Trinity: Military War Dog (27 page)

Sunlight streamed into the building through a narrow slice between the door and the foundation. Strange to think it was midday since they’d put a blackout blanket over the window so they could sleep.

Heath walked to a bin with water bottles and withdrew two. He handed one to Aspen. “Drink it slow.”

Red rimmed her eyes, but they weren’t puffy and swollen. Either she hadn’t cried long, or it wasn’t a hard cry. “Thanks.” Blond curls akimbo, she brushed them back and took a mouthful, swished it, then swallowed. “I need to let off some frustration. I need a speed bag.”

Arching a brow, Heath considered her. “Speed bag?”

Amused blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight. “I did ten months in Iraq when I was enlisted, but I got stuck in a building doing paperwork all the time.” A breeze swept along the alley formed by the buildings and tousled her hair. “Drove. Me. Nuts.” She flashed him a smile, and it was a good thing he didn’t feel attracted to her because her beauty had killer written all over it. “Austin taught me to box to work off the mind-numbing boredom, but he also wanted me to be able to defend myself against predators.”

“And Austin is …”

“My brother.” She looked down the road, but he guessed what she saw wasn’t down that empty road to the mountains but the road to the past.

Heath started walking, Trinity trotting ahead a half-dozen feet, nose to the ground, tail wagging. “He the one you’re crying over?”

“Yeah.” She took a sip of the water. “He vanished on a mission.”

Heath was tracking. “Talon’s handler, right?”

Another nod. “He and his team were ambushed. They didn’t tell me much, only that in an explosion, Talon was thrown away from Austin and found twenty feet away. Broken leg, but that was it as far as visible wounds.”

As they rounded a corner, an armored personnel carrier rumbled out the gates and into the open terrain. Boots crunched. Trinity zigzagged the way she was trained.

“Yeah, it’s those invisible wounds that get tricky.” Heath considered Trinity, who sauntered through combat like a walk through the hills of A Breed Apart. “So that’s why he has doggie PTSD.”

Aspen sniffed a laugh but nodded. “Yeah, and that’s the only reason they let me have him. He had too much baggage for them.” She shifted toward him, thoughtful.

“What?”

“Ever heard of someone declared MIA, presumed dead, that came home?”

This was delicate ground. “No, but since we’re taught to never leave a man behind …” He tread carefully. “You think he’s still alive?”

Shoulders drawn up, she stuffed a hand into her jacket pocket. “Don’t know.” She shoved her fingers into her ringlets, holding them from her face. “Look.” She pivoted toward him. “I appreciate what you’re doing here, getting me to talk things out.” Aspen wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “But I’m not interested in dialogue.”

“Only a speed bag.” Bottle in hand, he motioned to a tented area. “Will that work?”

Relief swelled, pulling her straight, then it whooshed out. “Perfect.” Aspen smiled. “Thanks for understanding.”

“No worries.” He backed up and waved. “Trinity and I are going to take the grand tour.”

“Okay, catch you later.”

Jogging wouldn’t alleviate his headache but he’d feel better. Heath whistled to Trinity nosing through a couple of crates outside a building. She loped into a run and caught up with him. This team thing with the people of A Breed Apart might just work after all. And to think he’d joined to find purpose again, to feel useful. To get back out here, in the action. Okay, so he never expected to actually fulfill that dream, but it’d happened.

Heath slowed, hands on his sides as he walked the fence to snuff out the burn in his chest and muscles. He’d gotten his dreams back—well, somewhat. But if he could book some more gigs through ABA, then who knew what opportunities would arise.

A niggling wormed into his thick, pounding skull.

Hand a few inches from the fence, Heath hesitated, listened for the familiar hum of electricity. Convinced it wasn’t hot, he gripped it and arched his back, stretching muscles wound tighter than a primed trigger.

He dropped back against the links and held his knees. What was bothering him? Why couldn’t he ferret out the truth the way he’d ferreted out terrorists in the desert?

Heath mentally reached for the tenuous threads of that niggling. What was it? What was hanging there like a phantom? Present but intangible. He felt it—not with his hands. It was stronger than that. Bigger.

God, I’m missing something here
. That probably wasn’t anything new to Him.
Just … help a guy out, okay?
God had shut down his career. Removed the chaplaincy option. Now … what? What was he doing here, in a place where it couldn’t be clearer that he didn’t belong anymore?

What do You want with me?

Trinity lunged, rattling the chain links as she pounced against the fence. She barked.

Heath flattened himself against the ground and rolled, expecting to see someone there with a weapon. Wouldn’t be the first time. But only as his gaze streaked the horizon did it register.

Her bark. Not aggressive. It was …

Trinity whimpered, stalked back and forth. Attacked the chain link. Pawed at it. Another whimper.

Heath pulled himself off the ground, squinting as he searched the road and field of brown, tan, and pocks of green. Heat plumes wavered—

Wait. It wasn’t hot enough for heat plumes.

That was someone … coming, wavering, staggering like a drunk.

Or one seriously dehydrated. Or wounded.

Heath spun around and sprinted to the tower guard. “Nocs, where are your binoculars?”

Wide-eyed, weapon resting against his chest, the specialist handed him a pair. “What’s wrong, man? D’you see something?”

“Get your boss out here. Now!” Heath darted back in the direction he’d come, vaulted up on an MRAP to see better.

“Hey!” someone below objected.

Trinity raced around the vehicle, then sprinted back to the fence, barking.

“Good, girl.” Heath knelt awkwardly on the steel trap and aimed the binoculars toward the figure.

Commotion ensued around him. Several asking what was up, others jogging to the fence to figure out what he saw.

Seconds after a door banged against a wall came Candyman’s shout, “Whaddya got, Ghost?” His voice and pounding boots drew closer.

“A woman—she’s …” He strained to focus the lenses. “American!”

Curses and orders flew through the cool wind. A vehicle revved to life.

Heath craned his neck, as if the few inches would make that much difference. Whatever she held in her arms made her steps uneven. Clumsy. Something near her shoulder moved. His heart catapulted over what tunneled through the lenses to his brain.

“She’s got a kid with her.” Just as the words left his lips, the woman collapsed.

“Move, move, move!”

Camp Eggers, Kabul, Afghanistan

“I don’t like it.”

The words grated on Lance’s conscience, and he glared at Zeferelli. “That’s a lame line from a bad book.”

“Yeah, but he’s right,” Early grumbled.

“I don’t care if he’s right.” Lance pushed to his feet and paced in front of the one-way glass. “Nobody likes this. Besides, every time someone says that, something bad happens. And I don’t know about you, but I think we’ve got enough bad without adding to it.”

Zeferelli and Early exchanged a look.

Fingers pressed to the cold table, Lance leaned over the surface. “What?” The growl in his voice seemed to prowl the walls.

Zeferelli touched his nose, then spoke. “There’s a blizzard whipping up, pretty mean, over the Kush. It’ll hit here in a day, two at most.”

He needed an exorcist to get rid of those demons. What else could go wrong? Head tilted back, Lance held then let out a long breath. They didn’t know about Darci, so he needed to tread the fine line. They also didn’t know about her mission because of its extreme sensitivity. And if Early figured out Lance had placed an operative in his territory, he’d go off like a scud.

He traversed a very slippery rope. With Darci out there, Wu Jianyu skulking through the country, and Zheng in here …

Maybe two exorcists. “How bad’s the storm?”

“Bad. We’re prepping supplies for the troops and SOCOM guys in remote locations. Command suggested pulling our guys back from FOBs till this blows over.”

“Oh, and Burnett,” Early said. “I think you best haul those geology freaks back before that storm hits. Lord knows I don’t want the deaths of civilians on my head, too. The media would scream holy terror.” Early leaned back in his chair, stretching.

Lance couldn’t yank Darci now. She’d been convinced something was there. He’d seen the light in her eyes, and before they had another string of attacks against the men, they needed to know what sort of numbers they were dealing with.

He wanted to curse. “You know what kind of money we put into that team? If we don’t let them get this done, that grant money is down the tubes. That’s going to look real bad when I go up against the Hill trying to justify our funding and programs.”

“Imagine how bad it’d be trying to justify leaving them there and dragging home frozen corpses.”

“It just can’t get any worse.”

“Unless someone comes through that door with bad news.” Early chuckled.

Lance glared at Early. Yet at the same time, a squall of warmth washed down his spine and pushed him into a chair. “If someone does come through that door, I’m pinning it on your head, Early.”

Laughing, Early and Zeferelli shot nervous looks to the steel barrier that kept them safe from the surrounding chaos.

Mischief-laden eyes locked on Lance as the general thumbed toward the door. “Frank, take a load off the general’s mind, please, and lock that.”

With a rumble of laughter, Frank came out of his chair. “Yes, sir.”

Lance again shot another glare at Early for taunting him. “Sit down, Lieu—”

Bang!
The distant, hollow thud of a door hitting a wall reverberated through the building. Shouts climbed the cement hull and snaked along the floors, stretching closer … closer. “General. General!”

The weight of the next few seconds anchoring him to the chair, Lance cursed. God forgive him, he didn’t mean to, but he did. He waited with the foreboding that had been inescapable since he rolled out of the rack this morning.

“Where’s General Burnett?”

At the sound of Major Otte’s shout, Lance shoved to his feet. He pivoted and strode for the very door they’d almost locked. He yanked it open and stepped into the coffin of a hall. “Otte.”

The lanky officer turned, eyes bulging. “General.” The rush of relief flooded his words. He pulled himself back in line. “Sir.” He saluted. “Sir, I have news.” His gaze drifted over Lance’s shoulder to where he could sense Zeferelli and Early hovering.

Another flurry of noise filled the narrow space behind, and Lance knew the void where the ominous news lingered would soon be filled with anger, revelation, missions … “If you’ll excuse us, gentlemen.” He took his aide by the shoulder and guided him into the room. As he closed the door, he essentially closed out the other two.

He flipped the lock. Sucked from the dregs of his courage and faced the man.

“Sir. We’ve lost communication with the geology team.”

Lance felt prepared for just about anything at this point. “Sat imaging?”

A nod. A breath. “Not good, sir.” Panting. “It’s a mess. From what we can tell, they were attacked. Fire. Everything’s destroyed.” “Who’s responsible?”

“Uncertain, sir. Nobody’s claiming it yet. And if SOCOM hadn’t gotten a call this morning from Dr. Colsen, we probably wouldn’t know about any of this.”

“The professor?” A scowl crowded Lance’s face. “Was he calling to report the attack?”

Sweat slicked the tips of Otte’s dark hair as he shook his head. “I don’t believe so, sir. He told Command they had to get out of there, that Jia awakened the camp, saying someone was coming after them.”

His pulse stumbled at the mention of Darci’s alias. “What time did his call come?”

“Zero three hundred, sir.” “That’s almost five hours ago.”

“Yes, sir, it’s taken me that long to authenticate the reports.”

The words faded as one name grew loud in Lance’s mind: Jianyu.

“… explosion. It’s all we know, sir.”

“Explosion?”

Otte nodded.

“From what?”

“The Black Hawk, sir. SOCOM went to rescue the team.” Otte said it as if he’d already mentioned it. Maybe he had.

But Lance’s mind couldn’t surrender the thought of Darci up there in the middle of an attack. What was the probability that Jianyu had found her? “What happened?”

“They were shot down.”

He’d need to get an assessment team up there to find out who … “The geology team.” He looked at Otte. “Are they alive?” “Unknown.” His aide paled.

Lance knew what was on the line,
who
was on the line with that team. His heart tangled over the news and twisted into a hard knot. Otte wouldn’t be here as if he’d lost his first pet if the team was alive and in communication with the base.

Otte continued. “At this time, we are officially listing them as MIA.”