SEALs of Honor: Dane (7 page)

“Hmm.” But there was humor in Mason’s voice. “Never knew Dane to be a cat person.”

Shadow, walking over to sit down beside Mason, said, “He’s not. He’s a Marielle person.”

The two men snickered.

She blinked, not getting the jibe for a moment, then felt her cheeks flush bright red. She gazed at the cat, a tiny smile on her lips. Really? “He’s very sweet,” she murmured.

The men laughed. “Yeah, that’s Dane all right. He’s sweet.” Shadow raised his voice loud enough for the rest of the occupants in the plane to hear. “We should call him that from now on.”

Dane came out of nowhere and shoved his face into Shadow’s rollicking laughing one.

Marielle gasped. “What are you doing?” she scolded. “Shadow has been a big help.”

Dane backed off, rolled his eyes and Shadow lost it, slumping down in the chair, snickering. Marielle turned her gaze to Mason who was desperately trying to hold his own amusement in.

“Dane’s really a very nice man,” she said earnestly. “He’s been good to me.”

Mason, his face contorting with effort, managed to keep his mouth shut as he got up and walked to the back. She frowned at his retreating back. Were his shoulders shaking?

Spinning around she caught Dane’s brooding glare. She threw up her hands. “What did I say?”

“You called me sweet,” he growled.

Her face softened, her hand instinctively going back to touch Masters. “And you are,” she said gently. “I really appreciate that you brought Masters.”

“I couldn’t leave him behind,” he growled, “and none of the neighbors wanted him or could tell me if there was anyone left to look after him.”

“Exactly.” She beamed at him. “See…caring, kind…sweet.”

*

H
E SHOULD BE
insulted. There was really only so much a man could take. The guys were never going to let him live this down.

Yet he wasn’t insulted – not really. Or rather, if she’d said that while the two of them were alone, he’d not have minded at all. Still the guys would razz him good for a while. Then, he’d done his fair share of bugging them, so maybe it was his turn. He closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

He napped in a half doze, always alert but knowing the trip was going to be long enough and if he could catch some rest, it was the best option.

At the sound of whispers in the back, he sat quietly for the moment then straightened and looked around. Marielle lay draped across the cat cage and appeared to be asleep, but something was going on with his team. He got up and made his way to the back. “What’s up?”

“Orders to change course,” Mason said. “We’ve got intel on Michaels’ boss. He was just tagged entering Italy.”

Damn. He glanced back at Marielle. “Did you explain we have an injured civilian on board?”

Mason winced. “Yeah, she’s to go to a medical center and we’re to leave her there. The US Embassy will be contacted on her behalf.”

The other men sucked in their breaths. That was not something any of them would choose to do.

“Not happening.” Dane sat down, his arms across his massive chest. “She needs care and not to be dumped in yet another foreign country.”

Mason sighed. “I can only tell you what they are saying.”

Dane understood. It wasn’t the first time they’d helped out a civilian in trouble and had to leave. Marielle wasn’t going to appreciate not getting home. The cat was also going to cause trouble. Shit. “She’s too valuable. We can’t leave her alone.”

“No, but she could return stateside with another plane.”

“True. Except they sent her with us.”

“Exactly.” Mason was back on his communicator. “I’m working the angles.”

Dane stared out the window, his mind spinning the options. He could stash her somewhere while they chased after the boss. By the time they landed, intel would be confirmed and a plan in place. They could be in and out of Italy within a few hours.

Or days. Even weeks if things fell apart. She could not stay that long. Even healthy she couldn’t stay that long. She’d have to get a commercial flight and go home. With the cat. So more paperwork and more money to get the paperwork through fast enough to get the cat through the borders. His mind worked as the men waited on Mason.

“We’re landing in a small airport a couple hours outside of Rome.”

So much for a hotel. He’d seen some of those small airports. They were talking dirt strips if they were lucky. And that meant no airport hotel for Marielle. “What if she didn’t get off the plane?”

At Mason’s sharp look he realized he’d asked his question out loud. He shrugged. “If she stays on board, then she’ll be able to go back with us.”

“We could be days.”

“We could be hours,” he countered.

“It could be dangerous.”

“She’s a target.” The best place for her was with them.

“We don’t know she’s the target.”

“The prof is dead. She’s alive and she’s the one with the research. They want her.”

The others exchanged glances. They had a protocol in place for a lot of situations, but they also knew that every mission required adaption to make it through. They’d pushed the line many times. Sometimes to survive. Sometimes because it was the best thing to do. Sometimes it was the right thing to do.

He hoped this time fit in one of those. There was no way he felt good about dumping Marielle, injured, in a small town miles from an international airport all alone.

Hell no. Not going to happen.

Chapter 10

T
HE PLANE LANDED
as she was waking up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She stared out the window in confusion. Uhm, she didn’t know what time it was, but it surely could not have been time for a transatlantic flight like she’d expected. And neither did this small, flat, rundown airstrip look like an international airport.

Where the hell was she?

With Masters’ cage gripped tight in her hand, she turned to look at the men.

Only they were all geared up. Fear shot through her. What had happened? Why hadn’t they said something to her? Masters meowed in his cage. She dragged the cage onto her lap and curled up in the corner, trying to still the panic in her stomach.

The only good thing was she was feeling relatively normal. The headache was still there but less a pounding than a dull ache. But…she stared outside in the evening light and wondered what the hell she was supposed to do here.

And where was Dane. He should have explained what was going on long before now.

“How are you feeling?” Dane stood in front of her. His gaze deep, assessing.

“Fine,” she said, her voice trembling despite her best attempts to keep it firm. “Where are we and why?”

“We’re in Italy. Our flight was diverted as we were given new information.”

She nodded as if she understood, but in truth, no one could understand anything given the little information he’d given her. “And me? Where am I going?”

“That’s possibly a choice. In theory you’re supposed to go to a medical clinic on your own where the US Embassy will contact you.”

“What?” She blinked, trying to understand how it was she went from being a protected casualty to a don’t-need-dumped-at-the-next-stop, person.

“I see,” she managed in a calm, slightly strangled voice. “Then I guess I’d better grab my things.”

“Or…”

She stopped in her attempt to put Masters down on the seat beside her so she could stand up. And twisted to look at him. “Or?”

“Or you stay here with the pilot.”

“That’s a hell of a choice.” She eyed him. “Is it safe?”

He nodded.

“Is it a good idea?”

He nodded. “If you want to. Unless you have friends who want to deal with the embassy or a family support system in Italy, about two hundred and forty miles from Rome, then stay.”

Not likely. She studied his carefully blank face and knew what her next question had to be. “Am I allowed to stay on board?”

He shook his head. “Not likely. We’re not asking for permission. You’re here. They know that. We’ve been diverted for an excellent reason. Makes sense that they’d know you’re still here.”

“But?” There was more to this.

“It’s your choice.” He turned and joined his team at the back of the plane, leaving her stunned and confused.

Did he want her to stay? He implied as much. No, he implied she should stay. Not that he
wanted
her to stay. Determined to get to the bottom of this, she stood up and walked to where the men were, only they were exiting faster than she could reach them. By the time they were there, Dane was getting ready to close the door, locking her in.

“Wait,” she called out. “I thought you said I could leave.”

He gave her a crooked grin that did crazy things to her heart and said, “I lied.”

And he shut and locked the door behind him, locking her inside.

With a smile on her face.

*

D
ANE HOPPED ONTO
the back of the truck. The others were ready, the engine revving, raring to go.

“How’d she take it?” Mason asked from the front passenger seat.

“Not sure. I didn’t hang around to see.”

But he had caught the relief on her face. He’d made the right decision. She’d been through too much already. She needed time out. A few hours in a plane with the pilot would do that.

The others grinned.

“Now let’s get this job done.” They had an address in an old warehouse just out of town. Deserted and derelict but supposedly with an operation functioning underground. A good place for a chemistry lab. No regulations to worry about. And being out of town, they could keep their activities secret. It wasn’t a production site but a research lab. That meant less staff to keep track of. And quite likely there were living quarters there as well.

The drive was just over half an hour. They were supposed to meet the informant first.

Pulling up to the gas station, they split up and disappeared around the block. Mason, less militarily dressed than the others, walked into the small cafe and took a table at the window. Dane walked in, just in his navy pants and dark t-shirt and took a table at the end of the room. He ordered coffee and waited. An older man walked in. He looked to have an odd illness. His footsteps shuffled and his hands, as he lifted them in greeting, seemed to shake.

Was it from being around chemicals or just life taking its toll on the body that had lost the strength to fight back? He shuffled to Mason’s table and sat down, greeting him as an old friend. Knowing Mason had spent years in Europe, he might be.

The two men talked casually while drinks and food were delivered. To anyone watching they appeared to be good friends visiting.

After they finished both, the old man got up and left as if he’d just had a casual visit. Nothing untoward. Yet Dane knew better.

He finished his coffee and walked over to pay for it at the till.

From where he stood, he could see the old man shuffle down the sidewalk. He walked out the restaurant just in time to see a vehicle rip around the corner. He instinctually melted against the wall.

A funny pop echoed through the air. Gunshot.

The old man staggered before collapsing to the ground, a bullet in his head.

Mason raced out of the cafe, took one look, swore and said, “We need to get the hell out of here.”

They bolted back to the vehicle. Shadow raced to the back of the vehicle and jumped in. “I managed to catch the license plate.” He mumbled the same number sequence several times over as he punched it into a database. The GPS brought the address up in seconds. Dane had a lot of appreciation for his predecessors who functioned just as effectively – without technology. Of course they were up against an enemy that had no technology at the time as well.

“We didn’t get anything worthwhile. He said there’d been nothing unusual at the place in the last few weeks. He was willing to get us to the lab but said we’d need to get the local law involved and do an official investigation. He did say that Hyack had sold this lab recently. The sale going through just last week.”

“Too fast for us to have known the ink was even dry. Possibly the company’s streamlining its operation.”

“Or they had nothing to do with it.”

“Then why shoot the old man?”

“More loose threads?”

With more questions than answers swirling around, and with Mason driving and Dane running navigation, they arrived at the address in less than two minutes. He drove past the house then at the next corner half the men ejected while he turned around and came back. There were houses on both sides. A small compact car was parked in the front.

Similar enough in size to be their drive-by shooter. The lack of a license plate just added to the suspicion. It had to have been removed after the shooting.

Mason drove past the house again and parked down the road. Dane went behind the neighbors and came up from the side. There were no sounds inside. No lights on. But the vehicle was there.

Dane slid around the house to the back door and peered in through the window.

A man lay on the floor face up, a small circle in his forehead. Dane quickly informed the others then reached for the back door and found it already open. He nudged it wider and crouched down in the dark. Not a sound from inside.

Had he done his job and come home to a reward he hadn’t expected? Still, it was very much the same style they’d encountered since this job began. The company was cleaning up after themselves.

Mason arrived beside him and quickly they dove in, guns ready. A search of the premise confirmed Dane’s initial thoughts. The house was empty. The shooter long gone.

There was nothing tying them together except Marielle.

Dane stooped down by the body and a strangled gasp erupted from his lips.

He held up his hand to reveal a small heart locket with the word Marielle written across the back. He opened it. Inside was a picture of a young mother holding an infant on one side and a mother and daughter standing together on the other. The young woman was scarily familiar.

He held it out for Mason to see. “What’s the chance this is Marielle’s?”