Wolfsbane (19 page)

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Authors: Ronie Kendig

BOOK: Wolfsbane
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“I meant no disrespect.” The general nodded to her. “We have little time.”

“She certainly has time to say good-bye to her
father
.” With that, he stalked to his office.

After a furtive glance at the general, she darted up the stairs. She stepped into a pair of black jeans and a burgundy T-shirt. Once she managed to tie her hair up, she grabbed a few unmentionables, a pair of jeans, a couple of T-shirts, and toiletries, then stuffed them into a duffel bag. She’d been on enough military operations to know to pack only the necessities. The Corps of Engineers had taught her a lot about discipline and efficiency. She could only hope those got her through this rerun of a nightmare she’d hoped to blot out of her mind.

Back downstairs, she debated whose patience to tempt. Her father’s by not saying good-bye, which was weird anyway. He’d never been an emotional person. Never liked good-bye. Even insisted her mother’s casket be closed for the ceremony. Or she could tempt the general’s, and what would she lose? Not getting to go—yeah, right. Like Lambert would let her get away with that.

She diverted from the stairs and quickened her pace. At his office door, she raised her hand to knock.

“Leave her out of this!” her father shouted.

Another voice rumbled but the words proved indiscernible.

Dani eased open the door.

Her father’s gaze snapped to hers, his hardened expression remained fixed.

The general moved into her view. “Are you ready?”

No. “I have my things.”

Olin nodded.

“Danielle.” Her father came closer. “Here.” He lifted a gold chain with a ruby-embedded rose dangling from the pendant. “It was your mother’s. She wanted you to have this.”

Dani let her father slip the beautiful piece around her neck. But a weight plunked against her stomach. Why did this gesture feel so much like, “Good-bye, I’ll never see you again”?

CHAPTER 11

Nightshade Shack, Virginia
1 May

D
ude, I think you need a new call sign.” Calling one of the newest members of Nightshade “Squirt” didn’t sit right with Canyon.

John Dighton quirked an eyebrow. “Why?” He grinned. “Is it intimidating?”

“No, just makes me think you’re some punk kid—worse than the Kid.”

“Hey, I heard that.” The Kid sauntered into the Shack and dropped his duffel.

Canyon nodded. “See what I mean?”

Grinning, the former Navy SEAL bent over the table, palms pressed against a large map.

“If you would like a new call sign,” Azzan said as he joined them, “make sure Midas doesn’t give you the name.”

“Why?” Dighton considered Canyon warily.

“Because of him, they now call me Aladdin.”

“Dude, what can I say?” Arms held out to the side, Canyon chuckled. “On a surfboard, flying over the water, you look like Aladdin.”

“That is a discriminatory and derogatory statement. Being half-Palestinian, half-Jewish doesn’t make me a medieval character from Arabia.”

Canyon eyed him. “You’re learning American political correctness fast.”

Aladdin shrugged. “I must blend in, right?”

“Gather up,” Max said, hands on his belt as he stood at the head of the conference area with Cowboy beside him. “We’ve got a lot to work out. The Old Man is en route with the girl.”

Should’ve greased up
. Maybe then she wouldn’t recognize him
painted up. Like when they went deep into the Philippines and Max’s wife hadn’t recognized him. Was it too much to hope for that Roark wouldn’t realize he was there?

“Squirt is going to give the rundown on the details.”

Squirt faced the team. “First, I appreciate your trust. It’s not taken lightly—”

“Whoa.” The Kid stood straight. “Is that an accent I’m hearing?”

Scowling, Squirt speared the Kid with a fierce look. “Be careful, Kid. You start getting smart, they might mistake you for someone else.”

Laughter trickled through the room but Canyon had noticed it, too. Dighton had an accent. “Down Under?”

With a huff, Squirt planted his hands on hips. “Grew up in the Top End.”

“As opposed to the bottom end?”

Though sincerity bled into the Kid’s question, Squirt looked ready to kill. “Northern Territory, Australia.”

“How’d you end up here?” Legend asked.

The guy might as well spill his history. The team wouldn’t let up until they knew.

“Long story. Gist is my mom divorced my dad right after my kid sister was born.”

“You have a sister?”

Cowboy patted the Kid’s shoulder. “Down boy.”

Dighton glared but went on. “My mom moved us back to her homeland—Australia. When I was sixteen, she died and my sister, Rel, and I came back to the States to live with my dad. I went into the Navy after high school.” He gave another huff and looked around. “Any more questions, or can we get back to this mission and why I’m helping lead?”

“Wicked,” the Kid said.

Max smirked. “Go ahead.”

“Since I spent time on special ops in South America and my specialty was logistics, I offered my services in the planning and implementation. I’m familiar with the countries, their people, and their language.”

The Kid perked up. “You speak Spanish?”

“Más que un cabrito como usted sabrían nunca.”

Running a hand over his mouth, Canyon hid his smile.
More than a kid like you would ever know
. Would the Kid realize he’d just gotten owned?

The Kid stared at Squirt for two blinks. “What’d you say?”

Expression flat, Dighton said, “You’re wise beyond your years.”

“Awesome.” The Kid nodded. “But …” Then grinned. “La próxima vez, asegúrese de que el niño no sabe español.”

Shock gaped across the Shack.

The Kid shifted. “For those who
don’t
speak Spanish, I said, ‘next time, make sure the Kid doesn’t know Spanish.’”

Head thrown back, Dighton guffawed. The laughter reverberated off the metal beams crisscrossing the ceiling. He slapped his hand into the Kid’s and pulled him into a man hug, only to end up noogying him.

“Hey, hey, hey!” The Kid extricated himself. “Give me some respect, will ya?”

“Let’s focus,” Max said. “We’re headed into Miranda, Venezuela.” He pointed to the maps on the table. “We’ll hop a C-130 down south, then chopper in.” Handing off the conversation to Dighton, Max nodded at his SEAL buddy.

“Okay, we’ll drop in ten klicks inside the Venezuelan-Colombian border.” His finger trailed over the map, from one
X
to another. “This is where we’ll pick up vehicles. It’s deemed hostile, but it’s not.”

“Come again?” Wiping the blade of his SOG against his pants leg, Legend looked over at the map, an apple dangling from his other hand. “Hostile but not?”

“There’s a military presence, but they should be easy to avoid.”

“How can we be sure?” Canyon was all for not encountering bullets and blades, but he wasn’t going in blind.

“I’ve taken a team down there myself. I know the routes, their territory.” Dighton shifted his focus back to the penciled-in plans. “Vehicles here, we drive through the night to reach this.” He drew an imaginary circle around a spot that bordered what looked like water. “This is the reputed location we’re to recon and report.”

“What do you think?” Legend asked, eating the apple he’d sliced. “Think this information is legit?”

Palms on the table, Dighton peered up through a tense brow. “If this is right, if what I read in the hearing transcript is accurate …” His pale eyes darted over the map. “It’s brilliant right there on the coastline. Access to land, air, water. In and out, nobody’s the wiser.”

“If the facility goes deep enough, there’s no sat imaging,” Max added.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Dighton said, his voice deep. “Bruzon is no idiot. If he finds out we’re there, it won’t be pretty.”

“What’s our timetable?” Cowboy eased against the couch and folded his arms.

“Ten days,” Max said. “Two weeks at the most. But it’s rugged, brutal terrain—and we’ll probably get hit with rain.”

“You worried about the girl?”

Aladdin’s question, though targeted at Max, pulled at Canyon’s heart. Roark was one of the toughest women he knew. But she’d tanked after returning from the mission that went horribly wrong, and then plummeted off the will to live when told she’d have to go back. What was her frame of mind now that they were gearing up to leave?

“She’s former Army Corps of Engineers, ordnance. They discharged her medically after her return,” Max said.

“Demolitions is one thing,” the Kid said. “Black ops is another. Besides, wasn’t she wigged out when they pulled her from the water? I mean, that transcript from the hearing was messed up.”

Head down, Canyon glared at him.

The Kid shrugged. “Just sayin’. Why are we doing this, anyway? I mean, wasn’t there enough evidence she was brutalized down there? How’d it get whacked and suddenly she’s the bad guy?”

Max shifted. “The intel on that stick drive was too precise—too perfect. CIA sources checked it out; government sent black ops down there—all came up with one thing: zip. Nothing like what she reports.” Knuckling his lips, he stared at the spread on the table. “And—this goes no further than your ears—Lambert thinks it might be connected to Siberia.”

Legend grunted. “You mean something might come out of me freezing my assets off?”

“How’s Siberia connected?” Cowboy asked.

With a shrug, Max said, “Don’t know. Old Man’s not saying.”

Roughing a hand over his stubble, Cowboy grunted. “There’s a lot that doesn’t add up or make sense.”

“Like the Bermuda Triangle of bad ops. Never know what will be what till it’s too late. Know what I’m sayin’?” Legend mumbled.

Max nodded. “There’s also question about the girl’s loyalties.”

Canyon’s chest tightened.

“According to the Old Man, agents checked out her home computer, found all kinds of intel, including vacation photos tethering her to this guy.” He leaned forward, shaking his head. “Think about it. Not that I agree with their accusations, but she’s held by this perv for six months, then suddenly escapes with the USB drive—the keys to his kingdom, to a facility that holds weapons of mass destruction?”

“Tss,” the Kid said. “I can gain remote access of a computer with my eyes closed. Anyone could’ve planted that information. And everyone has
seen CougarNews reports about Russia sending missiles to Venezuela.”

“True. But they’ve also found a bank account with enough money to float her to the moon.”

“But she’s not complicit,” Canyon nearly growled. “She’s innocent.”

“Midas is right, I think. The question is, who planted that stuff there? Where’d the dough come from?” The Kid frowned, his gaze thoughtful. “Seems mighty coincidental, don’t you think, that all this stuff is
suddenly discovered?
I say someone’s trying to get rid of her.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Max glared at the Kid.

The men wanted to know what they’d have to deal with, what sort of mental and physical shape Roark was in. The questions were standard. Needed to be asked. But still … it rankled him. The question was not whether she could do this—because somehow, he knew Roark had the courage to gut it up and get it done—but whether Nightshade would keep her safe.

But he couldn’t say anything. Couldn’t let them know how things had
shifted
between him and her. Even though he had shifted it back, would Max or Lambert yank him if they knew?

Nah, better to keep his mouth shut. Ensure he went on the mission. He dare not look up and show what he felt, what ate at him: One misstep, one mistake, and she could end up in the claws of a man who would not hesitate to rip her apart.

“Realize what we could be dealing with if Sokoleski is involved. He killed his brother, and he won’t talk, but it’s not hard to imagine what Russian physicists would be developing in an underground mountain facility.”

“Nuclear weapons.”

“Or something to make it possible.” Max waved his hand over some gear. “We need to get images of Bruzon’s facility, environmental readings. All the supplies are there; we just gotta get it logged. If they are building nuclear capabilities—well, it goes without saying that we need to stop this.”

Canyon straightened. He grabbed the imaging and stabbed a finger against the name. “Miranda.” He looked at Max. “That’s what Sokoleski said to me as he died.”

Someone cursed.

Canyon’s mind raced. Roark was caught up in a nuclear plot. And more than ever he believed her. Not that he hadn’t before, but this added cement to it.

“Midas?” Aladdin speared him with inquisitive eyes.

Canyon started at the attention. “Sorry?” He noticed the others watching him.

“You’ve spent time with her. Do you think she’s up to it?”

Aladdin had no idea the gem he’d just revealed to the team. And Canyon certainly didn’t want to explain anything. He kept his secrets in a vault with the combination buried.

As expected, the question caught the attention of their team leader. Max frowned. “You’ve spent time with her?”

Defensive talons dug into his chest and needled his shoulders. “She’s up to it.”

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