by Lois Greiman
Gabe gritted his teeth and reminded himself to be civil. “Listen, I just want to find him. I’ve got nothing against Miller.” He was getting better at this lying thing, though he’d never be the virtuoso Shep was…that dumb bastard could make you believe blue was red without breaking a sweat.
Something clouded Jacobs’ eyes…but whether it was guilt or worry or embarrassment, Gabe had no idea.
“I can’t help you, man,” Jacobs said and took a significant slug from a tankard of beer big as a Bradley tank. O’Grady’s microbrews tasted like cat piss, but at least the establishment offered a lot of cat piss. And O’Grady himself was ex-Army down to the short hairs, so military types tended to frequent his place.
Gabe tightened his fists beneath the table and forced himself to lean back in his chair. Nonchalant as a cobra. “I just want a little information. That’s all.”
Jacobs took another drink then made a face and shifted his gaze away. “Even if I wanted to stroll down memory lane with you, Durrand, I can’t,” he said. “I signed a contract. Said the mission was confidential.”
Gabe tried to nod, agreeable and easy-going. No one was going to beat the crap out of anybody today. “I appreciate your loyalty,” he said. “But a man’s life is at stake here, and I can’t—”
Jacobs snorted, drained his glass and motioned toward the bartender.
“Something funny?” Gabe asked.
“No. Nothin’,” Jacobs said and motioned more emphatically toward O’Grady.
Gabe took a deep breath, calming himself. “I know this is tough, but—”
“Leave me the fuck alone!” Jacobs snarled suddenly and lurched to his feet.
Gabe met him halfway, grabbing him by the shirtfront. “Listen you little—”
“Is this man threatening you, soldier?”
The voice from behind was soft but firm. It seeped into Durrand’s frontal lobe, urging him not to do anything unreasonable, like toss Jacobs through the nearest goddamn window. “’Course not,” he said and shook his head without turning toward the speaker. “I’m just trying to convince my friend here not to drive drunk.”
“Your friend is a hero.” The words were said with melodramatic passion. Gabe turned his attention to the speaker. And there, not four feet behind him, stood Jenny with a y Edwards. Gabe felt the shock strike him a moment before his brows lowered.
“What the hell are you—”
“And I won’t stand for you bullying a hero.”
Gabe stared at her.
“I don’t need your help, lady,” Jacobs said.
“I know you don’t,” she agreed. Her voice was as dulcet as a dove’s, completely devoid of that in-your-face attitude she’d demonstrated in a certain woman’s restroom not many hours before. “But Daddy’d never forgive me if I just sat over there and let this big oaf badger you.” She took a step forward, giving Jacobs his first clear look at her, or as clear as his sight could be through a half gallon of piss-poor beer.
“Christ!” he said, which made Gabe think his vision was pretty damn sharp after all. “Where’d you come from?”
She was still wearing the jeans she’d shown up in at Gabe’s door that morning, but her jacket was gone. The frilly pink number that now covered her breasts was little more than a red flag to a bull. She drew a deep breath, expanding her lungs and the aforementioned breasts, which weren’t big by some standards, but what bull really cares?
“What’s your name, soldier?” she asked.
Jacobs straightened, pressing his chest against Gabe’s knuckles.
“Jacobs. Lieutenant. First class,” he said and quirked a little shit-eating grin.
“Well, Lieutenant, I’d like to buy you a drink. On my daddy. Unless I need to call the cops first,” she said and glanced pointedly at Gabe, who forced himself to drop his hands and step back a pace.
Eddy moved seamlessly into the space. “I’m sure you can find some flies to torture or something,” she said before turning her attention on Jacobs. Her expression softened.
“Where’d you serve, Lieutenant?”
“What?”
“Your forehead.” She blinked, eyes wide and misty, like a fairytale pixie about to burst into tears. “Where were you injured?”
“Oh…” He motioned toward the chair Gabe had just vacated. She sat down, movements slow and deliberate, bending forward maybe just a little more than necessary.
Jacobs’s gaze dipped irresistibly toward her cleavage. His lips curved up. “I was stationed in Stuttgart for a while.”
“You hear that, bully?” she asked, lifting her gaze toward Gabe’s. “He’s a patriot.”
Gabe managed to resist rolling his eyes but couldn’t completely contain his snort of disdain.
“Something wrong with Stuttgart?” she asked.
“Not if you’re on vacation,” Gabe rumbled.
“Listen, you fucking—” Jacobs began and stumbled to his feet, but Eddy grabbed his arm.
“Ignore him,” she said. “Tell me about yourself.”
Gabe watched the options scuttle like cockroaches through Jacobs’ swamped brain: fight with a pissed off Army Ranger, or let the pretty lady stroke his starving ego?
Gabe watched the jaunty lieutenant settle back into his chair and wondered what the hell to do next. Half of O’Grady’s sparse patrons were staring at him as if he’d just come down with a critical case of head lice. And Edwards seemed to have things well under control. Maybe she’d even be able to drag some information out of the inebriated little shit. On the other hand, maybe she wasn’t there to get info at all. Maybe she really thought he was being unfair by badgering Jacobs.
“We’re going to have to ask you to leave.”
Gabe glanced to his left then lowered his gaze. O’Grady was an under-sized man with a super-sized belly. “We support our troops here.” He jerked a thumb toward a sign half hidden behind a bottle of Absolut. “Says there we have the right to refuse service to anybody we want.”
Gabe stared down at the bartender and wondered if he should leave. Although, really, what were the other options? Tell O’Grady Jacobs had left a man behind to die in the jungle? Tell him Eddy Edwards was not as innocent as she seemed, and might, if some dumb fuck were lucky enough, end up in a bathroom stall doing things that violated a couple dozen health codes?
In the end, retreat seemed to be his most dignified option.
Chapter 12
“So, Lieutenant Jacobs—”
“Ken,” he corrected. He slurred his name a little and his eyes looked kind of hazy, heavy-lidded and half closed.
Eddy allowed herself a moment to wonder if Durrand had left the building yet, but since Jacobs had the entirety of his dubious attention pinned on her, she assumed the intimidating Ranger was no longer present.
“Ken,” she agreed. It wasn’t difficult keeping her voice soft and empathetic. Colonel Edwards was never going to win father of the year, but he had taught her to respect the military and this poor soldier had obviously gone through hell. “Where are you from?”
He took a sip of his beer. Not his first, obviously. Maybe not his thirty-first, but she wasn’t one to throw stones. Not after the debacle of the previous night. “Mansfield.”
She smiled a little, charmed that he assumed everyone would know the state his birthplace resided in. “Mansfield?”
“Ohio,” he explained.
“Oh.” She took a sip of the daiquiri she’d purchased while covertly watching Durrand from the mostly hidden dining area. “I have an uncle from Toledo. He’s my favorite of Dad’s—”
“What you doing here?” Jacobs interrupted.
She blinked. He might get a little spooked if she told him she’d come to meet him. That she’d learned everything regarding his life that she possibly could in an hour and a half. Enough, in fact, to make an extremely accurate guess regarding where to find him at seven o’clock on a cold October evening. “I was supposed to meet a friend here.” It was an out and out lie that
immediately caused an influx of guilt. Heat diffused her cheeks, a hated corporal betrayal, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Yeah?” He hooked one elbow over the back of his chair and slouched sideways. “Girl friend or guy friend?”
She cleared her throat, refused to squirm and pressed on. “Girlfriend. Mary…Beth. She lives just down the road on—”
“She look like you?”
“What?” She tried to smile again then realized she was still smiling following their previous exchange. Damn her overly cheerful demeanor! Why couldn’t she have inherited the colonel’s glower or his gravelly speech? Her high school chemistry teacher had once compared Eddy’s voice to that of Minnie Mouse. Maybe she was wrong, but she had a feeling it might be difficult for Mickey’s girl to be taken seriously in the world of espionage and covert activities.
“’Cause if she does…” Jacobs leaned forward. Perhaps in his mind the movement was suave and suggestive, but for a moment, Eddy feared he might actually topple onto the peanut shells that covered the floor. “Maybe the three of us could do a little something together.”
“Something—” She shook her head, unable to imagine what that something could be. It would be a miracle of biblical magnitude if he were still conscious in thirty minutes. In fact, if she had a lick of sympathy, she would tuck him into bed right now and… Oh! Bed! That’s what he’s talking about, she thought and felt her cheeks burn hotter. “No, I’m sorry. She’s…Mary Beth’s not going to make it tonight.”
“Well…” He grinned. Only one side of his face seemed to be fully functional. “Her loss.”
“Yes. Yes.” She cleared her throat. “So, what happened to your forehead?”
“It’s nothing.”
“It looks like something,” she said and tried to revive her sympathetic expression.
He shrugged.
She softened a little. Okay, so he’d mentioned a threesome…that didn’t make him the antichrist. It wasn’t her place to find fault with the ways he chose to forget the atrocities he had witnessed. But it was her place to learn all she could about his previous mission. “Our country owes you a great debt,” she said.
His eyes gleamed for a second but he didn’t respond.
“Did I hear the bully say you were in Colombia?”
His brows dipped a little.
She fiddled with her napkin and let her gaze dip shyly in that direction. “Most people think if you’re not stationed in a Middle Eastern desert somewhere, you’re not in danger. But I know there are brave men like you in all corners of the world.”
He shook his head and glanced, narrow-eyed toward the door through which Durrand had exited. “Asshole thinks he’s some kind of living legend just ‘cause he saved a couple men in…wherever.”
“I’m sure your mission was just as dangerous.”
His face clouded. He gulped his beer again, draining half the glass.
“Did you lose anyone?”
He swallowed, nodded, drank again. “They didn’t have no chance.” His face twitched. “Fuckin’ sneaky bastards.”
She drew a breath and reminded herself that even though she was playing him, she was doing so for a worthy cause. A man’s life was at stake. As is your career, a cynical voice suggested, but she hushed it. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said, but he didn’t seem to hear her.
“I have myself a drink now and then.” He’d slipped a little lower in his chair. “Couple beers, maybe a few shots of whiskey, but them bastards that sell shit to kids…” He shook his head. The movement tilted him precariously toward the floor. “They deserve to be taken down.”
It took her a moment to divine the gist of his words. “You didn’t…” She shook her head. “You went down there to take out a drug lord?”
He straightened a little. “I didn’t say nothing about—” he began, but she was already speaking.
“My cousin overdosed.” It was almost painfully pleasant to speak the truth.
His lips remained slightly parted.
“Crack,” she added. “Probably from Colombia.” She was making assumptions now, but he nodded.
“Beautiful, my ass!” he said and drank again.
“What?”
He exhaled a snort. “Damn bastard is ugly as a turd.”
“Who? The drug lord?”
He neither confirmed nor denied. “But we shouldn’t a never gone down there. Shoulda stayed home.” His eyes welled with tears. Eddy felt honest sympathy bubble up.
“I’m so sorry.”
He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “We couldn’t have gotten him out anyhow.”
“Who?” she asked, but he no longer seemed to be aware of her presence.
“Fucking river was swollen like a goddamn dick.”
“River?” She’d studied Colombian maps until her eyes burned just hours before, and wildly ran through the major waterways in her mind.
“Big as a fucking ocean where it crossed the highway.”
“What highway?”
“Was supposed to be so simple.” He snorted a laugh. His eyes spilled a couple of sparse tears. “Take him out before he knew what hit him, rendezvous, and head for Alfonzo. Be sipping champagne and munching peanuts by supper time.”
“Who were you taking out? The beautiful one? What was his name? Bello? Alano?”
He nodded vaguely, or maybe he was falling asleep. “Bastard was waiting for us with a goddamned army.”
“Where were you exactly?”
“I hid.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. It shook like a windsock. “Burrowed down in the mud and waited.” He was staring into the middle distance, voice little more than a whisper. “Fucking river gets more traffic than the Autobahn. Mostly drug runners. But I thought maybe I could…” He shook his head as if he didn’t know what he had hoped for. His breath shook with his exhalation. “I thought sure the others would make it. Miller’s a fucking genius. Thought he’d get us all out. But there wasn’t no boat, and two miles through the boonies seems like a thousand. Only a few of us made it to the car.”
“You think the rest were already dead?”
He was staring sightlessly forward. “Yeah.”
“Did you see their bodies?”
“They was dead!” He snarled the words as he jerked across the table toward her.
She juddered involuntarily, but in a moment, he settled back into his chair. “I wanted to wait, but we had to get back. Hilt was floating in and out of consciousness. Tellman and me was both hurt bad.” He swallowed and lifted his gaze to her, a dozen aching emotions clear in his eyes. “We didn’t have no extra time.”
So they had left men behind. She closed her mind to the horror of the situation and wondered if she would have done things differently. “Your friends were lucky you were there for them,” she said, but he was lost in another world again.
“Lucky? Took us two fucking days to get to Alfonso. By that time, Tellman was babbling like a damned monkey.”
“Alfonso? Is that a person or a—”
“I wasn’t doing much better.” He closed his eyes for a second, then opened them and focused on her. “Been kinda lonely since I got back.”
Her heart stuttered in her chest as she tried to sock away the information she needed to remember. “We owe you a great deal for your sacrifices,” she said and rose to her feet.
His lips cranked up. He straightened with her. “You want to thank me proper?”
“What?”
“Wouldn’t take too long.” He slipped his gaze to her chest.
“I’m afraid I have to go,” she said, but he grabbed her arm suddenly.
“You’re just like all the rest!”
Fear skittered up her spine. “My father, the colonel, is expecting me to be—”
“All sweetness ‘n’ smiles. Ooohs and ahhhs. You appreciate our service.” He moved in closer. His breath was ripe with fermentation. “But when push comes ta shove….” He pressed up against her. “You ai
n’t willin’ to service me ‘n return.”
She jerked her attention to the bar but no one manned the lengthy expanse. In fact, not a soul was in sight. How had she become oblivious to the fact that the place had emptied out?
“Let me go,” she said but her voice quavered.
He shook his head. “All warm and cuddly ‘til it’s time to pay up, ain’t ya?”
“I don’t owe you anything.”
“But ya said you did. Said ya owe me a whole shitload.”
“I just meant…I meant the country at large.”
“Well…” He leaned in. “I am large.” She could feel his erection against her hip. “And here you are.”
“I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, Lieutenant—”
“A bit ago I was Ken,” he hissed and, suddenly, he was shoving her toward a back room. One hand was fumbling with his belt.
She jerked out of his grasp. But he caught her left arm, leaving her right free.
Her reaction was sharp and instantaneous. He stumbled backward, eyes open wide, hand cradling his bruised trachea.
“I’m sorry,” she rasped. “I’m so sorry. Are you—”
“What’s going on?” O’Grady appeared from nowhere.
“I…” She snapped her gaze toward the rotund barkeep. “I’m not sure…exactly.”
“She ‘it me. The ‘itch!” Jacobs gasped, but the words were garbled.
The bartender was scowling. “What? What’d he say?”
“He said…he itches!” Eddy rasped and grabbing her jacket from the nearby chair, torpedoed out the door.
Chapter 13
“Where have you been?” Edwards’ voice was steady but her tropical eyes looked a little troubled. Gabe tossed his keys onto the television stand near the door of his crappy motel room.
“I picked up a few supplies,” he said and turned toward her. “What’d you learn?”
“What?”
“From Jacobs,” he said and watched her. Who the hell was this fresh-faced little pixie? And how had she known where to find him and Jacobs? “That’s why you wanted to meet the illustrious lieutenant, isn’t it?”
