More than most, it deserved to live.
Killing this regal king wasn’t cool. It was wrong.
The buck snorted softly. It had to have sensed something out of sync with the universe that morning. It had to have known a cold-blooded killer lay waiting to end him.
Adam’s dad never made a sound. He didn’t offer one word of advice or make a suggestion. Truthfully, Adam had forgotten his dad was lying there beside him in the dirt. For that split second, his universe consisted of three things only. Himself. The life-ending round in the chamber. And the most beautiful creature on earth.
It was then that reality intervened, reminding Adam life was hard for all living things. The only reason he and his family hunted in the first place was to put food on the table. They weren’t rich city folk who strolled into a store and bought meat in plastic wrap without ever once thinking about where it came from, or what it meant to take a life. They raised their own beef and they lived off the land.
He remembered that he’d whispered, “I’m sorry,” before the lightweight rifle in his hands fired true, and the stately king fell.
Adam crossed a line that day, the line between Bambi and manhood.
All the guys at school were ecstatic. Even the girls.
Adam wasn’t.
From that day on, killing was a hard necessity without a speck of joy in it.
So, yeah. He’d never forgotten his first deer.
He glanced at Shannon. Shirley would’ve never been caught dead sitting in the dirt with him, not even to save another. Yet Shannon, a wealthy man’s daughter, hadn’t batted an eye when he’d declared she was coming with him.
She looked like crap with all that ash and mud smeared across those sun-kissed cheeks. How could he not notice when her breasts heaved the second his fingers touched the flat wall of her chest when he’d painter her up, how she trembled and looked shyly away? He would’ve kissed her right then and there if they’d been alone. Then they would’ve really gotten down and dirty.
She must still feel like an outcast, though. Connor, Izza, Donavan and he were the war-hardened agents. On a good day, they wore tactical gear. Shannon wore Gucci. They knew what it meant to kill. She knew what it meant to shop. Yet there she was, broken arm and all.
Dirty. Willing. Waiting.
He thinks I’ll scream. I’ll show him. I can be brave. I think.
Shannon sat focused and still, the quietest she’d ever been in her life. Adam had moved more than a few feet to her right before he’d lowered into the brush. The jungle seemed dense, but he’d quietly cut several fronds for an extra layer of concealment over her. She could still see him, though.
He’d made the same screen for himself. And now they waited, breathing their only body movement, and she suppressed that as much as possible, taking slow, shallow breaths like she’d been told. She also paid close attention to what she did with her fingers, hands, elbows, knees and feet. If this was the only way to catch Ramsey then she’d do it, even if it took all night.
A foot long centipede with a million legs all in perfect working order marched up her thigh, over her knee, and kept going in between her legs and over her other thigh. Her first impulse was to scream, but she shivered instead, and focused on her last conversation with her friend, engineering genius Terrence Moore. It helped take her mind off that icky bug and her aching back. Sitting still this long was tedious.
“Just call me Terrence,” he’d cajoled when she’d called him that final night before the flight. “You know me well enough. Heck’s sakes, Shannon, I remember when you were still in pigtails and braces. You always were my favorite.”
“It’s so good to talk to you,” she’d replied. “How are you?”
Calling an older man by his first name seemed a major social blunder, especially when he was old enough to be her father, but that was the difference in talking to him instead of her dad. Terrence never failed to make her feel like there was no one else in the world he’d rather talk with.
“Never too busy for you,” he’d answered with genuine warmth in his voice. “But you didn’t call just to see what’s on my social calendar, did you? What’s going on?”
“I’m going to have a baby!” she’d all but squealed. Even now, sitting on a desert island in the dark, she didn’t know why she’d done that, other than she needed someone who actually cared about her to be happy about the baby.
Real joy travelled all the way from the phone in his hand to her hungry heart. “You are? Well, good on you, Shannon. Congratulations! That’s the best news I’ve heard in years.”
And she’d relaxed. His happy reaction was all she’d needed to feel good about being pregnant. Somehow, Terrence Moore got her. He actually listened.
“When’s the happy day, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“In three months. Maybe less.”
“Oh.” He’d grown quiet. “Then I guess that means...”
“Yes, it’s Brit’s child.”
“Does he know?”
Her emotions caught up with her. She couldn’t repeat Brit’s ugly words, so she said nothing.
“I take it Paxton doesn’t care one way or the other, does he?” Terrence already understood. He’d never cared for Brit like her father had. He’d never made excuses for him, either.
“No, but that’s okay. I’m keeping the baby, not him.”
“Well, of course you are. Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”
“Not yet. I just found out today that I’m expecting. It’s been crazy. My doctor said he can do a blood test later to find out, but I’m not sure if I want to know.”
“I’m happy for you, Shannon. I know you. You’ll be a fine mother.”
“Hmmm, I don’t know about that. I’ve never been around many children.”
“You wait. You’ll be just like your mother,” Terrence had grown almost reverent. “Olivia loved you so much. I wish you’d gotten the chance to know her.”
“I do, too.”
“What’d Paul say when you told him?”
“You know him, Terrence. He’s too busy with work. I haven’t told him yet.” She’d downplayed her father’s probable disgust at her good news, but that had allowed Shannon to segue to the subject of the drones, and what little she knew about them. She’d mentioned how she was going to Hawaii the next day and why. That had seemed to surprise Terrence, but it gave her a chance to elaborate on the drones’ capabilities.
“To tell you the truth, they sound scary,” she’d admitted.
“That was the idea. These little fellows were created for the defense of our nation. They’re not the welcome wagon, my dear. Not by a long shot.”
“But they can think for themselves, can’t they? Doesn’t that worry you? I mean, what if lightning hits one of them and fries its circuits? What if they go, umm, what’s it called?”
“Rogue?” He’d laughed, and she’d been so glad she had called. Hearing the warm acceptance in his voice reminded her of how much she’d missed and loved him all her life. He’d adored her as a child, and she’d worshipped him. But something happened between him and her father. She never knew what. Terrence still worked at Reagan Industries, but one day he was family and friend; the next day he wasn’t.
“Did you know I always wanted to marry you?” She’d interrupted their serious discussion.
“You did?” He’d loved hearing that. She could tell he was smiling.
“I know it sounds silly, but when I was in first grade, I had our wedding all planned. You were my hero.”
“You and your other always were my favorite Reagans,” he’d said quietly.
She’d caught the tone of longing in his voice, and instantly repented for being such a poor friend. She’d not spent any time with him lately, and she’d regretted it. “I need to visit you when I get back from Hawaii. Would you be able to get away for dinner one night? Just me and you?”
“My treat,” he’d said.
“It’s a deal!”
That had seemed to make his day, but he’d grown serious at that point, too. “If one of these drones were to go rogue, which is very unlikely, but let’s say it happened. Let’s pretend one of our enemies intercepted a drone with a bullet or something like that. Let’s also pretend they hit and damaged the microprocessor. It’s highly improbable, but I guess it could happen. There’s still a kill code, Shannon. I wouldn’t agree to prototype testing, much less real-world utilization without an easily accessible failsafe protocol.”
“Whew,” she’d sighed. That was yet another thing about this dear friend. He never failed to set her mind at ease when she needed it.
“Your father fought me tooth and nail over this. He’s been darn secretive. There’s a lot I still don’t know about the top-secret solar contraption he created, but you’re nearly ready to take over the business. It’s time you knew. If that doomsday scenario you’re concerned about ever happens, and if these weapons went crazy, more people than just your father and me should know how to stop them. You’re right. In the wrong hands, they could cause a lot of trouble. I’m getting old and...”
He’d let his words fade, and she’d held her breath, exactly the same as she was holding it now. Staring across the way at Adam, she thought how ironic the kill code to disable the drones should be so simple. It was no algorithm, no entangled calculus formula like she’d expected from her father. Terrence must’ve thought of it. The kill code actually reminded her of Adam’s boss, Alex Stewart.
God bless America.
That was all.
Adam let out a slow, quiet breath across the way, and Shannon worried about the effect on his ribs of sitting so long. He must be tired, yet that single slow exhalation was all she’d heard from him since he’d sat down. The endurance of this ex-military man was amazing. But what branch of the military had he been in? She hadn’t the slightest idea.
Shannon eased her aching spine to the left and then to the right as carefully and as slowly as possible. Now wasn’t the time to let Adam down. Knowing he’d done this kind of boring surveillance as part of his job before gave her an insight into him. He was extremely patient, controlled, and determined.
So am I.
Something was terribly wrong. Adam could feel it in his bones. It had been a miserable night spent hiding in the wrong place at the wrong time. Ramsey never showed, only bugs and a few nosy rats. The moon was still fading in the west when Adam called it quits. He and Shannon had barely stepped out from their jungle cover when Connor’s anguished, “No! God, no!” shattered the air.
Casting caution aside, they ran to camp. Connor and Izza looked up from Donavan’s prone body, both startled to see them and ready to fight.
“He’s been here,” Izza spat. “That ass was here. Right in our camp!”
Donavan still lay asleep on the ground only he wasn’t asleep. A trickle of blood ran into his closed eyes from the hole in the side of his head. He’d been shot.
Shannon mumbled something incoherent before she fell to the sand in a dead faint. Adam couldn’t get to her in time to catch her.
Connor stabbed a finger at the beach. “Look what Hell washed up last night.”
Holy shit. Another body lay at the edge of the beach. Could this nightmare get any worse?
Chapter Fifteen
“Tide must’ve washed her in. She was already there at sun-up. We went to the beach the minute we saw her,” Connor explained. “Man, we were only gone five, maybe ten minutes. Never heard a thing.”
It had been a helluva day and Adam was weary to his bones. He and his team, Shannon included, had gone from one problem to the other. First to puzzle over the female corpse on the shore, then back to poor Donavan.
“The son-of-a-bitch.” Izza glanced warily around the many trunks of the banyan tree where they’d regrouped. “Ramsey must’ve been here the whole time, just waiting for us to leave. Used a silencer. Damn him, anyway.”
“Do you recognize her, Shannon?” Connor asked, his snarky tone gone. Maybe he felt sorry for her since she’d hit her head when she’d fainted, or maybe he was finally back to normal.
“No,” she whispered, glancing toward the surf where the bloated corpse bobbed. The dead body’s extremities and face had been pockmarked in the way of human fish food that had been in the water for too many days. An awful, ugly sight.
“Remember that parachute you found?” Adam asked.
Connor gave him a puzzled look. “No. Sorry. My brain’s kind of fuzzy. What parachute?”
Adam nodded toward shore. “I’m not saying it’s her, but two people intercepted me in South Dakota, and that gal could be the same one who snagged the drone. Same general height. Black hair. Want to bet she worked with Ramsey?”
Connor shrugged, not sold on anything he couldn’t recall.
“We gotta get him,” Izza ground out, her eyes narrowed and canvassing the shoreline. “The son-of-a-bitch came right into camp, right under our noses, and...” She growled instead of finishing.
“Why go after him, though?” Shannon asked weakly. “Why sit in the jungle all night waiting for someone who obviously knows where we are? Why not set a trap for him right here? Why not bait him and make him come to us?”
Adam acknowledged her sound reasoning. “I didn’t want the bastard fouling our camp, that’s why, but now...” He glanced at Donavan. “It doesn’t matter, does it?”
Shannon had been a trooper during their stakeout. Despite her logical argument, she seemed to be falling apart this morning. The black smudges on her face didn’t hide the panic in her eyes. Furtive glances to Connor and Izza always ended back at Adam before she’d jerked her face and look the other way. A sheen of sweat clung to her forehead. She kept cringing, and damn it, the last thing he needed was a crying woman on his hands.
“Are you going to be okay?” He needed to know now if she wasn’t able to man up. This was no time to faint or throw up, damn it.
“Yes,” she whispered again, glancing toward the wreck and away just as quickly. “I’m okay.”
Adam forgot her and turned to where Donavan laid, his eyes still open and unblinking. He pushed off the ground to kneel alongside his friend, and for the second time, he closed a young man’s eyes in death. Only this guy he’d played basketball with, worked with, and told lies with.
This was the kid who’d showed up at Harley’s night after night just to check on Adam’s state of mind when Shirley pulled her crap. This was simple, happy-go-lucky Donavan. More kid than man. More friend than most. The poor guy hadn’t had a date in months. All the agents kidded it was because of that heart tattoo on his arm with ‘Mom’ neatly inscribed in the middle of it. Shy, backwards, goofy Donavan. Gone.
Like Izza, Adam wanted Ramsey dead. The man had weapons and most likely, a means of communication. Worse, he had four robot assassins he could unleash at any moment. The rules in this damned game had to change and Adam meant to change them.
“Connor.” His one hoarsely spoken command brought Connor immediately to his side, like the loyal friend he was. Connor understood what had to happen next. Men’s work, pure and simple.
“Stay with Shannon,” Connor said to Izza. “Don’t take any chances while were gone. Got it?”
Already with knife in hand, Izza sent it flying blade-first into the nearest banyan trunk. “You know it, honey. I see him, and he’s going down. If you need me, whistle like you mean it.”
“No, I’m going. I can help,” Shannon offered.
“No. Stay with Izza,” Adam growled, not up for a woman who obviously needed to rest.
“No, Adam,” she insisted. “Donavan was my friend, too. Let me help.”
Whatever. Adam had no strength to argue. He wasn’t proud of it, but he’d morphed into a hard-assed sergeant, task driven and ready to kill or be killed. He glared at Izza, but she shook her head. “No. I’ll stay here,” she murmured. “Just don’t take all day.”
Connor kissed her forehead, and the task at hand hit Adam hard. He steeled his ja
w, and blinked the tender feelings out of his eyes. Without another word, he and Connor carried their friend to the growing cemetery on the far end of their beach while Shannon followed.
The three of them dug another goddamned hole.
Sand fell from the improvised scoops. Within a foot, the powdery grains gave way to a layer of damper, colder sand. Then black, gritty dirt. Shannon helped at first, but then she groaned and leaned back. It was difficult for her to reach the bottom of the grave. Adam didn’t care if she helped or not at that point. This was his friend he was laying to rest. Not hers.
He couldn’t seem to stop digging. The corners needed to be squared off, neat and trim. Proper, damn it. A man shouldn’t have to rest for time and all eternity in a sloppy grave. Donavan should be honored. Respected.
He should still be alive!
Adam blinked harder as he completed the only act of service he could do for his friend. He smoothed the bottom of the square-cornered hole until it was flat and even. He tamped the loose soil with his palm. Connor stuck with him until the last speck of loose dirt was flattened into a fitting floor. It was a final gift of sorts, but so worthless for a man so brave. The futility of his efforts galled Adam. The grave was cold. Barren.
“Adam.”
He looked up to Shannon, the pain of the moment etched on her dirty face. Tears coursed over her drawn and still smudged cheeks. He blinked his own grief away and bit his lip hard, not willing to give in to the sucking hole in his heart that he saw reflected in her teary eyes. He’d seen men fall before. Donavan wasn’t the first. He wouldn’t be the last. But it would always hurt.
Connor knelt silently beside Donavan, sweating in the tropical sun with the same wretched agony on his face. It was time. With duty pushing his heart out of the way, Adam joined Connor in the final act of friendship.
Grasping Donavan by his armpits while Connor lifted his legs, Adam laid his friend very tenderly into the hole, and together they laid their friend down to his eternal sleep.
Adam Page 16
