Hold On (Delos Series Book 5)

by Lindsay McKenna

  It was a constant job, and one that Graham’s wranglers normally did. But his men and women were on holiday, and he was short-staffed.

  “This was awful nice of you to help out here,” Graham told her, taking both pitchforks and hanging them back on the barn wall. “I’ll get Ghost and bring him in here.”

  “I’ll go get him a flake of hay,” Callie said, turning toward the stacked alfalfa.

  Afterward, Graham asked her, “What else were you going to do out here?”

  Shrugging, Callie whispered, “I don’t know, Grandpa …”

  “Want to sit with me over there?” He gestured with his gloved hand toward two metal chairs sitting near the open door of the tack room.

  Callie nodded, trying to stop crying. Just her grandfather tucking her beneath his arm and pulling her against his tall, strong body made her feel better. As they sat down, she said, “Grandpa? You were in the Marine Corps. You’ve never told anyone about it, or what you did when you were in.”

  He smiled a little, resting one boot over his knee. “Well, mostly because what I did was top secret, baby girl.”

  Her eyes widened, and she stared at her sixty-five-year-old grandfather. “Really?”

  “Yep. Why?”

  She melted beneath his warm blue gaze, feeling his love for her. Wiping her face with her fingers, she said, “The man who saved my life—Beau Gardner …”

  “Yes?”

  “H-he reminds me so much of you in some ways. He’s Army black ops and top secret, just like you. He’s very kind and gentle. He never raised his voice, always had a smile for me. Even in the worst of it, when we were running to get away from the Taliban, he seemed so calm, so sure of himself.”

  “He’s Delta Force, right? I recall Dara calling and mentioning that Beau was one of the men on Matt Culver’s team.”

  Nodding, Callie whispered, “It’s so hard to talk about this, Grandpa. N-no one understands … but Beau did. Just being around him calmed me down immediately. He just has a way with me, like you do.”

  “He sounds like a very special person, Callie.”

  “H-he is. He saved my life … but I put him in danger in so many different ways.” Looking up, she asked, “Did you ever go into combat? Did you have to shoot an enemy?”

  Nodding, Graham said quietly, “Yes, I did.”

  “You never told us,” she said, gazing at him in wonder.

  “Baby girl, it’s not something a man ever wants to talk about to someone who doesn’t know the territory.”

  “Right,” Callie said, nodding between sniffles. “I-I had a nightmare earlier, and I woke myself up screaming.”

  “I heard you.”

  Callie’s eyes widened. “Oh … God … I’m sorry, Grandpa …”

  He lifted his hand. “No need, Callie. You went through a lot, from what I can tell.”

  “W-we both did,” she said, her voice low with anguish. “I-I miss Beau so much, Grandpa. I wish with my heart, my soul, he could be here with me. He was there. He knows what happened …”

  “What’s stopping you from asking him to come for a visit?” Graham asked suddenly, surprising her.

  “Uh, well, I don’t think he’d come, Grandpa.” She got up, beginning to pace, her hand against her mouth, more tears falling.

  Graham sat watching Callie move back and forth, and his heart was raw with pain. He knew a lot more about what she was going through than he had let on, but he’d never tell her. More important, he recognized the signs of severe trauma, or what they now called PTSD. “Tell me why, Callie. Why wouldn’t he come to see you? You said you had a good relationship with him before the ambush.”

  Over the last five days, Graham had begun piecing together things that Callie had let slip. She was like a huge jigsaw puzzle, and if he hadn’t been a Marine Corps sniper, he wouldn’t have put it together as he had.

  Callie halted in front of Graham. “B-because … oh, Grandpa, don’t tell anyone this, okay?”

  “Promise, cross my heart and hope to die, baby girl,” he said, making the symbolic sign with his hand over his Sherpa jacket.

  “I-I placed Beau in danger. He got shot twice because of me.” She sobbed and choked out, “I ran! I got scared and ran, Grandpa. He told me to crouch down behind a huge pine tree trunk and not to move. I was well hidden there. But when the Taliban on horseback got closer, I ran. I was so scared!” She began to sob earnest, humiliated by her actions.

  Graham slowly unwound and walked over to her. She was a little thing compared with his six feet five inches. Without a word, he drew her gently into his arms, allowing her to press her face into his jacket and cry with wracking, body-shaking sobs. He took off his other glove, rubbing her back and patting her shaking shoulders. Now the rest of the pieces fell into place. This was what was really eating at Callie—that she’d run when Beau Gardner had hidden her so he could take care of the bad guys trailing them.

  He pulled a white linen handkerchief out of his back pocket and pressed it into Callie’s damp left hand. The pain in her cries ripped into an old wound he carried deep within himself. Never had he thought that one day, one of his beloved granddaughters would ever receive a wound similar to his. Rubbing her shoulder, he let her cry it out, because he knew from long ago that crying had gotten him through his own private hell as a Marine.

  Finally, she stopped crying and blotted her eyes dry with his handkerchief.

  “Sometimes, baby girl, we need a special person in our life who can help us through something like this,” he told her gruffly. “And it sounds like this Gardner fella might be exactly what the doctor ordered for you, Callie.”

  She gave him a miserable look. “But I’ve disappointed him so badly, Grandpa. I’m sure he won’t have anything to do with me. I got him shot because I ran and I didn’t stay hidden.”

  Shrugging, Graham asked, “Did you tell him that?”

  Sniffing, she mumbled, “No, but in so many words I did … I told him I knew I was a huge disappointment to him.”

  “What’d he say?”

  “I-I don’t know. I turned and walked away from him. I-I couldn’t stand to hear what he might say to me. I know I’m a coward … I ran … I didn’t trust what he told me, and I put his life in jeopardy because of it …”

  Graham nodded, pursing his lips in thought. “First of all, you’re a McKinley, and there aren’t any cowards in our family that I know of, Callie.” He touched her nose. “You were a civilian, completely untrained in military tactics, and you were scared for your life. Now, if you’d had training like Beau Gardner did and then you ran—yes, you would be disobeying a direct order.” He placed his finger beneath her chin, looking deep into her suffering eyes. “But you weren’t trained, Callie. You did the best you could at the time. You thought you were gonna die, didn’t you?”

  She gave a jerky nod. “I-I thought we were both going to die …”

  “Can you tell me about the whole event, then? It might help me to help you.”

  Callie sank against him, closed her eyes, and finally let the story pour out of her. Her grandfather had never judged her, not ever. And she knew he was the only member of their family who had been in the military, so intuitively she knew he would understand.

  When she was finished telling the story, she pulled out of his arms, blowing her nose. It hurt to look up to see the expression in his face, but when she did, Callie was amazed. His eyes were bright with unshed tears and there was such sympathy in his expression it nearly made her collapse with relief.

  “Are you open to a suggestion, Callie?”

  “Of course …”

  “Why don’t you email that young, heroic man of yours and plead with him to come here and spend Christmas with you? Tell him you need him. I’ll bet he’ll find some way to make it happen. He’s on the sick list, and if he’s got back leave coming, his CO should grant it to him, no problem.” Looking deep into Callie’s hopeful gaze, he added gruffly, “I believe that he will find a way to come home to
you. Am I right?”

  “B-because you know how the military works, Grandpa?”

  He smiled a little and brushed her damp cheek. “No. Because I know how the human heart works. Go email him, baby girl. Something will break loose to get him here. Right now, you need him more than the military does, so go get him.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Christmas music was playing throughout the Butte airport terminal as Beau made his way through security. He wore civilian clothes, not wanting to advertise he was military. His brown leather bomber jacket, jeans, black T-shirt, and motorcycle boots made him look like anyone else. After getting his CO to sign off at HQ giving him his thirty days’ leave, he limped past the security guards and into the open terminal.

  His heart was pounding with anxiety over Callie’s email. She needed him. Could he come for a visit? Could he spend Christmas with her? Was there any way his CO could release him and allow him to come stateside? It was a cryptic email, but Beau took her plea seriously. Luckily, snow was falling heavily in the mountains and high valleys of Afghanistan, and the Taliban intrusion was coming to a halt. No one was going out on missions right now, so his captain was able to give him leave.

  “Mr. Gardner?”

  A man’s gruff voice made him turn to the right. Although Beau was six feet tall, this man with silver and black hair was probably six feet five inches, with sparkling blue eyes and a thick handlebar mustache. He held his hand out and said, “I’m Graham McKinley, Callie’s grandfather. I told her I’d pick you up. Thanks for coming, son.”

  Gripping the man’s weathered hand, Beau said, “Good to meet you, sir. And please call me Beau.”

  The Montana rancher was wearing a gray Stetson, jeans, scuffed cowboy boots, and a championship bronc rider silver belt buckle. His cranberry long-sleeve shirt was hidden by the worn Sherpa jacket draped over it.

  “I can do that, Beau. I’m the only one meeting you here. Callie’s in too much emotional turmoil to come to a crowded, noisy place like this. I’m sure you understand.” Graham gave Beau a sharp, measuring look.

  “Yes, sir, I do understand.”

  “Good. You got luggage?”

  “Just a duffel bag, sir.”

  Nodding, Graham said, “Let’s mosey along this way, and we’ll get it in baggage claim. After we stick it in the truck, we’ll go find the best hamburger joint in the town, eat, and have a little chat.”

  Beau felt exhaustion tearing through him, and his need to see Callie overrode everything. But he appreciated that she had sent her grandfather, whom he knew she adored. Over at the baggage claim area, Beau stood near the carousel to wait for his luggage to be spit out by the machine. He noticed McKinley constantly looking around, keeping an eye on things. His bearing told Beau he’d been in the military at one time. “What branch were you in, sir?” he asked, curious.

  McKinley’s mouth turned up into a grin. “Marine Corps. Sniper.” And then he looked at Beau, holding his gray gaze. “You and I share a common denominator. We’re both black ops.”

  “Yes, sir, I was sure you were.” Beau’s regard for the rancher had already escalated. For being in his sixties, he was a large-boned man, leanly muscled and—regardless of his age—more able-bodied than most. Beau suspected it was from running a ranch. “How is Callie?”

  “Needing you, son. But I don’t think that’s any surprise to you, is it?”

  “No. And, sir, I believe you and I share common concerns about Callie,” Beau said.

  “That we do.” Graham saw an olive bag drop onto the carousel. “Is that yours?”

  Beau checked and said, “Yes, sir.”

  Graham nodded. “Good. Let’s get it and get going, son. We have a lot to discuss.”

  On their way to the café outside of the city, Beau saw that Montana was covered in snow. McKinley didn’t say much, but Beau could feel a lot going on inside the man. Most of all, he felt the love he had for Callie, and that made him relax. This man was a friend and a former black ops, to boot. Every operator shared a common base of understanding. There was respect, integrity, morals, and values unspoken between them. Beau was sure it was no accident that McKinley told him he’d been a Marine Corps sniper. They were almost always black ops. And he would bet his next paycheck that McKinley had seen his fair share of action.

  At the truck stop, they found a booth in the back where it was quieter. Beau was starving and ordered two hamburgers and a double order of French fries. McKinley had a bowl of chili that looked like it could eat chrome off the bumper of his Ford pickup. He could tell that the rancher wanted to talk to him about Callie. After all, he was her grandfather, he loved her, and he wanted only the best for her.

  Beau understood about family matters. In Seattle, he’d been able to call his parents, and they were happy and excited to hear from him at last. His other two brothers, Coy and Jackson, were home for the holiday, and Beau knew that their presence softened the blow that he wouldn’t be coming home. His parents were great—they completely understood why he was in Montana instead of coming home to West Virginia for the holidays. He loved them for grasping the situation with Callie, and they fully supported his seeing her instead of them.

  Wiping his mouth with a paper napkin, Graham McKinley eyed the young soldier opposite him. Now he could see why Callie was madly in love with the man. Beau Gardner, despite his West Virginia drawl, rugged good looks, and easy smile, was not a man to tinker with. Graham was very familiar with Delta Force operators and had worked with his fair share of them over the years he’d been a sniper. There was a confidence in Beau that Callie needed, he realized.

  “Do you love my granddaughter?” he asked sharply, his eyes riveted on Beau’s face.

  Beau sat up, unable to keep the shock out of his expression over the unexpected, blunt question. Looking into McKinley’s narrowed blue eyes, he said, “Yes, sir, I do love her. Very much.”

  “It’s not a passing fancy on your part, son? I know black ops men draw women by the truckload.”

  Beau pushed the empty plate aside. “No, sir, Callie has never been a passing fancy to me.”

  “Tell me how you met,” her grandfather said.

  Beau realized McKinley was checking him out, testing him, seeing if he was really worthy of Callie. But Graham McKinley represented something even more daunting. As her grandfather, he could decide here and now whether or not he’d see Callie. He was going to protect his granddaughter at all costs, and Beau silently celebrated the man’s attitude. Callie didn’t need a man who only wanted sex from her. There had to be a lot more than that involved before Graham was going to allow him back into Callie’s broken life. Unworried, he folded his hands.

  Without preamble, Beau told him just about everything except their shared intimacy. The man sat there like a sphinx, eyes unblinking. He listened closely to everything Beau had to tell him. By the time he was finished, Beau could feel sweat trickling down his ribcage.

  “Now, tell me what happened in Afghanistan to put her into this agitated state. She’s told the family very little about that experience.”

  Beau hesitated. The whole fiasco was top secret, but looking into McKinley’s flinty blue eyes, he decided, The hell with confidentiality. This man carried as many, or more, secrets as he did. Keeping his voice low, he told him.

  Graham sat back when Beau had finished, waiting until the waitress poured them fresh coffee in their cups and left. He stared at Gardner, sizing him up, seeing an equal hardness in the younger man’s narrowed gray eyes. “You left one thing out of your story, son.”

  Beau scowled. “I left nothing out.” He saw the man’s expression grow thoughtful, his mouth pursed. Beau wasn’t about to divulge their loving one another. That was none of anyone’s business.

  “Yes, you did, and you know you did. I want to know why you didn’t divulge that Callie had run from the position she was hiding in and threw your entire op into disarray. It left you with few choices except to deal with the consequences.” He raised a gray bro
w. “It also got you shot twice.”

  Leaning back, Beau met the man’s implacable stare. This was no ordinary Marine Corps sniper. No, his intuition told him that in his day, Graham McKinley had worked with all the black ops groups, not just the Marines. That put him in a highly specialized, top-tier position within the community. And damned if he didn’t recall that someone named McKinley had been instrumental in an op during the Persian Gulf War in February of 1991.

  A group of SEALs and Delta Force operators had been pinned down in a Kuwaiti oil refinery and were being picked off by several Iraqi Republican Guard snipers far above them. The Marine sniper, known only as the Ghost, had sneaked into the firefight like the shadow he was. He took the Iraqi snipers down one by one, thereby allowing the other black ops teams to operate within the refinery and complete their important mission—to eradicate the Iraqis trying to hold on to it. The Ghost had also held the highest position within the refinery and spotted thirty of Hussein’s Republican Guard speeding toward them to take out the black ops teams.

  When it was all over, the Ghost had killed many of the enemy troops. He’d singlehandedly saved a mission that could have gone bad. The black ops teams captured fifty other Iraqi soldiers, leaving the refinery intact, and the Ghost left with those teams and became a legend within the black ops community.

  Beau knew snipers were called “force multipliers” for good reason, and now he was looking at the man who had saved so many American lives on that fateful night. This man was a bona fide hero in Beau’s eyes. And if his memory served him correctly, the Ghost was later awarded the Navy Cross, the second-highest medal a military person could receive, next to the Medal of Honor itself, for his accomplishments.

  Moving the cup around between his fingers, Beau returned the Ghost’s steady gaze. Obviously, Callie had told him what happened, which didn’t surprise Beau. There was a strong tie between her and her grandfather, and she had certainly told the right person, because if anyone would understand her actions, it would be Graham McKinley.