there’s more to life than a return on an investment. You’re amazing at research, and you enjoy helping people. Seems like being a librarian would be an awesome fit.”
“See?”
Sam beamed.
“I guess that settles it,”
Maggie said.
“Wait…you’re actually taking my advice?”
Darren said, puffing a little with importance.
Maggie jutted a finger at him. “Don’t get used to it. This is not precedent, freshman.”
“We’ll see,”
Darren said.
Amelia, who had just realized that her hair was now mussed, whirled on him and began emitting a rapid stream of French.
“Mom, she’s doing it again,”
Darren complained.
Their mother sighed wearily, facing Sam and Maggie. “I know I should stop it, but it sounds so pretty when they argue in another language.”
“Want me to join in with some Arabic?”
Maggie offered.
“Er, nobody wants that, babe,”
Sam said, darting a nervous look around them. “Break that out in DC and they’ll bust out the Patriot Act and stuff us in a cell somewhere until the war is over.”
“You worry too much,”
Maggie said, easing her arm around him. “No one would ever believe you’re a terrorist; you’re too cute.”
“ You’re too cute,”
Sam said, giving her a squeeze in return, closing his eyes as he inhaled her scent and tried to let it soothe him. Maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.
“ L ook, LT, hot dogs.”
Ridge didn’t even slow his stride. Jones had, and now he jogged to catch up. “Did you hear me? There’s a hot dog stand right there.”
Now Ridge paused. “Jones, you have eaten hot dogs every day since we arrived back in the states.”
He faced forward again and began striding with purpose.
“Hot dogs are nature’s miracle fruit,”
Jones argued.
“Hot dogs are nature’s way of telling you to make certain your affairs are in order, sooner rather than later,”
Ridge replied. “We are eating steak tonight, the best steak in the country.”
“How do you know it’s the best, LT?”
Ethan asked. He eyed a group of girls beside them, tossing them a smile that made them giggle. “Man, I love DC in the springtime. So many college students, so little time.”
“I think they were in high school,”
Ribs added, though he tossed the girls his own smile, causing them to giggle again.
“I know steak,”
Ridge replied, answering the earlier question with a dodge. He was set apart from his men by rank, and that was fine. He didn’t want his family’s history to set him apart in a different, more disconcerting way. People tended to treat him differently when they found out his family had been ranching cattle in Texas for a few generations. And if they knew his family personally sold the beef to the restaurant in question, he would never live it down.
“Like, by name?”
Ethan asked. He was a button pusher, but Ridge liked him anyway. Of all the men, he was the one who felt like a real friend, regardless of the rank that kept them separate, regardless of the fact that they were opposites in so many ways. Ethan never met a woman he didn’t want to woo. Ridge was more selective, more cautious about who he let into his life. It was a lesson he’d learned the hard way by observing his brother, Cal. His sister-in-law was admittedly stunning, but Ridge had learned through her not to be fooled by a pretty face. Besides, his career was the best it had ever been. The Colonel already had him on track to shift into the intelligence sector, as soon as his tour was up. From there, who knew where he might go? Better to get his life settled before he added a woman into the mix.
“Yes,”
Ridge said, giving nothing else away. They probably thought he was joking. While there had been way too many cows to name back home, he had always picked out his favorites and given them a name.
“Hear me out,”
Jones began, and Ridge worked to tamp down his impatience.
The youngest of the group by a few years, he was emotionally immature, ready to argue to the death for whatever whim caught his fancy.
He was also a good test of Ridge’s patience and leadership skills.
Just because he was different from the rest of the men didn’t make him any less valuable, something to remember when Jones latched on to ridiculous opinions and tried to beat them into the ground.
He had potential, a lot of potential, and he was a good soldier.
He simply needed a little direction for his overheated emotions. At the moment he was stuck on hot dogs, for some unfathomable reason. “What if we got a hot dog and then a steak?”
Sensing Ridge had reached his limit, it was Ribs who plucked Jones back when he started to veer toward the hot dog cart again.
“Jones, son, let me give you a life lesson: when you return stateside after an extended assignment in a hellhole country where you ate MREs on repeat, longer than anyone should, and your lieutenant tells you he’s buying you steak, you eat the steak and shut up.”
Jones, realizing he was on the verge of committing some sort of irredeemable faux pas, pressed his lips together and gave a little nod.
“Right, steak. Yes, of course.”
Ribs ruffled his hair, dodging away when Jones tried to punch him.
Ridge tuned them out, as he was accustomed, and scanned the area for danger. It was an automatic response now, to try and anticipate any problem before it arrived. Right now his senses were keener, due to the aforementioned extended assignment. It would take a while to decompress and filter the stress, for all of them. This was their last night together before they went their separate ways for some R I’m enthralled, ”
Amelia said, now squinting to try and see the men.
“Gross,”
Darren muttered, and Maggie and Sam shared another amused smile.
T he Colonel had another call to make. He wondered at the serendipity that had so many of his people in DC today. Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence; maybe their target had insider info about exactly who he’d be targeting.
“Sir,”
Celeste answered, sounding bored. She always sounded bored, though, an affect she had practiced to perfection. Celeste was such a good actress he could barely see through the veneer to assess the true state of things. Occasionally he called her to the office so he could see her in person and peel back the facade. The last thing he needed on his watch was one of his recruits going off the deep end, especially one with her particular skills. So far, so good, but he was always watchful.
“One of my hackers is sending an objective to your phone.”
“Black op?”
she asked.
“The blackest, it’s in the city.”
“Huh,”
she replied. He could tell he’d surprised her because it was more reaction than she usually gave.
They disconnected without another word.
If Celeste had questions, she’d call back.
The thing about Celeste, though, was that she never had questions.
She was the best sort of soldier, and it made him feel particularly proud to consider her his protégé, similar to the feeling he got when he looked at his girls.
But unlike with Bailey, Jane, and Poppy, there wasn’t much chance for a happy ending for Celeste.
Her life had been too hard, was too void of the sort of family connection that would make her turn out okay.
Realistically the best she could hope for was a quick and painless ending, that someday some target would get the drop on her and finish it mercifully fast.
If not for Juniper and his girls, his ending would have been the same.
If not for his family, he and Celeste really would be identical.
He had been a soldier far too long, had become far too pragmatic to hope for anything more for her hopeless life.
Even if the fatherly part of him rooted for her to beat the odds, he’d seen the odds turn out badly far too often.
“ I ’m not going to lie, I really hoped to be out of fatigues a while longer,”
Ethan said as he dropped his pants and kicked them away.
“But you look so good in green,”
Ribs replied.
“Don’t be jelly,”
Ethan returned.
“Jelly sounds so good right now,”
Jones added, pulling his shirt over his head.
“Not that I’m complaining, LT, but at what point are you going to fill us in?”
Frog asked, fastening his buttons in record time.
They were huddled in the supply trailer, tossing their clothes as they slid into fatigues and fastened their weapons.
Shimmer was the only one missing, but he’d been let go a day early to go see his wife.
“The Colonel got some intel that an insurgent set up a series of sewer bombs, all over DC,”
Ridge said as he fastened his holster and gave it a tug to make certain it was secure.
“Not that I’m complaining, because you know I love me a good sewer bomb, but why are we on this, and not the locals?”
Frog asked.
“The insurgent is one of our regulars, and not enough time to go through all the channels. I’m certain they’ll be doing their part, whatever that turns out to be,”
Ridge said. “The hacker was still gathering intel, and it was a bit sketchy.”
“Sketchy intel from a hacker? That can’t be right,”
Ethan said. “They’re usually so reliable, what with all the secret, shady, underground creeping they do.”
“Spooks, man,”
Jones said, shaking his head.
“Are the locals at least handling the evacuation?”
Ethan asked.
“Impossible, there are too many places. They’d have to evacuate the whole city,”
Ridge said.
That gave everyone pause. “Exactly how many bombs are we talking here?”
Jones asked.
“The best our hacker can tell, there are six, strategically placed for max casualties,”
Ridge replied.
“Six,”
Frog said as the men came to a standstill and absorbed the number.
“We’ll split into three teams, with a forward and munitions guy,”
Ridge explained.
Jones made a show of counting, pointing to each man as he said the numbers. “One, two, three, four five. And Frog and Ethan are our munitions guys. Who’s our sixth?”
“I am,”
The Colonel said, stepping into the trailer.
“You could have led with that, LT,”
Ethan choked, trying to unclench all the muscles that froze at The Colonel’s surprise appearance.
“I was building up to it,”
Ridge replied. “Ribs and Frog, you’re together. Jones with Ethan. I’ll forward The Colonel.”
“Colonel, you’re a munitions guy?”
Jones asked.
“I’m an everything guy, private,”
The Colonel replied. To Ridge he added, “Lieutenant, this is your ball. Call it.”
If Ridge was nervous about leading an impromptu mission in front of his high-ranking boss, he didn’t show it.
Then again that was sort of why he was a lieutenant, and none of the rest of them were.
Calm and cool leadership skills were his forte, and something that ensured his continual climb up the intelligence ladder.
He took a map of the city and divided it into thirds, highlighting the areas the hacker had specified as intended targets. “Two, two, and two,”
he said, tapping the map.
“What about the insurgent, is he part of our op?”
Jones asked.
“I have someone on the target,”
The Colonel said. “If you need to engage, you have clearance. Otherwise focus on munitions.”
Everyone focused on Ridge, who made eye contact with each man and then said, “Let’s roll.”
C eleste had become adept at finding needles in haystacks. For a girl who never dreamed she’d leave the city where she was born, she now regularly traveled to the world’s largest cities, flipping over rocks to watch the scum of humanity scurry out. Tokyo, Jakarta, Cairo, Moscow. She’d been to them all, and she always found her target. So she wasn’t intimidated when The Colonel asked her to find a bull’s-eye in the city she now called home, Washington DC.
She began as she usually did, by physically putting the pieces of the puzzle together, writing bits and fragments of information on paper and arranging them into a pattern.
Absolutely everyone had a pattern.