Izza grunted. Feds. Can’t work with ’em. Can’t work without ’em.
“That might not be an option,” Roy warned. “We’ve got a canyon full of civilians today. Connor infiltrated the cartel’s camp earlier. Sounds like they’ve pushed the harvest up. Ramirez is due in tonight and the crop is supposed to be ready to go. You should be seeing the intel we’ve been gathering by now.”
“I am,” Alex said. “Connor’s recon was spot on. UHP pulled Ramirez over on I-15 an hour ago. He’s headed north with his wife and daughters. Told the Highway Patrol officer he was on a much-needed vacation. They had no reason to detain him. Assume he’s on his way to you.”
Izza couldn’t take her eyes off Connor. He knew she was watching him, and she meant him to. He ought to feel damned uncomfortable. Thank God that Cassidy woman had gone back down the mountain where she belonged. She should’ve never left her team like she did. What kind of a DEA agent was she anyway?
“Boss, we have all the makings of a confrontation brewing,” Roy advised. “The cartel is suspicious. We’ll be lucky if we make the next twelve hours without incident.”
“And your question?” Alex got right to the point.
“Do we have your approval to engage?”
“For hell’s sake, Roy, I’m not the President of the United States. What do I know? You’re the boots on the ground, not me. Bring Mark up to speed then follow your gut. If you need to engage, do it. You don’t need my executive approval to do your job.”
“Thanks, Boss. We’ll be in touch.” Roy prepared to sign-off.
“Connor?” Alex delayed the disconnect. “Damned risky move. I’m proud of you.”
“Yes, Boss,” Connor replied humbly, heat turning his face red.
“Don’t do it again,” Alex growled. “Next time take someone with you.”
“Thanks, Boss,” Connor said just as quickly.
Izza smirked. What a kiss ass.
The screen no more than went blank than Connor’s cell phone vibrated, and he stepped away to take the call. Izza couldn’t help herself. She snagged her gear bag and followed, but maintained a somewhat discreet distance. Her bag didn’t need to be restocked, but it might need tidying up. A little. She feigned housecleaning and listened.
“You made it down okay?”
Way to go, Maher. A call from your girlfriend while you’re on the clock. Of course she made it down okay. She wouldn’t be calling you if she’d dropped off a cliff now, would she?
“Have you seen anyone in an ATV snooping around your RV?”
Izza listened to the one-sided conversation. That was the second time he’d warned the bimbo about some guy on an ATV. He really must care about this woman. The jerk.
“Be careful.” Connor ran a hand through his hair as he stilled and listened. “Right. They must’ve set it up early this morning near the mouth of the canyon. Looks impressive for a bunch of pot farmers.”
The baby bumped against Izza’s ribs reminding her of the distasteful chore still ahead. If she were smart, she’d walk away and never look back. He didn’t deserve to know. Look at him. He’d moved on faster than greased lightning with a shot of KY jelly.
“I’m sorry you had to see that.” He sighed.
Whatever Cassidy was saying, it seemed to relax him. Damn her.
“You don’t have to tell me.” Connor chuckled.
Of all things, another tear dripped off Izza’s eyelid. Angrily, she dashed it away. Connor and Cassidy were obviously talking about her. Hormones. Who the hell needs them!
“No. I’ll be fine,” he said softly. His voice had turned to baritone honey. Cassidy cared about him. Damn her again.
“Are you guys ready to join us up here in the high country yet?” Connor sounded hopeful. “It’s a little rougher than your comfy RV, but it’s safer. Besides, it’d be nice to see you again.”
Izza cringed. That woman better not be telling him that she was on her way back up.
“That’s not roughing it. That’s an OJT vacation. Listen, you’re welcome to come alone if you’d like. We’ve got extra gear. I’ll keep you company.”
Dumb ass.
“You sound tired, but good.”
Izza wanted to barf. If this guy said one more sappy thing—
He stepped farther away from camp, his rangefinder lifted to his eyes. “You know if I optimize my rangefinder, I can see the stairs of your rig.” He stilled. “Look up. Wave.”
She must have waved. The damned idiot waved back.
“You look good.”
Oh, my aching ass. You just saw her half an hour ago. How long can you two teenagers keep this bullshit up?
“Next time, you’ll see me a lot closer.” He ran his hand over his head again. Izza had to give him that, he had nice hair. Gold, the way the noonday sun was hitting it. As big of a liar as he was, he still had that California surfer look going for him.
“Of course I’m coming down. Yes. Tonight. We need to strategize, and we’d like to include the DEA in our plans if we could.”
That perked up Izza’s ears. You’re going down? Tonight? Who made that dumb decision to work with the DEA?
“Okay. Talk to you soon.” Connor pocketed his phone, a cheerful whistle on his lips until he turned around.
All the reasonable things Izza wanted to say to him flew out the window. All the things she had to tell him seemed too precious to share. The pain in her heart roared back to life. She was caught. “Aww, isn’t that just the sweetest thing you ever saw?”
A bright red flush crept over his face. Wordlessly, Connor slanted his shoulder and tried to sidestep her, but she wouldn’t let him pass. Not this time. He needed to answer for his crime. She blocked his exit. “What? You gonna avoid me the whole time we’re here like you’re back in junior high or something?”
“Listen, Izza—” He stopped and faced her.
She stabbed a finger into his broad chest, her voice lowered and threatening. “No, you listen, Boston. I don’t need a damn thing from you. Do you hear me? Not from you and sure as hell not from your lady friend.”
“Did I say you did?” He stepped back from her jab. The coward.
“Well, I don’t.” He needed to understand that once and for all. She turned to walk away before she fell apart, or worse, before her daily attack of morning sickness struck. “Get over yourself. You’re dead to me. A nobody.”
“Izza, please....” He tried again.
She whirled on him, her anger barely suppressed and her voice more growl than question. All the pain of the last months roared to be let loose upon the earth. Here he was alive and breathing like nothing had ever happened that day and still so handsome it hurt to look at him. Still playing the field. How many women had he had since? One for every month? Every week? Would that be six, seven, or thirty? Hell, he probably couldn’t keep track the way women threw themselves at him. The way she’d thrown herself—
“What. Do. You. Want?” she hissed defiantly.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered meekly. The moisture welling in his eyes caught her by surprise. He’d whispered those words too many times before. She had yet to believe them. What did he know about pain? Nothing. He’d moved on and left her and Jamie in the blood and dust of Iraq.
“You don’t know the meaning,” she ground out. And there’s nothing you can do to change it. Izza turned her back on him, the baby in her belly kicking up a storm and nausea on the creep up her throat. “I hate you.”
“I know.” His hands clutched her trembling shoulders. “But I’m still sorry. I always will be.”
God, she wanted to lean into him, to feel those bands of steel hold her together again, to rest against the solid support of that all male body. Her nose drew in a full whiff of him, wanting to savor the windblown scent of the man once more, like it would make a difference. Like it could change the past.
A shudder raced through her. Would it hurt to tell him why she’d accepted this particular operation instead of the op in Singapore wit
h Senior Agent Tao? Was there any chance in the universe Connor might want to know the secret she’d carried all the way to Utah to share with him? The secret not even Mark knew? Not even anyone?
The cell phone buzzing in his pocket answered her questions with a slap-down reality check and an unequivocal, ‘Hell no.’ She had a baby on the way. He had a woman to screw. Never the twain would meet. The phone buzzed again like she needed to be reminded twice how stupid she was.
“Leave me alone.” She shrugged out from the warmth of his hands and stalked away. Tears were weakness. He’d never see them. He’d never know about the baby, either. Connor Maher didn’t deserve to know. Not then. Not now. Not ever.
Izza couldn’t get out of his sight fast enough. It hit her in one hard, fast wave of rejection. She crumpled behind the first available dusty bush. And threw up.
Seven
Connor couldn’t shake the feeling as he walked back into camp. All eyes were on him. He summoned his inner Marine, gritted his teeth, and forced his brain to focus on the op instead of the ornery woman he’d just tangled with. Roy and Mark were heads bent together in a serious discussion by the improvised fire pit. Rory and Morgan had made another trip below for more water and foodstuffs. So why the sensation he was being watched?
Because he was. Not being able to see Izza didn’t mean she wasn’t there. Those dark brown daggers were digging at him from wherever she had hidden herself. Visibility had nothing to do with safety. She was out there in the trees and laying for him. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had him in her crosshairs at this very moment. The fear of friendly fire came to mind, only this was anything but friendly. He glanced to his chest, half-expecting to see a tiny red laser dot. Izza was primed and totally capable. Thankfully, there was none.
Connor checked in with his two team-leads. “I’ve been thinking. Maybe we ought to intercept Ramirez before he shows tonight. Surprise him for a change.”
Roy’s eyes lit up. “The whole best defense is a good offense strategy?”
“Sure. Why not? Mother could track him and tell us exactly where he is. We could introduce ourselves to his whole family before he knows what hit him. Get close and personal and surprise the hell out of him when we do. Who knows? It might throw him off balance enough to make him reconsider.”
“If it weren’t for the civilians, I’d agree,” Roy said, “but we’ve got our hands full. Mark and I are going down to enlist DEA support right now. You staying or coming with?”
Connor went promptly to the orderly stack of sleeping bags and camping gear where he’d left his gear bag. No way was he staying, not with a female wolverine on the prowl and thirsty for Maher blood. He strapped on his tactical gear and loaded up. Roy did the same.
Mark went looking for Izza to tell her they were leaving. She must have been agreeable. He came back alive. They passed Rory and Morgan coming up the beaten trail as they were headed down.
“Izza’s on guard.” Mark nodded back toward the camp. “Announce yourselves when you get close. She’s armed and edgy today.”
“Ha,” Morgan snorted. “When isn’t she?”
“Found some air mattresses back at the RV,” Rory interrupted. “Two more pairs of NVGs, too. We ought to be set for a week. Maybe longer.”
Connor caught Rory’s fast diversion of what could have deteriorated into a bash-Izza moment. Connor had nothing to say on the subject. His thoughts were back at camp on that wolverine with dark brown eyes. Talk about a shock. Not in a million years had he expected Alex would hire Isabella Ramos. Worse, it was Connor’s fault that he had. If he’d kept his big mouth shut and not bragged about her outstanding marksmanship, none of this would’ve happened.
“Drop the supplies and gear up,” Mark told Morgan and Rory. “Bring Izza back down with you. Meet us at the Beacon Point picnic area in an hour. Be ready for trouble.”
“Will do,” Rory answered as he and Morgan continued past.
“You’re sure quiet,” Mark said to Connor when they hit flat land. “Got a lot on your mind?”
“Planning strategy,” he answered, only there was nothing to plan with a woman like Izza. He’d blown that option months ago. The ache in his gut would never go away. Neither would the one in his chest. He rubbed the center of his breastbone where the hollow feeling rested day in and day out.
“Let’s see if Burkhouse has his head out of his ass yet,” Roy muttered as they drew near the DEA team’s RV. “It’d sure be nice to have their assistance tonight.”
“If these guys won’t play, we need to get over to Beacon Point,” Mark added. “It’s getting late. We’re wasting daylight.”
“Agreed,” Roy answered as his fist hit the DEA’s front door.
Randy Burkhouse opened it and joined them on the ground. Harold and Brigham followed. Cassidy came out from behind the RV with a scrub brush and a grill screen in her gloved hands.
“Hi, guys,” she said, and Connor could’ve kissed her. Just seeing her made the day a little brighter.
“Good afternoon.” Roy made quick introductions. “Senior Agent Randy Burkhouse, this is Mark Houston. Mark, Randy Burkhouse, Harold Denton, and Brigham Coltrane. You already know Cassidy.”
Handshakes were exchanged, but Roy got right back to business. “We’re on our way to Beacon Point. There are a lot of civilians over there, and that puts them directly in the path of the cartel. You coming with us?”
Burkhouse pursed his lips and shook his head. “Not unless I get direct orders from someone besides you.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Connor asked. “You’d let innocent civilians get hurt while you sit around and wait for permission?”
“No reason to think the cartel will hurt anyone,” Burkhouse shot back. “You guys come to me with some cockamamie story about an alleged DEA operation that went bust last year, only it isn’t true. I contacted my headquarters. They didn’t know what I was talking about, but they were very clear about one thing, which you guys seemed to have forgotten. Our mission is to observe only. Seems to me that’s all you’re supposed to be doing, too.”
“Not when lives are at stake,” Connor retorted. “We don’t ask for permission to do what’s right.”
“Lives are not at stake.” Burkhouse glowered. The man had gray hairs in his bushy eyebrows, something Connor had not noticed until now. Was he trying to intimidate three ex-Marines by glaring the way he was? It wasn’t working.
“How can you think lives are not at stake? You saw Taufa and Paxton’s heads on a couple spikes.” Connor’s fist clenched. What the hell was Burkhouse using for brains?
“Like I said. We’re not moving without proper authority to do so. You guys need to back off.”
“Listen, we’re just sharing everything we know.” Roy stood toe-to-toe with the obstinate man. “It would be helpful if you’d do the same.”
“I’ve got a better idea, Senior Agent Hudson.” Burkhouse poured plenty of sarcasm into Roy’s job title. “Why don’t you take care of your business, and we’ll take care of ours?”
“Because I get the feeling something else is going on here. You wouldn’t want to enlighten me, would you?” Roy leaned forward, his patience clearly gone.
“What exactly are you implying?”
“I’m not implying. I’m telling. You guys don’t do proper surveillance, you don’t want us in your business, and you don’t seem too worried that three of your own men were executed last year. What the hell is going on? Are you running this operation or not?”
Burkhouse didn’t flinch, sputter, or argue. His emotionless response was as much an answer as the other. Harold and Brigham hadn’t yet spoken up, Cassidy either.
Roy shot an exasperated glance to Connor and Mark. “Move out,” he ordered as he pivoted and walked away from the RV. “We’re on our own. No problem. We’ve been short-handed before.”
“Wait up.” Brigham ran to the already open RV storage compartment and jerked his backpack full of gear out. “I’m going with you—ah
h, that is if it’s okay with you, Agent Hudson.”
Cassidy joined Brigham, her pack as easy to reach. “Me too. I came out here to do a job, not sit on my butt while this cartel runs rough shod over the top of us.”
Connor shot a look to Roy. Mutiny was not what he’d expected, but he was not the one to grant permission. Roy shrugged. That was a good enough answer for Connor. Alex could figure out the administrative side of hiring on the spur of the moment when the dust settled.
Burkhouse glared at his treasonous junior agents. “You take one step out of this camp, and you’re both fired. You’ll never work for federal service again. You hear me, Dancer?”
Cassidy stared right back at him, defiant and ready to fight. “Listen up, Randy. Don’t think for one second you can push me around. I’ve got no problem going straight to Sylvane about the way this operation’s been run.”
Burkhouse grunted. “Go for it. You think Sylvane cares? Pink slips will be in the mail before you smart-alecs know what hit you.”
“Big deal. It’s not the first time. It won’t be the last.” Cassidy pulled her backpack over her shoulders. “I was looking for a job when I found this one. At least we’ll be doing something besides sitting around on our fat asses while private contractors do our job for us.”
Connor’s face should’ve cracked wide open, his smile was so big. “You just called your boss a fat ass,” he said as he and Cassidy walked away.
She shot a hostile glance over her shoulder at her ex-boss. “Well, he is.”
Damned Utah.
Izza wiped the sweat out of her eyes. The sun seemed to get hotter even while it dipped lower in the sky. Wasn’t that against the laws of nature? Wasn’t it supposed to get cooler later in the day? She stumbled on a willow root running across the trail. Rory snagged her elbow before she biffed it face first into the muddy riverbank.
“Thanks,” she said. At least the shade trees along the river offered respite from the glaring sun, but she was tired and shaky. The handful of granola she’d stuffed into her mouth back at camp hadn’t set well with her queasy stomach, but it was time to man up. The mission was a go, and she was a machine, ready to march into hell and fulfill whatever task was assigned whether her morning sickness allowed it or not.
Connor (In the Company of Snipers Book 5) Page 8
