Mark (In the Company of Snipers Book 2) (25 page)

“Let me take care of that.” Alex clapped his back. “You worry about Libby. Come on. Let’s get some breakfast and maybe get you a shower.”

“Nah. I’m fine.” Mark shook his head.
Besides, she might wake up. I need to be here.

“I’ll stay with her. You guys go on.” Kelsey patted his arm encouragingly. “It won’t help if you get sick, too.”

“But I can’t leave.” He hadn’t come this far to desert Libby now. “Really. I’m good. They said I could use the shower in her bathroom and—”

Kelsey’s smiling brown eyes melted the argument right out from under him. Yeah. Libby couldn’t be in better hands. A tired tear came to his eye. He brushed it away before anyone else saw it. Damn. He wasn’t carrying the weight of the world all by himself anymore. Other people actually cared.

“Well, okay.” He nodded, brushing a hand over his face again.

“I’ll take good care of her. You know I will.” Kelsey wasn’t playing fair. Everything she said was so kind and so sweet and ....

He wiped another tear, hoping for control before he had to face his boss.

“Come on, son. You look like hell.” Leave it to Alex to offset Kelsey’s sweetness with his sour. “Let’s go. I’m hungry.”

Mark nodded. “Okay. Guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right.” Alex steered him toward the door with a glance over his shoulder to the women. “We won’t be long.”

“I’ll be right back,” Mark informed Kelsey like she didn’t already know that.

“Take your time.” Kelsey waved them off. “Us girls will be fine.”

Mark choked. He had just left his angel with another angel. Yeah. Libby would be fine.

The shower felt fine, but man, real food felt so much better.

Mark stabbed another pork chop and two more slices of buttered toast. Alex obviously knew all about that ‘breakfast being the most important meal of the day’ propaganda. He hadn’t just bought a meal. He’d bought a feast.

“Slow down.” He smirked. “She’ll be there when you get done.”

Zack showed up in time to help himself. Alex poured another round of coffee from the carafe the waitress had left at their table. That was another thing. Hospital coffee really sucked.

“I see you like a little coffee with your cream.” Alex spiked a brow at Zack’s very light brown coffee.

“I likes what I likes.” Zack snagged another one of those single servings of vanilla flavored creamers. This was his third. “You ever try one?”

Alex shook his head, sipping his coffee black, strong, and hot. “Hell no. I like the real stuff.”

Zack grunted, then turned to Mark. “I stopped by the hospital. Kelsey said you guys would probably be here. Libby’s looking better.”

“Is she awake?” Mark straightened in his chair.

“No, but she’s not so gray today. Kelsey was reading to her.”

Mark blew out a big sigh. He needed to get back to Libby’s bedside, but something else nagged at him. “Who was this Kensington fellow, Boss? It sure sounded like you knew him.”

“A mistake.” Alex grunted.

“Why’s that?”

Zack shot Mark a look. “Rod was a screw-up from the get go. You’ve seen plenty of them in the Corps. Macho boneheads with a gun. That’s all he was.”

Mark nodded. He knew the type. Armed and stupid in uniform were never a good combination. That he had used a sword to personally commit his atrocities only made him that much more evil.

“The problem started when I sent him on a simple op to Afghanistan.” Alex sipped his coffee. “All he had to do was watch a couple caves northeast of Bagram. He stopped checking in three days after he got there. Then he sent bad intel to the Air Force.”

“He liked the dope, huh?” Mark asked. He’d seen the signs. Rod was a user.

Zack nodded even as he stuffed a forkful of pancakes into his mouth.

“That wasn’t the worst of it,” Alex said. “I missed something when I hired him. Not going to make that mistake again. Now I look my men in the eye like I did with you.”

That explained a lot. Murphy had been the one who originally approached Mark while he was still in the Corps, said he was looking for a few good men or some other line of BS like that. The job seemed promising and offered over the top benefits, which made it hard for a man coming home from the war to pass up. All Mark had to do was show up and, if he passed muster, the job was his. When he did show up, Alex hadn’t even bothered to shake Mark’s hand. No nice to meet you, thanks for stopping by, nothing. He stood in The TEAM’s open bay like he had other places to be and barked, “What’s the right time to take a kill shot?”

Mark hadn’t thought twice. It was the dumbest question he had ever heard. He’d hoped he had kept the insolence out of his voice when he gave his one word answer to the jerk asking. “Never.”

At that point, Alex had walked out, leaving Mark wondering what the hell had just happened. The only thing that told him he’d passed muster was the twinkle in old man Murphy’s eye.

“Kensington enjoyed the killing,” Alex continued. “He was mean. I don’t want that kind of man around me, much less on my payroll. I’m looking for the kind of guy who’ll look for every last reason
not
to take the shot. You two know what I mean.”

“And here I thought you hired me for my long-shot record.” Mark smiled. He caught Zack’s wink and silent toast with his coffee cup. There it was again, that brotherhood thing. That family thing.

“Don’t get me wrong. Records are good to know, but I’m only hiring the best men. There’s damn few of them around.”

Mark heard the gentle praise in Alex’s words. His boss might be a hard man to work for, but he was a good man, too. A real good man.

“So why did he go after the Cliftons? Jon wasn’t involved in drugs,” Zack asked.

Alex sighed deeply, his stare piercing Mark. “I’m not one hundred percent sure. Mother is still fighting me on this, but I think Kensington got inside our server. Once he figured out that I had two men in Afghanistan, he decided to play god. It only got better when he discovered some of his dope was buried in your buddy’s coffin, Mark. That put you on his radar, big time.”

Mark’s throat dried up. “He came after Libby because of me?”

“I doubt that.” Alex shook his head. “No way he could have known how you felt about Libby, but I do think that striking Jon’s fiancée and her family was Rod’s way of getting to me. Think about it. He could’ve destroyed this team from the inside out if he’d gotten to you.”

“He almost did. He could’ve—”

“No.” Alex stopped Mark cold. “This kind of a man is predictable. You knew that going in country, or you never would’ve taken those fancy fireworks with you.”

Mark stared at Alex. So many chess moves. So much risk. Yet this man moved through it like he always knew the outcome.

“Besides.” Alex smirked. “I never doubted you. Not for one damn minute.”

What could he say? There were no words, so Mark simply nodded. Humility swarmed up from his boots. This was why men were willing to follow Alex Stewart into death, maybe even beyond. He was a sonofabitch all right—the very best kind.

“Harley called,” Zack interrupted. “Guess your little surgical strike did not go unnoticed by the folks at Bagram.”

Alex grunted. “I’ll call the commander over there. He’ll understand.”

“The FBI’s happy though.”

Again, Alex grunted, this time Mark, too. Who cared what the FBI thought? He didn’t.

“So when are you going home?” Mark asked.

“When Libby wakes up. Why?” Alex replied.

“Guess I thought someone should be back at the office, that’s all.”

“Not your problem. Mother and Ember will call if they need anything. Right now, they’re just glad we got to Libby in time.”

“Yeah, about that.” Mark cleared his throat. “Thanks.”

“No thanks needed.”

Zack dragged his napkin over his mouth and settled back into his chair. “What did you think? We’d let you run off and save the girl all by yourself?”

Mark shook his head, but yeah. That fear had crossed his mind. He’d been alone too long, always fighting uphill battles by himself. The Corps had been the closest thing to a family since his mother died. The TEAM? Not so much until now.

“What’s really going on?” Piercing blues stabbed Mark with their x-ray vision.

Mark hesitated. Something else needed to be said, only not to these guys. This was tough. Every instinct told him to get his butt back to Libby’s side, and yet, Jon’s voice nagged at him from beyond the grave.

“I have to visit a friend. I need a couple hours.”

Alex never blinked. “Do what you need to do. Kelsey loves sitting with Libby. You know that. Zack and I will go keep them company. Heck, we might even see Murphy and Roy today.”

“We’ll miss you.” Zack shot him an exaggerated smile. “But we’ll manage.”

Mark tossed a couple bills on the table.

Alex tossed them back.

“Get the hell out of here, son.”

JONATHAN W. WELLS

BELOVED SON

USMC

Semper Fi

Mark stood in the bright October sun remembering. It had only been four months. It seemed like a year. Jon’s grave lay peaceful and serene, undisturbed by the cartel. Kilos of opium still rested six feet under. No doubt the FBI would remedy that before long, but the drugs were the farthest things from Mark’s mind.

This moment was all about his friend, the happy-go-lucky man who used to put a positive spin on a crappy day and make everyone laugh in the process. Jon was a born gambler, a smart-alec when he bluffed during poker, and what they called an indirect leader. Even without the rank, he seemed to know how to reach his Marine brothers; how to inspire and cajole so a guy didn’t even realize his attitude was being changed.

No wonder Libby had fallen in love with him. Heck, everyone did.

At least that’s the man Mark thought he knew. He sat cross-legged in front of the headstone, resting his hand at the top of it like he would if it had been his buddy’s shoulder. All the evidence was stacked, weighed, and sorted. Jon had loved the Corps. Many men did. It was an honorable career choice. No doubt about it.

“Hey, Jon,” he said softly, not knowing how else to begin a conversation with a dead man. Still, things needed to be said, and Jon needed to hear them wherever he was. “I thought I knew you.”

A dog barked far away, reminding Mark he was in a quiet country town. Just down the road from the Clifton’s farm. The Wells household. The real world. Not Afghanistan.

“You were always smarter than me. You had everything I wanted. Hell, you had parents who loved you, and a girl who thought you walked on water. I saw the way she used to look at you. Heck. Libby probably still loves you.”

A train whistled along the line that ran through central Wisconsin. It sounded as far away as the barking dog. Mark scrubbed a hand over his face, wondering why he was here. His friend couldn’t hear him, could he?

“I guess I’m here today because you had us both believing you were going to marry her, but you weren’t. Once you hit Lejeune, you had no intentions of coming back to this dusty little town, did you?”

A simple, white cabbage butterfly floated by. Mark watched it go. The poor thing would be dead within the month, frozen in the first blast of a northern breeze out of Canada. It didn’t know that now. All it knew was that today, it lived. The sun shone. Life was good.

“She would have waited forever, and you would’ve let her. Heck, you’d already rescheduled your own wedding, what? Three times? How does a guy do that to the woman he loves?”

Mark fingered the final words on the headstone in front of him. This was the dumbest thing he had ever done. He could see his friend clearly, handsome, cocky, and charming to a fault, but Jon Wells was dead. There would be no voice from the grave, no specter to sit and chat with him like they did in the movies. Still....

“If you wanted the Marine Corps life instead of her, you should’ve told her. If you didn’t want to get married, if you didn’t love her anymore, you should’ve told her. Hell, Jon. It might have hurt her feelings, but you should’ve been square with her. Instead, you lied. You lied to me, too. You put this family through hell.”

The longer he sat there, the angrier he got. Mark clenched his fist, wanting to strike that marble headstone hard enough Jon could feel it wherever he was. Instead, Mark blew his anger away with a deliberate breath. After all was said and done, Jon wasn’t the lucky one.

Yeah, death pretty much summed up the worst of it, but he’d also tossed Libby’s love aside like it was nothing. He’d chosen the chaff of adventure for the gold of a sweet woman’s heart. Mark knew all about being tossed aside. Jon was a stupid, stupid man.

“Anyway, guess I just wanted you to know that I’m going to ask Libby to marry me. She’s hurting right now, but you know how she is. Libby’s tough. She’ll pull through. She’ll dance on that beach again. You’ll see.”

Mark stared across the cemetery grounds. So many ghosts lingered here. He could almost feel them. The smiling face of his buddy came to mind. He and Jon were brothers through and through—peacetime, wartime, and a heck of a lot of in-between times, too. He didn’t want to part enemies now.

With one final friendly smack to the headstone like he would have given to the side of his buddy’s head, Mark pushed off the ground.

“Libby loves you, too. We both do. You need to know that.”

He faced the grave, stiffened his back, and cocked his arm in a final salute to his friend.

“Talk to you later, Jon. Semper Fi.”

Where am I?

Libby opened her eyes in the dark, her mind feeling for the edge of her unyielding stone universe. It was not there. Only a void of dark nothingness surrounded her.

Did I die? Am I dead?

She expected cold stone. Not this. Warmth caressed her face while softness lay lightly against her chin. She took a deep breath into congested lungs that coughed and wheezed for air, but she wasn’t cold. The knife of pneumonia in her chest wasn’t gone, but it had lessened. A bouquet of bright yellow flowers hovered beside her.

Am I dreaming? Are those flowers real?

The gray receded. The black walls of her tomb were gone, replaced with soft lights from the wall behind her. The flowers stood on an actual table. They weren’t floating. She was alive, but a shadow loomed overhead. The stone coffin lid tilted closed, and—

“Hey, there,” a gentle voice whispered. “You’re awake.”

“Mark?” she croaked, afraid to believe her eyes.

He pressed his forehead against hers. “You’re safe. I’ve got you now.”

She clutched his shirt. If she could have climbed inside of it with him, she would have. “I knew you would come,” she rasped hoarsely. “I knew it.”

He kissed her forehead and then her nose, but he was too close. She turned away from him, gasping for air. He backed off, but the minute he did, she grabbed his hand, realizing for the first time that hers were wrapped in thick white mittens. Bandages. She clung to him anyway, afraid this was another dream; that he might turn into concrete if she let him go. Dreams had lied to her before.

“Don’t leave me,” she croaked.

He lay in the bed alongside of her. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up, honey.” Very deliberately, he kissed her cheek and rested with his face in her hair, his breath warm and steady on her cheek.

She rolled to her side to see him better. The suffocating feeling returned. She arched away. Hurt glittered in his eyes, but—

I can’t breathe.
She clenched his hand and squeezed her eyes shut.

“It’s okay,” he crooned soft and low. “Open your eyes, babe. You aren’t buried anymore. You’re here with me.”

She sucked in a deep breath, squinting through barely opened eyelids.

“Slow and easy,” he said softly. “There is plenty of air. You’re safe now.”

“But I was scared,” she cried. “It was so dark, and I couldn’t move.”

“I know. I was scared, too. I thought I’d lost you.” He caressed her cheek. “Settle down. Breathe slow and easy.”

“I couldn’t get out, Mark. I tried so hard.”

“I know,” he said calmly, “but you’re out now. You’re just having a panic attack. It’s okay. You’re here with me.”

“And ... and ... I was all alone.” She burst into tears all over again, burrowing into his arms and chest, afraid he was just another illusion like Tinkerbelle.

Her mind offered instant comparisons. If he was an illusion, he was a nice warm illusion for a change. Her panicky breathing slowed as she inhaled the fragrance of soap and manly deodorant instead of concrete, blood, and fear. She was clean, too, the filth of her tomb washed away. His arms around her were strong and comforting. She burrowed in closer, needing to hear his heartbeat.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump.
She stilled to hear it better.
Thump, thump. Thump, thump.
Her panic faded. The rhythm of his heart turned into her mantra.
Think of Mark. Think of Mark.
He placed kisses to the top of her head. Steady as a workhorse, he kept on rocking and holding her.

“You saved me,” she murmured.

“You bet,” he whispered. “Me, Alex, Kelsey and Zack. We all saved you.”

“How long ... was I gone?”

“You were kidnapped four days ago. The Russians grabbed you at O’Hare. They stuck you in a concrete planter. It probably felt like a coffin, huh?”

“It was really cold. I prayed and prayed and ... I was scared.” She burst into tears again.

Mark kept on rocking and talking. “You cry all you want, babe. I’ve got you now.”

She settled down again. Rocking felt comforting. Safe.

“You’re very sick, and you need a lot more rest.”

With those words, she tightened her grip. “But you aren’t leaving me, are you?”

Mark enveloped her with both arms, one hand pressing her head to his chest. “I am never leaving you again, Libby Clifton.”

“Did she wake up?” The red-haired nurse asked.

Mark nodded from his prone position beside Libby, not wanting to disturb her sleep. She was hot and sweating, but still gripped his hand tightly against her chest.

The nurse pushed the side table away to check her IV and monitor. “Can I get you anything?” she whispered, peering over Mark’s shoulder at her patient. “Or do you already have everything you need?”

He glanced back to the smile in her emerald green eyes. “It’s stuffy in here. Could you lower the thermostat? Would that be okay?”

“How about if I open the window instead?” She drew the blinds open just enough to crack the window. Cool air wafted across the room. “I’m Judy O’Brien by the way. Buzz if you need anything.” She moved the call button within reach and patted his arm one last time before she left.

Nurse Judy had just hit the nail on the head. He did have everything he needed. The reality of all he could have lost shuddered through him. Mark tightened his grip, but relaxed it just as quickly. No more restraints for Libby. Never again. Only blue skies, sunny days, and whatever else he could do to make her smile.

He kept his nose in her hair. Kelsey had brushed and braided a swatch of it to control the unruly curls. The lovely scent of shampoo filled his cup to overflowing. This sweet, gentle, tender woman was his whole world. He couldn’t breathe without her. Hell, he couldn’t think. Every last ounce of his body, mind, and soul belonged to her whether she knew it or not.

Despite her fragile condition, Libby’s slender body tucked into his like they were made for each other, and that was the problem. All his hopes and wishes were now face to face with a lifetime of doubt. How could this delightful creature love him? How could anyone? She had said it before, and he’d seen it shining in her eyes, but really? Him?

Mark squeezed his eyes tight against the ghost of his father. His mother’s sweet smile glimmered through the gloom. She had loved birds. He recalled how she would run through the house at the first clarion call of the morning meadowlark in summer, flinging windows and doors wide open so she wouldn’t miss the next song. He had helped, thrilled for the game of playing with his Mom and letting the outdoors in. She danced with him, a silly happy jig like they were both little kids, like he couldn’t do anything to make her not love him.

“I love you,” he whispered quietly to his mother’s memory, still holding Libby against his heart. “I always will.”

“Hmmm.” Libby grunted softly. Her arm reached up to circle his head. She pushed her backside into his hips. “Don’t ever leave me, okay? I love you so much.”

One sweet clear strain of a meadowlark’s prayer called to him from the sunshine of the world outside. Mark blinked hard against the tears. Could it be possible?

Maybe.

“No-o-o!”

With the first shriek, Mark was off the chair and on his feet. Libby lay in bed thrashing, both hands in front of her face. He tried to calm her. She had already wrenched the IV line out of her arm.

“I’m here, Libby. I’m right here.” Cursing himself for thinking she might rest easier in bed, he tried to capture her flailing arms. She struck him full in the face with the heel of her hand.

Crunch. Ouch! Blood gushed down his neck.

“No-o-o!”

The night nurse stood at the door. She left only to return with a restraining belt.

“No way,” Mark yelled. “Get that thing out of here.”

“But this will keep both of you safe,” she insisted.

The nurse was probably the smarter of the two, but there was no way he was doing that to Libby. Still trying to hold her with one hand, he staunched a wad of tissues to his nose with the other.

Luckily, Judy showed up. “I can give her something to calm her down.”

“No drugs.” Mark leaned into Libby to keep her still. “She’s having a nightmare. That’s all.”

“She’s burning up, too. I’m calling her doctor.” Judy turned away to place the call.

“It’s okay baby,” Mark crooned against Libby’s cheek. She was definitely feverish.
Damn. Not again.

“If you can hold her still,” Judy said when she finished the call, “I’m going to draw some blood. We need to know what’s causing the fever.”

Mark worked to calm Libby, but all he could do was exactly what he didn’t want to do, hold her tight while Judy drew the sample.

Libby hissed through clenched teeth. She pushed and grunted, fighting him tooth and nail. Blood splashed from his nose to the white bed covers making the struggle seem more horrific.

“I’ll be right back.” Judy left with the vials of blood.

“Come on, sweetheart. Talk to me. I promise. You’re okay.”

“No! No! No-o-o-o! I want out. I want out,” she screamed.

Out of where? His heart melted. She must be dreaming she was buried alive again.

“Libby,” Mark shouted as she took another raspy breath to scream. “I found you, remember? You’re not buried alive anymore.”

She blinked. Before she could get that scream out of her mouth, he called to her again. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. You’re in the hospital. Please wake up.”

Her eyes began to focus, but she was burning up. Where was Judy? One more time, he spoke loudly. “You’re safe, remember? You’re with me.”

“I’m ... I’m ... here.” She peered up at him, her eyes full of fever. “Someone ... was screaming.”

“That was you,” he soothed. “You were having a bad dream. That’s all.”

She touched his bloody face with hot fingers and palms wet with perspiration. “What happened … to you?”

“Nothing. Just got my nose in the way, that’s all. I’m fine. How are you?”

“Bad,” she rasped.

Judy marched into the room with a new IV and an ice compress for Mark’s nose.

“I see you’re awake,” she whispered as she put the new line in Libby’s arm and pressed her stethoscope to her chest.

“It hurts ... to breathe.” Tears trickled down the side of Libby’s head.

“I’m hearing a lot of congestion,” Judy said. “Your doctor’s on his way. We’ll know what’s going on when the lab calls.”

Mark held the compress tenderly against his nose, his other hand clenching Libby’s. He kissed her forehead, careful not to bleed on her.

Judy left the room momentarily, but came back in a quick minute and pushed a hypo into the IV line. And another. Before the second hypo, Libby’s eyes closed.

“She’s fighting two strains of pneumonia. I’ve given her a stronger antibiotic along with something to help her rest.” Judy slid an oxygen mask over Libby’s face and placed a cold compress on her forehead, another at the back of her neck. “We may need to move her to intensive care if we can’t get a handle on it here. I’m sorry about the restraints, but my nurse was following normal protocol. You scared poor Cassandra to death.”

He shook his head. “Libby’s had enough. I couldn’t do that to her again.”

Judy didn’t pursue the argument. “Do you want a doctor to look at your nose?”

“Nah. It’s just a nose.” He leaned his head back to stop the bleeding. It hurt, but he wasn’t about to admit it, not with Libby as sick as she was. A bloody nose was nothing.

“Don’t do that. You don’t want the blood in your stomach. Come here.” Judy steered him into the bathroom and had him lean over the sink, demonstrating where he needed to squeeze his nose. He winced the minute she touched it. The damn thing hurt like a son-of-a-gun.

“It’s broken, isn’t it?” she asked?

“Ah, yeah.” No kidding. He squinted through teary eyes. Definitely broken. Harley and Zack would never let him live this down, a big guy like him trounced by a dainty little girl.