JB nodded. “Fine. I took a hard landing, but nothing’s broken. And the bullet didn’t hit me.” If he had a concussion, it was a slight one. No need to mention it.
“He says he’s fine,” Tansy relayed to Mick. “He’ll need a ride back, though. Nellie took off.”
Mick responded, and then she disconnected the call. “They’re on their way. It’ll probably be about ten minutes.”
“Did we come that far?”
They hadn’t. “But they’re inside the house. It’ll take them a few minutes to get out and over to the garage and into a golf cart.”
“You have a golf course on the property?” She hadn’t shown him that. Did other people have access to it? That could be a problem.
She shook her head. “There’s a lot of land, but not enough for eighteen holes. The golf carts just make it easy to get around.”
JB nodded. He had subsided onto the ground again, since what she’d said made sense. He shouldn’t leave her alone. Better to wait for the golf cart with Mick and Max, and then go looking for his phone.
“Any idea what happened?” Tansy asked.
“Beyond the obvious? No. Someone fired a rifle. It was loud. The horse took off. I fell.”
“I’m sure you would have been able to stay on if Nellie had been a camel,” Tansy said loyally. After a second she added, “They didn’t fire again.”
JB shook his head. “I’m not even sure they were firing at us. It could have been a coincidence. But it isn’t hunting season, so I don’t know why anyone would be out here with a rifle.”
Especially in this neighborhood. Where he’d grown up, that would have been a different story. Lots of guns up in the Appalachian Mountains. Lots of opossum stew, too. There was no season on opossum.
He didn’t mention that to Tansy. “Can you think of anyone who’d have a legitimate reason to be running around out here with a gun?”
“Other than you guys, and Mick’s crew?” She shook her head. “This is public property. But it’s pretty private, even so. There are very few ways into it if not through one of the estates. And there’s a riding school a few miles away that backs up to it, so they use the bridle paths.”
“But no gun range.”
“I think the neighbors have an archery range,” Tansy offered. “They had an Olympian in the family back in the nineteen-sixties or –seventies. But those are bows and arrows. Not guns.”
This hadn’t been a bow and arrow. JB recognized a rifle shot when he heard one.
He rolled his shoulders to try to ease away some of the stiffness, and Tansy said, “I’m sorry I hit you.” He looked at her, and she added, “Back then. On the boat.”
Oh. “No big deal. It healed.”
She winced. “What did I do?”
“Broke my collarbone. It’s no problem. Good as new.” He rolled his shoulder again to show her, and ignored the pain the best he could.
She looked wretched. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ve had worse. And you were protecting yourself. I understand.”
“I didn’t know who you were,” Tansy said.
“I know. You thought it was one of the hijackers. You thought he might want to hurt you. So you hurt him first. It was pretty damn impressive, to tell you the truth.”
She looked a little less wretched when he said that, so he continued. “Most women in your position would have been curled up in a fetal position on the bed. You made a plan and waited to carry it out. In a bikini. In the middle of the night. Not everyone would have kept their head the way you did. It wasn’t your fault that you got the wrong guy.”
She looked wretched again. “I could have killed you.”
“If it had been one of the hijackers, you probably would have.” Since they wouldn’t have moved away at the last second, the way he did, and she would have gotten them in the back of the head instead of the shoulder. “You did good. More than good. If we hadn’t been there, and it had been one of the hijackers, you wouldn’t have needed us. You would have saved yourself.”
“We were a long way from shore,” Tansy said. “And I didn’t know which direction to swim. I would have drowned.”
“Then it’s a good thing you didn’t have to.”
She didn’t say anything, and he added, “It’s fine. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve broken bones. You’d be surprised how many guys develop stress fractures during Hell Week.”
She looked intrigued. “What’s Hell Week?”
“The worst part of BUD/S training.”
She opened her mouth, and he continued before she could ask. “Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training. Six months at the Naval Special Warfare Training Center in Coronado, California. Near San Diego. After I finished my two tours on the sub and applied for the SEALs, I was sent there. To BUD/S training. Hell Week comes just a few weeks in, to weed out anyone who isn’t going to make it sooner rather than later.”
“Tough?”
JB crooked a smile. “You can say that. Five-and-a-half days of cold, and wet, and brutally difficult training on less than four hours of sleep. With people yelling at you. Stress fractures are common.”
“And you got one?”
“Ankle bone. Max and Rusty had to carry me through part of it.”
Her eyebrows rose. “And you made it into the SEALs anyway?”
“It’s not about being the strongest,” JB said. “Or the fastest, or even the toughest. It’s about teamwork. And not giving up.”
He could tell she didn’t understand, so he continued. “When I couldn’t pull my weight, the others pulled it for me. I could have rung out—there’s a bell you ring to signal that you want to give up—but that would have meant letting Max and Rusty down. If I quit, they might have quit. So we all did what we had to do to get everybody through.”
“With a broken ankle.”
JB shrugged. “I’d had broken bones before.”
“Did you do sports in school?”
She looked so sweet sitting there, and so interested in hearing what he had to say, that he hated to burst her happy little bubble. But at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to lie. “My dad used to knock me around.”
He got to his feet at the sound of an approaching vehicle, and pulled his gun. “Hopefully this is them.”
But if it wasn’t, he was ready to take out anyone who threatened Tansy.
* * *
The golf cart with Mick and Max in it came to a stop a few feet away, and Mick got out. So did Max. His first concerned look was for his teammate, while Mick turned to Tansy. “Everything all right here?”
She nodded, and took the hand he offered to get to her feet. “It was just one shot. I don’t think it came anywhere near us. Nobody was hit. But John was thrown off the horse.”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Mick said, but not without a look in John’s direction. The two SEALs had their heads together and were talking softly. Tansy couldn’t hear what they were saying.
John had said they’d started out together, in SEAL training. But now Max was a lieutenant and John was a Petty Officer. How had that happened?
“Max is a mustang,” Mick told her, and Tansy realized she’d wondered out loud.
“Mustang?” The only image that came to mind was a wild horse. It must be another Navy term, and one she hadn’t come across yet.
“An enlisted man who goes to officer school. Suddenly you have to call your old buddy ‘sir.’” Mick grinned.
It didn’t look like anyone was calling anyone else ‘sir’ at the moment. Max looked worried, and not like he was playing boss and employee at all. John kept nodding, though, and eventually Max relaxed. They both turned back to her. And to Mick.
“With your permission,” Max said to Mick, “I’m gonna call in a few more of our guys. Get some boots on the ground out here. See if we can figure out where that bullet went, and where it came from.”
Mick nodded.
“And I’d like to put someone on the back gate. It ca
n be one of your boys or one of ours.”
Tansy tried to imagine Conrad standing out here in the woods, guarding the back gate. Her mind boggled.
“The more of your boys are around,” Mick said, “the safer I think we’ll be.”
Max nodded. “I’ll get a couple of guys out. Most of them are just sitting around the hotel anyway.” He gestured to the golf cart. “Let’s get back to the house.”
“I rode Stella out here,” Tansy began, pointing to the mare grazing at the side of the path.
“Sure,” John said. “That’s just what we need. All of us in the golf cart, and you on horseback, like a freaking target, for someone to take a potshot at.”
“I’ll ride the horse,” Mick said.
Max shook his head. “Tie her to the cart. We’ll go slow. I’m not putting anybody up there for target practice.” He glanced at Tansy. “And no more horseback riding until this is over. You’re too exposed on top of a horse.”
She grimaced. “Fine. Make sure Stella can keep up.”
“I’m just going to go look for my phone,” John said, and headed up the path. Tansy watched him even as she managed to keep an eye on Mick as he hitched Stella to the back of the golf cart.
He stepped back. “We’re ready. Climb in the back, Ms. Leighton.”
Tansy climbed into the back of the golf cart and made sure Stella was securely tied to the rear. Not that she really had to worry. The horses had a pretty good idea where they were and how to get home from here. Nellie was probably back at the stables already.
“Did you see Nellie?” she asked Mick as he fitted his stocky frame behind the wheel.
Her dad’s chief of security glanced at her over his shoulder. “We saw her grazing in one of the back pastures. We didn’t take the time to stop and check on her. But she looked all right.”
He moved the cart forward, toward where John was wandering with his hands in his pockets and his head bent, looking for his phone.
Tansy poked Max’s shoulder and lowered her voice. “Is he all right?”
He gave her a surprised look over his shoulder. Surprised that she’d talk to him, or that she’d care enough to ask? Or maybe surprise that she’d even consider the possibility that he wasn’t? “Sure. He’s fine. We’ve all taken harder knocks than that.”
Good to know. “I don’t want him to get hurt again. I hit him with a Chinese paperweight last time we met.”
Max nodded. “Just keep him off horses from now on. He doesn’t have much experience with them.”
“Why didn’t he tell me?” Tansy wanted to know.
“Because you wanted to ride,” Max answered. “Here’s the thing, Ms. Leighton. It’s JB’s job to make sure nothing happens to you. That means, where you go, he goes. If you want to ride a horse, he’ll ride with you. If you decide to walk down Fifth Avenue in broad daylight, he’ll be right next to you. And if someone shoots at you, he’ll be in front of you. And he’ll take the bullet for you. Because that’s the job he’s here to do.”
The job she had asked him to do. Because he’d made her feel safe last year. And because she’d wanted an excuse to see him again.
If something happened to him, it would be her fault.
“I’m not feeling so good about this,” Tansy said.
Max gave her a buck-up sort of pat on the shoulder. “Just be careful where you go and what you do. And keep him away from the horses.”
Tansy nodded, and watched as John bent over—the khakis stretched nicely across his butt—and picked up his phone. With it in hand, he came toward the golf cart, and Tansy moved over to make room for him on the seat next to her.
5
Five hours later, they hadn’t found a bullet, so it was anyone’s guess where the shooter had been standing.
“Are you sure it wasn’t a car backfiring out on the road?” Just Conrad asked during the briefing where all the available SEALs and everyone on Mick Callahan’s security crew were present.
He smirked at JB, as if JB was just making a mountain out of nothing, and couldn’t handle a little pressure.
JB didn’t bother to answer. He let Mick deal with it. Conrad was Mick’s responsibility, not JB’s.
Mick arched a brow. “We can all tell a bullet from a backfire, I hope?”
Nobody said anything. The chief of security waited a second before he continued. “If you can’t, you have no business working for me. Come see me after the meeting.”
No one spoke up, so Mick continued. “The team from the Navy will be handling the security for the back of the estate.” He pointed to the layout of the property currently up on the wall screen in the front of the room. “Someone will be stationed by the rear gate twenty-four/seven from now on until we find this guy.”
In fact, Gus was back there now, the only member of Alpha Squad not at this meeting. In the front, the gate was locked and the gatehouse empty. Nobody was expected, so if a vacuum cleaner salesman drove up to the gate, he was SOL. There were cameras in a cubby next door, however, and one of Mick’s men was monitoring them, while keeping half an ear on the conversation out here.
“Our team will be handling the security for the front of the estate,” Mick continued, “just as we normally do. You all have your schedule for the week. It hasn’t changed. The one thing that has, is that time off, except for medical emergencies, will have to be cleared with me from now on until this issue is resolved. From this point until further notice, everyone’s on-call all day, every day.” He glanced around the room. “Any questions?”
No one had one. Conrad looked like he wanted to say something, but thought better of it.
“The gentlemen from the Navy will be hanging around,” Mick continued. “Get to know what they look like. We’re working with them, so if they ask you to do something, do it. Immediately. And without trying to prove anything. They really are as tough as they look, so if you challenge them to some sort of stupid contest, you’re the one who’ll end up losing. They’ve gone through the most rigorous training in the armed forces, and they can kill you with a Q-tip. Don’t give them a reason to.”
JB had never killed anyone with a Q-tip, and didn’t think he knew anyone who had. Except maybe Max, but Max didn’t like to talk about things like that. And since he was Max, everyone figured it was better not to ask.
Maybe Conrad would ask. He looked like the kind of guy who’d ask people about their kills, thinking he was clever.
The mental image of Mad Max pushing Conrad’s perfect teeth down his throat was pleasant. JB dwelled on it for a moment, until he heard Mick say, “We have some intel on what might be at the bottom of this. Chief Lee?”
JB watched their communications specialist, Andy Lee, get up from his chair and stand next to Mick. As usual, Andy’s black hair stood straight up on his head as if he’d stuck his finger in a light socket.
Andy could push Conrad’s teeth down his throat too, and that might be even more fun to watch. People tended to underestimate Andy Lee. Some of it was his size—small and slight—and some was that crazy genius look, with the hair and the distracted expression. But it wasn’t a mistake anyone made more than once. Andy was just as much of a SEAL as the rest of them. He could outfight, outshoot, and outlast anybody.
And if it was possible to kill someone with a Q-tip, Andy would know how. He might not have done it, but he’d have the technical knowledge for how it could be done.
Right now Andy was doing what Andy did best. JB sat back and listened as his teammate relayed information. “I’ve been working with analysts from the FBI and Homeland Security to assess the threat risk and determine where it’s coming from. With the available data, we have identified the two most likely suspects.”
He pushed a button and an image of a face replaced the layout of the Leighton estate on the wall screen behind him. “Kareem Khan el Balushi,” Andy said, with a glance over his shoulder.
Even in a flat image, Kareem looked more alive than the last time JB had seen him, on the floor of hi
s owner’s cabin on his family’s yacht, with a bullet hole between the eyes.
“Along with these three men...” Andy pushed another button, “he was responsible for the kidnapping of Tansy Leighton in the Mediterranean last year.”
The three hijackers stared out from the screen. All dead now, too. A couple of people glanced over their shoulders to the back of the room, where Tansy and her father sat quietly. JB didn’t, but he was willing to bet Tansy didn’t appreciate it. She’d wanted to put this behind her, and here they were, digging it all up again.
“They’ve been identified,” Andy said, “as supporters of their local Islamic State franchise. The ten million dollars they requested for the safe return of Ms. Leighton would likely have gone there.”
The image of the three hijackers disappeared, to be replaced by a picture of an older man with a headcloth. “This is Omar Khan el Balushi. He’s Kareem’s father. Kareem was his firstborn, his oldest son. Our intelligence says that Omar was quite upset about what happened to Kareem. Omar is one of our top two choices for who might be behind this threat to Walter Leighton and his family.”
The screen changed again, and a man’s face appeared. Not someone JB recognized, and he sat up straight on the chair, trying not to wince when his battered body protested.
“This is Mohammed el Saud,” Andy said. “He’s Omar’s personal bodyguard. SSG trained. And... yes?”
Someone had raised a hand. JB wasn’t surprised to see it was Conrad. “What’s SSG?”
JB refrained from rolling his eyes. Andy just contemplated Conrad for a few seconds before he said, “Special Services Group. Pakistani Army. One of the top ten special forces teams in the world. Any other questions?”
Conrad shook his head. No one else had one.
“That’s not the most interesting thing about el Saud,” Andy said. “Although anyone who comes across him would do well to remember it. He’s deadly. He might also be dead. For the past week, no one in Saudi Arabia has seen Mohammed el Saud. Omar is still there, and is escorted by el Saud’s second in command when he goes out.”
The screen changed to a picture of Omar Khan el Balushi getting out of a Rolls Royce in the company of another man. JB decided that the black car in the Leightons’ garage must be a Bentley and not a Rolls, before he took a closer look at the image. The red numbers down in the bottom corner showed that it had been taken within the past forty-eight hours.
The Socialite and the SEAL Page 5
