Lee (In the Company of Snipers Book 12)

by Irish Winters

  “I am hungry.” He licked his lips. “Can I help it if you’re drop-dead gorgeous? The first minute I get you alone, I’m going to eat you up. Count on it.”

  That had made her wiggle. By the time they were changed into tourist-type street clothes, he was thinking of room service and a candlelit dinner to celebrate their impending one-upmanship over the arrogant Taliban assassin. Maybe a flaming dessert. Definitely flaming sex on the table. Maybe sex in the shower of some high-priced hotel. Or on the balcony. It had been a long time since any woman had made him feel this way. He wanted Tess happy from one end of her very sexy body to the other. Safe, happy and all his.

  He’d doffed the Oakleys, then covered his head with a baseball cap, the brim in back, and away they went, holding hands like two kids on vacation. She’d slung a simple cloth tote over her shoulder to conceal the reliquary once she’d retrieved it. By the end of this heist, Turik would be out of luck, and Tess would have what she wanted out of her drop box and back in her hands

  “Comm check.” Alex’s voice in Lee’s ear came through sharp and clear.

  “Copy that,” Lee replied, his eyes on Tess and his index finger to his earpiece to reduce the road noise.

  “We’ll be waiting at the corner in twenty. Be there.”

  “Copy that.” Lee swung Tess’s hand in his. An errant thought of marriage flitted through his mind. Being with Tess elicited strong feelings, but a wedding? Mortgage? Children? The universe had just shifted, or maybe it was the whole world. Whatever.

  She looked different all of a sudden, her eyes brighter and her smile deeper. Even her shiny hair bounced with more energy. This woman challenged him in so many ways. Here they were on their way to complete a seemingly innocent transaction that had mind-bending implications, and he was thinking of making her his wife? Life didn’t get any crazier.

  “A penny for your thoughts,” she said as they climbed the steps to the front doors of the bank.

  He lifted her knuckles to his lips and kissed them. “I’m just thinking I’m the luckiest man alive.”

  The two security guards at the entry stepped aside. An alarm sounded throughout the building for a long shrill burst. Lee covered his ears with both hands. “What is all that racket?” he shouted to the guard.

  “It is nothing to be concerned about, sir,” the stern man announced with a heavy Arabic accent. “We are having a minor difficulty with our security system today. Please go about your business.”

  Lee swatted Tess’s backside. “Git your business taken care of so we can get out of here, sweet cheeks. That racket’s awful hard on a man’s ears. Step on it.”

  She shot him a mischievous grin and a wink over her shoulder on her way to a teller’s window. “Shouldn’t take me long, dear. Are you hungry?”

  “For you? Always!” Lee declared with a salacious grin. He stayed next to the guard, his arms folded across his chest, watching her walk away. “Just got engaged,” he said, rocking on the balls of his feet. “Yep. We’re headed to Dubai for a little private time together. You ever been there?”

  The guard scowled and stepped away. Lee kept watching Tess. Yeah. Dubai would be the perfect place for a honeymoon. Or Paris. Maybe Rome.

  She cast a sideways smile at him and a little wave as the teller led her to the basement vault. He tapped the Mickey Mouse watch on his wrist where the previous Rolex had once been strapped. “Move it, darling. Time’s a-wasting,” he called across the lobby.

  Tess scrunched her shoulders as she disappeared down the steps.

  “Hey.” He stepped closer to the same guard. “Where are they going? I thought she was just withdrawing something out of her safety deposit box.”

  “That vault is in the basement,” the guard muttered without making eye contact.

  Lee lifted his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “Okay. No problem. Just keeping an eye on my woman, you know what I mean? Ain’t she hot?”

  The guard stepped yet farther away, and Lee was amused. Meanwhile, Mr. Hussein had appeared at the main bank vault with two men in identical uniforms, both with tool boxes in their hands. He pointed at the vault and appeared to be explaining the problem of the alarm to them. Both men nodded, and just then, Tess all but danced up the steps. Her little routine had taken less than ten minutes. She waved at the bank manager, squealing. “Oh, hi! Mr. Hussein! Hi there! It’s good to see you again.”

  He rolled his eyes and offered a pathetically unenthusiastic hand. The man should never attend a Red Sox game. He’d never survive Boston’s version of the wave

  “You got what you needed, baby doll?” Lee pulled her into the security of his side and planted a kiss on her red lips.

  “I did.” Her eyes sparkled. “I guess there’s a problem with their security cameras in the safety deposit room, honey. The teller only left me alone for five minutes. Do you believe that? I hardly had time to get my little ole lockbox open, and there she was again. Isn’t that funny? Let’s get a chopper out of this crazy town today. I want to celebrate being your fiancée.”

  He steered her toward the entrance. “Nothing else I’d rather do, little lady.”

  The security guard rolled his eyes and opened the door. It took them two minutes to walk to the limo around the corner. Lee couldn’t have been happier. He and Tess were home free.

  “Wow,” Seth said for the tenth time.

  Tess couldn’t agree more. Successfully recovering the reliquary was the shot of optimism she’d needed. Hidden in the mountains north of Kabul, Alex’s hideaway seemed the perfect place for two bank robbers to lay low. That she was surrounded by armed bodyguards eased the tension she’d felt since she’d found out that Mohammed had not only shot at her, but had also stolen her prize. That Alex of all people, was in the kitchen fixing breakfast was icing on the cake. But that golden reliquary lying on the table? Seth was right. Wow.

  “Shouldn’t we open it?” Seth asked.

  “Breakfast first. Put it where it won’t get broke,” Alex barked.

  Seth waggled his brows. “Does he think he’s the boss of everyone?”

  She had to smile. Alex did have a way of making everyone jump.

  “Come on, bro.” Eric skimmed a hand over Seth’s shoulders. “Outside. Now.”

  Seth frowned. “Holy cow. I’m surrounded.” But he followed Eric.

  Tess hadn’t realized how hungry she was until they’d returned triumphant from the bank. The joy of reclaiming the priceless treasure barely subdued the pain of losing her friends, but she refused to be beaten down. Lee was right. She hadn’t murdered them. Mohammed had. But it still hurt every time she thought of Jacque’s calm love for the Afghan people and Sister Alison’s devotion to the children. Mohammed Turik seemed determined to destroy everything good in this country.

  The minute the reliquary was finally safe with the mummies, she intended to visit Musa’s and Josef’s families. They needed to know their fathers and husbands were heroes. She needed to get back to those two sweet children at Saint Raphael’s, too. The place had to be in disarray since Sister Alison’s death. Who was there to read Mina stories? Who cared for Jamaal and helped him get around? If she’d stolen the artifacts for the money, Tess would have those children out of the orphanage and in a home with a good family. She’d make sure they had access to better medical care. She’d find a way to get Jamaal the best of prosthetics. She’d rescue every last child.

  The smell of bacon, eggs, and pancakes made her stomach growl, reminding her she wasn’t rich. She’d been on Alex’s dime since Lee had apprehended her. Before that, she’d depended on Sister Alison for room and board. She might have known the bank’s layout, but her bank account was as close to zero as it had been since she’d come to her land of dreams. Clint was no help financially, and she didn’t dare call home to beg for just a little more money. Her parents had long ago given up on her.

  Lee was right. Her days in this wild, fierce land that she loved were numbered. Once she left, she’d never see Mina or Jamaal aga
in. That thought hurt. Adopting Afghan children was another impossible dream. Leaving Saint Raphael’s would be another heartache she’d have to carry for the rest of her life. Tess swallowed hard, not ready to face that sad goodbye.

  Suddenly, the trailer felt small. She couldn’t breathe. Lee chuckled from the kitchen where he’d gone to assist with breakfast. Hunter and Jordan still kept watch on the Taliban soldiers who’d gotten close to the hidden crypt, reporting anything out of the ordinary to Alex. Eric and Seth had stepped outside. She decided to join them. She needed a breath of fresh air, too.

  Opening the door, she drew in a deep breath to ease the tension in her soul. Already hot from the desert sun, the sky was crystal clear, bluer than she could remember it. The sound of two men’s voices drifted from behind the rig.

  “She’s real pretty, ain’t she?” Seth asked. “I like her. Lee’d be smart to keep her around.”

  Tess froze. They were talking about her. She backed into the shadow of the rig where she could watch and listen without being seen.

  “I guess.” Eric leaned against the diamond-plated steel bumper of the eighteen-wheeler, his back toward Tess. “How are you holding up?”

  “’Kay,” Seth replied.

  “Still taking your meds?”

  Tess cocked an ear at that question. Meds? What kind of meds?

  “Gonna need more Seroquil if we stay in country much longer. I’m almost out.”

  “I’ll call Mother,” Eric said. “She’ll find a way to get it to you. You did real good during that fight at the hotel. Has Alex talked to you yet?”

  “Nah.” Seth grunted. “He’ll get around to it.”

  “Seems to me you’re doing better.”

  “It comes and goes. You know how it is.”

  “Talking helps. Let it out. We’ve all been there.”

  “Not like this you haven’t.”

  “Are you cutting again?”

  “Sometimes.” Seth’s voice seemed lower, farther away. “It helps when I see her face at night. She’s just standing there, and I watch the bullet hit her. And she’s looking at me, and the next thing, whoosh. It rips a hole right through the middle of her chest and it blows her backward. All that’s left are her shoes. I don’t know why but cutting seems to let out the pressure.”

  “What color are her eyes?”

  “What?”

  “What color are her eyes, Seth? If you’re looking at her, you have to remember the color of her eyes.”

  “Brown,” he said softly. “They were big and brown, like a baby deer’s eyes. A fawn’s. They looked like brown liquid with a sad questions mark in the center, like she was asking me how I could’ve done that to a little girl like her.”

  “And her hair?” Eric seemed to be pressing Seth, his questions coming one after the other, as if they’d had this conversation before.

  “Soft brown, too. She had a red braid hanging off to one side, kinda like those gals down in Jamaica. One gold bead on the end of it. It was swinging on her cheek. Kinda like...” Seth paused, “like a Christmas ornament on a pine bough in winter. She looked straight at me, Eric. Lots of bullets were flying that night, but it was like she knew where the one that hit her came from. Like she knew she was dead. Like she knew I killed her.”

  “What’d she do next?”

  “Huh?”

  Eric didn’t let up. He kept firing questions. “Tell me what she did next, Seth. You remember. I know you do. Tell me.”

  “She knelt,” Seth groaned. “She just kind of folded up like a ragdoll, and she knelt on the floor and she was gone. She had brown eyes,” he said again. “And I shot her. I blew her out of her shoes. And she died. I killed her.”

  “What’d she have in her hand?”

  “I don’t know.” Seth had that far-off sound in his voice again. “God, man, I don’t remember everything. It happened so fast.”

  “Yes, you do. If you remember her shoes, you remember what the hell she was holding.”

  “I do?”

  Eric kept him on task. “Tell me, damn it. What was in her hand, Seth? A doll? Flowers? A popsicle?” One of the two lit a match, probably Eric. The smell of sulphur took Tess back to the day four years ago when the Taliban overran the orphanage and dragged poor Omar away with them, never to be seen again. They’d shot a lot of ammunition that day, most of it into the air. It was always the same with them leaving noise, fire, and blood where ever they went. Maybe a battered body or two.

  “I think...” Seth paused again. “Oh, yeah. You’re right. I remember now.”

  This conversation sounded a lot like doctor/patient confidentiality might be at work. What kind of soldier was Eric anyway? A medic? A chaplain? And what kind of a sniper was on anti-depressants while he was on an active mission and carrying a gun?

  “The thing is,” Seth said softly, “I know she had a pistol in her hand that day, Eric. I know she meant to kill me. I was a stupid white guy in the wrong side of town, and I was in her way. I forgot how messed up the world could be back home. Me and the guys were just drinking a couple beers and throwing back tequila shooters. A guy oughta be able to do that anywhere he wants, wouldn’t you think?”

  “It’d be nice if it always worked that way,” Eric said. “So what kind of weapon was she holding?”

  “A scuffed up piece-of-shit Colt Mustang Pocketlite. She’d painted the grips pink. Least someone did. Looked like a toy. I wish it was.”

  “Pink or not, she still would’ve killed you with it, man.”

  Seth said something Tess couldn’t hear, but Eric’s answer was sure and swift. “Get your head out of your ass, McCray! You don’t think that little gal would’ve blown your frickin’ head clear off if you hadn’t shot her first?”

  A boot scraped gravel, kicking several rocks into the shadow with Tess.

  “You pick. You choose.” Eric spat angrily. “Every damn day you get up in the morning, you decide if you’re to blame or if she was. You think it’s any different for the rest of us?”

  “I think none of you guys ain’t never shot a kid!” Seth roared.

  “You think wrong!” Eric yelled back at him. “Talk to Gabe Cartwright for hell’s sake, why don’t you? Jesus Christ, Seth. Talk to Alex. You aren’t the only one who’s had to make a hard call in the middle of a combat situation, and trust me, that’s exactly what you were in, Chicago or not. Look around. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. That thirteen-year-old girl you’re feeling so bad about was making herself a name that day. All she wanted was her screwed-up rep, and you were how she meant to get it. You weren’t the first, and you wouldn’t have been the last person she’d shot. You ever think about that?”

  “But—”

  “But nothing,” Eric growled. “Stop feeling sorry for that two-bit bitch. Feel sorry for the kid she would’ve shot the day after she killed you. Feel sorry for that little kid’s mother and his father. Feel sorry for anyone she’d already killed, but don’t waste one more second feeling sorry for her. You saved lives by putting her down that night. That’s a sniper’s ultimate job, damn it. It’s tough but... We. Save. Lives.”

  Dead silence met Eric’s outburst. Tess cringed, not wanting to be caught. It was time for her to leave. She took a quiet step backward before she pivoted on the ball of her foot. She just didn’t expect to run face-first into Lee’s muscular chest when she turned around. He cautioned her to be quiet with a finger to his lips while he pulled her to the other end of the rig. “Guess you overheard, huh?”

  “Seth feels guilty. He’s messed up because he shot a girl who was going to kill him. I don’t get it.”

  “You don’t get what?”

  “That he’s a sniper. He carries a loaded gun everywhere he goes. I’ve never seen him without one, but it sounds like he feels guilty that he defended himself.”

  Lee brushed a hand through his hair, instantly setting off a shock of red and gold sparks in the sunlight. She couldn’t help but notice the quiet strength beneath the corded muscles u
nder his shirt. This man radiated a calm center despite, or maybe because of, the abuse she’d seen inflicted on his body. He was as much a paradox as Seth. Why was he back in the land where he’d been tortured?

  “This time was different, Tess. Seth and that gal were standing maybe five feet apart in that bar that night. For whatever reason, they both froze. He got a good look into her eyes before he had to decide.” Lee shrugged. “Eric’s right. She would’ve killed him. The police report knew her rep. She was a cold-blooded punk, pink pistol or not. She’d shot two other guys the night before in a holdup, but this time, it was straight up self-defense on Seth’s part. No question about it. One of Chicago’s finest saw it go down. The police never charged him. They just took his statement and let him go.”

  Tess glanced back at the opposite end of the rig. “He sounds so sad.”

  “It tortures him, but he’s got to figure it out.” Lee drew her close for a quick kiss on the cheek. His arms around her felt warm and strong. She drew in a deep breath of that hint of cinnamon and relaxed into his chest.

  He dipped his nose into the crook of her neck, nuzzling. “You have to understand. Right now we’re in a warzone. Most kills over here are sanctioned. A military sniper knows there’s ugly work to be done when he’s on an op. No one wants to take another’s life, Tess, but in combat, it’s a case of equivalent retaliation. The Taliban are sure as hell going to kill us, so we return the favor, hopefully before more boots on the ground are killed. Simple. We in the military follow definite rules of engagement, but when you’re back home, you’re in a different mindset. Seth thought his fighting days were behind him when he went home. He was safe in the land of the free and the brave. He made a mistake. He let his guard down.”

  She lifted her chin to look into the most amazing green eyes. Deep and gentle. So full of love. “Then why is he back here where something much worse could happen?”

  A shadow darkened Lee’s handsome face. “Because the boss won’t fire a good man. Seth just has to remember that’s who he is. He’s not so messed up he can’t function.”