Operation Zulu Redemption--Complete Season 1 (21 page)

Annie glowered. “What else would he do?”

“Get him arrested? Shut down his accounts. Blacklist him.”

“He’s a SEAL, not a spy.”

“There’s a difference?” Téya nodded and pointed. “Oh! There is—this one’s gorgeous. Am I right?” Annie smiled.

“What’s the scoop on him? Name, rank, and serial number, girlie.”

After swallowing a bite, Annie shook her head. “Tell you and the whole world knows.”

“All I have to do is ask Houston.” Téya grinned. “He’s sweet on me.” They both laughed and Téya leaned in. “So…dark hair? Blond?”

“Dark.”

“Brown eyes? Blue eyes?”

“Brown.”

“So he’s the opposite of Trace. Was that intentional?”

Annie’s frown vanished. She stood and went to the coffeepot, where she poured a cup for herself.

Touché.

Téya felt a bit of prodder’s remorse, but the questions had been killing her since the fallout with Annie and Trace yesterday. She went to the counter and bumped her hip against Annie’s.

“Sorry. I guess that was uncool.”

“Very.” Sipping from the mug, Annie met her gaze to let her know she wasn’t mad then returned to the table.

But there were questions. A lot of them. With her own coffee, Téya sat back down. “Did you hear from him after—”

“No.” Annie scooped more cereal into her mouth, clearly ending the conversation.

Thwarted again, Téya knew it was a talk best left for later. “What do you think of Noodle?”

Annie shrugged. “She’ll be fine. I spent the first year with more nights of terror than nights of sleep.” Taking another bite, she seemed to be forming a fortress around herself.

They’d been close since day one, but Téya had admired Annie from that moment, too. Cute, tanned, blond, and so incomprehensibly focused. Where Téya loved a joke and giggle, Annie wanted discourse and theology. Brainy stuff. Where Téya loved combat boots, jeans, and a T-shirt, Annie almost had that FBI thing going on with her slacks and blouse. Elegant, classy, beautiful to Téya’s tomboy comfy-ness.

Hiss-click-click
. A deep groaning rattled through the room.

Lights flickered on in the command and data areas as the access door creaked open. Houston with his wild golden-brown Jheri curl hair stepped into the bunker. He flinched, looking over at them. Then smiled. “Morning, ladies.”

Téya eased back in her chair and waved as she glanced at the clock. “A bit early, isn’t it?”

Shifting on his feet, he nodded. “Uh, yeah.” After flashing them another smile, he hurried to his bank of systems.

Annie and Téya laughed and finished their breakfasts. Within ten minutes, Boone emerged, wafting an Old Spice scent through the steel trap.

Téya glanced at the access door then at Boone. He’d been
right there
last night when Nuala woke up screaming. “Where are you staying?”

Boone made himself some coffee. “In the house.”

Tilting her head, Téya looked to the ceiling. “You mean someone can live in a ramshackle place like that?”

“Hey,” Boone growled as he turned. He blew over the rim of the mug. “That’s my grandfather’s house you’re talking about.”

“It
looks
like a grandfather’s house—a great-great-grandfather’s house. I thought it was condemned.”

Boone placed his large hand over his equally large pectoral. “You wound me.” He slurped as he moved toward the table and dragged a chair out. “I’m renovating it.” He took another long drag of his coffee and breathed deeply. “At least, that’s the cover we’re using.”

Annie shifted to look at him better. “Are you really renovating it?”

His shoulder bounced. “When I can. I’ve got plans to make a secret egress from here to the house, and vice versa. Thought it’d be good cover for any foot traffic—ya know, like Houston coming/going all the time.”

“Could we help?” Annie asked. “With the renovations. I love doing that sort of thing.”

“Uh,” Houston called from the data area. “Are you forgetting the whole ‘out of sight’ thing?”

Annie looked to Téya. “Once Boone gets that egress tunnel done, we can slip up there and work. It’d be a nice break from the monotony of this drab place.”

“Hey now,” Boone protested. “I worked my hands to the bone building this kingdom.”

“Kingdom,” Téya said, teasing as she cleared her coffee mug, yogurt container, and spoon. “You need a dictionary.”

“Oh crap,” Houston muttered as the keys surrendered beneath his racing fingers.

“Houston, we have a problem?” Boone asked, sniggering.

“Ha. I’m amused,” Houston said as he worked, not looking up. “Like I haven’t heard that before.”

Boone smiled as he stepped backward over the chair before shoving it back to the table. “What’s going on?” He crossed the room.

Téya started to join them but saw Nuala standing in the opening to the lounge area. The girl looked as pretty as ever with her olive complexion and pale blue eyes and all that dark, wavy hair tumbling around her shoulders. It just wasn’t fair—even with partially puffy eyes from crying all night, she was still cheerleader cute.

“Might want to grab some coffee before Boone drinks it all,” Téya said, winking at Nuala.

“Thanks,” her friend managed.

Hushed whispers between Boone and Houston snaked into her awareness, but she focused on the cutie. “Did you manage any sleep?”

Rubbing the back of her neck as she reached for a cup, Nuala shook her head but said, “Yeah. A little.”

“Shakes ‘no’ but says ‘yes.’ ”

Grunts and hissed words drew her attention to Boone. One hand on Houston’s desk, he was punching a number into his phone.

Houston sat, arms crossed as he chewed on his thumbnail. His gaze slid around, hit Téya, widened, then ricocheted off.

What…? “What’s going on?”

Boone turned toward her, his expression grim.

Téya lifted her chin, feeling the color drain out of her face.
Grossmammi
…

“It’s David,” Boone said. “He’s been rushed back to the hospital.”

Annie

Lucketts, Virginia

12 May – 0700 Hours

She’d never considered herself empathic or overly sensitive, but Annie would vow there was an electric cord between her and Téya, connecting them to each other’s pain. Rigid, hands fisted, Téya stood unmoving.

Annie mirrored her. Afraid one wrong move, one wrong word would send Téya sprinting out and stealing another car.

Boone, big guy that he was, must’ve seen it, too. He drew himself straight, a formidable sight. Cool air swirled beside Annie as Nuala sidled up on her right. Nobody dared move.

“Téya…” Boone said, lowering his phone.

The tallest of the three remaining Zulu members, Téya held up a hand. Then seemed to slap the air. She pivoted. Met Annie’s gaze, and that cord between them zapped. Annie nodded toward the rear lounge.

It was ridiculous, the stress. The fear. The trauma.

Téya bypassed the lounge area and went into her room. When she didn’t shut the door, Annie followed her in with Nuala. They sat in quiet for a very long time. Téya lay on her bunk with her feet on the plastered wall, staring at the upper bunk.

Annie sat in the chair and Nuala hopped up on the desk. Nobody had desk supplies or a computer. In fact, Boone and Trace had taken their phones, so what use the desk did, she wasn’t sure.

“They trained us,” Téya said slowly, purposefully. “They trained us to be soldiers, elite soldiers. To protect. To fight for those who can’t.”

Annie swallowed, knowing where this was going. Knowing Téya was sensible enough but needed the room and freedom to talk this out.

“And David…” Her voice went raw. Choked. “He’s the best man I’ve ever known. So kind. So…
forgiving
.” She lifted her hands in surrender. “I can’t go see him, and I can’t do anything to protect him.
My
presence puts him in more danger.” She flipped onto her side, propped on her elbow. “So what good am I? What is the purpose behind that training when we are hiding here like scared little hens?”

“I kill people,” Nuala whispered. “One shot, one kill.” She sniffed. “People look at me and think I’m still in high school, but I’ve been in combat, fighting for freedom. Freedom we don’t get to have.”

Annie rose, wrapping her arms around herself. An incredible amount of tension and raw emotion roiled through the room. She could relate, knowing Sam was digging himself into a grave. But this talk…

“Don’t get me wrong,” Nuala said. “I know what I did in the Army was justified and necessary, but…there’s nothing like people looking at me thinking I’m prom queen and me knowing what I’ve done. What I’ve had to do. And now”—she shrugged, her eyes glossing—“I feel like I’m being punished. Maybe I should’ve let those men kill me.”

Annie spun toward her. “No.” Determination ignited in her belly. “Listen, I know—know what you’re both feeling, because I’m living and breathing the same pain. I can’t do anything to warn Sam off, and—”

“Is that what you and Trace argued about?” Nuala asked.

“Basically.” Annie wouldn’t mention the rest. “The point is—it’s a choice.”

Rolling off the bunk, Téya stood, hands stuffed on her hips. “A choice? You think I have a
choice
?”

Hand up, Annie tried to hold her friend off. “Just hear me out.”

Téya grunted. “Ya know what? I don’t want to hear you out. I’m sick of this. Sick of my whole life being a lie. Of feeling guilty for not coming clean with David. For even stepping into his life!” Téya shoved a hand through her long, light brown hair. “I did this to him! To the best man I’ve ever met. A man I could never be worthy of—and he’s in critical condition in the hospital!”

A heavy blanket of depression and sadness weighted them all. Nuala with her normally lighthearted demeanor, Téya with her bubbly personality, and Annie…she’d never felt so close to losing the reins of control. She returned to her chair. Sat and stared at her shoes.

“This sucks.” Téya slid down the far wall and hugged her knees. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

“Me either. Nuala died that night in Misrata.”

“We all lost our souls on that mission,” Annie agreed. “Jessie and Candice felt the same way.”

Téya frowned at her, as did Nuala.

Annie sighed. “Jess sent me e-mails. I never replied to them, but I read them.”

“Why didn’t you reply?” The hurt in Nuala’s voice was strong.

“Because…” She wasn’t sure why.

“Annie’s someone who follows the rules because she believes they’re there for a reason,” Téya mumbled.

“Well, they are,” Annie said, feeling defensive. “Trace said no contact. I was afraid replying would betray my location or somehow betray hers. I wasn’t willing to take the risk and put more lives in danger.”

“You always call him ‘Trace,’ ” Nuala said. “Not ‘commander’ like the rest of us.”

No, she was not getting sidetracked by that conversation. Annie stood and paced. They had to change this whole thing. Had to turn it around. But it felt like trying to turn a ship in a raging sea. “We have to do something.”

Téya lowered her hand from her face and eyed her. “What?”

“They won’t let us leave,” Nuala said.

“I know. And it drives me crazy, but they’re right. We need to stay low, let the storm die down. But…” She massaged her temple as she paced.

“Jess.” Téya climbed to her feet. “Jess left a mountain of information.”

“Yes, we’ve been staring at it for the last few days.”

“What if…what if she found something and that’s why she got killed?”

Annie tilted her head, hesitating. “I…” she said, drawing out the single word. “That’s a leap.”

“But it’s possible,” Téya said. “We need to study her schematic. Convince Trace to let us investigate.”

“But we can’t,” Nuala said. “They want us to stay underground—literally.”

“I have an idea.”

Francesca

Fort Belvoir, Virginia

12 May – 0900 Hours

“Morning, ma’am.”

Frankie produced her Department of Defense ID card and continued through the gate in her rental car, grateful base stickers weren’t required any longer. She accelerated, feeling the twinge of pain in her calf from the bandage that kept her leg protected from infection. She had two stitches in her cheek and was gulping ibuprofen to mute the pain in her side from the bruised ribs. She wasn’t here to work—just to get her things. She’d requested a few days off after the accident to get herself in a car and her body time to recover. But she needed her files.

She parked and headed toward the building. She swiped her card over the access panel. The light blipped red.

Red?

That was weird. Frankie swiped it again.

Red.

The scanners must not be working right. She peered through the glass door into the first floor, feeling the throb in her leg. Not a soul in sight. With a grunt, she fished her phone out of her purse. She scrolled to Ian Santiago’s name and hit the C
ALL
icon.

She lifted her phone to her ear, watching through the door in case someone passed by.

The line connected.

“Ian,” she blurted as the mechanical voice registered.

“… sorry. Your service has been suspended. If you feel this has been made in error, please contact customer service to resolve this issue.”

Frankie snapped the phone from her ear and glanced down at it. “What? You have got to be kidding me.” She rapped on the door a few times, but the hall remained empty. She banged again. “Come on. Someone—”

Ah!

Oh.

An MP came around the corner, suspicion gouged into his face.

Great
. She waited, plastering on her nicest smile, shifting her weight off her right leg.

The MP opened the door. “Can I help you, ma’am?”

She held up her card. “It must’ve demagnetized.”

Unconvinced, he stepped outside, being sure the door closed behind him. “Do you have ID, ma’am?”

Frankie wanted to groan and chew out this soldier. “Yes.” She dug her ID out again and handed it over. “Lieutenant Francesca Solomon.” She pointed to the building. “I work here, but my card’s not working.”

He held a hand to her, guiding her backward. “Let’s step away from the door, ma’am, while I call this in.”