“Who’s down?” I ask, grabbing the binoculars again. I force my grip and I try to look through them. “Fox, who’s down?!”
“I don’t know. I can’t see.”
Another wave of gunshots spill out, flooding the air with a popping echo. I freeze in the sand, ready to bury my head in it but I can’t stop staring at the warehouse.
Caleb. She’s in there and I can’t do a fucking thing from back here.
I push up and I start running.
“Boxcar, stop!”
I ignore Fox’s warning, forcing one foot in front of the other. Regret builds with each step but I swallow it down between heaving breaths. The warehouse draws closer every second but each one that passes could mean a bullet through Caleb’s perfect green eyes.
Finally, I charge through the front door and my nose twitches with the scent of blood.
Rhys. West. Rogers. Each of them lie on the floor, face down and still, with a pool of red flowing out of their heads. I slink back, feeling a wave of nausea plague my gut.
“Holy shit!” A giant hand slaps against my shoulder and it pulls me forward. His voice echoes in my memories, that same barking drawl that bossed me around for days. “It’s you!”
I look up into the hard, black eyes of the bald man and cringe. For a second, I wonder if it’s a good thing that he looks happy to see me but then I realize that it just means he gets to tie up a potential loose end.
“Boxcar…”
Caleb’s whimper draws my attention to the table. She sits in the chair with her fingers weaved together behind her head and for a moment, I breathe easier. Then I notice the bearded man with his gun pressed against her head and it all melts away.
“Please don’t hurt her,” I beg.
The bald man pulls me to the table and forces me down into the chair beside her. She stares back at me with a blood-splattered face, her eyes drifting behind my head as I feel the hard, metal tip of a gun push against my skull.
“The Boss will be delighted to know we found you,” the bald man says. He pulls back the hammer beside my ear and I flinch. “Don’t worry about the lady. We won’t kill her… yet.”
The bearded man’s laughter cuts short and his body crumbles to the floor behind Caleb’s chair.
“What the fuck—”
More blood strikes Caleb’s face and I spin around in time to see the bald man’s eyes roll back into his head before he joins his friend on the floor. My jaw drops as I see the dark red dots in the center of each of their foreheads.
Fox fucking Fitzpatrick.
I heave a nauseous breath, full of happy relief, and turn to look at Caleb as her palm crashes into my face. “Ow!” Pain shoots through my cheek, firing down my neck as she climbs to her feet. “What—!”
“What the hell were you thinking?!” she shouts. “Running in here like that. Are you insane?”
I stand up and she shoves me backward. “I did it to help you!”
“This isn’t a game, Boxcar!” She pushes me again and I grab her wrists as my back touches the wall. “You could have been killed but you still ran in here…”
“Of course, I did.”
“Why?!”
There’s a million different things I could say to answer her but there’s only one thing I want to do that will tell her everything. I hold her face, smearing the blood on her cheeks, and crush my lips against hers with a firm kiss. Her resolve shifts in my direction and she kisses me back, gripping my waist to push me against the wall.
We break away, each of us taking deep breaths to calm ourselves as our lips brush together. My fingers tingle from the heat rising off her face, blending with mine.
“I’d do it again,” I whisper, laying my forehead against hers.
She looks back at me with more fear in her eyes than I’ve ever seen. They close and she shakes her head as she turns away from me. The door opens and her hands drop to her sides.
Fox steps in and his eyes fall to the floor. He exhales at the display of red-covered bodies. “You guys okay?”
“Yeah,” Caleb says quickly.
He looks at me, sensing the tension between us and I nod in agreement.
I lean back against the wall again as blood’s stench raids my senses. It brings me back to that moment in the warehouse when I watched these same men murder two other innocents before pointing their guns at me. That same metallic smell. I’d be covered with it already if it weren’t for Caleb and Fox. It’s best not to think about it, I suppose. I’m still here. I’m still breathing.
And so is she.
“We’ll take our men back with us,” Caleb says, gesturing at Fox to help her. “Grab his legs.”
He lays his gun down and walks over to Rhys’ corpse. Caleb scoops her hands beneath his shoulders and the two of them raise him off the floor as if he weighed nothing at all — as if he wasn’t living and breathing just five minutes ago. I bet he’s even still warm.
This is all my fault.
“Boxcar.”
Fox lays a hand on my shoulder and I blink out of it, realizing that they’ve already carried Rhys and West outside into the jeep.
“Yeah?” I ask.
“You in there?”
I clear my throat and exhale the stench out of my lungs. “Yeah.”
“I need you to look around,” he tells me. “See if you can find anything that’ll tell us what they were doing out here. Can you do that?”
I nod. “Yeah.” He drops his hand and steps away. “Fox… I’m sorry.” I look to the floor at our dead enemies and the pool of blood flowing beneath each of them — struck down by Fox’s bullets. “That… can’t be easy.”
Fox looks at their bodies. “It never is,” he says, “but you two are still here. That’s something.”
There’s a slight tremble in his tone but it’s not enough to bleed into his optimism. Honestly, I’m not sure how he’s managed not to break, given everything he’s been through. I push off the wall, clinging to what remains of strength inside of me and I get to work while Fox and Caleb gather Rogers off the floor.
There’s not much to look through. Not even a document or a note. A computer would be nice. Whatever they were doing out here, they made damn sure they weren’t going to leave a trail.
I pause above their bodies. The obvious place to look would be their pockets but the idea of rummaging through a dead man’s clothing gives me the chills. Still, I fight through the feeling and kneel down to check them.
Over a dozen pockets between them and not one damn wallet. No identification. No notepad. Nothing. I sit back in disappointment, ready to abandon them completely, but a bit of ink catches my eye just above the bald man’s navel.
I reach out and raise his shirt a little higher, revealing the coiling tail of a cobra etched into his skin. Thin, black eyes stare back at me from between his pecs and I cringe at how much this tattoo must have hurt to get.
I stand up as a memory flicks on in my brain, fueled by a deja vu I can’t pin down. This snake. I’ve seen it before but not inked into someone’s skin. It was…
My memories flash back to that night in Paris. I sat at Marilyn Black’s table with a cup of cold tea in front of me while she drilled me with questions. She wore a silver pendant around her neck and I never thought a second thing of it until just now.
It was a cobra. Just like this tattoo.
I step over to the bearded man and pull up his shirt, too.
The same black eyes stare back at me from his abs.
“Box, it’s time to go,” Fox says from the doorway.
“What about them?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Leave them.”
I hesitate but I force myself to stand up and follow Fox outside into the jeep. My curiosity is stronger than ever now. Matching tattoos are usually reserved for two groups of people: drunk college girls and criminal organizations. There can’t be too many that use this cobra to mark their members.
An SUV is already parked by the command tent by
the time we reach camp. Caleb called ahead to give them a head’s up but there’s no way the upper command could have sent someone out to replace Rhys so quickly.
The three of us step inside the command tent to find a tall man standing at the head of the table with at least five other mystery men lingering behind him, all of them wearing recently pressed BDUs. Frowning faces all around with the exception to the tall man. He grins wide as he sees us, the edges of his wrinkled smile hidden beneath a brown and silver mustache.
“You must be Fitzpatrick!” he says, zooming in on Fox. He steps around the table and thrusts his hand forward, snatching up Fox’s before he can even react.
“Yes, sir…”
“From what I hear, you’re quite the shot. I look forward to working with you,” he says with wide eyes. Fox nods and he scan the rest of the new men seated around. “I’m Sergeant Paxton. I’m taking over this camp starting now and you’ll be joining my squad. Welcome aboard.” Fox opens his mouth to argue but Paxton talks over him, pointing a hard finger at Caleb. “Fawn, right?” he asks, spinning back to a stack of paperwork. He slides a file out and opens it, smiling. “Caleb?”
“Yes, sir,” she says.
“You’re going home in the morning.”
Caleb goes stiff. “Sir—”
“I understand the mix-up but you’re not allowed out here — should have been shipped back the second your boot hit the ground.”
“Sir, I’m a valuable member of this team—”
“Not anymore.”
“I ask you to reconsider, sir.”
“And I ask you to know your place.”
She falls silent, crushed and vulnerable, and it pisses me off.
“Sir—” Fox steps forward. “I can vouch for Fawn. She has a right to be here.”
“The decision has already been made. And you.” Paxton shifts over to me and stares down with black eyes. “Who the hell are you?”
I throw on my best, shit-eating grin. “I’m Boxcar.”
His lips twitch. “Boxcar?”
“Yep.”
“And just what do you do here, Boxcar?”
I look at Caleb. Her head is down, her eyes just barely open to hide her sadness. This fucking guy. “I’m a civilian intelligence freelancer,” I answer.
He laughs hard. “What the hell is that?”
“I monitor security.”
“Is that all?” he scoffs.
“Nope. I also run and maintain the satellite system surrounding this camp for twenty miles, which means nothing drifts in and out of that radius without me knowing about it — including the very SUV that transported you and your men here tonight.”
“Is that right?”
“You entered that radius at about seven-fifteen,” I point out. “Made it here in record time.”
“Well, the loss of a leader like Rhys hits an operation like this fairly hard,” he says. “I came out here the second I heard from camp.”
“Except that Caleb didn’t make that call until seven-eighteen.” His amusement drains from his wrinkled face. “You were already on your way here by then, meaning you heard Rhys was dead from someone else. Now, who could that have been?”
Paxton blinks once and leans in closer, using every inch he has on me to his intimidating advantage. “You’re out of here,” he whispers. “I don’t need civilian intelligence freelancers clogging up my camp.”
“Or monitoring your calls, right?” I smirk.
“Boxcar…” Fox warns softly.
“Get out of this tent.” Paxton spins around and fires another look at Caleb. “Both of you. Fitzpatrick, you stay here and brief me on what happened out there tonight.”
Caleb immediately turns and steps outside but I linger behind, drawing close to Fox’s ear.
“Watch your back,” I whisper.
He flexes his jaw and gives me a subtle nod as I pass by him.
“Caleb!” I pick up my pace to catch up with her. She doesn’t turn around and keeps her quick stride towards the barracks. “Hold on…”
“Not now, Boxcar.”
“Wait, wait—” I slip my fingers around her elbow but she quickly tugs free. “Caleb, stop.”
She halts and I swing in front of her to block her. “What do you want?”
Her eyes stay low like an animal cowering from thunder over its head, outright refusing to look at me, and I bleed inside. There’s nothing I want more than to hold her right now but the spiked armor she’s got on won’t make that easy.
“I want you to know that you can talk to me,” I say. “Anytime you want. I’m here.”
Caleb shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk, Box.”
“Then what do you need?”
She finally looks up and I see that darkness overwhelming the green in her eyes. “I need you to leave me alone.”
“I can’t do that,” I say, digging my heels into the sand. “We need to stick together. Now more than ever. I don’t know who this Paxton guy is but I don’t think he is who he says he is—”
“No.”
“No, what?”
“The team is gone, Boxcar,” she says, her voice a dead tone. “You’re free to go home. I’m not your bodyguard anymore. Let’s just be thankful we made it this far at all and move on.”
“Caleb…” I sigh, studying the waves of sadness on her face. “You don’t want that.”
“It doesn’t really matter what I want.”
“It matters to me,” I whisper. “I’d like to think that what I want matters to you, too.”
Her eyes drop again. “No.”
“You’re lying.”
“What difference does it make?” she snaps. “We go home and what happens?”
“We look out for each other.”
“I don’t want anyone to look out for me.”
I grit my teeth. Her stubbornness has gone too far this time. “Don’t shut me out, Caleb.”
“You were never in, Boxcar,” she says. “Excuse me.”
“Caleb—”
She steps around me but I don’t have the patience to chase her down again so I let her go.
Goddammit, Caleb.
I’m not sure why I’m so surprised. Caleb’s personal bubble is fortified with titanium but I thought maybe we’d grown past that. Apparently not. I’m still just Boxcar, the boy that follows her around like a lovesick puppy and that’s what I always will be even after everything we’ve been through.
Maybe there’s a silver lining to all of this. I’m finally going home. No more drifting for scraps of food or places to sleep. I’ve got an all-expenses paid flight back to U.S. soil courtesy of the U.S. Army — back to Tennessee where I belong. Not that there’s much waiting for me when I get there except for my parents but they decided a long time ago that they didn’t want me around.
And Caleb? She’ll go back to Oklahoma. Her mother will probably be happy to see her — happy that she came home alive, unlike her father. They’ll reminisce and catch-up and maybe she’ll ask Caleb if there were any cute guys deployed with her. Caleb will surely roll her eyes and dismiss it but if I’m lucky… she’ll think of me.
Sure. I guess we’ll call that a silver lining.
Chapter 18
Caleb
Afghanistan
Two Years Ago
“Caleb...”
I don’t look away from the black night ahead of me as Fox leans beside me on the crate. “Fox,” I greet.
“This is a good thing, you know that, right?”
“Feels pretty crappy.”
“It will for a while,” he says. “Then, you’ll get over it and life will return to normal.”
Normal. I’ve been out here for so long, I’m not even sure what that means anymore. I turn to look at him. “And what about you?” I ask.
“I’ll be fine—”
“I don’t like these new people, Fox. I think Boxcar is right. They can’t be trusted.”
He grins. “Well, that’s progress.”
/> “What’s progress?”
“You trusting Box.”
I scoff. “Even a broken clock is right twice a day.”
“Just…” he lays a hand on my shoulder, “do me a favor, all right?”
“What?”
“Don’t go home. Go somewhere you’ve never been before. Do something you’d never thought you’d do.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s good for you,” he chuckles. “And later, when I get back, drinks are on me and you can tell me all about it. Also… cut Boxcar some slack. He did the right thing tonight.”
I cringe, remembering that gun to his head. “You should have stopped him,” I argue.
Fox sighs. “It was his moment and no matter how much you want to deny it — he earned it. No offense, but it takes a pretty strong patience to get to know you and that little bastard’s built from steel.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I guess that’s not wildly inaccurate.”
“Don’t give up on something that could be great because you’re scared of how it’ll end up,” he continues. “Live in the moment every so often. It might surprise you.”
I exhale until my lungs are empty. “All right,” I say. “I’ll try.”
“And don’t waste your time worrying about me,” he adds. “I’m coming home, too, it’ll just take longer to get there.”
“Promise?”
He opens his arms to me and I step closer to return his hug. “I promise.”
***
I’ve never been able to sleep the night before a big change.
They tell you that’s when you need the most rest but it’s never worked out that way for me. The night before basic training. The night before the first day of school. Even the night before a big family vacation is restless. My mind just won’t quit churning out thoughts and images to point where I give up completely and stare at the ceiling until dawn and hope for the best.
Tonight is no exception. Tomorrow morning, I’m going home. It’s a big change. Life is one way today but tomorrow, it’ll be something else. The only difference now is that the man sleeping in the cot across from mine risked his life to save mine a few hours ago and I may never get the chance to thank him for it… I may never even have the courage to do it.
Love and Wargames: A Bad Boy Hacker Romance Page 14
