Cold Day In Hell

by Monette Michaels

  Sitting at the diner counter, Callie watched the group of men argue over various vantage points and nursed the glass of red wine she had to argue with Risto to get. In the end, she was forced to resort to the baby book she carried in her tote and pointed to the passage which stated an occasional glass of wine was allowed. Muttering, her stubborn marine acquiesced. Big Earl winked when he poured her the glass of Shiraz and whispered, “Keep him on his toes, Callie.” She hid her grin by taking a sip.

  The team to trap and take out Cruz and his men had swelled to include Loren and Paul Walsh who’d driven into Osprey’s Point over an hour ago, and several locals who were also ex-military and year-round residents. The four men, who hadn’t been introduced to her by name, looked tough. They were like Risto and the other men—the kind of men who could be dropped into a wilderness with just a knife and come out alive. The Yoopers, as the locals were called, had come to the meeting fully armed and ready to go to war against the be-damned guerilla invaders.

  Cruz’s force was in the U.P., but was still well away from Osprey’s Point, stuck at a Comfort Suites on the outskirts of Watersmeet. The U.P. was difficult enough for those in the know to navigate in the winter weather, let alone for strangers. The intel had come from a friend of Big Earl’s in Watersmeet who’d been given the heads up to watch for the invading force. Strangers in this part of Michigan stuck out like men in a lingerie store.

  Big Earl leaned his large, muscled body against the diner’s counter. “So, Risto’s ignoring you, huh?”

  “Yep, and he isn’t too happy with you, either. You became a traitor to the cause when you poured the wine.” She grinned as Risto shot another in a series of glaring looks at the diner owner. “Better watch it, Big Earl. He might shoot you for corrupting the pregnant lady with demon alcohol.”

  Big Earl grunted. “I can put that boy on his ass and he knows it.”

  She looked at his broad shoulders and muscled forearms covered by a skin-tight ski turtleneck. “Maybe. But he fights dirty. All marines fight dirty.”

  The big ex-Ranger grinned. “Pansy-assed wusses, the bunch of them. I’ll put my old Ranger buddies up against a unit of marines any day.”

  “I heard that,” Risto shouted across the room. “Leave my woman alone or I’ll show you who’s a pansy ass.”

  “Chill, Marine, Earl’s keeping me company.” Callie set her glass on the counter and pulled on her coat. “In fact, I’ll just let Big Earl show me the best vantage points for sniping.”

  “Just let me get my parka, Callie, and I’ll give you the grand tour.” Big Earl placed a hand under her elbow, leading her to where the jackets were hung. “You’ll want some elevation to get the best view of Main Street and the marina area. I have a couple of places in mind.”

  “The grand tour only takes five minutes tops.” Risto put on his parka and moved to her side, shoving Big Earl out of the way. The man laughed and cuffed Risto on the back of the head. Risto slapped Big Earl’s arm out of the way. “We’ll all go and get the lay of the land. It’s dark and starting to snow again. We’ll need to leave soon to get back to the island before the next bout of weather comes through. I want Callie to get some more rest so she’ll be ready for our pre-dawn arrival back here.”

  “We won’t be leaving until I find my post.” She turned to smile at the Walsh twins. “Which one of you hunky SEALs is going to be my spotter?”

  “They aren’t that hunky,” Risto grumbled and anchored her to his side with an arm around her waist.

  The Walsh brothers laughed at the signs of Risto’s jealousy. Loren, the twin with green eyes—Paul’s were blue, eye color being the only difference between the identical twins—answered, “I am. I lost the toss.”

  Callie punched Loren’s arm. “Ass! I’ll tell your sister you flipped a coin to see who’d be stuck with me.”

  “Go ahead,” Loren said, laughing. “I can take the imp.”

  Paul snorted. “Ren has taught Keely new moves since the last time you wrestled her. I’d bet on the imp.”

  Loren shook his head and cuffed his brother. “The day I can’t take our little sister in hand-to-hand is the day I admit you’re smarter than me—and that ain’t ever gonna happen.”

  Callie laughed. The twins were always attempting to one-up each other. From her previous experiences, the two were evenly matched in most respects. “Well, Loren, you need to come along with us. As my spotter, you’ll need an even more expanded field of vision.”

  “What’re you shooting?” Loren asked.

  “I’ll be using a Lapua with all the extras. Risto has a sweet arsenal. He even had a hand-held targeting computer, though I like to check the computer targeting calculations against my own through the scope. What are you carrying?”

  “My Barrett M107,” said Loren. “It’s accurate to two thousand meters. How far out you planning on being, Callie?”

  “She’ll be at the maximum for the Lapua—fifteen hundred meters,” Risto stated, a don’t-mess-with-me tone in his voice.

  “She can hit a moving target that far away?” one of the locals asked, his skepticism clearly etched on his face.

  The other three Yoopers displayed the same incredulity. They’d see tomorrow. The killing would take an additional emotional toll on her, but Risto would be there to help her process through it. She wasn’t alone anymore. She had a man who cared and would stand between her and anything.

  “Yeah, I can,” she reassured the men before Loren or Paul spoke for her. They knew her training; they’d shared it growing up on marine bases. “I may not make the kill shot every time, but the .338 cartridge can take down a hippo. So, any mid-torso shot should do the trick.”

  Loren nodded. “That’s for damn sure.” He turned to the Yoopers. “I’ll be backing her up, not that she needs me. My .50 caliber rounds will obliterate anything she can’t. Any further issues?” Each man shook his head.

  Callie liked the idea of Loren covering for any misses she might make. “Loren and I won’t allow anyone to sneak up on you guys.”

  Risto shot the cynics a glare. “I can assure you Callie can shoot and hit what she aims for. She took out three tangos in Columbia in a close range battle and held it together. At long range, I’ve seen her stats. She’s expert-rated.” The Yoopers perked up and looked at her with new-found respect and awe.

  Risto leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Dammit, Callie, if you weren’t pregnant, I’d beat that butt of yours until it’s bright pink for insisting on being involved.”

  She brushed her lips over his ear. “Don’t let me being pregnant stop you if it’ll make you feel better. I’ve heard some spanking can be very erotic.” His sharp inhale made her lips quirk. She rubbed a hand over his chest. “I need to do this. I’d go crazy being locked up all nice and safe on the island while you and all these men took care of my problem.”

  “This cluster fuck is not your fault.” His voice carried to the other men who observed them with expressions running from mild interest to outright concern.

  “He’s correct, Callie,” Conn said. “Cruz is at fault. He needs to be stopped before he becomes another country’s problem terrorist.”

  Callie knew he was thinking of Mexico, where Cruz had moved after running from Colombia. God knew, Mexico had enough terrorist and drug cartel problems of its own and was another country just a drug lord away from anarchy.

  “And, Risto, your woman might look like she just walked off the cover of some ladies’ fashion magazine, but she’s got bottom.” Conn looked Loren over. “Plus, I don’t think Loren will let her get hurt, will ya?”

  “Nope. Keely would kill me. My little brother Tweeter would kill me—and Risto would tear my limbs off, then kill me. I’ve got to stay alive and intact so the ladies of Michigan won’t be disappointed.”

  “Michigan?” Callie looked at Risto. “Loren and Paul will be living in Michigan?”

  Risto nodded. “Yeah, Ren confirmed it after you fell asleep last night. They and one other gu
y yet to be named will make my island their base. I’ll shuttle back and forth from Idaho to run SSI-East as we’re calling it. After our baby is born and you’ve recovered from the birth, we’ll pretty much operate from here with odd trips to the place I’ll build us in Sanctuary.”

  Callie was still upset that he felt the need to put her in Idaho during the pregnancy, but wouldn’t fight him on it. His worry was valid while she was carrying and right after the birth, and it would give him peace of mind knowing she had Keely and the others around her during this special time.

  “That’s so neat.” Callie moved from Risto’s side to hug the twins. “It’ll be just like old times back in Camp Lejeune.”

  “Well almost, except Tweeter won’t be here to moon all over you.” Paul tweaked her chin. “We older boys always hoped you and Tweeter would get together so you could be our sister for real.” He shot a grin at Risto who’d visibly stiffened at Paul’s words. She winced. It was too much to hope that Risto hadn’t been listening. “Guess it didn’t work out that time he and Keely visited you in Chicago. Your dad died the next week, right?”

  “Callie?” Risto grabbed her arms and turned her into his body. “Wasn’t…”

  Shit, she’d hoped Risto would never find out that Tweeter was the one who’d taken her virginity. Damn Paul and his big mouth. “We’ll talk about it later, okay?”

  “Count on it.” He took her chin in his hand and held her for a rough, deep, territorial marking kind of kiss. All he needed to do was beat his chest and snarl “mine” at the other men to make her day. If he did, she might just knee him in the balls.

  “Well, that was cave man,” Big Earl said as if he were commenting on the weather. “But time is flying. We need to find Callie her shooting blind, and Loren his spotter position, and map out the other positions we discussed.”

  Risto nodded. He placed his arm around her waist and pulled her into his body. “Let’s go, baby.”

  It was a short tour. Osprey’s Point was small and had few year-round residents. She was pretty sure Big Earl and the other four Yoopers represented over fifty percent of those. Many of the businesses were seasonal and aimed at people who had summer residences on the lake. Those homes were dark and shut for the winter. Big Earl, being Mayor and the constable, had keys to many of the shuttered homes for security reasons.

  “What do you think, Callie?” Loren stood at her other side, viewing the marina from the vantage point of the front porch of a two-story Victorian home. “You on the roof-level widow’s walk, sheltered behind the slatted wood railing, would have the best view of the main street, the marina and most of the streets leading to it.”

  She eyed the panoramic view which was more than decent from the porch. “Yes, from up there I’d definitely be able to see most of the town’s business district.”

  In urban battles, not that Osprey’s Point was in any way, shape or form similar to a major urban area, line of sight was often impeded by buildings. Here, she’d have almost a Google Earth picture of the streets. She could warn her guys where the enemy was and target the bastards if they endangered Risto and the others. Running gun battles moved fast, and snipers could only kill what they could get in their sights. She would rely on Loren to back her up. She didn’t want a mistake on her part to harm their men.

  “It’s good. Excellent line of sight. I’m well within the Lapua’s maximum range,” she said.

  “It looks less than eleven hundred to any point in town.” Loren squinted at the dark street.

  “Where would you be?” Callie looked toward the east where Cruz’s men would approach from Watersmeet. Another advantage for their side was there was only one main street in and out of town, the Victorian was situated at the far west end on the way out of town.

  “That concrete and glass house, the second structure in from the eastern entrance to town.” Loren pointed down the street to a modern version of a cottage on the same side of the street as her Victorian.

  “Looks good. It also backs up on the hillside, so no one will be coming at you from behind,” she said. “Well, not without a lot of trouble anyway.”

  “Yeah, and I’ll have pretty much the same elevation as you’ll have so I can police the side streets also.” Loren shoulder-bumped her. “And an expanded view of the complete marina area.”

  “What about being sky-lighted? You think you can hunker down enough?” The modern monstrosity had no widow’s walk with a railing to hide behind. The roof looked fairly exposed from this vantage point.

  “Calista Jean, I’m ashamed of you. I’m a fucking Navy SEAL. We blend into the shadows, baby girl.” He tugged a curl escaping her wooly hat.

  “Watch your hands, Walsh.” Risto approached them from the shadows of the wrap-around porch. He’d gone to the backyard to gauge the accessibility from the cliff behind the house. He pulled her into his arms.

  “Down, tiger. Loren is like another brother. All the Walsh boys are.” She rubbed her cold cheek against Risto’s chest and shivered. “Sorry, Loren, I forgot all you Special Forces types were super-human.”

  Loren chuckled.

  Risto kissed her forehead. “You cold, baby?”

  “Uh-huh. I’ve seen enough.” She looked at Big Earl who stood at the bottom of the porch steps. “Big Earl, you got the keys for this house and that modern one down the street, right?”

  “Yep. But even if I didn’t, all us super-human ex-Special Forces operatives have never met a building we couldn’t breach.”

  A chorus of “damn rights” came from all the men, including the four locals. She’d guessed correctly as to the Yoopers’ background. The odds had been in her favor since this part of the country was famous for reclusive, rough-edged types. Her dad had once said many Special Forces men couldn’t handle what stood for civilization once they left military service. Quite a few gravitated toward the more isolated areas of the country such as the U.P., and the less populated western states such as Idaho, Montana and Wyoming. But you couldn’t ask for better men to have at your back in a fight.

  She smiled. “Thank you all for helping us. I’d give you all a hug and a kiss, but my marine might turn rabid. He’s very territorial.” The men laughed.

  One of the locals called out, “If you were mine, I’d be the same damn way, ma’am.”

  “No kissing and hugging the men, sweetheart,” Risto kissed her forehead, “until after the battle.”

  “Until after the battle.” She captured each man’s eyes in turn. “Count on it.”

  Another local nodded and smiled. “Well, damn, ma’am, that’s better than bonus pay.” He rubbed his large hands covered in what she recognized as military-issue cold-weather gloves and said, “Bring that Colombian a-hole on. I’ve got me a supermodel to hug.”

  The men’s raucous laughter echoed off the shuttered buildings in the clear, cold night air. Even Risto chuckled, but she didn’t fool herself into thinking he wouldn’t demand some answers about Tweeter and his presence in Chicago the week before her father died.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Wednesday night, Risto’s Island.

  The trip to the island was made in silence. She didn’t know what Conn, Berto, Paul and Loren were thinking, but assumed they were mentally preparing themselves for the battle to come or just thinking about getting horizontal and sleeping.

  The silence from Risto was more ominous. Paul’s loose lips about her and Tweeter had roused Risto’s possessiveness. She anticipated some hot and heavy lovemaking once they got home. He’d want to reclaim what he considered his—and she had no problem with that. She didn’t want him entering into battle tomorrow with any lingering doubts—she loved him and only him.

  His dark gaze glistening from the glow on the boat’s dash captured hers. “Cold?”

  “No.” She moved to stand closer and slid her hand under his parka, grasping his waist band to steady her on the bouncing deck. “Just thinking.”

  “About tomorrow?” He tensed against her. “You can always re
main on the island. No one would hold it against you.” She heard the “I’d rather you stayed on the island” subtext in his statement. “Loren can be the sniper and Paul can spot him.”

  “You need all the men you can muster on the streets. Cruz will bring a small army.” She rubbed her cold face against his arm. “It’s bad enough you have to spare a man to spot me.”

  “If it’s not tomorrow that has you twitching, then you’re worried about what’s gonna happen when I get you alone.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Maybe a little.” She slipped her gloved fingers farther down the back of his jeans and stroked the top of his buttocks. He had on ski underwear and no briefs or boxers. His skin warmed her even through the gloves.

  “Good.” He nipped her jaw where it met her ear. “I’m pissed I had to hear from a Walsh that one of them had taken your virginity—so you get to soothe the beast in me.”

  She trembled at the promise in his tone. Tonight would be about fucking and taking the edge off her man. Hoo-rah.

  “I won’t hurt you, baby.” He kissed the spot where he’d bit her. “I just … need…”

  “I know. I need you that way, too.” She snuggled against his side, her fingers massaging the top of his tight ass, teasing him. His glutes tensed under her ministrations and a low growl rumbled through his chest. She hid her smile against his parka sleeve. This primitive claiming would go both ways. She loved Risto’s brand of male dominance, but she wasn’t a wuss. She knew with just one lick on his penis or the stroke of her fingers over his superior ass, she could control him—and wasn’t that a heady amount of power for a woman to possess?

  Risto docked the boat. “Go up to the house, Callie. I’ll get the guys situated. I’ll be in as soon as I can.”

  “Shouldn’t I check over the weapon I’ll be using tomorrow?”

  Risto didn’t answer immediately, but took several deep breaths. She should have kept her mouth shut, mentioning weapons and herself in the same breath was the same as waving a red flag in front of a bull.