Accidental Commando

by Ingrid Weaver

  Tyler was looking at her mouth, which made her realize her lips were still puckered. She pressed them flat and took out the spiral notebook she’d borrowed from Chief Esposito.

  “I have a question you haven’t answered yet,” Tyler said. “Why did you call El Gato the milkman?”

  “Oh, that. He looked a lot like Ralph, the man who drove the milk truck to my parents’ farm.”

  “Where’s their farm?”

  “Near Packenham Junction.” She held up her palm. “And before you start with the jokes, yes, it’s a hick town in Wisconsin whose main industry is cheese.”

  “Why would I joke about that?”

  “Everyone else does. The name is corny enough to belong in a 1960s sitcom.”

  He shook his head. “Not if you come from Miller’s Hole.”

  “Miller’s…?”

  “Hole. Wyoming. Named after Cyrus Miller’s watering hole.”

  “Wyoming? Then I guess you came by that cowboy boot habit of yours honestly.”

  He gave her a sideways glance. “Occupational hazard.”

  “Touché.”

  “My family runs beef cattle, not dairy,” he continued. “But the town’s probably a lot like Packenham Junction.”

  “Back home, no one locks their doors.”

  “Sounds familiar. And does everyone know everyone else’s business?”

  “You bet. Who needs text-messaging when there’s Dimitri’s Pizzeria?”

  “The main hangout in Miller’s Hole is just called The Hole.”

  “Is it as bad as it sounds?”

  “Good enough for us cowboys.”

  She smiled. “Packenham only has two gas stations.”

  “We’ve got three, but they take turns closing on weekends.”

  “Our cops take Mondays off.”

  “Our sheriff runs the bowling alley and video store.”

  “And every kid’s ambition is to live somewhere else when they grow up,” she finished.

  He nodded. “That sums it up.”

  “Is that why you joined the army? Because you wanted to leave Miller’s Hole?”

  “Essentially. Is that why you wore the scuzzball’s ring? To leave Packenham Junction?”

  Emily’s first impulse was to deny it, but then she forced herself to consider the idea. Christopher had been raised in New York City, which had been one reason she’d found him so attractive. He’d been different from the men she’d known all her life. He’d seemed more polished and worldly. She’d liked the fact that he hadn’t gone to the same schools that she had. That had meant he wouldn’t be familiar with the child she’d once been and so he wouldn’t have had any preconceived expectations of who she should be now. He hadn’t had a web of relatives nearby waiting to see him fail, either.

  Oh, she knew her family meant well. They wanted her to be happy. They thought they knew what was best for her, yet how could they when all they focused on were her faults? They hadn’t realized they were humiliating her by trying to match her up with someone’s neighbor’s cousin at every family gathering. They wouldn’t understand that the more they told her something wouldn’t work, the more she felt driven to prove them wrong. She was certain all the “I told you sos” that were waiting for her back in Packenham Junction would be said in the spirit of constructive advice.

  Tyler was right. She’d been eager to shake off the ties of her hometown and had believed she could do that with Christopher.

  And now she was adrift. No new husband, no job and no money. That’s what she got for believing in dreams and for trusting a man. For one crazy year she’d lowered her guard and had convinced herself she was in love. But as everyone back in Packenham Junction knew, tough, sharp-tongued Emily Wright would never have fitted into a fairy tale. Not as the heroine, anyway.

  Tyler touched her arm. “Sorry. It’s not my business.”

  She swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump in her throat. She wasn’t going to wallow. She’d done enough of that already. She had to get on with her life. This was already the third day of the rest of it. Now that Tyler seemed willing to talk to her, she shouldn’t waste this opportunity to get some background information for her story. She busied herself with turning to a fresh page in her notebook. “I thought I was the one asking the questions.”

  He withdrew his hand and did a slow scan of the empty corridor. “Go ahead.”

  “You were saying that you enlisted to get away from Miller’s Hole. Tell me about it.”

  “I was training for the Olympics when a couple of army recruiters approached me,” he replied.

  She was impressed. He definitely looked as if he could be an athlete. “What sport?”

  “Biathlon. Cross-country skiing combined with target shooting.”

  “That’s a Nordic sport, isn’t it?”

  “My maternal grandfather was Swedish. He got me on skis before I was put on a horse.”

  “Were you any good at it?”

  “Not good enough to medal. I was better with a rifle than I was with skis.”

  “Ah, and that’s why the recruiters wanted you?”

  “Apparently.”

  “Do you like being in the army?”

  “It beats mucking out barns.”

  “What do you like the most about the missions you do?”

  He hesitated. “The variety. The challenge. We never know where we’ll go next.”

  “Don’t you miss your family and the ranch?”

  “I do miss my family, but my father and brothers-in-law manage the ranch fine without me.”

  “What about your mother and sisters? Don’t they have a say in the ranch? Or are the men in your family the type who think that women can’t manage anything more than a recipe book?”

  He muffled a snort.

  Emily regarded him more closely. “What’s so funny?”

  “My mother’s the one who taught me how to shoot. And the only things my sisters don’t read are recipe books.”

  They sounded like interesting people. Even without meeting them, she was sure she would like them. “Are all your sisters married?”

  He nodded. His lips softened into one of his almost-smiles. “The youngest one just last year.”

  “What about you?” she asked. “Is there a special woman in your life? Haven’t you ever wanted to settle down and—”

  She never got the chance to finish her question. She wasn’t sure why she’d started to ask it, because she’d already strayed a long way from her topic. Her words ended in a gasp as Tyler caught her by the elbows and half lifted, half dragged her to an alcove on the other side of the corridor from the conference room door. “Stay here,” he ordered.

  “Why? What’s going on?”

  He pressed her back to the wall and released her as quickly as he’d grabbed her. An instant later, he was gripping a heavy-looking black pistol that he’d taken from somewhere beneath his suit coat. “Gonzo?”

  Sergeant Gonzales was hurrying toward them, a similar gun in his hand. The guards who had patrolled the corridor were approaching from the opposite direction. Gonzales spoke rapidly in Spanish to them as they moved to flank the door.

  “The room is secure, Major,” Tyler said.

  “Gorrell’s men are sending the canine teams over here to do another sweep,” Gonzales said. “They also want to initiate an evacuation.”

  “Negative. That might be what El Gato wants,” Tyler said. “It’s in the other wing, and it sounds like a small charge. Let me see what I can do first.”

  Emily hugged her notebook to her chest as the men continued to speak over their radios. She could feel her heart pounding against the cardboard cover. “Did you say charge? Are you talking about a bomb?”

  Tyler pointed at Gonzales, then cocked his thumb at Emily. “Watch her, Gonzo. If I give the word to move out, make sure she goes.”

  “No problem.”

  “Wait! Sergeant Matheson, I demand to know what’s going on.”

  He had already di
sappeared past the bend of the corridor by the time she finished her sentence. For a big man, he moved surprisingly fast. She looked at Gonzales. “All right, Sergeant. Either you tell me what’s happening or I go find the major so he can remind you of our agreement. Is there a bomb?”

  Although she’d expected a positive reply because of what she’d just heard, seeing Gonzales’s matter-of-fact nod made it all horribly real. Oh, God. Why had she ever complained about being bored?

  “We should be all right here,” he said. “The explosive’s in the reception hall, in the public wing of the palace. We’re waiting for Matheson’s assessment before we risk moving the envoy—” He paused as the guards spoke to him in Spanish again. “Or the president and his cabinet to another location,” he finished.

  “His assessment? You mean of the bomb? No, that’s too dangerous. What does he think he’s doing? How can you be so calm? We should all be getting out and leaving this to the bomb squad.”

  “Ma’am, Sergeant Matheson is the bomb squad.”

  Two more guards approached, only these ones were accompanied by leashed German shepherds. They walked between Emily and Gonzales, blocking his view of her for a crucial instant.

  Emily didn’t stop to think. Taking a deep breath, she ran after Tyler.

  Chapter 4

  The glazed tiles beneath his back were growing damp, making Tyler’s shirt stick to the floor. The lights he’d positioned around the work area were only adding to the heat that had accumulated in the reception hall over the course of the day. He’d already discarded his jacket and rolled up his sleeves to get more comfortable. Still, he knew that most of his sweat wasn’t because of the temperature.

  No matter how routine demolitions had become for him, or how many times he’d been called on to neutralize an explosive device, he knew that accidents happened. As Eagle Squadron’s ordnance specialist, he accepted the risk his position entailed. That didn’t mean he was willing to share it. This was one job he preferred to do alone.

  Tyler used his heel to slide himself closer to the cabinet, then twisted his neck so he could get a better view of the bomb that was taped to the underside of the middle shelf. “It’s got two initiators,” he said into his mic. “One’s electric, probably activated by a cell phone signal. The other’s a time-delay pencil, old-school but reliable. Each has its own firing train.”

  “Belt and suspenders man,” Kurt remarked in Tyler’s earphone.

  “It fits with El Gato’s profile,” Duncan said. “He’s a thorough planner.”

  Redinger’s voice joined the others. “What about the explosive?”

  Tyler used the tip of his knife to pry off a sample of the white compound, brought it to his nose and took a careful sniff. “C4.”

  “What’s your take on it?”

  “It’s a relatively small charge. The material isn’t shaped or tamped. The location away from the walls indicates it was intended for anti-personnel, not demolition, but it would probably blow out this room. Could collapse the second story, too, depending on how sound the old beams are. Are the envoy and the president still secure?”

  Gonzales joined the conversation. “They haven’t left the conference room.”

  He felt a spurt of anger at the sound of Gonzo’s voice. “What about Miss Wright?” Tyler asked.

  “I’ve still got her,” Jack said. “We’re in the interior courtyard.”

  He closed his eyes and breathed deeply a few times to calm his pulse. He knew he shouldn’t blame Gonzales for losing Emily. Once she had bolted, Gonzo couldn’t have left his assigned post to chase her. He’d made the correct decision. Her safety wasn’t the mission priority, the envoy’s was.

  Yet according to Jack, Emily had been on her way here when he’d intercepted her. What the hell had she been thinking? Hadn’t she realized the danger she was putting herself in?

  And all for a story that would never be published.

  It killed him to see how earnest Emily was about gathering her material. This wasn’t simply a job for her. She had grasped onto her work like a lifeline. Every so often there was an edge of desperation to her questions, as if she were forcing herself to talk so that she didn’t have to think. It was the same with her wisecracks. They were another strategy to avoid dealing with what was really bothering her. She was a woman who didn’t like to admit weakness to anyone, especially to herself.

  His initial assessment had been right: Emily was emotionally fragile. It had to be due to her breakup. She must have really loved the guy to have been hurt that badly. At least Tyler hadn’t lied outright to her. That was the only way he could ease his conscience while still following the major’s orders. But justified or not, whenever Tyler thought of the farce they were perpetrating, he felt like something he might scrape off his boot.

  Damn, he couldn’t go there. Not now. “Okay, I’d say the risk of the blast carrying that far is minimal. They should be safest where they are.”

  “Looks like the bomb could have been meant to force them outside,” Duncan said. “A diversion, just as you thought. Good call, junior.”

  “I’ll relay the information to President Gorrell,” Redinger said. “Can you disable the device?”

  Tyler hitched his shoulders partway into the cabinet and studied the pair of detonators that had been sunk into the wad of C4. “Yes, sir.” He reached back for the tools that he’d aligned on the floor beside him and felt around until his fingers closed on the pliers. “It shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Good. Keep me posted.”

  “Will do.”

  The radio went silent, though Tyler knew the channel was still open. The men had suspended their usual chatter in order to allow him to concentrate. He closed the rubber-lined jaws of the pliers around the antenna, deciding to disrupt the electric firing train first. He disconnected the receiver from the battery and was easing the wire from the detonator when he heard a muted crack.

  He swore under his breath and focused on the remaining initiator. The bomb wasn’t as simple as he’d first assumed.

  “Sergeant?” Redinger asked.

  “The backup trigger activated,” Tyler said. “I just heard the ampule break.”

  “Bummer,” Kurt muttered.

  Tyler set down the pliers, dried his forehead on his sleeve and retrieved his knife. The time for finesse had passed. One way or another, this was going to be over in a matter of seconds.

  Emily sat on a wrought iron bench in the shadows of the courtyard, watching the fingers of light from the setting sun inch across the roof of the palace. Her notebook lay untouched on the seat beside her, but it wasn’t the encroaching darkness that had stopped her from working. She hadn’t written a word from the moment Jack had passed on the news that the bomb had been disarmed, which had been at least thirty minutes ago. She’d been trying to calm down ever since.

  That bothered her. So had the depth of her concern when she’d realized that Tyler was in danger. They’d only spent two days together. Three, if she counted their stakeout at the café. She barely knew him. And this sort of task was part of his job. Jack had informed her that Tyler was the team’s ordnance specialist and had been trained to handle any number of hazardous situations. Jack had even gone on to describe several.

  She couldn’t begin to imagine the concentration a person would need in order to deal with a live bomb. Tyler would have to have nerves of steel. No wonder he always seemed so steady. Staying in control would be vital to his survival. She’d already seen him in action when he’d tackled her amid a hail of bullets in her hotel room, so she knew he kept his cool under dangerous conditions.

  But he was no automaton. She’d seen hints of softness, especially when he’d been talking about his family. He hadn’t been able to conceal his sense of humor, either. Just before he’d run off, he’d been smiling—or almost smiling—about his little sister’s wedding. Too bad he hadn’t had a chance to answer the question about his love life.

  She drew the elastic from her hair,
slipped it over her wrist and gave her scalp a quick rub. How many times did she have to remind herself? She was physically attracted to Tyler. What woman alive wouldn’t be? But her emotions couldn’t be involved. They’d been wrung dry by her experience with Christopher.

  She dropped her head into her hands. She no longer wanted a man. Any man. She knew better than that.

  “Hey, junior,” Jack said. “I thought you got lost.”

  “Had a few details to take care of. What’s the latest?”

  At the sound of Tyler’s voice, Emily raised her head and shoved her hair out of her eyes. He was walking past the fountain toward the bench where she sat, and in spite of what she’d just told herself, she felt a tickling thrill as she watched him approach.

  He was holding his jacket over his shoulder by two fingers. His tie was gone, his shirt was unbuttoned to the center of his chest and his sleeves were rolled back, revealing tantalizing expanses of taut skin. The deepening shadows made him look larger somehow, accentuating his athletic body and the chiseled contours of his face. He’d looked sexy in his suit. He looked even better with the suit messed up, as if he were coming home to her at the end of a hard day.

  Stop it, she told herself. The man had just finished disabling a bomb. Of course he’d look messed up. What was wrong with her?

  “The envoy’s back in her quarters,” Jack said. He pushed away from the orange tree he’d been leaning against. “The major’s running interference with the Rocamans.”

  “Why?”

  “Some of Gorrell’s cabinet kicked up a fuss during the lockdown. They wanted to evacuate. Guess they don’t know you the way we do.”

  “They’ll get over it.”

  “Dunk and Kurt are in the plaza, trying their luck at cat hunting.”

  “I don’t think they’ll find him.”

  “Yeah. El Gato would have disappeared when he didn’t hear a bang.”

  “Sorry to disappoint him.” Tyler finally looked at Emily. “I’ll take over from here, Jack.”

  Tension tightened the lines beside his mouth, although the rest of his face gave nothing away. She had a crazy urge to pull him into her arms. Was none of the men willing to acknowledge what a heroic thing he’d just done? She waited until Jack turned to go, then wiped her palms on her dress and stood. “I’m glad everything went all right, Sergeant Matheson,” she said.