She doesn’t give a shit that I’ve got a gun pointed at her and stalks by me as she spouts, “Foxtrot. Uniform. Charlie. Kilo. Yankee. Oscar. Uniform.”
My gun moves with her as I pick up my bag and follow her to the building. “The ninja is funny. Fuck you, too, and I’m sick of this shit. Give me the code word or else I’ll tie you up and leave you to be trampled by a camel.”
She actually has the nerve to throw me a smirk over her shoulder. “Romeo. Echo. Charlie. Alpha.” She pauses and turns to me fully—confirming this is the nightmare Crew actually wants me to work with—and with a pop of her very red lips, she seals my fate. “Papa.”
RECAP. Dammit. This is really my fate. Fuck me, this cannot be happening.
I sigh.
She turns back and swings the door open before disappearing into the opaque dark of the building.
It’s official. I’m gonna kill Crew.
I pull the door and follow, seeing a crack of light down the long hall. When I get to the door, she’s already standing on the other side of a rickety table unloading a backpack big enough for her Queen to fit half her shoes.
She slaps papers down on the table. “Your government credentials to enter Afghanistan.” Ammunition, guns, and silencers follow. “Crew told me your preferences—though I cannot say I agree.” Joining her unapproved firearms, she tosses a GPS, an extra cell, along with all kinds of other electronics. “All encrypted and satellite ready. Just flip them on and you’re good to go. Oh,” she reaches for the bag and pulls it open to show me what’s left inside, “cash. The dollar, the euro, and Afghan afghani, but from my experience, the dollar and the euro will get you farther.”
I look back up at her and cross my arms. “Speaking of experience, what’s yours?”
She hikes a brow and her blue eyes turn to ice, which I’m pretty sure is what’s running through her veins. “I contract with Vega. Before that, I worked with Vega. I’ve known Vega for eons, which means I know your role.” Her Rs are soft, ironically, because nothing else on her is. “I’m not obligated to spout my CV to the sorts of you, Jarvis.”
I tell her what I will throw down for in the future. “I like to work alone.”
“Ah, yes.” She sighs like I’m boring her to a slow, painful death. “You’re an American cowboy. Crew mentioned that. But I happen to know that he runs the show, though I do think the poor bugger is out of his mind since he said you were the best and I could have and would have laid you out had I not recognized you. I’ll have to set him straight on that.”
I take everything she laid out on the table and stuff it back in the bag, zipping it shut while wishing it was her mouth, because I know she’s right. I don’t have a choice and that pisses me off.
“You can’t take me down. I’m done here. Point me in the right direction, give me a map, whatever. But I need to get going.”
She picks up the cell I left sitting on the table in front of me and pulls up a screen. “Here. We’ll take this route to where my contacts will be waiting for you. That’s where you’ll transfer and go on foot with them—they know where you need to go and will have provisions. Then, you wait.”
I study the map. “This isn’t a road.”
“I know.” She turns, heads out the door, and flips off the lights on her way, leaving me in the shadows. “Roads are for pussies, Jarvis. Let’s go.”
I pick up the backpack and swing it over my shoulder with the other one and follow. But first, I power down my phone. I’ve been here long enough, I can’t risk responding to Gracie. I’ll hit her up when I can get a safe signal.
Chapter 12
Killers and Healers
Uganda
Gracie
“’Night, Gracie.”
I squeeze the water from my hair with the same towel I’ve used since I’ve been here on the way from the bathrooms to bed.
“Goodnight, Dal.”
“You did good today, girl. It was a hard one.”
He’s right. I feel it in my feet, back, hips, and shoulders. But even more, today settled in my heart where it will live forever. Today was hard—harder than anything I’ve experienced since I set out on this journey. But I’m not sleeping in a hut. I didn’t lose my wife. I’m not sitting with my child in what Uganda considers an ICU. And I don’t have malaria, an enlarged prostate, nor was I turned away because the hospital can’t provide proper care after surgery.
So, yes, today was hard but I’m good.
“Today was amazing.” I toss my towel over my shoulder before adding, “And heartbreaking. But, still, amazing.”
“Told ya.” He smiles before slapping his hand against the door jamb—a hand that led countless surgeries today. “I’m going over the patient files for tomorrow. Get some sleep.”
“Thanks.”
When I get to the bunk room where we all sleep together, I crawl into my bed and try not to let the creaking of the old bed frame wake the others who have already passed out for the day.
I grab my phone and burrow under my blanket. I should answer all the messages from my sisters, Grady, Maya, and my friends back at home. But I don’t. I ignore them all and pull up the one person who seems to have fallen off the face of the earth.
In fact, if I weren’t in Africa, physically and emotionally exhausted, I’d be embarrassed by my message string to Noah. If he’s anything like my brother, he’ll surface eventually, on his own time, and probably scroll through my mountain of messages and finally be done with me. I was his one-nighter just like he was mine. He didn’t sign up for all the extra baggage that comes along with Gracie Cain.
But I can’t help myself. I sleep better after I talk to him even though he doesn’t respond.
I even anointed his thread with his real name. Not that he knows I left him as Unknown Number for as long as I did.
Me – Hey. What’s up with you? I stepped foot into surgery today for the first time since I got here. It looks nothing like it does at home. I don’t know how to describe it besides choreographed chaos. Everything seems to move at a snail’s pace even though we performed twelve surgeries today. We worked for more than fifteen hours and I feel guilty for being tired and sore after what I’ve seen.
Me – Where are you? I know you won’t tell me but it seems polite to ask so I’m not all me, me, ME. Because nothing is as real as this thread which is all me.
Me – We have another surgery day tomorrow. It’s what I do and why I came. But I’ve loved helping the non-surgical patients the best. Being at the orphanage … it just feels right.
Me – Did you know that your name means “rest” and “comfort”? I like to know the meaning of names and things and places. Probably because my name is boring. Grace literally means “grace”.
Me – Why am I even boring you with that? I’m sure you know what your name means. But here I am, messaging you stupid shit so I can have something to focus on besides the woman who died on our table today from heart failure or the child we had to turn away because the hospital here can’t handle his post-op care.
Me – I’m sorry. Now I’m being depressing and who wants to be friends with a Debbie-Downer? Not a badass like you, that’s for sure. I’m sure you have women lined up and none of them would dream of talking your ear off about death and disease. Just you wait, Jarvis. I’ll get rid of you yet.
Me – Are you annoyed that I’m sending my thoughts in separate messages? I can’t help it. My finger automatically presses send.
Me – Tomorrow we go back to the hospital for another full day of surgeries. Oh wait, I already told you that. Sorry, I’m tired and sore. I should really get up and take some Advil, but I don’t want to move anything but my thumbs to type this nonsense and my eyelids to blink.
Me – Tomorrow is going to be emotionally exhausting again. I know it. But I didn’t cry today, so there’s that. I’m not a crier and don’t want to turn into one in Africa.
Me – You know, even though I find you to be annoying at times, I really wonder wher
e you are and what you’re doing.
Me – Shit. That’s a lie. I wish I could delete that but I don’t think it will delete on your thread. That’s what I get, huh? Like, once it’s on the internet, it’s ON the internet. Same reason why I’m not going to send you any boob shots.
Me – What’s wrong with me? See? So tired.
Me – Not that I would send you naked pics. I’m sleeping in the same room with eight other people, that would be weird. I wouldn’t even if I were by myself. I’ve never done that. THAT you can’t get back. I learned that lesson the hard way my junior year of high school. Not with boob shots or anything naked, just me talking shit about someone who was already talking shit about me. You never know who your friends are.
Me – I just nailed my coffin shut, didn’t I? Now you know you’ll never get naked pics of me and I’m clearly annoying. I’ve done my job. I’ll never hear from you again.
Me – So, this is basically just a diary now, which makes me even more lame.
Me – Okay, goodnight. I hope you’re asleep, unlike me.
* * *
The Mountains of Afghanistan
Jarvis
We were on foot for days and have camped even longer in the mountains outside of the village where my target visits his family. I’m used to waiting for the call. Hell, ninety percent of my job is spent waiting.
But I’ve never had a certain surgical nurse consuming every thought swimming in my damn head.
Donnelly and I drove for hours through the dark of night in a Polaris. Once I found out she was handing me off to two Afghans, I thanked the assassin gods I wouldn’t have to put up with her until my targets were in place. When she dropped me at the line where Pakistan and Afghanistan dance, she said burkas weren’t her thing and she barely gets away with what she wears in Pakistan—there’s no way she’d make it across the border.
I got rid of Donnelly. Burkas to the rescue.
The sun set on us hours ago and we take turns keeping one eye open. The men I’m with are locals … sort of. Originally from Kuwait, they’re sources paid directly by Crew. This is the business, the way it breaks down, and what the assholes sitting behind a news desk have no damn clue even exists. The CIA doesn’t want to get their hands soiled, so they pay Crew to do their dirty work. I have no idea how many Crews there are managing triggers and taking care of shit no one else is able to do unless they want to end up in front of a Congressional panel and have their image plastered all over the western world for weeks. I keep my head down, do my job, and watch my offshore accounts get fatter by the month.
It’s a process I’ve become good with through the years. It’s worked because I’m alone.
And I don’t mean my two new Kuwaiti friends. They’re cool and know as much English as I know Arabic—between it all, we have no trouble communicating. I know what my target eats, when he sleeps, and not only how many shits he takes a week, but who guards him while doing so.
I’m about to lay my head on the backpack I’ve been using as a pillow when I feel a vibration.
I pull out the cell given to me by the British-Black-Widow-Wannabe, unlock the screen, and open the app.
Crew – Go.
And that’s it. I don’t bother answering and he doesn’t want one anyway. He knows it’ll get done.
“It’s time.”
Awake, alert, and more ready than we’ll ever be, we take what we need and leave the rest of our camping shit here. Once it’s done, we’ll be on the move until we’re out of the country, which needs to be by this time tomorrow.
Easy.
Armored and outfitted with night vision goggles, we’re out.
* * *
Uganda
Gracie
Me – Africa is bound and determined to turn me into a crier. It was close and I was worried since I’ve held out until day nine. Intensive care was tough today.
Me – I know you said you’d be busy for weeks, even up to a month, but I haven’t heard from you in eight days and my pathetic diary is getting longer and longer. I would never be able to just fall off the face of the earth like you. Obviously, given the memoir I’m amassing in your absence. I need people. Grady used to do the same thing so it’s not like this is a shock, but even your ghost is becoming a weird security blanket that I just can’t quit.
Me – I can’t believe I’m going to admit this, but I actually did try to quit you a couple days ago but I’m afraid you’re becoming an obsession. I was restless for too long, even after the long day, but couldn’t sleep. Did you know I have an addictive personality? All five of us do, in some form or another. I probably shouldn’t tell you this but it’s why Grady doesn’t drink and never has. I don’t think Grady is afraid of anything other than becoming our father. Anyway, you’re becoming a habit, Noah Jarvis, and I can’t say I’m happy about it because when you see the ugly side of addiction, you don’t want anyone or anything having a hold on you.
Me – But see? I gave in and added another few chapters to this thread just so I could sleep. I needed my daily hit even though you’re not here to tell me how weird I am.
Me – So, back to me being weak and almost crying. One of our patients didn’t make it. He had malaria and it was severe when he was admitted last week. His family hasn’t left his side and were there when he left our world. I didn’t speak his language, but he’d smile at me every time I came to check on him—until the last few days. I don’t know why I felt like I knew him because there wasn’t one thing about the man or his family I was familiar with. But if I’ve learned anything here in this beautiful country, it’s that love, family, and dedication have one universal language. They’re just like hugs—they break down walls and barriers and differences.
Me – I get to go back to the orphanage tomorrow. You’d think it would be depressing, but it’s a bright spot, and I can’t wait.
Me – I ate all the chocolate you bought me and I don’t have a layover in Brussels on the way home. I’m upset about that. I have to change flights in Turkey and I don’t think they’re known for their chocolate. I honestly don’t know what they’re known for. I should look that up. Be right back.
Me – Baklava. Turkey is known for it. I’d throw down for some baklava, especially if it had chocolate in it.
Me – Turkey also has a national program of peace. That sounds good to me. Maybe I need to think about moving. What am I even saying? Grady would have a fit.
Me – Unlike you, Grady messages me so many times a day, the heights of his high-maintenanceness have reached the clouds.
Me – Ha. Look who’s talking, right? I can’t even with myself. I’m that ridiculous given my obsession with your ghost.
Me – And with that, I’m done. Goodnight and I’m sorry your one-night stand turned out to be needy. You should choose better next time.
* * *
A village in southwest Afghanistan
Jarvis
We were supposed to be in and out in one night. Fucking hate it when this happens.
When we got to town two nights ago, we found out the intel was bad. My target was not here and still hasn’t shown his ugly face. Carson, Asa’s CIA contact, insists he’s on his way and told us to hold tight.
Easy for him to say. He’s sitting in a damn room with no windows, surrounded by computer screens, managing anarchy around the world by his fingertips. He’s not holed away with a donkey and two sheep who are past the point of anorexia.
We paid a local farmer to hide in his barn. So here I am, still relying on my new Kuwaiti friends but also some random farmer who swears his allegiance only falls to himself and now the new hefty bag of money that he couldn’t make in a decade. We paid handsomely enough that his son brings us two meals a day and water that seems to be clean … enough.
I hate counting days. I’m here as long as I need to be to get the job done. From the day I started working for Crew, waiting has never been a burden, and if I’ve learned anything from Grady Cain, this shit cannot be hurried. He d
id that and got his ass captured and tortured. Chances are, if we rush this, shit will swirl faster than a porta-potty in a hurricane.
That’s why I’m holding on to my patience while doing pushups on the bare ground just to get some blood circulating while surrounded by skinny farm animals who are now my biggest fans since I’m sharing my meals with them. But I cannot stop thinking of the healer who is on the neighboring continent.
I’m not sure if it’s the long days and longer nights, but I’m starting to wonder who the hell I am. I never—I mean fucking never—have the urge to turn on my personal cell to check messages. I’ve decided that no one but Gracie Cain has ever made my fingers this itchy. If I didn’t know Grady was stalking his sister with technology that the International Space Station could use to tune in to an NFL game, I probably wouldn’t be able to stop myself.
A killer and a healer … a thought I’ve been working hard to slay. But unlike my track record as Crew’s number one man since I started this gig, I’ve failed. When Gracie strutted her ass through the woods to spend the night with me, she might’ve known I work with her brother but that doesn’t mean she knows. And from spending the small amount of time with her, my guess is, she doesn’t.
I know one thing about Gracie Cain. Despite the fact she might be a bit fucked in the head because she almost died at the hands of her own father, she’s good to the core. Who knows, maybe it’s because of it. And she doesn’t only have a heart of gold, that shit pumps through her veins and she lives for it.
Veils: A Killers Novel, Book 4 Page 11
