Rory (In the Company of Snipers Book 6)

by Irish Winters

  Cold Eyes’ upper left lip lifted in a sneer. “I hear her. Even she knows she must die. Put her down.”

  Nima’s pudgy hand peeled back the blanket, once again exposing her beautiful face for all to see. Hurriedly, Ember covered her. These guys didn’t deserve even one peek at this perfect child.

  “No.” Ember shook her head fearfully. “I can’t let you kill her. I won’t.”

  The circle closed. Panic stole her breath, like she had any to begin with. Instinctively, she scanned behind the assassins for reinforcements. She should’ve known better. The TEAM was made of black operators. Ghosts. Of course she couldn’t see them. Not yet.

  Cold Eyes stepped toward her, his knife held high in his hand. “Then I will—”

  “No!” Rory raised his arm to ward off the blade. “She’s just a little girl. We can work this out. Let us keep the girl. You’ll never see her again. I promise.”

  The leader of the assassins sneered. “As long as she breathes, her evil will spread. The child must die. The bloodletting must be done tonight. I will not ask again.”

  “Why tonight?” Rory asked, stalling for what Ember did not know.

  “For peace,” Cold Eyes replied. “She is not human. She will only bring war.”

  Ember sobbed, “I can’t. I’d rather die first. I can’t—”

  “Then it begins!” he roared, signaling his group of murderers to close in. They raised their weapons.

  “No!” Rory shouted. “For God’s sake! Just wait a minute!” He sheltered his girls in one last hug, hiding their faces and his from view.

  Ember cringed, smothering the fake Nima against her. “I can’t let her go. Don’t make me.”

  She sobbed so violently that Nima’s pudgy hand slipped out of the blanket and fell to the sidewalk. Her chubby-cheeked face dropped next. Soulful blue eyes blinked at the sky, her mouth still speaking in eerie mechanical repetition, “Mama. Me down. Me down. Me down.”

  Cold Eyes stared at the dismembered body parts twitching on the ground. He only got one good look. Rory spun behind Ember, back-to-back, his weapon ready. At the same time, she pulled hers from the folds of the blanket. In perfect tandem, they sprayed the stunned assassins, left to right and back again with deadly fire. Cold Eyes fell first.

  A blinding spotlight from high overhead turned the kill zone bright as day. FBI SWAT fast-roped from their amazingly quiet stealth helicopters hovering above. By the time the first FBI boots hit the ground, the job was done. Seventeen assassins had fallen without firing a single effective round. Cold Eyes’ knife lay in his dead hand where it could spill no innocent blood tonight or any other night.

  Ember still stood with Rory at her six, their smoking barrels pointed skyward.

  “You good?” he asked, panting frosty vapor into the cold night air.

  “Yes. You?”

  He turned her to face him, one arm protectively around her shoulders again. A tender smile tweaked the corners of his mouth. “Am now.”

  She blew out a huge sigh, glancing at the scene around them. “Wow.”

  He cupped her chin, pulling her gaze back to zero—to him. “Don’t look. It’s not a pretty sight. You’ve done enough for one operation, Mrs. Dillon. Clean up is not what we do.”

  “Again with the Mrs. Dillon stuff,” she said, thankful he’d stopped her from seeing more than her stomach could handle. Despite the very capable weapon in her hand, he still sought to protect her, and he was right. Called for or not, violence always made her sick. But his thoughtfulness touched her as much as the strong hands holding her together. Her energy had fled with the last round fired, her knees right along with it.

  She leaned forward to nuzzle that sweet spot under his jaw before the moment passed. All she needed was the warmth of his skin, but he was focused on something to his left.

  “Are you two okay? No one hurt?” Alex asked, his gaze as probing as ever. He clapped them both on the back before she could touch her lips to Rory’s neck, before she could inhale the smell and strength of him. Instead, she looked into sharp blue eyes, sure Alex had seen her illicit intentions for her companion agent.

  “We’re good, Boss,” Rory answered quickly.

  “Yeah. Good.” Ember handed Alex her weapon, hoping the movement disguised her tremors along with her feelings. “I could use a good cup of coffee is all.”

  He took her weapon in his gloved hand, the barrel up, and nodded toward the fifth house on the right. “Mother’s waiting. She’s got plenty of coffee.”

  “Who else is here?” Rory asked as they turned to leave.

  Alex shot him a quizzical look. “Hell, everyone. FBI. Alexandria PD. ICE, too. CIA is interested as hell but they’re not on site. I get to brief them later.”

  Now that the worst was over, Ember saw Junior Agents Harley Mortimer and Mark Houston, all dressed in tactical black and assisting the Bureau. Others from The TEAM were there as well—Senior Agents Murphy Finnegan and Roy Hudson, along with rookies Taylor Armstrong and Maverick Carson. The army of FBI SWAT agents didn’t look so bad, either. Who’d have thought? Alex working with the FBI? Maybe this was the night for miracles.

  She knelt to pick up the doll parts. Gathering them into the blanket, she stood to see Rory watching, a bemused smirk on his face. “Well, I did say I couldn’t let her go, didn’t I?”

  He took the bundle gently from her hands. “You can’t take these with you.”

  “Why not? I made them.”

  “Because they’re evidence.”

  Oh, yeah. I know that. I just—forgot.

  The tender look in his eyes stabbed her. The operation was finally over. She gulped. Giving up these small pieces of the Nima doll was nothing compared to what she had to give up next.

  Passing the remnants of the doll to Alex, Rory pulled her into his side and steered her toward the house. “Come on, Mrs. Dillon. Let’s get that cup of coffee.”

  Seventeen

  “We had you covered the whole time!” Mother blurted out the minute Rory and Ember cleared the doorway. No longer disguised as a dark, vacant house, the home was filled with lights, computer equipment, and an ecstatic lead techie. “You kids rock! Those Yushu Sangha creeps never saw you coming.”

  Rory went straight to the coffee machine and poured two cups, while Ember plopped tiredly on the leather couch. Adrenaline might bring an over the top rush when needed, but exhaustion always followed. Ember was beat.

  He handed her a cup with his back turned so Mother couldn’t see his wink. “Here you are, ma’am. Two cream. No sugar. Just the way you like it.”

  She accepted it with trembling fingers. He read the expression on her face. It seemed he’d known her for a lifetime. She needed a good cry as much as she needed the caffeine. The cup in her hand shook until she balanced it on her knee to keep the coffee from sloshing out. Easy day was done. The hardest part of their mission together lay ahead.

  “Hey. Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked tenderly.

  When she opened her mouth to speak, Mother answered for her in typical busybody fashion. “Of course she’s okay. What do you guys think anyway, that a gal as smart and gorgeous as Ember can’t handle a real operation? Ha! She’s better than all you guys put together.”

  His eyes were still fixed on Ember. He saw the nod Mother couldn’t, the quiet signal of a woman whose heart was breaking while Mother bragged and ranted, totally oblivious of what was really going on. “My goodness, look at how clever that puppet was. All the parts were so real-looking. Bet you couldn’t have done that, Rory.”

  “No, I couldn’t,” he agreed, taking a seat on the coffee table to face Ember. He’d have gladly sat beside her and pulled her into his arms, but Mother would pick up on any hint of intimacy and broadcast it to the world. That’s how she worked—telegraph, telephone, tele-Mother. He stayed where he could see into Ember’s green eyes. Where Mother couldn’t.

  “I’m fixing you another cup, Ember. I know how you like it. Don’t you worry. The operatio
n is done, and you, honey, are the star.” Mother couldn’t shut up to save her life.

  Alex sat next to Ember with his own coffee in hand. “The FBI will be processing this scene for a week.”

  Ember sipped, still focused entirely on Rory.

  “It’s late. We’ll debrief first thing tomorrow. How does 10 a.m. sound?” Alex always had way too much energy. A dyed-in-the-wool, over-the-top type-A personality, he thrived on stress and deadlines like no man Rory had ever known. But sometimes he missed the forest for the trees.

  “Sure thing, Boss.” Rory stood to leave, his hand extended to Ember. “Where is she?”

  Ember was off the couch and at his side in a heartbeat.

  “Where you left her. Why?” Alex glanced up from his coffee, his brow arched, that brusque what’s-it-to-you snap to his voice.

  “Because we’re going to go see her.”

  “That’s not a good idea. She’s probably asleep by now and besides—”

  “We’re going,” Rory said firmly. “I know it’s late, but we need to see her.”

  “You’ve got to let this go, son,” Alex countered. “It’s not a good idea.”

  “We will, but not tonight.” Rory saw the quiet command in Alex’s eye, but he had his girls to think of, and they came first whether Alex liked it or not. “We’ll see you at 10 a.m.”

  Alex pursed his lips as if considering the challenge, but said, “Fine. In the morning then.”

  Rory ushered Ember out the door with a nod to Alex. They didn’t say a word to Mother, just left Alex to explain. Rory only drove two blocks from the prying eyes of the crime scene before pulling the Cadillac to the curb. “I figured you could use some Tyler treatment right about now.”

  She leaned over the console and into his arms. “I do. I was doing okay until it was over, but then I started thinking. I have to tell her goodbye now, don’t I?”

  There was no need to answer. He drove the rest of the way with one hand on the wheel, the other around Ember. “I could get used to this, Agent Davis,” he whispered into the top of her head.

  “Me, too,” she murmured, her voice sadly quiet.

  He turned onto a calm Alexandria street where a little brick home sat safe and protected under one hundred-year-old oak trees. The house was ordinary, nondescript, what others would call a starter home. The porch light shone like every other on the street. Only the cheery Halloween decorations on the porch were different. He parked the truck at the curb and hurried to the passenger side to help Ember.

  “I never understood why Alex stays here,” he said as they walked arm in arm up the front steps. “Not with the kind of money he has to be making.”

  “He stays here because Kelsey loves it. She won’t move,” Ember whispered, rubbing her arms. “To her, this place is about Alex. The house, too.”

  “Are you cold?”

  Her teary eyes answered. She wasn’t cold. She was scared of what they had to do next.

  “Come in,” Kelsey said quietly. “Zack will be right back. He’s walking the perimeter.”

  “There’s no need,” Rory said. “It’s done. I’ll tell him when he gets back.” He called the dogs to his side. “Hey, Whisper. Hey, Smoke. How’s it going?”

  Immediately, both reverted to friendly house pets instead of the guard dogs they really were. Once they made the rounds between him and Ember, Kelsey gave them a quick command to guard. They resumed their post by the front and back doors, their ears forward, their heads cocked. Kelsey turned to Ember. “Can I get you some coffee or something?”

  Ember crumbled at Kelsey’s kindness. Rory pulled her into his side while Kelsey handed him a box of tissues. “It’s been a tough night. Coffee would be good.”

  While Kelsey went to the kitchen, Ember blew her nose and composed herself as much as she could. “I can do this,” she said. “I just don’t want to.”

  “I know.” He just wasn’t sure he could.

  Kelsey returned with a tray of coffee, sugar, creamer, and three cups. “I take it things went well?”

  “Yes,” Ember said shakily. “No problems for a change.”

  “I still can’t tell you how glad I was to see you at my door with all the trick-or-treaters.” Kelsey’s brown eyes sparkled.

  “We needed some place safe to stash Nima while we confronted the assassins,” Rory explained. “Sure glad you were home. We kind of took a chance, but we didn’t have much choice.”

  Ember chuckled sadly. “You did make a great caveman.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I bet I never hear the end of that one.”

  “And your costumes were perfect, too,” Kelsey said. “Too bad we can’t get Alex into one.”

  Rory chuckled. “I did see a fire breathing dragon get-up at one of your neighbors’ houses.”

  “Or the big bad wolf,” Ember said quietly, the cup of coffee still clenched in her hands.

  Kelsey grinned. “He does a lot of huffing and puffing, doesn’t he?”

  And just like that the atmosphere in Kelsey’s home changed. The coffee tasted bitter. The cozy flame in the Stewarts’ wonderful fireplace sputtered and cast a chill instead of warmth. It felt as if shadows took over.

  “Would you like to see her?” Kelsey offered. “She’s asleep, but I know she’ll be happy to see you. She’s been asking for you both all night.”

  “Yes,” Ember said. The time had come. Her heart was breaking right in front of his eyes, and Rory couldn’t do anything to stop it.

  Kelsey led them down the hall to a small guest bedroom. A nightlight illuminated the bed where Nima lay sound asleep, her hands over the top of her head in complete relaxation. Dressed in her snowflake pajamas, she was an angel, her dark brown hair fluffed on the pillow. She snored. If she were his child he’d have that snoring checked. He knew the signs. Tyler snored. He had asthma. Maybe she did, too.

  Ember slipped off her shoes and scooted her body around the sleeping child. Nima turned on her side, gently snoring. Ember stroked her pudgy cheek with the back of her fingers and kissed her again. Two soft blue eyes blinked open. Her back arched with a big stretch as she awakened. Nima pushed the covers off and scrambled into her arms.

  “Mama,” she whispered hoarsely, and then she started to cry. By then, Ember drenched Nima with tears anyway. Kelsey shoved a handful of tissues into Rory’s hands and left them alone.

  Ember choked. “Oh, my perfect baby girl. How can I let you go?”

  He shrugged off his suit jacket, kicked his dress shoes off and joined them on the bed, gathering them both into his arms. Nima traded places for a moment and moved onto his lap.

  “Hey, little one,” he said, kissing her cheek. “It’s been a choice blessing to have served you. I will never forget you.”

  Her blue eyes didn’t look wise right now. It was hard to remember she was destined for notoriety and responsibility, especially sitting in pajamas with sleep in her eyes and her hair mussed.

  “What’s the plan for tomorrow?” Ember asked, for the moment able to speak.

  “When David comes, he’ll transfer her into the custody of the Tibetan High Lamas. Either that, or they’ll come with him to take her. They’ll keep her safe and secluded for the rest of her life.”

  “Oh.” The one syllable word cracked in her throat.

  “They’ll raise her and train her in the way she should go,” Rory continued softly. “When she’s old enough, they’ll test her to confirm she truly is the next Dalai Lama.”

  “What kind of tests? Will it hurt?”

  “No. If I understood David correctly, they will show her several artifacts, one of which belonged to the previous Dalai Lama. If the indications are right, it will confirm their choice.”

  “Indications? Like what?”

  “According to David, the High Lamas go to some lake in central Tibet where they’ll seek guidance if she’s the true reincarnation. I guess they see visions or something. David said they spend most of their time meditating. Anyway, there’s supposed to
be some female guardian spirit of the lake who protects the lineage of the reincarnation of the Dalai Lama. She’ll send some kind of indications to prove which candidate is right. Crazy, huh?”

  Ember smoothed Nima’s hair as she snuggled her. “I did a computer search. Most of the things she’s said are similar to things Buddha or the current Dalai Lama have already taught.”

  “That’s weird.”

  “Even her name means something. Nima Dawa means the sun—the one who gives light or removes darkness.” Ember buried her face in Nima’s hair and cried, “And that’s what she’s done, Rory. She’s made the darkness inside me disappear.”

  Words failed. It didn’t seem possible that a child of revelation, the one who gave light and removed darkness, would be snuggled contentedly in Ember’s arms like she was. Nima peered up with the same look as Tyler’s, filling him with warmth. It was love. Just—love.

  Rory leaned back against the pillow. The future he’d always longed for seemed within reach. He didn’t want the moment to end.

  “Who will love our little girl?” Ember asked.

  The pain in her words matched the ache in his heart. His only answer was the pitiful one David had given. “The monks. The people of Tibet. Maybe the world.” He didn’t have to look into Ember’s sad face to know the answer sucked.

  A whimper shuddered out of her. “But who’ll give her chocolate when she’s been a good girl? Who will dress her up in cute little girl outfits with princesses and bunnies and....” A ragged hiccup escaped Ember’s lips. “And who’ll snuggle her at night when I’m not there?”

  The sadness in her words ripped his tender heart apart. All he could think of was Tyler, alone in some cold, stone monastery on the side of a mountain in the clouds with a bunch of old men who didn’t know the first thing about the World Series or Super Bowls. How could strangers take the place of a father or a mother, much less teach a boy to catch a baseball? Who would laugh at his silly knock-knock jokes or hug him when he got overexcited at the end of a long day? Did monks even know how to laugh?

  “Stop it,” he whispered. “You’re only hurting yourself. We’ll never understand. It’s just the way it is.”