In the Line of Fire: Hot Desert Heroes, Book 1

by Jett Munroe

  “She has a problem with my job,” Beck told the guys. “Doesn’t want me putting myself in danger.”

  “What woman doesn’t have a problem with that?” Ty asked. “That’s why Gabe finally got out of the marines. It wasn’t just because Viv was gettin’ sick all the time.”

  Beck didn’t know that. But still… “And we don’t put him out on dangerous jobs, do we? Because he has a wife and kids means he’s not in this vehicle. We all at one point or another will get married and have kids, God willing. Are we all gonna take desk jobs at that point? Who’ll do the fucking work?”

  “We hire single guys. Or we still do fieldwork and pray to God and keep our fingers crossed that nothin’ happens.” Ty reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. “Or we change the scope of our business. What we don’t do is give up someone who means somethin’ to us.”

  “You’d want to do that?” Beck asked. “Change the business?”

  Ty dropped his hand and shrugged. “Why not? There’s good money in cybersecurity and threat assessment. We put plans into place and let other people put their asses on the line.”

  That could work. Generals made the plans, and grunts carried out the orders. He’d have to think on it.

  He took the off-ramp for the airport and within ten minutes was pulling into the daily parking lot. He stowed the ticket above the visor, grabbed his cell phone, and hopped out. As he rounded the vehicle, he shoved the phone into his pocket, the others joined him, and they all walked at a fast clip toward the terminal.

  “I’ll go alert airport police that we’re here,” Beck said. “Ty, call your guy at the police department and bring him up to speed on what’s about to go down here, as a courtesy.” They crossed the lanes where shuttles and taxis waited, then the lane where cars could drive to pick up arriving passengers. “Alex, since Dujardin has never seen you before, I want you outside on the upper level where departing passengers are dropped off. I’ll let you know as soon as I get the all-clear from airport police, so officers on the upper level will know to expect you.” He dug into his jeans pocket and pulled out his earbud. “Here. Take this. Ty’ll communicate with you via the bud and I’ll use my phone with him.”

  Alex gave him a salute and jogged off.

  “Where you want me?” Quincy asked.

  Beck eyed his friend. At a buff six five he was hardly able to blend in. “You hang out in line as if you’re a passenger.” He glanced at Ty. “Run back and get my go bag from the back of the SUV.” He looked again at Quincy. “If Dujardin gets past Alex, hopefully you’ll see him.” He peeled away from them with a murmured, “Be back.”

  As he walked into the terminal he noticed Ty was on his phone, headed back toward the parking lot, no doubt talking to his contact at the Tucson Police Department. Now he only hoped to God airport officers and the US Marshals didn’t screw things up.

  * * * * *

  Delaney tried to get some work done, honestly she did. But it was unnerving having Gabe and Rafe sitting in the lobby, doing nothing but staring at her or the walls. Because the lobby of REG faced the back of the lot, there wasn’t much foot traffic going by, and not much vehicle traffic, either. Finally her nerves were shredded and she suggested in a voice that came out shriller than she liked, “Why don’t you guys at least read a book?”

  “Reading a book will take our attention off you,” came Gabe’s bland response.

  She huffed a sigh. “Well, I can’t get any work done with you two staring at me. I may as well go upstairs. At least I can watch TV.”

  “Give me a minute to secure the first floor,” Gabe said. He got to his feet and went down the hallway, most likely to check that the door that opened out into a hallway that connected the back to the front retail sections was also locked. He came back into the lobby and set the alarm. “Let’s go,” he said, and led the way up the stairs to the second floor.

  Once inside Beck’s condo, Delaney grabbed a can of diet soda, and after inviting Gabe and Rafe to help themselves to whatever they wanted, she sat on the couch and grabbed the remote. She didn’t usually watch television in the mornings so she had no idea what was on. After flipping through a couple of channels where the only things showing seemed to be soap operas, she pushed the button for the channel guide. “Oh goody,” she said. “DIY Network has a couple of episodes of ‘Barnwood Builders’ on.”

  She settled back against the cushions, preparing for an extended viewing session. Rafe moved one of the armchairs over by the outer wall so he could see the entrance into the living room, while Gabe took a seat on a stool at the breakfast bar, with a clear view to the front door.

  Her cell phone rang, and she bent to grab her purse from the floor. She took her phone out and brought it to her ear. “Hello?”

  “It’s Colbie,” her friend said. “I have the morning off and was going to stop in and see how you’re doing, but the office is locked up like Fort Knox. Where are you?”

  “I’m actually upstairs in the condo. Hang on a second.” She hit the Mute button and looked at Gabe. “Can I go down and let Colbie in?”

  He shook his head. “You stay here with Rafe. I’ll go down.”

  Both men got up and went to the door. As Gabe left, Rafe locked the door behind him then took a seat at the breakfast bar.

  Delaney went back to Colbie. “Gabe’s on his way down.” They ended the call and in less than a minute Gabe and Colbie walked into the condo.

  Still holding her cell, Delaney got off the sofa and went over to her friend. She gave her a hug, the feel of her return embrace just the thing she needed at the moment. “I’m going into the bedroom to talk to Colbie. In private,” she stressed when Rafe stood up.

  Gabe jerked up his chin, which she knew was badass nonspeak for him granting her permission.

  She dragged Colbie into the second bedroom and shut the door behind them.

  “Why are we in this room?” her friend asked.

  “Because I can’t be in his bedroom without crying at this point.”

  “Are you two still having a snit?”

  Delaney stared at Colbie. “A snit? You call what happened between us a snit?”

  “You’d both almost been blown up,” her friend responded. “You were upset. I’m sure you both said things you didn’t mean. So, yeah, a snit.”

  “I didn’t say anything I didn’t mean,” Delaney retorted. “In fact, I meant every word I said. How would you feel if you were with a man who was so compartmentalized you knew you’d never have all of him?”

  “If it was a man like Beck, I think I’d be fine with it.”

  Delaney’s breath caught in her throat. Could it be that simple? No. No, it couldn’t. “I’d only be getting half a life.”

  “Half a life. As opposed to no life at all without him. What’s the point of being alive if you’re not going for the gold? If you don’t take what the universe has plopped right down in your lap?” She reached out and took Delaney’s hands in hers, giving them a squeeze. “He’s a good man, you know that, and you love him. You also know he loves you, even if he doesn’t say it often. He shows it all the time. And you’re going to walk away from that?”

  “You think he loves me? How can he love me if he doesn’t trust me? How can he love me if he tells me that when he catches Dujardin I can go?” She pulled a hand free to swipe at the stupid tears that once again started rolling down her cheeks. “Right now he’s hunting Dujardin, which I get. This is something I’d want him to do, so I’m okay with it. But what about the next time when he’s off somewhere doing something dangerous?”

  “Honey—”

  Delaney yanked her other hand free and paced the room. “He’s already given me so much, helped me so much it isn’t funny. But the one thing I asked for, the one thing he refuses to give, is all of him. And I can’t do it. I can’t have part of him and be happy with that. It’s all or nothing,
and since he won’t give me all then what am I left with? Nothing,” she finished on a heartbroken sigh.

  “Oh, honey.” Colbie came over and put her arms around Delaney. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe he’s scared too?”

  That stopped the tears, at least momentarily. Delaney lifted her head and swiped at her cheeks. Sniffing, she asked, “What could he possibly be scared of? He’s a badass marine commando.”

  “He’s still just a man,” Colbie said with wisdom beyond her years. “Give him a problem to solve and he’s all over it. Give him a woman and, other than sex, he doesn’t quite know what to do with her.”

  That surprised a laugh out of her. “You’re not wrong,” she said. She sat on the bed and sighed. Her mind bounced to something else that was bothering her, something sort of related to Beck, yet sort of not. “Quincy asked me out.”

  “What?” Colbie bugged out her eyes.

  Delaney nodded. “Earlier, before they went out to get Dujardin.” She spread her hands. “He said if Beck was truly done with me…” here she had to fight back a variety of emotions—anger, hurt, disappointment—and when she went on her throat was thick from the effort, “…if we were done with each other, he’d like to go out with me.”

  “Quincy’s the big one, right? The blond guy from South Carolina?”

  “That’s the one.” She shook her head. “I’m not interested at all because, well, I love Beck. But besides that, the men are so much like brothers; if things stay bad between me and Beck, I won’t be around to see either of them even occasionally. And I told Quincy that.” She sighed. “In the scheme of things Beck and I haven’t been seeing each other all that long, but I know I could spend the rest of my life with him if he’d just give me what I need. And I already know he feels the same way. All I have to do is give him what he needs, which is to not ask him to give anything beyond what he’s willing to give. Which isn’t enough.” She sighed again and rubbed the bridge of her nose where a headache had begun to form. “So, you see, it’s all just one big, vicious circle. I need what he won’t give, and he needs what I can’t give.”

  “No, he needs what you won’t give,” Colbie corrected. “So, yeah, it might be a big, vicious circle, but it’s one you can break.”

  Delaney stared down at her clasped hands. Was her friend right? Was this really all about her being stubborn and refusing to give Beck what he needed because it didn’t fit in with her idea of what love should look like? Would having half of him really be so bad?

  Or would she be shortchanging herself if she didn’t demand all of him?

  “I don’t think you should give up on him,” Colbie said softly. “You can’t see yourself when you’re with him, but you light up a room. I noticed it, but when I really noticed it was when it was gone.”

  Delaney swallowed hard.

  “And he’s so… I’m not even sure I can describe how he is when he’s with you. He looks at you like you’re a miracle.”

  God! She had to stop.

  “I’m not asking him for the impossible,” Delaney whispered. “Just to share the demons he carries. And I know he has them because he keeps important things about himself locked away. And if it’s fear that’s holding him back from telling me, well, then all I can conclude is he doesn’t love me enough to trust me with the truth. He doesn’t trust all that is us enough to give me the truth.”

  It went without saying that she would always love him. Always. Until the day she took her last breath, even if she managed to find another good man and build a life with him, she would always love Beck Townsend. She knew herself. She wouldn’t be satisfied for long with part of him. She wanted all of him, every last little bit.

  Chapter Nineteen

  In the office of the Tucson Airport Authority Chief of Police, Beck accepted his phone from Chief Fausto Vega and handed it to Supervisory Deputy United States Marshal Kai “Call me Mac” MacMillan. The lean man with salt-and-pepper hair bent his head to study the sketch of Germano Dujardin.

  “I pulled his file when your man Falco called us. This is not the picture we had.” MacMillan glanced at Beck. “I need to forward this to my team.”

  “Do it.”

  MacMillan sent the scanned sketch off to his colleagues and handed the phone back to Beck.

  “What’s this guy’s story?” Vega asked.

  “Black-market medical supplies and arms dealer. My squad came across him in Afghanistan. Though he’d been active pretty much all across the Middle East, he was doing most of his business where US forces were—Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Iraq.” Beck leaned forward and rested his elbows on his spread knees. “The first we knew of him was when he and his associates took down an army medical-supply convoy, killing the entire platoon. They stripped the troops of their weapons and left them to rot in the sun.” The memory of coming upon that gruesome scene made his chest tighten. It wasn’t a sight he’d ever forget.

  “And you captured him?”

  Beck nodded. “It took months, but we were finally able to corner him in Kabul, in a small house he’d taken over. He was holding the family hostage. It was a cousin of the husband who notified us there was something wrong. We went in.” He paused, shaking his head. “He murdered the family before we could stop him.” There was more to it, more that Beck refused to think about, more that he would have to live with for the rest of his life. It was something he never wanted Delaney to know about.

  “Then you turned him over to Afghani law enforcement.” Though MacMillan phrased the words in the form of a statement, it really came out more as a question.

  “Yeah. They were entitled since he’d murdered Afghani citizens. But not before I beat the shit out of him.” He met the marshal’s gaze. “If you’d seen the carnage he left behind—”

  “Don’t need to see it to know it was bad,” came the response from MacMillan. “I was in the army three years when the vehicle I was in hit an IED. Two of the guys were killed outright; another one lost a leg. I was lucky. Took some shrapnel in my back; that meant a medical discharge, a few surgeries, and some rehab, but for the most part I’m whole. And fit for duty.”

  Which was obvious, since the man was employed by the US Marshals Service. But Beck knew MacMillan downplayed his injury. A few surgeries and some rehab likely covered at least a year, if not longer.

  One of Beck’s skills was to accurately size up the people around him, get a read on them, and his read on MacMillan was that the guy was a straight arrow, as straight as they came. “This bastard tried to kill my girlfriend,” Beck said, laying it out. “You get this is personal for me?”

  “I get it.” And didn’t seem to be concerned about it.

  The police chief apparently was. “Now, wait just a minute,” he said as he stood and put his hands flat on the desk. “You’re not going to act like a bunch of yahoos in my airport. I have a duty to protect the public.”

  “We all do,” MacMillan stated with a sharp glance at Vega.

  Beck stared at the police chief. Vega was a short man but fit, and fit to be tied over the fact that, like it or not, he wasn’t in charge here.

  “We’re gonna do everything we can to keep passengers safe,” Beck responded evenly. “Which is why I have one of my guys, who Dujardin has never seen before, at the passenger drop-off area outside.” He glanced at his watch. It had taken him half an hour to get from REG to the airport police office, where he’d already been for twenty minutes, most of that time taken up by Vega posturing, making sure that both Beck and the deputy US marshal understood who was in charge.

  Beck was done letting the man think he was calling the shots. “I don’t think Dujardin will show up as early as we did, but he’s a slippery bastard. He could arrive an hour ahead of the flight or anytime now.” He looked at Vega. “Let your officers know about my guys. We need to get into place.”

  Vega seemed barely appeased by Beck’s as
sertion of keeping harm away from the public, but he at least seemed to understand the urgency of the situation because he got on his smartphone right away. Using the Push-to-Talk function, he notified his people that two of Beck’s men would be loitering, and told them where the men would be, and that they were to be left alone. He gave their names and ended the call.

  “Let’s be clear here,” MacMillan said in a low voice. “This is an international fugitive we’re after, and that means this operation falls under the jurisdiction of the US Marshals Service. I want TAA officers focused on keeping the public out of harm’s way, and your men,” he said to Beck, “will be helpful in identifying the bastard, but once that’s done, you will all stand down. Agreed?”

  Beck had no problem with any of that. He nodded then called Ty and told him to have Quincy and Alex make contact with security. Ty acknowledged and ended the call. Beck looked at MacMillan and said, “Let’s go.”

  “You need to stay out of sight,” MacMillan told him with a frown. “We don’t want Dujardin catching a glimpse of you and turning rabbit.”

  Fuck. The marshal was right. Beck dipped his chin in acknowledgment. While he ached to be the one who took Dujardin down, the harder the better, he more than anyone wanted the bastard back behind bars. “I’ll watch the security feeds from in here. If that’s all right with Chief Vega,” he added with politic sincerity.

  Vega puffed up. “Yes, yes, of course. That would be acceptable.”

  MacMillan pulled a wired earbud attached to a microphone, and a receiver that could be clipped to his belt, from the pocket of his suit coat. “Always carry an extra one,” he said and handed it to Beck. “You tell me what you see on the feeds.”

  Beck took the device and situated it. They did a test run and he gave a thumbs-up in affirmation that it worked. “This what you and your team are usin’?” At MacMillan’s nod, Beck muttered, “Dujardin gets one look at this curly wire disappearing into one of your team’s collars, and he’ll be in the wind.”