Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
My heart bled for my old friend. A good man, a loyal teammate, a skilled soldier.
A man I never thought I’d see or hear from again.
Not because I didn’t know if he was alive.
I’d heard he’d been rescued, but after he was pulled from the bowels of hell, he’d done what he was good at doing and dematerialized.
“Okay.”
“Not being a dick, Cat.” He softened his tone. “But the man you knew is gone.”
I’d bet Shepherd Drexel was exactly the same person as Shawn Miller.
Now was not the time to tell him that.
“Got it, Shep,” I told him, even though I didn’t.
And God willing, I never would get it. Getting it would be to understand what it was like to be captured and tortured and witness the same happening to my team before they were executed in front of me.
Only then would I truly comprehend what Shawn went through and why he’d needed to leave the name behind in a cave with his fallen brethren.
I continued on in silence.
Shep broke it. “Shep sounds all kinds of wrong coming from you, Sphynx.”
“I could call you Phantom, but you know Mason is a nosy bastard, and he’d recruit the rest of the guys to dig into my past and find the squadrons I worked with until they found a Phantom.
Though, hate to tell you, but the name’s not very original.
I’d bet there are like five hundred Phantoms out there between the Teams, the Unit, and the SF groups.
Not to mention, Rangers love their cool nicks.
I’m sure there are a bunch of Ranger Phantoms running around out there. ”
I heard Shawn-slash-Phantom-slash-Shep chuckle.
In front of me the road forked. Before I could ask Shep which way to go, he told me, “Go right. The south street is a direct line in. Five hundred yards down there’s a stand of trees and a pathway between two houses to get to the beach.
Head north and hold at the light-blue cabana.
You’ll have a direct view of the yellow cinderblock boathouse where Pete is being held. ”
“Do you have eyes on Jack and Mason?”
“Negative.”
Shit.
“How close are you?”
“I’m at your six, and close enough.”
That could mean anything. Shep was a sniper. He could be a mile away and he’d think he was close enough.
“Can you call them and tell—”
“Tried that. Jack’s not answering.”
Double shit.
He’s busy finding a way to get Pete out of a jam, I reminded myself.
I silently crept between the houses Shep had guided me to, careful not to trip over any of the children’s toys that were scattered in the sand and dirt.
I hit the sandy shoreline and took off in a dead sprint to the blue hut that Shep had called a cabana, but it was more of a dilapidated structure that should’ve been demolished twenty years ago, if the half-missing roof was anything to go by.
“Movement at your eleven,” Shep called in.
I slowed to a walk, swung my rifle left—and stopped dead when I found myself on the business end of a rifle.
“Goddamnit.” A familiar growl came from the man holding the M4. “Sorry, Kitty Cat.”
Mason lowered his weapon.
I lowered mine and reported to Shep, “Found Mason.”
“Copy.”
“Who are you talking to?” Mason inquired.
I pointed to my ear. “Shep.”
“How in the . . . never mind . . . good to see you. Do you know what’s happening?”
“Tom, then Shep, filled me in on the basics.” Mason’s head jerked, then he looked around, belatedly realizing Calista wasn’t with me. “She went with Tom. I’ll tell you about it on the plane.”
“She left with Tom?” he incredulously snickered.
Interesting.
I’d probe him later about why that seemed to bother him.
But first . . .
“Where’s Jack?”
“Covering the east side of the building. Pete’s inside with one tango. Six guards surrounding the building.”
“There’s a former SAS soldier who stayed behind when the others went out to the island to get Calista.”
“Fuck,” Mason clipped and pulled out his phone.
He angrily stabbed at the screen before he lifted it to his ear.
“Shep? Do you have a good copy?” I asked, making sure he could hear Mason and I talking.
“Yep. Confirmed six men. The two on the north side are sitting on their asses catching a smoke break. The other four are amateur at best, more like four dudes who could use some extra cake and agreed to roll out of bed to stand outside a building in the middle of the night. My guess is the SAS soldier got word his buddies back on the island are dead and he’s pissed as fuck, taking his frustration out on Pete. ”
That was my guess too. Obviously Mason was of the same mind, since he was on the phone with Jack, giving him an update.
“. . . yeah, she’s here and good. We hit in thirty, count down now.”
Mason lowered his phone and glanced at his watch.
“Tell Mase I’ve got overwatch,” Shep radioed.
“Shep has overwatch,” I relayed.
“He’s here?”
“He’s my backup.”
Mason let out a low whistle and shook his head.
“Twenty seconds to go time. Follow me.”
“Copy,” Shep acknowledged.
With my left hand on Mason’s shoulder, I followed him to the side of the hut while counting backward from twenty.
Three men stood by a door looking like they were having a natter.
“Is that the only entrance?”
Mason nodded.
Easy day, as the guys would say.
A shot rang out, then a second.
The three men in front of us went on alert.
Mason charged forward, popping rounds off, easily dropping the guards at the door.
“Clear,” Shep announced in my ear.
“We’re clear,” I told Mason as I ran after him.
The door to the building swung open. Mason zigged right, I zagged left and caught sight of a big-ass bear of a man taking up almost the entire frame of the door. Too big to be Pete. I fired a round. The wood next to the man’s head splintered.
It was now a game of who could pull the trigger the fastest.
Luckily for me, I was damn quick on the draw and trigger.
My second shot landed. The man pitched to the side and fell out of sight.
Mason veered back center and hit the door first, pointing his rifle down and to the left. He double-tapped the man I’d already put down.
I heard Shep chuckle in my ear, proving he was close enough to see what Mason had done. He followed up with, “Jack’s rounding the building now.”
I glanced to the side just as Jack appeared. I did a top-to-toe examination and saw he was unharmed and in one piece. He did the same and nodded.
“Go help Mason,” Jack ordered. “I’ll keep watch.”
“Shep’s got watch,” I told him but offered no other explanation before I stepped into the building. It was one open space with a single light bulb hanging from a wire in the ceiling.
Pete was hanging by his rope-bound wrists from a metal hook fastened to a chain, which was anchored into the ceiling next to where the wire hung down for the light bulb. I was pretty sure that was an electric-shock accident waiting to happen.
Pete’s murderous gaze came to me. Mason was next to Pete, digging in the front pocket of his cargoes. For once I read the room, which was filled with Pete’s felonious vibes, and did not comment on Mason playing pocket pool in Pete’s pants.
Mason’s hand came out of Pete’s pocket with a knife.
“You don’t carry a knife?” I asked Mason.
“Left mine back on Cedros embedded in some asshole’s throat.”
“Well, now I know what to get you for Christmas. Unless you like playing where’s the knife in Pete’s pants.”
Mason chuckled. Pete did not.
Other than Pete being restrained and hanging by his wrists, I didn’t see any blood or injuries—he was supremely pissed but unharmed.
“What the hell happened?” I queried.
“I’m gonna kill Tom,” Pete growled.
That explained nothing, I was pretty sure none of us would mind taking a swing at the man. His duplicity knew no bounds.
“Why now?”
Pete tipped his head to the side like I was dense.
“You smell like . . .” Mason trailed off and leaned closer. “Spicy. You smell spicy.”
“Bear spray in the face leaves a lasting scent,” Pete sniped. “Where’s Calista?”
“Long story, but she left with Tom.”
Mason sawed at the rope around Pete’s wrist until enough of it was frayed that Pete Hulked his wrists apart, breaking through the last strands of rope.
Oh yeah, Pete was pissed.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
I had just enough time to step to the side before Pete barreled me over.
Mason was right, he did smell spicy.
“Is it too soon to change your nickname from Pete to Chili Pepper?”
Pete grunted. Then followed up with “Fuck off, Kitty Cat.”
That meant when I exited the building, I was smiling.
That smile grew when I saw Jack waiting for me.
“Ready to go home?”
Yes, please.
“Yes, and when we get there we’re turning our phones off and not leaving your house—”
“Our house,” he corrected.
“Our house for at least a week.”
“Anything you want, baby.”
Yeah, anything I wanted, Jack would give me.
“What is it that you want?” I asked.
“A week in bed with my woman naked—”
“My ears are bleeding!” Shep moaned.
Oops.
“Shep’s on comms,” I told Jack and pointed to my ear. “He heard about our plans for a naked week in bed.”
“With that, I’m signing off,” Shep told me.
“Wait. How are you getting home?”
“Don’t worry about me, Kitty Cat.”
Shep calling me Kitty Cat instead of Sphynx hit me square in the chest.
It was like with that, he’d erased our past.
I wasn’t sure I liked it, but I did like having Shawn back, and if that meant calling him Shepherd Drexel and him calling me Mason’s ridiculous nickname for me, then I’d take it.
“Be safe, Shep.”
“The proper send-off is ‘stay dangerous,’” he reminded me.
That hit my heart too.
I was right, somewhere deep inside Shep, pieces of Shawn remained.
“Stay dangerous.” I repeated the end-of-transmission farewell we used to use in the sandbox.
“Good copy. Out.”
My earpiece crackled before it went silent. I took it out of my ear and shoved it into my pocket.
“You good?” Jack asked.
I tipped my head back and caught Jack’s gaze.
I didn’t need to assess my feelings or my surroundings, or the last twenty-four hours, or even the last week to know my answer.
I didn’t care where I was or what I was doing as long as I had Jack at my side.
“Never better.”
Jack hooked me around the back of the neck, dipped his head, and took my mouth in a searing kiss.
It tasted a lot like triumph. But it felt like the once-crumbled foundation of my life had just been rebuilt. Strong. Steady. Solid.
With Jack, I had it all.