“You killed my Dante.” Her scream rattled his eardrum and quieted the revelry of the others.
Balled knuckles from her other hand sailed at his face. Ryan caught her fist in his palm, kicked the red latch of the rear door up, and shoved her through the gap. She landed on her butt, the knife still in her stubbornly strong grip. He jumped to the pavers, willing Piper to show herself already. It had been too long. Far too long.
“I am sorry I took someone you love, but what you’re doing is not right.” He pointed toward the bus. “These women…these children deserve to be with the people they love and who love them back.
“Drop the knife.” He softened his voice. “We can reunite you with your family.” When she balked, he added, “or give you a new start.”
She rose from the ground to her full height, somewhere in the neighborhood of five-and-a-half feet. Her mouth thinned and she pointed the knife at him. “I’d rather give you an ending.” Jerking her head toward the bus, she added, “I’ll just give them to Los Zetas, and get my money.”
The woman slid a furtive glance to the corpses littering the ground two yards behind. Her gaze widened at an MP7 skimming the tips of the nearest man’s fingers. Ryan’s fingers itched for his own H&K. Yet, he ignored the urge.
“Don’t even try. You’ll be dead before you get to it,” he barked.
Her body coiled and Ryan had a fraction of a second to decide his course of action. Kill her? Don’t?
He burst forward, cleared the gap, and rocketed into the air. His arm locked around her throat. They landed hard, water splashing around them. He pinned her knife hand to the stone with his other. She bucked and Ryan splayed his legs wide on either side for leverage.
Despite her pinched windpipe, his six-foot two-and-a-half inches and two-hundred-eighteen-pound frame pinning her to the ground, she crawled forward. She ditched the knife and clawed at the bricks. Her fingers skimmed the submachine gun’s stock. Ryan increased his grip on her throat.
“Don’t do this,” he pled. But she only dug in harder, moving another inch in her efforts. Fuck, he hated killing women.
The last bit of wind wheezed from her lungs and still she fought. Her bloody fingertips curled around the butt, dragging it closer.
Piper picked that moment to step onto the porch.
Joy warred with dread inside him.
The woman’s finger closed, looping the trigger. She pulled off one shot before Ryan snapped her neck.
Screams erupted from the bus, but he paid them no attention. He was running before the echo of the blast reached his ear. Piper ran too. They cleared the lawn in seconds and collided in an embrace. Reaching beneath her arms, he lifted her like a child. Her hands looped around his neck and he crushed her to him. His face buried in the lee of her jaw. He inhaled her.
Too soon she pushed back, seeking his gaze. “Are you okay?”
He nodded. “You?” She mirrored his nod. Pure joy lightened his chest and made breathing a hell of a lot easier. Reluctantly, he set her on her feet. “I need you to take this,” he said, shrugging off his ruck. “Go to the kitchen and pack it with anything that’ll travel—and a lot of it.”
“Sure.” Piper’s lips brushed his cheek before she took the ruck and disappeared into the house.
Eyes scanning the yard, Ryan hopped onto the bus and distributed the cases of water stacked beneath the driver's seat. When he hoisted the dead man onto his shoulders and piled him with the others, satisfaction pillowed his conscience. The bastard had sat on water while the women he hauled to hell suffered thirst.
Piper joined them on the bus and he set her to task handing out the chips and cake snacks she scored from the house. Ryan started the engine and pulled several hundred yards away from the facility. “Okay, everyone cover your ears. One more big boom.” He detonated the facility. It wasn't as big a blast as he’d have liked, but it did the trick. No one would use the place to hold people captive ever again.
Satisfied, he sat, shoved the old clunker into gear, and shoved on to the next part of their long journey.
17
Piper’s hands shook like a tweeker in withdrawal. So, when a lady with kind eyes offered to pass out the goodies she obliged. She wrestled off the rain slicker, hoping breathing would come more easily. Her knees shook and she sank back, her bottom barely catching the edge of a seat. Head between her legs, Piper sucked air in rapid, shallow breaths.
She’d never killed anything bigger than a bug. Yeah, she’d been trained to, if the necessity ever arose. But her duty was to protect and serve. Yet, she’d ended three lives tonight with bullets to various vital body parts and blown seven more to pieces. She covered her face and cursed the tears welling in her eyes.
A tiny hand patted her back in easy rhythm. Another held her upper arm in comforting embrace. Little, hot fingers warmed her cool skin. Her tears stalled. She turned as the bus lurched forward. With quick arms, she steadied two young girls. Five maybe. Their dark pigtail braids tattered. Their faces streaked with evidence of their own crying. They had the same coffee-brown eyes, thin lips, and pixie noses. Twins. Other than their clothing, she couldn’t tell them apart.
“Don’t worry,” the nearest said in quick Spanish. “The angel saved us. He will protect you too.”
Piper scooted farther into the seat and followed the delicate finger pointing toward the front of the bus. “The angel?”
“Yes, him,” the other girl agreed. “He’ll take you to your family. Do you have a family?”
Piper nodded. If she spoke, she might burst into ugly sobs.
“My name is Alma,” the nearest announced, placing a hand on her pink top. She hitched a thumb toward her sister. “That’s Alisa. What’s your name?”
“Piper,” she croaked.
In the red top, Alisa shifted round her twin and brushed Piper’s plait.
“I like your braids.” Piper smiled.
They all lurched into the air as the bus hit a large dip. The girls crowded into Piper’s lap and she braced them with one arm while struggling to keep their seat with the other.
“Sorry,” Ryan hollered. In the reflection of the rectangular mirror, he held a satellite phone to his ear and continued barking what she could only assume were not nice words into the thing.
“It’s okay, angel,” Alma called back.
Ryan’s mouth quirked into a smile. Dry mud cracked around his lips. Apprehension tickled Piper’s nape. What was he talking about? Why was he upset? What did he know?
Alma turned toward Piper, pulling her attention away from Ryan. Her pigtails swung wide. Impossibly tiny lips pursed, then thinned. She glanced at her sister and buried her head against the little girl’s shoulder.
“What is it?” Piper asked.
“What will happen to us?” Alisa answered. In unison both girls shuddered.
“What do you mean? You’ll go back to your family.” Piper hugged them close. Maternal instincts honed by years of taking care of her sisters kicked in.
“Our family is gone.” Alma cried against Piper’s chest. The girl’s hot breath seeped through her shirt and straight into her heart. “Mamma left us when we were babies and the bad men…made Daddy sleep with Mary and Jesus.”
Alisa hid her eyes with her small hands and shook her head, as if trying to shake the memory loose.
Any guilt Piper harbored about taking the lives of the Sinaloa fled. Anger took over. And concern. What would happen to these little girls? She didn’t know the answer. If they truly had no family, she refused to let them get devoured by the system. But what could she do? Her cup overfloweth with problems to handle.
“You’ll be safe. Right now, that’s all I know. You will be protected.” Piper squeezed the girls close and settled in for a long, bumpy ride. The girls snuggled against her chest. She eased her head onto the seat back. Her sigh was cut off mid-exhale by the halt of the bus.
Ryan cut the engine and stood.
“Did everyone get something to eat?” His ga
ze zeroed in on her and his brow pinched.
Piper looked down at the tiny twins both shaking their heads. Oh Lord. Way to be motherly. She grabbed the pack the kind woman had returned and fished out snacks for the three of them. Speaking English, she asked, “What’s wrong? I thought evac was fifteen miles away.”
“It was. I negotiated to five, but we have to walk it,” he replied in kind.
“What?” she balked.
“Please everyone,” he spoke in their native tongue. “I need your attention.” When the murmurs quieted he continued. “There will be a helicopter waiting to take us to the embassy where we’ll make arrangements to reconnect you with your families.” Some of the ladies fidgeted. “You are not in trouble and will not be held on any past indiscretions. In order to reach the HELO we must walk awhile. Five miles. The path is not steep. But,” he paused. Deep ridges bracketed his mouth in a grimace. “It’s narrow. Three feet. And we are literally walking through a minefield.”
Murmurs grew to a low rumble. The vanilla cake with strawberry cream filling sponged away every bit of saliva in Piper’s mouth. Alisa and Alma chomped away on theirs, happy little girls.
“We’ll be fine,” Ryan reassured. “I’ve cleared the path and run it several times. All you have to do is stay in a single file and follow me.”
He took two casual steps and bent on one knee in front of their seat. Hand covering his heart, he hit the girls with a smile so sweet Piper’s molars ached. “I didn’t know they let supermodels on this bus.”
Alma squinched her nose and giggled.
“They let angels on the bus.” Alisa shrugged. “Of course they let super bottles. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have anything to drink.”
Rich peals of laughter rumbled from Ryan’s chest and did funny things to Piper’s insides. “Of course,” he agreed. He rustled around the backpack for a moment, then pulled out a pack of chips. “How would you ladies like to have a contest?”
Their little butts wiggled with joy, grinding tiny hipbones into her already sore legs. They bobbed their heads and flung their arms with abandon. Only her embrace of them kept the chaos controlled.
“Okay! Okay! We’re going to take a little walk, but we don’t want the sand to mess up your pretty shoes. So, I’m going to carry you.” He pointed to Alma and the little girl fist-pumped the air. “And Piper is going to carry you.” Alisa gave a seesaw of her shoulders and a wide smile.
“Now, we’re going to see which of you can count the most stars. It’s a cloudy night. You have to keep your eyes wide. Can you do that?”
“Yes!” they cheered.
Switching to English he added, “Piper, I need you in the back. If anyone steps out of line, holler. Three feet isn’t much, but it’s all we’ve got.”
“It’s not all we’ve got.” She didn’t elaborate. There wasn’t time. This wasn’t the place. But this man made her knees weak, her cunt tight, and her ovaries thrum. And no man got near her ovaries. Ever.
He smiled and lifted Alma into his arms. When he turned away she wondered if she’d ever get the chance to realize the possibilities with Ryan. She wondered if he’d ever forgive her deception.
18
Ryan lifted weights and trained year round. He routinely carried seventy-five pounds of weapons and survival gear on his back. He’d hauled fallen warriors over miles of uneven terrain in the worst conditions. But none of it compared to toting forty pounds of wiggling giggling child.
His biceps quivered. Tendonitis flared in his left elbow. The ache in his shoulders turned to pain a mile back. Yet, he’d never had such a deep conversation in his entire life. This girl was wicked smart and tenderhearted as they came.
When the lights of the Chinook came into view and grew bigger with each passing step, so too did his unwillingness to let her go. Orphaned by choice then by murder, she and her sister deserved a family.
He hugged Alma to him. “Ready to fly?”
“Yes,” she squealed. “I counted google and two hundred fifty-one stars. Did you know google was a number? Do I win a prize?”
“Absolutely.”
The chopper landed, tail loader open, stirring dust and rock with its massive duel blades. He covered Alma’s eyes, stepped aside, and motioned for the women to move ahead to the ramp. Miracle of miracles, each bedraggled lady strode past with all their limbs intact.
From the bay door Sloan and Baine took up defensive positions toward the middle of the line, all-seeing eyes on the horizon. Ryan looked at Alma tucked under his chin, and then back at the married couple and their matching M4s on point. He’d get the twins a family before this day was done.
At the back of the Chinook, Khani flashed him a salute, and he returned the sentiment. She’d given them ten fewer miles to walk and would catch hell about it from Commander Tucker. He owed her big time. She ushered the women onto the chopper, doling out instructions as they passed, which is what she did best.
The nice older lady passed among the line and blew him a kiss. Most just nodded thanks. But the one they should really thank brought up the rear. If it weren’t for Piper, he’d have left them to the fates. A little fact that burned a hole in the lining of his stomach.
Sweat beaded on Piper’s upper lip and matted whips of her copper hair to her forehead. When her gaze lit on Alma, her eyes smiled. She met his gaze and pointed to Alisa—her twin’s name, one of the many things he’d learned from Alma on the long trip—and her mouth followed suit, stretching wide. Alisa’s head lay nestled under Piper’s chin, much like Alma’s. Only her mouth hung open in the kind of dead-to-the-world sleep reserved for the young. Alisa’s arms hung limp by her side and Ryan wondered how the hell Piper carried the girl all that way. Then he remembered the curve of her hips, ample ass, and saw she’d put it to good use.
Closer and closer Piper came and the deeper and deeper her smile fell. “I don’t think I can give her up,” she admitted when reaching him.
“I’m not in near the hurry I thought I’d be,” he agreed. “But I have an idea and some people I want you to meet.”
They walked toward Sloan who turned to meet them with Baine only feet off her heels.
“Wow,” she mouthed then slid him a glance. “What? Do you guys only employ hot people?”
“I could get you a job.” He winked.
Sloan was a master at training her features. But he’d worked with her long enough to notice the questions flare in her amber eyes when she studied Piper. And the hitch in her breath when she really looked at the girls for the first time.
“Sloan. Baine. I’d like you to meet Piper, Alma, and Alisa.” Ryan pointed to them each in turn. It warmed him to see Ms. bold and independent, Piper Vega, ease closer to his side.
“Come in town to visit old friends and we get put to work.” Baine shrugged. “I like it.”
The girl slept through a jarring ride down a goat path through a minefield and the deafening whoosh of Chinook blades. Yet, at the rumble of Baine’s voice, Alisa rubbed her eyes with tiny fists and sat straight in Piper’s arms. One look at Baine and her brows shot to the sky. “You’re big.” Her gaze moved from his head, down his body, and up again. “Furry too,” she added with a giggle.
Alma joined in the laughter.
“You’re small and hairless,” Baine countered in smooth Spanish with a hint of his British accent. A glint of mischief sparkled in his gaze.
“Nuh-uh.” Alisa shook her head. She showed her hair as evidence, exaggerating the back-and-forth.
“She’s not small, because she looks like me. And I have muscles.” Alma scrunched her face and presented her biceps. She grunted with effort, her balled hands shaking.
“Wow. I apologize. You’re both hairy and have sturdy muscles with big potential,” Baine conceded.
Both girls chortled and begged to pet his face. While he obliged them everyone shook hands, keeping a close eye on the horizon.
“You must be the willing hostage who’s gotten our boy into a heap of trouble?” S
loan said, sizing Piper with a sweeping gaze, but keeping her eyes averted from the girls.
Ryan knew the girls brought back painful memories from Sloan’s past. Long ago, near the same age as the twins, she’d been made an orphan. Her African mother and American father were killed before her eyes by an arms dealer’s militia. Then The Devil had made her a child slave. A fate Alma and Alisa would have met, had it not been for Piper. His gaze flew to his bronze beauty. Her back straight, jaw set, she gave Sloan as good as she got. And not many people could do that.
“I am,” Piper said.
“Good. It’s about time the good soldier got into a little trouble.” Sloan took a step closer to him and patted his arm. Gaze locked on his, she asked in English, “Where are the girls’ parents?”
“Mother left when they were babies and the Sinaloa killed their father when he attacked the men taking them. According to Alma, they have no other family. All gone before they were born.”
Alma leaned toward Sloan and toyed with a wisp of her dark hair. “Your hair is black and pretty like mine. Why are you hiding it under that hat?”
Sloan’s honeyed gaze met with the young girl’s and she covered her mouth with her hand. Lashes batted frantically as she sucked in two fortifying breaths. She pulled the black beanie from her head and placed it on Alma. “It’s to keep me warm, but you can use it more than I can. And thank you. I think your hair is lovely.”
Ryan hated to see his friend hurt. This hit too close to home. And, obviously hurt. In all the time they worked together, he’d only seen Sloan cry once.
Baine followed suit, crowning Alisa with his cap. In thanks, the girl threw her arms around his neck and refused to let go. He dropped the rifle to his side and looped his forearm around her bottom. “I’ve got her,” he said to Piper. “I’m sure your arms are tired, carrying this big girl all that way.”
“Thank you.” Whether from the absence of Alisa or the cold, Piper wrapped her arms around her chest and shuddered.
Stranger Mine: a Base Branch novel Page 9
