WAR: Intrusion (51 page)

“That’s what they say.” Lachlan barely refrained from rolling his eyes, even though he knew Kris was just playing devil’s advocate. “Yet the tallies the government gave us even after catching those rogue lorries still fall short of the number of boxes I estimate were in the facility.”

Kris nodded. “So, what we have is potentially not just the weapons back in Morenga’s hands, destined for who knows what rebel group, but also the miniature explosives.”

“Yes, sir. Although it’s more than a potential. I saw Morenga briefly there at the end.”

“Are you certain?” Kris asked. “You were on the verge of death.”

“Helen confirmed it. Morenga helped her and Mrs. N’Dorah move me into the operating theater.”

“But you didn’t actually see Morenga removing boxes?”

“No, sir.”

“What about Natchaba? Did he escape before or after his father arrived?” There was a hard edge to Kris’s voice this time.

Lachlan sat up straighter, ignoring the discomfort. “He’s dead.”

Kris raised his brows. “How?”

“Helen cut his throat.”

If he was surprised by the news, Kris didn’t show it. He just studied Lachlan a long while. “I suspect there’s quite a story there. Some day, I hope you’ll tell me.”

Lachlan shrugged. “That’s for Helen to decide.”

“I suppose Morenga retrieved his son’s body,” Kris said.

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell me this. Did your agreement with Morenga include you killing Natchaba? Would you have completed the job if Dr. Kirk hadn’t done it for you?”

“No, sir. I’m not a contract killer.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Obi wince. “You’re not either,” Lachlan said, turning to face his teammate. “You kill to protect the team and to help us achieve mission objectives, Obi. You don’t kill because a man decided that his son had become too much of a threat. You kill because it’s your job to help rid the world of its human predators so that the innocent ones remain safe. Yet taking a man’s life leaves a mark on your soul, as it does with each of us.” Lachlan glanced at each man in the group. “If killing didn’t touch us, if it didn’t make us realize how precious life is, then we’d be no better than the men we hunt. But we do understand the gravity of taking a life. For me, that makes it possible to look at myself in the mirror without flinching.”

Obi gave a slight nod of acknowledgment. Yet his expression remained troubled. Whatever was bothering him, Lachlan knew it would take more than words to fix. It would take time.

Kris’s gaze bounced from Lachlan to Obi, clearly curious. But he didn’t give voice to his questions.

“Steering us back on topic,” Kris said. “I’m guessing you boneheads kept this information from me because you hoped to recover the weapons before they got distributed to the rebels?”

“Yes, sir,” Dev said before Lachlan. “We know there’s been tension between you and Azumah recently over the way you’re running the teams. Since we approve of your management style, we didn’t want to give Azumah ammunition he could use to force changes on you.”

Kris raised a brow.

“Yeah, okay, that’s not the only reason,” Levine grumbled. Being one of Kris’s former teammates, he must have read something into Kris’s response that newer members such as Dev and Lachlan had missed. “We were protecting Lachlan, okay?”

Kris winced.

“No, Kris, it’s not that we don’t trust you,” JC added hurriedly. “But you’ve got Azumah breathing down your neck and other teams you have to set an example for. We didn’t want to put you in the position of having to defend Lachlan if Azumah decided he wanted to make an example of him.”

“For the record,” Kris said, turning to Lachlan, “I don’t blame you for Morenga’s actions in all of this. I would have done the same thing. As Obi pointed out, you had no way to know that Morenga was waiting in the wings to swoop in and retrieve his weapons.”

“Thank you,” Lachlan said.

“But you’re right,” Kris continued, directing his attention to JC. “Azumah would have a different opinion on it. He’s getting a lot of flack from financial supporters who want to know why WAR hasn’t stopped the rebels yet.”

“Because Azumah doesn’t have the stomach to really hit them hard,” Tony muttered.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say that,” Kris chided. “Even though I partially agree with you. The other issue, is of course—”

“Money,” the entire team chorused.

Kris laughed and shook his head. “All right. Let’s assume that Morenga has both the normal weapons and the miniaturized explosives. What’s our next move?”

Lachlan cleared his throat. “Since no one reports seeing the handcart Natchaba used when clearing out his office, it’s a good bet that Natchaba’s critical data ended up with Morenga.”

“Not all of it,” Lars said. He sat in an armchair with his laptop across his thighs. “We found Natchaba’s main office in the Republic of Dahomey. Thanks to Mr. Explosives Expert here—” he nodded at JC “—who deactivated the lovely little booby-trap on the place, I was able to retrieve the contents of Natchaba’s computer. We might not have recovered all of the weapons, but we now have his attack plans.” He rattled off the primary targets.

“Brilliant.” Lachlan met Kris’s eyes. The other man nodded, giving Lachlan the lead. There was a flash of sadness in Kris’s eyes and Lachlan sensed how hard was for Kris to hand over control of his former teammates. Lachlan understood. After only six months on the job, he wouldn’t want to give up leadership to anyone else. They were his men now.

“Did anyone else notice that those are mostly the same targets we’ve been hearing rumors about for months?” Lachlan asked.

“Yes,” Dev said. The others added their agreement.

“You’re thinking that it’s Dietrich’s sponsor directing the players, aren’t you?” Levine asked.

“Aye.”

“We’ve still had no luck identifying the man,” Kris said. “Until we do, I’ll ask Wil if his informant inside Morenga’s operation can search for the weapons, with the miniature explosives as a priority. Hopefully, Marcus will succeed in locating the pilot, Seth Jarrod, and he’ll be able to provide additional intelligence. For now, we’ll continue handling the aftereffects of recent events.” Kris met the eyes of each member of the team. “Good work, men. Now, which of you wants to try to beat me at poker?”

Everyone groaned. Kris was ruthless at poker and had wiped out every man on the team at some point. Hell, Kris was so good, he could make a living at the game if he wanted.

Kris glanced around the room. “What? No takers? Cowards.”

The men started tossing insults around. That evolved into a spirited discussion about card playing skills. Lachlan leaned his head back and shut his eyes, letting the banter wash over him, relieved that he wasn’t going to have to leave these men who’d become his brothers.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

HELEN
WOKE SCREAMING from another nightmare.

“Hush,” Lachlan murmured, cuddling her against him. “Hush now, Helen. You’re safe. I have you.”

She whimpered and curled into him, her hand clenching and unclenching on his t-shirt while she cried. Lachlan’s hands stroked soothingly from the top of her head to her lower back and back up again.

It didn’t take long before her tears dried up. She lay quietly in Lachlan’s arms for a bit, taking comfort in his strength.

Finally, she said, “I’m so tired of this. I just want to be over these nightmares and get on with my life.”

“Impatient lass, aren’t ye?”

She sighed. “Yes. But seriously, how many more times do I have to endure this?” Although in truth, the nightmares were coming with less frequency than before.

“Which dream was it this time?”

“The one where Natchaba, the rebels I killed, and all of my mutilated colleagues from the hospital come floating toward me, covered in blood and screaming that I’m a killer, the same as my mother.” Just describing it made her cringe. “Then they tell me that I’m going to kill you, too.” She burrowed against Lachlan, snaking her arm across his chest and hugging him tightly.

“Well now, lass, we know that last bit isn’t true, don’t we?” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“But it could have been. I fell so completely into shock after you were shot that I couldn’t move. A few more minutes of inaction on my part and you would have died.”

More tears slid down her cheeks. Lachlan brushed them away with his fingertips.

“There’s no point in tormenting yourself with what might have been,” he reminded her.

She sighed. “I know. The therapist says that when I’m ready, I’ll be able to tell the figures in my dream that I’m a healer, not a killer, and order them to all go away. But I don’t know how long that will take.” She stared across the dark room.

“What else is bothering you?”

The corner of her mouth lifted. He was coming to know her too well. “I hate that I still can’t stand the sight of blood.”

“Aye, but that hasn’t stopped you from nursing me, now has it?”

“Of course not. But you’re no longer bleeding. And I let Lance change your bandages.”

“My point is that there are types of medicine you can practice where you won’t be exposed to the sight of blood. You can ease back into medicine, aye?”

“Perhaps.” She thought back to everything Lachlan had said in the hospital. “It’s just that I’ve defined myself so long as being a trauma surgeon. I love everything about the work and it infuriates me that the rebels have stolen that love from me.”

“I have confidence you’ll get over this aversion to blood,” he murmured. “As I said before, you’re a strong, courageous woman. Taking a life is never an easy thing. Or it shouldn’t be, if you want to retain your humanity.”

“Sometimes I look down and think that I still have Natchaba’s blood on my hands.” She shivered. “Does it… Does it ever get better?”

It was a little while before Lachlan answered. “The memories will eventually come with less frequency. Sometimes they’ll just be a fleeting spasm, a reminder of where you’ve been and that you’re someplace better now. Other times, they’ll knock you down and beat you over the head until you’ll swear you’re hurting more now than during the original experience.”

Her breath caught. “Memories of your father?”

“Aye. And of taking his life. But there are others, as well. Including what the lads and I witnessed in the aftermath of the Hospital Massacre.” He glanced down at her. “Not that we have as horrific memories as you and your fellow survivors do.” He cupped the back of her head and pressed her cheek into his chest as if he could protect her from reliving that day.

“It helps that I’m not alone in that,” Helen admitted. She and her fellow survivors were undergoing group therapy. One time, Lachlan and his teammates had even joined the session, sharing their reactions to the slaughter and their feelings about mercy-killing the victims.

The trial of the killers was coming up. Multiple rebel groups had put a bounty on the heads of the survivors, who they’d identified from the video their comrades had taken. As a result, all of the survivors were in protective custody of some sort.

“Has the government decided yet if we’re going to have to testify?” Helen asked. “I honestly don’t think I’m capable of keeping it together if I’m forced to recount my experience in front of strangers. I’ll either throw up, pass out, or start hyperventilating under a massive panic attack.”

“The latest word is that they’re going to use the video as evidence,” Lachlan said. “Only if there’s need for clarification will they call on any of you. But with the country thirsting for vengeance, I expect it will be a short trial.”

“Good.” She traced the edge of his bandage with her fingertip. “I know you were going to keep Natchaba alive. That you wanted him to face the government’s justice.”

“You heard that, did you?”

“Yes.” She shifted so that she could look into his eyes. “I was so proud of you. It couldn’t have been easy to pull back from killing him.” She sighed. “And then I went ahead and killed him anyway.”

“You reacted with lethal force in order to save my life, lass. You did the right thing.”

She sat up and crossed her arms over her chest. “Natchaba’s death is the hardest for me to deal with,” she admitted.

“Of course. You’d once considered him an ally.”

She nodded. “I keep seeing my hand as it wielded the scalpel, then his lifeblood spurting onto me.” She shuddered. “Usually when my hands are covered in blood it’s because I just saved a life.”

Lachlan wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down so she lay beside him, snuggled in his embrace. “I have confidence that you’ll eventually come to terms with what you’ve done. In the meantime, give yourself credit for handling the entire situation with remarkable courage.”

“Thank you.” She gently touched his cheek. “I understand so much better now that the line between right and wrong isn’t always clear. That it’s situational.” She pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. “I’m sorry for judging you so harshly regarding David’s prisoner. You’re not the cold-hearted barbarian I thought you were.”

“And you’re not the amoral doctor I believed you to be.” He smiled and gave her a long, lazily thorough kiss.

“Speaking of courage,” Lachlan said a few minutes later, “I think the family of Mrs. N’Dorah, and her bodyguards, would be happier if she acted a wee bit less brave.”

“I know. While I admire her for holding a press conference and talking about what she endured, it does seem too much like daring the rebels to come after her. Since the rebels are having trouble locating me and the other survivors, she’s a perfect target.”

“True. But the men the government have assigned to protect her all meet with Obi’s approval, so she’ll be as safe as a public figure can ever be.”

“Which is not very,” Helen murmured. “But that’s her choice. She believes the risk is worth it because of the outpouring of support she’s received. Beyond the personal expressions of sympathy, Layla’s Foundation has received enough funding pledges to keep the coffers full for the next several years. Plus, companies have offered to donate both material and labor whenever Mrs. N’Dorah is ready to rebuild the office and set up more clinics.”