Connor (In the Company of Snipers Book 5)

by Irish Winters

  Connor stopped at the cave entrance on purpose. He wanted Izza to have to squeeze around him to get out. When she did, he stopped her, his arm around her shoulder again. This squeeze was intentional, and he wanted her to know it.

  Looking down into her eyes, there was no anger there. If anything, she looked shy, maybe a little embarrassed, unlikely characteristics for Izza. Maybe it was just the fact that she’d had something to eat? He doubted it. She’d changed. Heck. So had he.

  “You saved my life. Thank you,” he said earnestly. “I’m glad you changed your mind that day.”

  “Yeah, well.” She patted his chest like it was no big deal. “Let’s go eat. I’m starved.”

  After their usual breakfast, Connor rigged up a torch with strands of dried rabbit hide wound around the thickest sagebrush branches he could find. A splash of Izza’s deadly brown liquid provided the fuel. Her nifty fire-starter provided the spark, and together he and she went spelunking. All the junk she’d found had played a huge role in their survival. He wanted to know what else they could get their hands on.

  “Look at this,” he said.

  The pool she’d told him about drained into a second pool, another flat rock just below the first but further back in the cave. The shallow basins with their concave surfaces proved the water had been dripping in the cave for ages. The bottom of both basins sparkled with a hint of turquoise and gold flecks.

  “Too bad it’s not the size of a bathtub.” Izza was good company for a change. “I would so love a bubble bath, wouldn’t you?”

  He nudged her hip with his. “I’m not really a bubble bath kinda guy. Course, I could be persuaded.”

  She nudged him back playfully. “Bet me. Anyone who screams like a girl is a bubble bath kinda guy.”

  With that beautiful smile on her face, his heart stalled. The glow from the torch highlighted her dark eyes. They sparkled. And something sparked to life within him as well. He wanted to pull her close in the worst way; the best way wouldn’t be so bad either. But he shook his head, remembering whom he was dealing with. Izza, the mean and powerful.

  They went deeper into the cave. The rocky path descended into a tunnel. Almost like a stone staircase, it was too narrow to stand, but still maneuverable if they crouched low and held the ceiling for support. In twenty more feet or so, the tunnel expanded into a sizeable intersection of tunnels.

  By this time, they were deeper underground. The air was cooler, which also explained the draft they’d both been feeling. There was no flat floor, just enough room to stand. An old pick lay across a rubble of rocks to the left, a reminder of another time in the state’s history. Part of the tunnel branched off to the right, the other straight ahead into another rocky descent.

  “Shall we?” Connor asked before he continued the tour.

  Izza giggled like a little girl. “Geez. Let me check my calendar.”

  “Straight then? Or would you prefer to tour the hallway on the right, ma’am?” He arched his brows in his best evil imitation.

  When she pointed straight ahead, they kept going. Their next stop was another small cavern where someone had definitely done some excavating in the past. Gouges and tool marks declared a treasure seeker’s prior intentions on the low ceiling and walls. A rusted metal hammer and chisel lay off to the side on a small wooden chest while a dusty kerosene lantern hung from a hook wedged in the stone ceiling.

  “Hold this a minute, would you?” Connor handed Izza the torch. He set the hammer and chisel off to the side, then opened the chest. Inside the dust-covered box lay a leather pouch and another brown bottle of Izza’s miracle cure for gunshot wounds. He grinned as he handed it to her. “Here, Dr. Ramos. More poison to torture your patients with.”

  “You did scream like a girl.” She examined the dusty brown flask with a smile. Izza was proud of her tough reputation.

  Connor chuckled. “Wait until you get hurt, young lady. I get to play doctor then.”

  Suddenly coy, she had no smart-alec comeback.

  “What do you think? Had enough exploring for one day?” he asked.

  “Yeah. It’s kind of spooky down here.” Izza peered up the long tunnel behind them. “It’s giving me the creeps. I keep hearing something move.”

  “Rats-s-s,” he hissed, “or spid-erz-z-z-z.”

  She laid a clenched fist into his bicep. “Knock it off. I’m not afraid of those things, but something’s been bothering me. The cartel left two full canteens of water the day they dumped us. I thought they were just being cruel because they took everything else, but,” she shrugged, “it just makes me wonder.”

  “Sounds like they intended one of us to survive,” Connor said thoughtfully. “That would have been you since they’d already shot me. I wondered why they didn’t just kill us on the spot.”

  “Me, too.” Izza rubbed the back of her neck. “I mean, why stick us out in the middle of nowhere? Do you think they already knew there was water in this cave? Do you think this was all part of their plan?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered. “That depends on what their plan is. Or was. Have you figured out where we are yet?”

  “Not sure. Might be Mexico. It’s hot enough. Heck, it might be hell. It’s hot there too.”

  He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. “Yeah, but we’re still breathing. I don’t think we’d be doing that we’d died and gone to hell. You’re right, though. This place is creepy. Let’s get out of here.”

  He put the flask back in the chest. Between the two of them, they carried the hammer, chisel, lantern, and chest back to the surface. Tools always came in handy.

  Before long they were topside at their smoking campfire. The lantern was empty of kerosene, an unfortunate fact of time wasted. Izza sat on her stone chair and opened the leather pouch. “Check this out.” Several nuggets of gold rested in her hand, along with a tarnished gold locket. “What do you think they’re worth?”

  “Probably not as much as we’d like. So what’s in the locket?”

  Izza opened it. She squinted, holding the locket closer to see it better. With a gasp, she stiffened, dropped the locket to the sand and stalked away.

  Puzzled, he retrieved it from the ground. Inside was a black and white portrait of a woman with a baby in her arms. Both the woman and baby had serious faces; both dressed in the fashion of the 1800s. There was nothing he could say. The inside of the locket was inscribed with: Love Forever, Jamie.

  Connor called to her as she disappeared into the cave. “Izza. Come back. The chances of that happening are—”

  “Shut up,” she shot over her shoulder as she vanished inside.

  Damn. Just when things were going good the most bizarre coincidence in the whole universe dropped out of the sky. If Connor didn’t know better, he’d say this was a sure sign from the great beyond.

  He studied the portrait. The woman sat with the baby in her arms facing the camera. Life back in the 1800s must have been damn tough judging by the lack of smiles on either face. Her dark hair was swept back with waves and crimped curls, a typical style back then. The baby was dressed in a long white gown and matching cap with dark curls around its face. There was no way to determine gender. Boy or girl, it was as somber as its mother. The woman wore the locket he now held in his hand. It rested over the buttoned-up high collar of the dress she’d worn.

  He set the locket on Izza’s granite chair. The sun was high in the sky. Time for a nap. Connor peered toward the empty rabbit snares before he ducked inside the cave. Still cool from the night, it was a welcome relief. Right on cue, Izza jumped to her feet and left the moment he entered.

  Here we go again.

  “Of all the stupid damn… Sonofabitch! Damn him!”

  All that swearing outside the cave entrance meant she’d found the locket. He cringed. Let her deal with it. And she did. Mad as hell, Izza stormed back into the cave. “You think that’s funny, Maher?”

  So now I’m Maher again. Not Connor. Not Boston. The world according to Izza i
s a very confusing place for a dumb guy from Boston.

  He shrugged. “Didn’t mean to make you mad, Izza, not like that’s hard to do.”

  She glared from the doorway, her hands on her hips, ready to pick a fight.

  “You know what?” he asked. “I’m taking a nap. Do what you want with the locket. Keep it. Throw it. I don’t care.”

  “I threw it!” she screeched. “I threw it and you’ll never find it!”

  With his hands clasped behind his head, Connor closed his eyes, hoping that would end the conversation. It didn’t.

  “I never should have saved your life. I should have let you—”

  She never got the words out. Connor was up off the ground and in her face in a quick minute. “You should have what?”

  This time her words were too mean. He wasn’t going to take it anymore. He never should have in the first place. All he’d done was allow her to bully him and it had to end. As soon as he grabbed her arm, the discussion went south in a hurry.

  “You want to lose that hand, buster?” The look in her eye was deadly.

  He couldn’t help but smirk at her tough girl comment. That was a mistake.

  “What? You think I can’t take you?” Temper flashed in her lovely brown eyes and he was even more enamored. It was hard being mad at this woman. Damn, he wanted her. He’d throw her to the ground right now if he thought she’d let him. So much passion in those fiery eyes. Nose to nose, pissed off as usual, and all he could see was the real Izza beneath the bluff.

  “None of this is about that locket and you know it.” Connor kept his voice low and steady. He didn’t want to fight, but neither did he release her arm. “It’s about your brother and what you think happened out there.”

  “I know what happened. I read the citation!” She jerked away, but he held her fast. She couldn’t break free; she couldn’t run away. Not this time. He’d never get through this very important argument if he had to keep chasing her ornery butt all over the desert.

  “Come on, Izza. You and I both know what a stinking citation is worth in a war.”

  “Liar! You got the Navy Cross out of it! You got a commendation!” Her chin jutted out strong, forever leading her hard head into battles she didn’t have to fight.

  “Do you honestly think any medal is worth what went down over there?”

  “They called you a hero,” she spat.

  “And we both know better, don’t we? The heroes are the ones who didn’t come home. Not us. Sure as hell not me.”

  Her silence declared her agreement, but there was more he needed to say. She glared at him, pulling away from his grip, but he held tight. It was time she knew his side of the story. Connor was not one to yell and bully. He leveled his voice. Calm and steady. Always go smoothly into a fight.

  “War sucks,” he said. “We go. We try to do something decent. Sometimes we make a difference. Sometimes we don’t. Your brother was a damned good soldier when he wanted to be. It’s not like Jamie had to be there. He wanted to be there, Izza. He volunteered because he wanted to help. You know that as well as I do.”

  She bit her lip; her jaw clenched so tightly that the chords in her neck stood out. Every piece of her soul was pulling away from him. He held on tight. He didn’t want to lose her. Not again.

  “You can believe it or not. Yes, I saved those guys in the MRAP, but what’s not in the report is a woman named Amirah. She was caught in the crossfire with the rest of us, only she was standing there with a little girl hanging onto her skirt and a screaming baby in her arms. Jamie and I met her family when we were out on patrol. They were good people, only that day she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was scared. Her babies were going to die. You tell me. What was I supposed to do?”

  The smell of battle drifted up from the depths of memories he’d never be able to forget. The noise. Men’s fierce bellowing. And wailing. Always women and children wailing. Connor pointed to his right as the ghost Amirah’s frightened face appeared right in front of him. “I should’ve put her in the report. I should’ve saved Jamie. I should’ve....”

  Suddenly back in the land of his worst failures, he choked. The day came back in all too vivid Technicolor, complete with surround sound and the uniquely vivid smells of battle. Body odors. Gunfire. Sulphur. Cordite. Blood.

  And down Jamie went, first to his knees, then to his face. He never felt a thing, just fell, his body riddled with armor piercing rounds designed to rip a man to shreds.

  Connor pointed to his left, positive the images were real. The pain sure was. “It happened right there. Jamie was a few feet away from me. I saw him. Yeah, I should’ve knocked him down. Yeah, I should’ve protected him, but… I didn’t. It was either Jamie, a gun-toting, armor-plated Marine with an M16 assault rifle, or… or… her.”

  And in his mind he remembered screaming at Jamie to lay low, like the smart ass ever listened to what he was told. He should have. God, he should have. By the time Connor got to him, the light had left his eyes and Amirah had run to safety with her babies. And Connor bawled like a baby, hunched into the dirt with Jamie in his arms like a brother.

  Amirah and Jamie faded into the Utah sun. Once again, Connor was left with the oddest mix of regret and forgiveness in his gut, that empty, hollowed-out feeling he’d never be able to fill or forget. “God, Izza,” he said tiredly. “Don’t you think I’d save them all if I could go back and do it over again?” He didn’t feel his own tears until they dripped off his chin. Then he let her go.

  She jerked away, her hands braced on the outside wall of their piece of crap cave, her whole body heaving and her back to him as usual.

  “Do you think a day goes by that I don’t see Jamie’s face? And every night I see Amirah. I get to see the terror in her babies’ eyes, again and again.” He was making a fool of himself now, but he couldn’t stop. The memory stormed over him like a tank. Izza was right. He was an ass for making all the wrong decisions. And now he was a blubbering fool on top of it.

  With an angry hand Connor scrubbed the tears off his face. He’d thought he’d put all this behind him months ago, but standing here in a desert again it felt like Jamie had just died. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. He looked at Izza’s back. She hadn’t left, but she wasn’t facing him either. Still running away. Still mad as hell. Still blaming him as much as he blamed himself.

  Connor blew out a huge sigh. He’d done all he could. At least now she’d hate him for the right reason. Already high overhead and hot, the sun had turned their little stone oasis into a pizza oven, and he was melted crap. “I couldn’t sleep for weeks,” he whispered to himself, only half aware Izza was still there. “Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Jamie’s face. But it doesn’t haunt me like it used to.”

  Her shoulders heaved and her head was down. She was crying. He wanted to pull her back into his arms and give her a friendly squeeze like he’d done earlier. But he didn’t.

  “Don’t you want to know why, Izza?” He was calmer now as he wiped his face, knowing he’d just destroyed the only good thing in his life. She’d never forgive him, no matter what. All of this true confession crap was in vain. It hadn’t changed a thing. The bottom line was that Jamie had died. A strange woman in a far off land was alive. And it was all Connor’s fault.

  “Please. I need you to at least want to know why.”

  She didn’t answer. He told her anyway, his whispered voice as weary as that day in Iraq. “I don’t have nightmares anymore because Jamie would’ve done the same thing. I saw it in his eyes. He wanted me to save them instead of him. He knew what he was doing. It was like he gave me the nod, like he said, “Go ahead, Connor. Save them, not me. Just do it.”

  “No,” she bit out, her one syllable denial more razor than word.

  Connor sank to the solitude of Izza’s granite chair, tired to death of explaining, only to always end up the sinner. A man can only lose so much.

  “Yes, Izza. Jamie knew what he was doing. I’m
only going to say this one more time. God, I’m sorry.”

  And she came unraveled.

  “No, you’re not! You killed him, you sonofabitch. You could’ve saved him, but you didn’t. He was your best friend, but you had to be some damned hero, didn’t you? God, I hate you, Connor Maher!”

  With that she launched herself at him, ready to kick, punch, slap or whatever. He saw it coming. She would have let him have it, too, but Connor didn’t take it this time. Instead, he intercepted her wrists, twisted her backward into his chest, and wrapped his arms around her so she couldn’t hurt him anymore. Or herself.

  “Stop hitting me, damn it!” he bellowed, interlocking his fingers. His abdomen clenched from the hard impact, but he held on. “Jesus Christ, Izza! Stop hitting me!”

  The damn broke. “I hate you so much!” she sobbed, writhing against him.

  “No, Izza,” he whispered against her ear, fighting as much to hold her as she was fighting him to get away. “You don’t. Sweetheart, stop fighting me. I know better. You don’t really hate me at all.”

  Twenty

  “I miss him!” Izza hurled her grief to the sky. She stomped the ground, slamming her back into Connor’s chest again and again. He groaned and took the hits. “God! I want my baby brother back. You don’t need Jamie. I do. Do you hear me? Do you even care?”

  “He cares,” Connor whispered. “Believe me, he cares, Izza. He knows.”

  “N-no he doesn’t!” She choked. “He doesn’t even know I’m down here. I’m, I’m – nothing.” The pain and heartache of years strangled out of her.

  “Trust me. I miss him, too.” Connor pressed his face against her cheek. “You were right. Jamie was my best friend.”

  Izza thrashed. She bucked. She tried everything to make him move, but Connor only held on tighter. Not tight enough to hurt, just enough she couldn’t get away. This damned man wouldn’t let her go. He just kept hanging on for no good reason. To her.