Broken Honor

by Burrows, Tonya

  “Yeah, sure you don’t.” She smiled and stole his cowboy hat off his head, setting it on her own. “How about we let the rest of the team in now? I’m sure they’re freezing, and I want to see Lanie.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Near the Transnistria-Ukraine border

  Without the winter sun’s meager rays and no cloud cover to speak of, the night’s temp plummeted from cold to freeze your balls off. When Quinn slid from driver’s side of the van, the cold ripped the air from his lungs like a punch to the gut and seared the insides of his nostrils. Christ. He’d considered abandoning the van here and humping it the rest of the way to the plane, but no way would he make Mara stay out in this weather for any extended period of time. She didn’t have the right gear, they were still a good ten klicks from the plane, and it’d take far too long to make that walk on foot.

  Not to mention, the closer they got to the Transnistria-Ukraine border, the more warning alarms clanged inside his mind. He rubbed his temple, only now realizing how much his fucking head hurt. The strain of the last few days was taking its toll. He’d be lucky if he didn’t crash and burn before the end of this mission. “Something’s wrong.”

  Gabe, in the passenger seat, glanced over the center console at him. “You okay?”

  “Headache. But that’s not what I mean. Garcia should have answered our radio calls by now.”

  Gabe nodded. “Yeah. I was thinking the same thing.” He jerked his chin toward the back of the van. “Go check on Mara—I know you want to, so don’t deny it—and see if any of the guys are injured. I’ll try Garcia again.”

  Quinn shut the door and walked the length of the vehicle, boots crunching over the ground, too loud in the winter night. Damn snow. It made staying covert difficult. Might as well wave a giant red flag and scream, “Here we are!” Of course, that worked both ways, and the woods surrounding the rarely used road were silent.

  They were safe. For now.

  He joined the guys, who spilled out of the van’s back end like clowns from a subcompact. “Anyone injured?”

  “Had worse,” Seth said.

  Quinn studied each of them as they exited the van. Seth had a wide streak of blood smeared on his coat under his left arm, but whether it belonged to him or one of Zaryanko’s dead thugs was anyone’s guess. Everyone else seemed no worse for wear, except for Jean-Luc, who scowled as if someone had pissed in his cornflakes.

  “You hurt?” Quinn asked.

  “No. But I’m freezing to death. This cold is ungodly.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stomped his feet a couple times, but if anything, the crunching of his boots on the snow only made him look more unhappy.

  “Get over it.” Ian blew on the ends of his fingers. He always cut off the tips of his gloves, leaving his fingers free so that he could handle sensitive items—like bombs. Everything the EOD tech did, in some way, shape, or form, related back to making things go boom. “We’re all cold.”

  Gabe joined them. “Not everywhere can be like the bayou, Cajun.”

  “And that’s a damn shame,” Jean-Luc said and his breath clouded in the air. “See? Look at that! I’m making freaking clouds. That’s not natural. I’m telling ya. Ungodly.”

  Jesse was the last to leave the van. He hopped out, took off his Stetson, ran a hand through his hair, then resettled the hat on his head. He’d taken off his snowsuit and wore nothing but black cargo pants and a denim jacket over a thermal undershirt.

  “Aw, c’mon. This ain’t nothin’ but T-shirt weather, Cajun.”

  If looks could kill, Jesse would have died in a hundred brutal ways from the glare Jean-Luc sent him.

  Quinn had to admit Jean-Luc had a point. The temperature hovered somewhere in the single digits if he had to guess. Add in the wind chill and it made for a wicked shock to the system, even for someone as hardened against the cold as him.

  Was Mara warm enough?

  He stole a glance inside the van. She lay on a pallet underneath a survival blanket, curled around her belly like she was trying to protect it. So deep asleep she didn’t even twitch at the cold seeping in from the open door.

  A hand landed on his shoulder, and he glanced over in surprise at Jesse.

  “She’s goin’ to be fine,” the medic assured. “She’s healthy. Best I can tell, the baby’s healthy.”

  Right. Okay. Quinn shrugged out of Jesse’s grip and shut the van’s door to keep the heat inside. He turned to the group. “Has anyone had luck raising Garcia on the radio?”

  They all shook their heads.

  “Damn.” Quinn glanced at Gabe. “What do you think?”

  “This is your game, Q. Your play. Your call.”

  He shut his eyes and, frustrated, scrubbed at his face with both hands. He really hated being in command. Taking orders was so much easier. When you’re given orders, you follow them to the best of your ability. Black-and-white. Simple. Issuing those orders? Not so simple. There were so many varying shades and levels of gray murkiness involved. He had to consider the team’s safety. Mara’s safety. Even freaking ethics came into play—right versus wrong and all that. But how did a guy know when he was right? It was enough to make his head pound if he allowed it.

  Quinn shoved aside all thoughts of a headache even as one wrenched at the nerves behind his eyes. He held out a hand to the group. “Someone give me a radio.”

  He tried Garcia one last time. Got a whole lot of nothing but radio silence.

  Quinn clicked off the radio and tapped the handheld against his palm a couple times in thought. Maybe he was paranoid. Probably he was paranoid—another lasting gift from the head trauma.

  But…

  He looked at the van, pictured Mara in there, curled up under the Mylar blanket, hugging her belly. Well, dammit, he had a right to a bit of paranoia. He wasn’t about to put Mara or the baby in any kind of danger.

  Then again, keeping them out in this cold longer than necessary wasn’t exactly safe, either.

  “Ruble for your thoughts?” Jean-Luc said.

  “Nah.” Quinn jammed the radio into one of his inside jacket pockets. “They’re not worth even that. How do you guys feel about this?”

  “It fucking stinks,” Ian said.

  Seth nodded. “Something’s not right.”

  “I’m getting me all kinds of bad feelings about this,” Jean-Luc said.

  Well, at least he wasn’t alone in his paranoia. And the longer they stood here discussing it, the more the idea of taking Mara to the rally point sat like a lump of slimy coal in his gut. “So, what are our options?”

  “Play it safe,” Harvard said. “Zaryanko’s dead, yeah, but Liam is out there. Let’s take Mara to friendly territory, then come back for Garcia. If he’s in trouble, then he has been since we left and can handle himself for another day.”

  “And where precisely do we find friendly territory?” Seth asked. “We’re in the black hole of Europe.”

  “There’s a temporary air force base in Constanta, Romania, set up to help with the transition of American forces out of Afghanistan,” Harvard said and searched in his bag for a map. He spread it on the side of the van and found his glasses in the front pocket of his coat. After a moment’s study, he indicated a city on the coast of the Black Sea. “Here. About five hundred klicks southwest of our position. We’d be looking at a sixteen-hour drive round-trip and it’d mean crossing two borders: into Moldova, which is going to be a problem, and then into Romania.”

  “Shit.” Quinn stared up at the sky, at the vast expanse of night dotted with tiny shimmers of starlight and the bright, nearly full moon. The blows just kept coming. Had to wonder if they’d ever stop. “I’m not comfortable with that plan. There’s something I haven’t told you guys yet. In New Mexico, I killed the guy who abducted Mara.” He lowered his gaze until he found Gabe. “It was Todd Urban.”

  “What?” Gabe said and for maybe the first time ever, his expression showed pure shock. “Urban abducted Mara? Are you sure?”

&nbs
p; “Yeah.”

  Harvard looked back and forth between them. “Who’s Todd Urban?”

  “A SEAL,” Quinn said and looked at the rest of the team. “I killed an active-duty SEAL, a former teammate.”

  Silence.

  Finally, Jesse muttered, “Dayam. That’s going to be a problem.”

  “We can’t trust anyone, guys. A week ago, I would have told you Todd Urban was one of the best men I knew, but he was in league with Zaryanko.” He remembered the way his gut had churned at the revelation. He was the reason Mara had been kidnapped, not her stepfather’s crooked dealings with the wrong people like he’d first assumed. Somehow, this all centered on him, and he’d been the one to put her in danger by showing up at her house.

  Quinn glanced toward the van and tamped down the urge to check on her again. He had a job to do if he wanted to keep her safe, and part of that job would be to make her hate him so she’d walk away and never look back. The thought sent shards of ice spearing through his chest, but he’d do it if it meant keeping her safe.

  Marcus finally broke the silence. “There’s always a chance Garcia’s radio just crapped out on him. Mine did and so did Ian’s. For all we know, Garcia could still be waiting for us and we’re just a bunch of assholes who don’t like trusting the newcomer.”

  “I can vouch for that,” Seth said. “I mean, you guys full-on hazed me, for fuck’s sake.”

  “Okay,” Quinn said slowly. “What do you suggest, then? I’m not taking Mara anywhere near the plane unless we know for sure it hasn’t been compromised.”

  “Recon,” Seth said. “Send out an advance team to make sure all is clear. And if it’s not safe…” He opened the back door of the van and grabbed his rifle from the floor. “Then let’s make it safe.”

  “Charge recklessly into the fray with nothing but a hope and a prayer?” Jean-Luc asked.

  Seth held up his rifle. “And an AK-47.”

  “You’re crazy.” Jean-Luc grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “I love that about you, mon ami.”

  “I’m with Seth on this one,” Jesse said.

  “Me, too,” Ian said. “My fucking dog was on that plane. I want him back.”

  Everyone else agreed, and Harvard threw up his arms. “Guess I’m vetoed.”

  “So you in or out?” Quinn asked.

  Harvard heaved a weary sigh. “You know I’d follow you and Gabe into the lowest pits of hell. I’m in.”

  “All right, let’s do it.” Quinn opened the van’s door wider and leaned in, taking the opportunity to check on Mara. Still out cold. His heart lurched at the sight of her pale face so still with sleep.

  “We’ll get you home, sweetheart,” he promised under his breath, then grabbed the straps of several more AKs and hauled them out. “Who’s going with me?”

  “I will,” Jesse and Ian said at the same time and looked at each other with almost identical sneers of disgust.

  Quinn bit back a groan. Those two. When would they realize that they got along like fire and nitro precisely because they were, like fire and nitro, the same explosion waiting to happen, packaged in two different forms?

  “Jesse, you’re the best tracker out of all of us, so you should come with Gabe and me.” When Ian scowled, he added, “And if we have a chance to get Tank back, we’ll take it. He’s a member of this team, too, and we won’t leave him behind, but right now, I want you here to protect Mara. Nobody can beat you at hand-to-hand.”

  After a long moment, Ian gave a curt nod. “Nobody will touch her on my watch.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m coming, too,” Lanie said.

  Jesse opened his mouth to protest, but Quinn didn’t give him a chance. He’d seen the Texas Ranger in action, and she would be nothing but an asset in the field. “Good. Jean-Luc, Seth, Marcus, Harvard—you guys stay behind with Ian. If you don’t hear from us by morning, or feel this position is compromised, get out of here. Follow Harvard’s plan and take Mara to Romania.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The airfield was empty.

  No wonder Garcia wasn’t answering their radio calls. He wasn’t fucking there.

  Quinn stepped out onto the tarmac from the cover of the forest and did a quick safety check of the area. Found nothing. Cursing under his breath, he leaned against the ruins of an old storage shed as he heard Gabe, then Jesse, and finally Lanie confirm what he’d known as soon as they approached the field.

  Clear.

  Abandoned.

  Jesse came up beside him. “Goddammit. I had a bad feelin’ about Garcia from the start. He was too quiet.”

  “Then why didn’t you say anything when we hired him?”

  “After the way Gabe went all papa bear when you brought Seth onto the team and I didn’t think that was a good idea? Nah. I was keepin’ my mouth shut.”

  Gabe appeared around the side of the building and scoffed. “Papa bear?”

  Jesse puffed up his chest and deepened his voice. “‘There’ll be no hazing of every new guy I bring onto this team. Is that understood, gentlemen?’”

  “I don’t sound like that,” Gabe said.

  “Actually…” Lanie said as she joined them. “You kinda do.”

  He pointed a finger at her. “Watch it. They’re going to haze your ass when we get home, and for that, I’m not stopping them.”

  “You’re assuming a lot there, Bristow. Who says I even want to stay in your dysfunctional little boys’ club when we get home?”

  Quinn got that they were just blowing off steam. They were all as frustrated and exhausted and cold as he was. Hell, any other time, in any other situation, he might’ve been joking with them—but this wasn’t any other situation, and he couldn’t find it in himself to be amused by the banter. In fact, the only thing he felt was a rising surge of anger that all but choked him.

  “Fuck!” He ripped off his snow mask and threw it on the ground, then felt stupid for the uncharacteristic outburst when everyone went silent. He dragged his hands over his head and slid down the wall, his exhaustion weighing him down as much as the gear on his back. “Fuck Garcia. And fuck Cam Wilde for recommending him.”

  “Cam couldn’t have known the guy would leave us hanging like this,” Gabe said, ever the voice of reason. “We’ll come up with a new plan.”

  “No.” Quinn sucked in a breath and stood. “Let’s go with Harvard’s plan. We’ll take Mara to the air force base in Romania.”

  “Quinn, we don’t know how far this thing reaches. Urban—”

  “Is dead. I killed him, took away a husband and a father from a family I’ve had dinner with. I have to face up to that.”

  Gabe pulled off his mask and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, you killed him. And, yeah, I know it’s eating you up. But Urban was corrupt—”

  “Do we know that?” Quinn demanded. “Really? All we have to go on is Zaryanko’s word, and that bastard was a liar.”

  “You said Urban tried to kill you,” Gabe pointed out.

  “But I’m not convinced it wasn’t a case of mistaken identity.”

  Lanie spoke up. “We also have Mara’s statement that Urban was the man who abducted her.”

  “For all we know, he had a damn good reason for it. But you’re missing the point. Even if he was corrupt, I can’t condemn the entire military for one man’s actions. Our priority is Mara’s safety. That’s it. And the safest place for her right now is an American military base.” When he got nothing but stubborn silence from Gabe, he turned to Jesse. “C’mon, you want Mara safe just as much as I do, and you could give a fuck what happens to me. So why aren’t you backing me up here?”

  Jesse sighed heavily. “Way I see it, the air force base is our only option.”

  “Thank you. Finally someone with some sense,” Quinn muttered.

  Jesse grabbed his shoulder hard enough that he had no choice but to face the medic. “But don’t you dare say I don’t give a fuck about what happens to you. Bein’ angry with you is not the s
ame thing as wantin’ you dead. Mara’s my family by blood, but everyone on this team—including you—is my family by choice.”

  Quinn blinked. Jesse considered him family? That was… He tried to think of something to say in reply and came up empty.

  But suddenly Jesse’s anger made a hell of a lot of sense. It hadn’t been about Quinn sleeping with Mara or even about the pregnancy. It had been about betrayal. Jesse had felt betrayed and…

  Man. He had a shit ton of amends to make when this was over.

  Jesse let go and stepped back. “So,” he said after an awkward beat. “You go with us as far as Romania, then disappear. Maybe call Tucker Quentin for help or whatever, but you’re not settin’ foot on the base. Even if I have to hog-tie you, you’re not goin’. Got me?”

  “Good idea,” Gabe said. “That’s—”

  The crunch of a boot on the snow behind the shed caught Quinn and Gabe’s attention simultaneously. They both spun, weapons raised, and the shock of recognition almost made Quinn lower his. Four men stepped out behind the shed, and there was no doubt in his mind—at least three of these guys were SEALs. The fourth man moved like he had some military training but was no longer comfortable in the field.

  The leader of the team was shouting, “Weapons down! Hands up! Put your fucking weapons down!”

  Another shock of recognition. Christ. They weren’t just any SEALs. They were from Team Ten. They were friends. Quinn glanced at Gabe, who nodded.

  Right. What other choice did they have at this point?

  Together, they laid their weapons on the tarmac and raised their hands. Jesse and Lanie hesitated, then followed suit. The leader motioned for his men to secure the weapons.

  “Hey, Bauer,” Quinn said. “Long time.”

  Edward Bauer didn’t so much as flinch at the sound of his name, nor did he lower his own weapon. “Quinn. You know you have to come with us, so let’s make this easy.”

  The little hairs on the back of Quinn’s neck prickled. This wasn’t right. No way was this a sanctioned mission. “Nah. Easy’s not in my vocabulary. Wanna tell me why they’d send you after me?”