Diego had attained his green card and become a naturalized American citizen when Ali and her sister were young. He, too, loved animals, loved the land, and was now the manager at a huge pecan farm near Marana, Arizona. She missed him and her mother terribly—and of course her baby sister, Cara, who wasn’t really a baby anymore. Her team’s deployments were six months long and then they’d rotate back to the San Diego SEAL base where they’d stay another six months. Then, they’d rotate right back here to J-bad.
After the x-rays were taken, Dr. Samson gestured for her to pick up the puppy, while he studied it carefully. Ali nestled its tiny, thin body into her hands, while Sloan ran to the fridge and grabbed the bottle of milk and got a small saucer. Together, they set the milk and saucer down in a corner and Ali knelt, gently placing the pup close to the dish. Smelling the milk, she dived head first into the bowl, drinking hungrily.
Ali and Sloan clucked and made sympathetic sounds. Sloan grabbed some squares of gauze while Ali held up the pup, wiping its face free of the milk splattered all over it. The pup’s tiny pink tongue was furiously licking as much of the milk as she could get off her fur.
Dr. Sampson came over. “Why not try an empty syringe, Ali? Fill it with some milk and give it to the pup by mouth. I think she’s a little too young, she’s got a broken foot, and she’s probably used to her mama, not a saucer.”
“That’s a good idea!” Sloan said, leaping to her feet. “One syringe coming up!”
Dr. Sampson gave the pup some lidocaine to numb the injured area so he could clean it up, while Ali held the pup between her hands. She loved its light-brown eyes sparkling with awareness. “We need to name her, Dr. Sampson.”
“Go ahead,” he urged, cleaning the dried blood off the paw. “Something brave and stubborn. She’s been without food or water for days, from the looks of her.”
Sloan came back with a syringe filled with warmed milk. Ali guided the plastic opening into the pup’s mouth and she instantly began to suckle on it as if it were her mother’s teat. Ali gave Sloan a happy grin.
Sloan laughed. “Great idea, Doctor!”
Dr. Sampson watched for a moment. “She’s a survivor. Look how strong she’s suckling. Have you thought of a name yet, Ali?”
“No. I really think I want to go back and talk to Torres about it. He saved her life. And my gut tells me he really wanted to keep her.”
“He looked pretty upset about something,” Dr. Sampson agreed.
“I know. I think I owe him an apology. I came on to him like a Mack truck.”
“You? No, not our Ali. All our patients say nothing but kind things about you.”
“Thanks, Doc. But as soon as we get done with the pup, I’ll take her back to our place and get her settled in. Then, I’ll see if I can hunt down Torres.”
“Okay, but she’s going to need some serious care for a bit.” Dr. Sampson warned, spraying the pup’s paw with antiseptic and wrapping gently.
“I’ve seen Torres with the little boys in the villages and they dote on him. I don’t know if we were just too much for him, or if he’s wiped out from that op we just came off. He’s probably sleep deprived, too, making him more grouchy than usual.”
“You’re sleep deprived yourself,” Dr. Samson noted archly. “And you’re not biting off peoples’ heads.”
“No, but not everyone’s like me. Besides, I think he hates me because I’m a woman but I’m not giving up my place on the team just because he feels that way.”
“He’s pretty good looking,” Sloan said, giving her a sly smile.
“I really hadn’t noticed,” Ali said, petting the pup and watching it gulp down the last of the milk in the syringe that Sloan had in her hand.
“Wow, are you blind?” Sloan teased, laughing. She took the syringe back and pulled more milk into it.
“No, I’m just not interested. I’m not in a position within the team to be drawn to anyone. Besides, half the guys are either married or engaged, which is good.”
“No one hits on you?” Sloan slipped the tip of the syringe into the pup’s mouth, and she eagerly latched onto it, suckling hard and noisily.
“No, thank goodness, they don’t. I’m not here to find a relationship. I’m here to fight for our country. I hate the Taliban. I hate what they do to those poor people in these villages. I’m only too happy to help America get rid of them.”
Sloan became sober. “I know. I’m hearing more and more from the fire bases around the province that they’re now stealing children and selling them as sex slaves across the border in Pakistan.”
Shivering, Ali whispered, “What you heard is right. Lockwood has several missions coming up to take out the sex-slave traders. We’ve been able to ID them and now we’re going after those sick bastards. Nothing makes me happier.”
Sloan perked up. “Hey, maybe if you sweet-talk grumpy Ram Torres, you might get him to take his little puppy back. He did look like he cared for her.”
“I know. That’s what bothers me. Why did he just blow up and march out of here if he cared enough to rescue her? I’m going to find out, one way or another. I don’t want to force the puppy on him if he really doesn’t want her but if that’s the case, then I’ll take care of her myself.”
“Well, if you do, can I come over and see her? I miss my dogs so much! I can take care of her while you’re on ops.”
Giving Sloan a warm smile, Ali said, “Of course you can. I’ll be in touch. And thank you for saying you’d take care of her when I’m on a mission.”
“Of course I will! I’d love to!”
“Great. That’s a load off my shoulders.”
“Well,” Sloan murmured, gently petting the puppy’s scruffy head, “I love taking care of babies of any kind, two-legged or four-legged.” She laughed.
Ali laughed along with her. “You’re just like my little sister, Cara. She’s studying to be a kindergarten teacher at the University of Arizona in Tucson. She’s so mothering. Just like you.”
Sloan preened. “She sounds great! I hope I get to meet her someday.”
“I hope you can meet her, too,” Ali sighed, smiling, feeling her heart swell with love for her sister. “Are we done here?” she asked the doctor who was pulling off his latex gloves.
“I’m done,” he said. “Take her home, Ali. Sloan will cover for you until you can come back and take over the front desk.”
“Thanks, Doc.” She gently wiped off the pup’s mouth and tucked her inside her arm and against her body to keep it warm. She said goodbye and left the medical building. Her first order of business was to find “the grump,” as she privately referred to Torres. He was always glaring at her, watching her, always making snarky remarks to her out of earshot of the other team members. There was no such thing as being PC or sociable around him. And yet, in the three months she’d been in his team, he got along famously with the rest of the members. It was just her!
Wyatt’s explanation for the way he treated her was never far from her mind. Had the chief’s talk with Ram made a dent in his consciousness? Would he start trying to treat her differently? She didn’t know.
She had a thick hide because she’d weathered a lot of guff from Marines in general, especially when she’d gone to sniper school. But there was something about Ram—and she couldn’t put her finger on it—that tore at her heart. Sometimes—not often—when they were resting at the compound or out in the big room cleaning their weapons and other equipment together as a group, she’d catch him looking sad and lonely, and it just about broke her heart. He seemed to be grieving something.
Maybe Torres had always been this way. He certainly hadn’t changed since she’d come on board. How she wished she could make peace with him! Lockwood was giving him one more chance to treat her like one of the boys, and for some reason, she envied the others.
Ram had also warmed up to the children in the villages. There, he smiled, reached out and hugged them, allowed them to gather around him and knew enough Pashto to speak wi
th them. The boys hung around even after he’d distributed candy among their small, outstretched hands. Somehow, the children made him feel good, because it was the only time she saw him truly relax. The hardness that was always in his face melted away as Ram drank in the boyish smiles of the children dancing around him, welcoming him back to their village.
She saw that there were two sides to Ram—the warm friend to hundreds of boys in the different villages, caring for them, holding them, giving them horsey rides on his back, and trading smiles with them.
And then, there was the Torres she worked with out on ops. He never gave her anything but cutting looks, and she could feel that hostile energy pouring off him, keeping her at a distance. She sure hoped that Lockwood had convinced Ram to give her the respect he showed everyone else. Because she had to admit, she really didn’t want him to leave if the reason had anything to do with her.
CHAPTER 3
Ram woke up around 1900, seven p.m., that evening. He hadn’t slept much since coming off that brutal six-day op yesterday where he and his team had played hide-n-seek with important Taliban leaders. Finally, they’d caught them, but his talk with Wyatt had killed any chance of a restful sleep. Now, lying in his narrow bed, hands behind his head, he looked around the square room, still dark except for light peeking beneath his door from the passageway. He liked this ten-by-ten room made of ply-board. It was rickety at best, but it brought back a reassuring memory from his childhood. His life had been tough, and sometimes he’d been forced to hide in a closet. There, no one could taunt him, scold him, or physically harm him—and finally, he could cry. That closet had become his sanctuary, and he’d ended up sleeping in it more times than not.
This room in the SEAL compound was small and dark, just like his favorite closet, and gave him that same sense of safety. He was a grown man now but he still liked the safety this small, dark place represented because it gave a veneer of protection against the hostile world outside that door. The Taliban liked to throw mortars into J-bad central regularly and blow something up. Because of this, the ops center was constructed of large, gray concrete blocks. The SEALs had then created ply-board rooms inside it.
Ram continued to lie there for a moment, allowing himself to remember that six-year-old skinny kid who was frightened all the time, constantly looking for a place to hide. It was a luxury to stretch out like this, hands behind his head, staring up into the darkness and having nowhere to go or anything to do.
Abruptly, Ali Montero’s face appeared before him. He swore and closed his eyes, hoping it would go away—it didn’t. Finally, he admitted it—Wyatt had been right. Instead of watching Ali while she checked out each prisoner on the ground, he’d been skylarking, looking around as if he didn’t have a care or responsibility in the world. At once, he felt both ashamed for daydreaming instead of watching her back, and deeply resentful towards her.
Okay, so he’d screwed up. And even worse, he might be kicked off Lockwood’s team—his first real home. That would be a damn shame, since he got along well with all the guys. He actually regarded them as brothers, although he’d never admitted that to any of them. Over the past year, they’d become a well-oiled unit. He’d never been so happy as when Wyatt had chosen him to join his prestigious unit. Lockwood had a great reputation and to be picked by him had been like winning the lottery or an Oscar, as far as Ram was concerned.
But his happiness with his new family, one that he trusted, had suddenly come to an abrupt halt the day Ali showed up, her duffle bag over one shoulder, an M4 rifle on the other, and wearing a combat uniform. It stunned him. Then, he went into further shock when Wyatt ambled out, introducing her to the team as its newest member.
Ram felt as if his warm, fuzzy family had suddenly gone to hell in a handbasket after her arrival. Since women were now allowed into combat by order of the Secretary of Defense, he’d heard of others who had infiltrated the sacred ranks of the all-male SEAL black-ops teams. But he’d never, ever, thought one of them would be dropped unceremoniously into his own team. He felt invaded by an outsider; it just felt wrong. And since March, he’d seen his whole team abandon him by adjusting to the single female in their ranks.
He alone refused to adjust. So what if she was a Pashto interpreter? So what if she had graduated from the best sniper school in the world? In some ways, he was actually jealous of her because she seemed like the whole package. His team had been looking desperately for someone like her because interpreters and snipers were at the top of everyone’s want list. To have one person do both? Well, that was a real prize!
Ram knew that Lockwood had clout and could bring in the best people for his team. He knew how to scour the ranks of graduating SEALs, cherry-picking only the top graduates—like himself—or Ali. He was their top shooter and was always in the thick of it during a firefight. He was someone everyone could rely upon. Ram was prideful of his skills and abilities. He had the highest scores in every weapon he had to shoot. He was their best and everyone, even Ali, agreed that he was.
He sighed and opened his eyes. Outside his door he could hear the guys talking every once in a while in low tones in the TV room. His stomach growled and he realized he was hungry. Pushing himself up, he swung his feet over the bed to the gritty floor. He rarely swept it, and wasn’t shy about admitting that he wasn’t a housekeeper. Standing, he pulled the cord on the naked light bulb above his head. Wincing at the brightness, he looked down.
A piece of white, folded paper had been pushed beneath his door.
What the hell?
He scooped it up and sat down on the creaking bed, opening it up. It was a piece of lined notebook paper torn off from a spiral spine.
“See me about your puppy after you wake up. I have her down in my room at the end of the hall. She needs a name. Montero.”
He crumpled the note. Scowling, he considered her words. Why the hell couldn’t he just outright hate this woman? Why did he find himself drawn to her when he didn’t want to be? Shit.
And then, he heard Ali’s laughter drifting down the passageway along with a couple of the guys joining her. His mood darkened even more. Throwing the note into the wire wastebasket, he tried to block out the sounds, but he couldn’t. Everyone had slept a good eight to twelve hours, and now they were up and ready to face a new day. He was sure everyone would be going over to the chow hall directly.
Scrubbing his face and beard with his hands, he tried to downplay his need for a family, but dammit, there was no way he could stop it from being a gnawing ache in his heart. Here, with Wyatt’s team, he had a place—and he’d earned it—by being their top shooter. Before being accepted, he’d worked harder and longer to become better during the eighteen-month SEAL schooling phase—and that was why Wyatt had chosen him.
He tried to ignore the note Ali had written. Cursing softly, he got up, found his boots, and pulled them on, getting ready to go over to the chow hall. Maybe, if he got lucky, he’d be able to eat with the guys and she wouldn’t be there among them. Seeing her with their team always dampened his spirits and appetite.
He ran a comb through his hair and beard, trying to look somewhat presentable. Opening the door, he stepped out and saw, at the end of the hall, two of his buddies chatting with one another. No sign of Montero. Good! He hated always having to try and avoid her. Life was so good and simple without her around.
Now, she wanted him to name that puppy, and of all things, the puppy was a female, too! Ram felt like he was the unluckiest bastard in the universe. He didn’t want anything female around him, much less be responsible for a four-legged one. Walking down the passageway, he saw Dan Cousins and Manny Felix lift their heads in his direction.
“You dudes gone to the chow hall yet?” he asked, halting in front of them.
“No. We were just going over. Wanna join us?”
“Yeah, let’s go. I’m a starving cow brute, as Wyatt would say in his Texas lingo.”
The other two SEALs laughed as he joined them. Outside, Ram looked a
round, always on guard. Everything seemed fine. He heard a couple of Apaches spooling up at the air terminal runway area. Something was always going on 24/7 around here. If it wasn’t the combat helos taking off to race to an op, it was the medevac Black Hawks taking off to bring in wounded from a fray somewhere in the mountains surrounding J-bad.
The chow hall was in the center of the massive facility, well-fortified by mortar-proof concrete-block construction. He fell in step with Manny and Dan. They were all dressed in their black-ops uniforms, easy to distinguish from those from other branches of service who helped run this key base.
“Hey,” Dan said, “did you see that cute little black puppy Ali found?” Dan was a dog-lover, and came from a background of dairy farmers.
“She didn’t find it,” Ram said, “I did.” And he told them the story.
“So what’s going to happen to it?” Dan asked.
“I don’t know. Where did you see them?” Ram demanded, unhappy that Montero was once more muscling into his day.
“Manny and I were comin’ down the passageway from our rooms when we saw her carry the dog into her room. We were curious, so we stopped and talked to her.” Dan grinned. “She let me hold that little thing. Such a cute pup.” He frowned. “Ali said you didn’t want it, but since you found it, it’s yours, Torres. What gives? Doncha like puppies?”
“Who has time to feed a starving dog?” Ram replied, frowning. “That dog has a smashed paw. It’s starving to death. It needs around the clock care and I don’t have that kind of time.”
Dan thought for a minute, then suggested, “Hey, dude, we could rig something up. We could all take care of her.”
“But all of us go out on the same op,” Ram reminded him as they walked down between two buildings.
“What if that sweet little redheaded girl, Sloan, over at the medical facility helped out?” Manny asked.
Trapped (Delos Series Book 7) Page 4
