Down Range

by Taylor Moore

  Given the way Bridger was frantically making bandages, Garrett could tell the situation was getting worse. His pain was easing, and he was drifting off. He mustered a smile. “One more thing.”

  Bridger leaned in. “What’s that?”

  Garrett grabbed Bridger’s sleeve. “I’m sorry for what happened to Mama.”

  Bridger looked up. “What the hell are you talking about sorry? Sorry for what?”

  “For everything.”

  Shaking his head, Bridger’s eyes went glassy with tears. “Garrett, that wasn’t your fault.”

  Garrett hesitated before answering. But he knew he had to get this off his chest. “Yeah. But everybody always acted like it was. And I don’t blame them.”

  Bridger looked out over the snowy plains bathed in the moonlight. “I know, Garrett, and that wasn’t right.” He turned back and looked Garrett in the eye. “But let’s be clear on this. You did nothing wrong. For better or worse, the world just is. It’s cruel as hell and incredibly unfair sometimes and that’s a hard thing to accept.”

  Garrett thought about the fact that Kaiser was dead, but it wouldn’t change a thing. His mother was still gone, and his death wouldn’t bring back the saint of all saints.

  As Garrett’s world grew dark, Garrett himself was loaded onto a gurney, the hands of the paramedics tearing at his clothes, checking wounds, reading vitals. Their faces were a blur and words muddled in his ears but the alarm in their voices was crystal clear.

  Closer and closer to the thundering blast of the helo’s rotors, Garrett forced his eyes open to find loved ones around him. Asadi, the twins, Cassidy, and even Lacey were waiting. Softly uttered prayers covered him like a quilt and one hand touched his as he was loaded inside.

  The door closed, the medical team went to work, and the bird rose high into the night’s sky. And at that moment the moon had never been closer nor shined so brightly. His Texas stars were more plentiful than they’d ever been.

  It was either a parting gift or a welcome home to Glory—he didn’t know which. Garrett only knew that everything had changed. And whatever the outcome—life or death—he was ready to accept it.

  The world just is.

  Asadi had not even had the chance to say good-bye. He’d merely touched Garrett’s hand as they carried him off and loaded him onto the helicopter. Then the golden-haired woman named Manny had wrapped Asadi in a scratchy wool blanket and whisked him away from the scene.

  At first he thought she was trying to warm him, but it was clear the covering was more of a shield—a way to hide him from the others. Seeming nervous about the police cars, ambulances, and fire trucks, Manny hurriedly ushered Asadi to one of the big black vehicles, opened the door, and helped him into the backseat.

  He turned in every direction, looking for the twins, but could not find them. All around were flashing lights, sirens, and the commotion of people. Standing guard outside were the men who had come to their rescue. The soldiers.

  There was a time when these hulking men, with their big machine guns, would have frightened him. But not anymore. He was a soldier now too.

  Asadi had not run from danger the way he had in Nasrin. He had stood up to the lion, held his ground, and fought ferociously. Maybe his nightmares were over. He would always weep for his family and especially his mother but knew in his heart she was with him, protecting him and those that he loved.

  Watching the helicopter take Garrett away, Manny pulled him close and spoke in broken Dari. “Are you warm?”

  Asadi smiled and nodded even though he wasn’t.

  She smiled back, looking as though she was struggling for the right words. “You hungry?”

  He should have been starving but had no appetite. He shook his head. “I-okay.”

  Manny laughed and squeezed his leg. “On top of teaching you some English, I can see Garrett’s been feeding you well.” In Dari she added, “More meat.”

  Knowing what she meant, he answered in English, “Pamcates.”

  “Pamcates?” Her brow furrowed then she asked again, “Pan-cakes?”

  Asadi wondered if it was a dish served only in Texas. He repeated more slowly to help her understand. “Pam-cates.”

  Manny rolled down the window and called to a guard standing just outside the door. “Carlos, they make any MREs with pancakes in them?”

  The dark-skinned soldier frowned. “They’ve got ’em. But you don’t want ’em.”

  Rolling the window back up, she turned to Asadi. “Well, we’ll see about getting you some real pamcates back at Tsavo.” She let out a sigh. “We’ll have to see about a lot of things.”

  Asadi noticed her eyes were a little misty and wondered what was wrong. She seemed sad or scared. Maybe both. He reached up and rubbed her back in wide circles just like Garrett used to do when he had a bad dream. “You safe. With me.”

  His words didn’t have the effect he had hoped for. She turned her head away so he couldn’t see her.

  Asadi rubbed her back a little harder and made wider circles, just like Garrett had done when he was impossible to console. But her body still trembled.

  “It-okay. It-okay.”

  Manny brushed her eyes with the back of her hand, looked back, and smiled. “I’m going to make sure everything works out for you.” She furrowed her brow, then told him in Dari, “Your future. Good.” After some more mental digging, she added, “Promise.”

  Her words made him feel slightly warmer, but Asadi had no idea what was going to happen to him. Everyone was gone and nothing would be the same. He may have escaped death, but there was little to look forward to. And despite any promises of a good future, he could not imagine a world after the death of his real family that did not include Garrett and Butch.

  46

  Three days later . . .

  Pampa, Texas

  Blinking away the cloudiness, Garrett turned to the window, wondering if it was dusk or dawn. From his third-story hospital room he studied the sky and guessed it was evening. Given the pinkish hue, it had to be sunset. His heart sank at the prospect of another long, sleepless night. The last thing he needed was more time to think.

  Letting his gaze drift from the windowsill to the nightstand, Garrett found a new addition to the many flowers and gift shop balloons. It was a six-pack of Shiner Bock beer with a yellow Post-it note sympathy card attached to the carton.

  Deputy Dawg said you do have a flavor. Drink up. Get well. Expect a hefty tab. -Ike

  Garrett marveled at how quickly he’d managed to rack up an insurmountable debt in the few short days he’d been back in Texas. Chuckling at the thought of what he owed Ike, his thoughts turned to Lacey, Sanchez, and inevitably Kim Manning.

  Not unlike Hodges, they’d laid it all on the line. And for that, he was eternally obliged.

  The knock at the door came so gently, he wondered if he’d imagined it. His response sounded more like a question than an answer. “Come in.”

  Lacey eased her head in and greeted him with a voice so soft it bordered on a whisper. “Good morning, sunshine. Open for business?”

  Morning. Not night. Praise the Lord!

  Garrett smiled back. “For you, I am.”

  Lacey tread so lightly she was almost tiptoeing. Given her trademark faded Levi’s, white V-neck, and New Balance running shoes, she was already back to work at the café. With Renegade under indictment, Henry’s would be her only source of income for a while. He patted a spot beside him on the bed for her to sit.

  “No rest for the weary, huh?”

  She moved to his bedside, sat gently, and took his hand into hers. “Farmers don’t farm, and ranchers don’t ranch on empty stomachs. Somebody’s gotta keep this place going.”

  “Guess that’s true.” Garrett squeezed her hand, fumbling for the right words. He’d rehearsed them a million times but now that she was here, nothing he said could fully express his gratitude.

  “Lacey, I heard what you did for Daddy. I don’t even know how to begin to thank you.
”

  She shook it off. “Didn’t do much. Ike gave instructions. I followed. Pretty simple.”

  “No. I’m not just talking about tending to his wounds. I mean after. With the gunman. You risked your life.” Garrett found himself choking up. “How can I repay you for that?”

  Lacey squeezed his hand back. “First of all, you don’t have to, Garrett. You would’ve done the same for me. And second of all, there’s something you have to understand.”

  Her glassy eyes found the window.

  Garrett pulled her hand to his chest. “What is it, Lacey?”

  She turned and smiled. “I see so much of my father in Butch. When all that went down, it was kind of hard not to feel like I was saving my dad. I know that sounds crazy. Maybe even a little selfish. But in that moment, I saved a part of me too.”

  It didn’t sound crazy or selfish. Lacey had joined the ranks of Ike, Tony, and himself, who sought to assuage their survivors’ guilt, which for combat veterans was as common as bad backs and bum knees. And at the end of the day it was all about surviving—not just the bullets and bombs, but the spiritual and mental toll of lifelong second-guessing.

  Garrett had taken it for granted that civilians were immune. But he wouldn’t make that mistake again. Watching Lacey go to that dark place, he changed the subject.

  “Speak of the devil. Have you seen Daddy yet? Bridger said he’s recovering just fine.”

  She smiled and laughed. “Yep. When I asked him how it felt to cheat death, he just shrugged it off. Told me the Reaper needed to get to work or get gone because he was bored as hell and ready to go home.”

  Garrett couldn’t resist a good belly laugh, even though it stung like fire around his stitches. “That’s him all right. Old man would rather be dead than twiddling his thumbs, I guess.”

  Lacey glanced back at the door. “The nurse was insistent I stay no longer than a couple of minutes, so I’d better skedaddle.”

  She loosened her grip on his hand, but Garrett didn’t let go. “Only if you promise to return.”

  With a smile and a nod, Lacey squeezed back. “It’s a deal.” She got up and turned to the door but stopped short before leaving. “Oh, that reminds me. You have another visitor.” Her attitude went from sweet to bitter in a heartbeat. “A blonde?”

  At first, Garrett assumed it was a nurse or doctor. There’d been a passel of specialists in and out of his room for the past couple of days. But then it hit him. Kim Manning.

  “She kind of a . . . tiny thing?”

  “Very petite. Gray pinstripe. Hermès attaché case.” With a little contempt she added, “A bit busty for her size.”

  “That’s my . . . uh. Boss. The woman I told you about who asked me to look after Asadi.”

  “Ah, yes. The one you’re doing the favor for?”

  Sheepishly, he answered. “That’s the one.”

  Lacey dispensed with the doubtful expression, replacing it with a playful smile. “I’ll tell your boss to come on in.” She spun on a heel and stepped out of the room.

  The door hadn’t fully closed behind her when Kim charged in. Unlike Lacey’s, the Dragon Queen’s steps were less tiptoe and more double-time march. It was the first time he’d seen her in anything other than 5.11 tactical pants, Merrell hiking boots, and an Under Armour polo.

  She was all business. And she wore it well.

  When she stopped at the edge of his bed, Garrett prepped himself for both a flaying and a beating. He mustered his most charming smile.

  “Figured you’d be back at Tsavo, Kim. You didn’t have to hang around on my account.”

  “Oh, but I did, Special Agent Kohl. I certainly did.”

  She didn’t elaborate.

  “Take it there was a fair amount of cleanup to do, given my uh . . . adventures.”

  She drummed her fingers on the black leather bag slung over her shoulder. “Adventures. That’s a good word for it.”

  Kim was uncharacteristically taciturn, which made Garrett wonder if she had something worse than the scalpel or mallet in mind. Since it seemed she wasn’t in the mood for banter, he got right to the point.

  “Well, what’s the verdict? Termination from the DEA? Prison time?” To lighten the tension, he took a stab at a torture joke. “The whip? Iron maiden? A good keelhauling, maybe?”

  She shook her head, seeming to drink in his fear with pleasure. “Any of those would be letting you off easy, Kohl. And I don’t plan to do that.”

  Racking his brain for something worse than prison or torture, he finally came to one unpleasant conclusion. Hoping like hell Kim wasn’t going to see to it that he just disappeared, Garrett queried with pleading eyes. “What are you thinking, then?”

  “I’m thinking . . . conscription.”

  “Conscription?” He took a moment to consider what that could mean. “Like recruitment?”

  Kim flashed a game-show host’s smile. “More like . . . indentured servitude.”

  He was just about to launch the first of many questions when she cut him off cold.

  “Nope. Uh-uh. This isn’t a negotiation, Kohl. This is option A, B, C, and D, which is all of the above. To get you and your brother out of a whole lot of trouble.” She lowered her voice. “Including felony fraud for certain and potential murder charges. I’m going to have to convince some very high-ranking government officials of some very untrue things.”

  Garrett pondered her list of grievances. Most of what he had done could be argued as self-defense. But a whole helluva lot couldn’t. There wasn’t much defense for a rogue agent.

  “All right, what’s the official story? Just tell me what to say and where to sign.”

  “The official story is, you were working a joint op with CIA involving a terrorist threat, SA-24s, and the illegal trafficking of these weapons across the Mexican border by the Garzas.” She paused, allowing it to sink in. “This coming together for you?”

  Garrett nodded. The mere mention of surface-to-air missiles inside the United States would scare any politician to death. They’d approve anything to keep that from happening. And her story was plausible too.

  Their connection at Tsavo.

  His money for missiles mission.

  And to top it all off, deep-cover experience with Mexican cartels.

  Because of Executive Order 12333, Agency operations are restricted on American soil. Kim needed a law enforcement officer as her domestic conduit. And who better to fill the role?

  Damn. The CIA was good at being bad.

  Kim’s plan was as devious as it was brilliant.

  “I’m in.” Garrett threw out a hand. “But where does that leave me?”

  “Leaves you hat in hand before the woman at your bedside.”

  When she didn’t shake on it, he gave her the gimme here sign. “Just toss it over.”

  “Not that easy. There’s still a lot of sweeping up to do with the Garzas.” She reached into her satchel, pulled out a business card, and handed it over. “So, here’s your broom.”

  Beside the big gold star on the card was printed the name Cade Malek—Sergeant—Texas Rangers. His office was in Amarillo.

  Garrett looked up curiously. “What’s his connection to the cartel?”

  “A very personal one.”

  “Personal how?”

  “Involves the death of another Ranger and a connection to some local loser who got mixed up with the Garzas.”

  “Who?”

  “Guy recovering in the room next door.” Kim tilted her head left. “One of Bo Clevenger’s low-level flunkies. A Ray Smitty. Name sound familiar?”

  Shocked as hell that the guy was still alive, Garrett wrestled back a smile. “What does he have to do with a dead Texas Ranger?”

  Kim’s face revealed she was holding back. “I’ll let Malek fill you in on that one.”

  When she elaborated no further, Garrett let it go. He only had one real concern.

  “Kim, I know I don’t have a lot of standing to ask for a favor but I’
m going to anyhow.”

  Her mouth went slack. “You have to be joking.”

  “No. I’m not.” Wincing, he rose in bed as much as he could. He wanted to make sure he had her full attention. “Has to do with Asadi.”

  “What about him?”

  “I know my future’s uncertain. But his doesn’t have to be. And I want you to know that Asadi has a home here. My family will take good care of him. Treat him like one of their own.”

  “Garrett.” It was the first time she’d ever used his first name. “I’m an illusionist, not a miracle worker. It’s one thing to cover up your mess and quite another to uproot a child and plant him—” She raised her hands to her sides and looked around. “Wherever the hell this is.”

  The heat rose on Garrett’s neck. He didn’t care if he owed her his life. She could have it. But she couldn’t take Asadi back to Afghanistan if there was nothing for him to go back to.

  “Look, if you tell me he’s got family waiting for him, that’s one thing. But if you’re dumping him off at an orphanage that’s another. I won’t allow it.”

  “Won’t allow it?” Kim laughed. “You’re not in a position to make demands, cowboy.”

  “Well, call it a compromise then.”

  “In case you haven’t figured it out, you’re leveraged to the hilt. You’ll be lucky if I can dig you out of the trouble you and your family are already in.”

  Staring glumly out the window, Garrett noticed the snow on the ledge was starting to melt. He racked his brain for anything left he could offer. “Well, there’s gotta be something. Anything. You name it, it’s yours. I just can’t let him go now.”

  Kim leaned over to get his full attention, which she did. Her face softened, as did her voice and demeanor. “Garrett, you may not believe this, but I do care what happens to Asadi. And as far as family goes, other than his brother, Faraz, who may or may not be alive, the boy has no one left in the world. He’s on his own back there.”

  Garrett smiled. “So, he can stay then.”

  “Temporarily.” With a heavy sigh, she added, “I’m not comfortable with him back in Afghanistan just yet, anyhow. Not until he testifies at the tribunal.”