Honor Among SEALs

by Dixie Lee Brown

  Pride in him rose to choke her. Not because the Navy had conditioned him to kill, but because of the sacrifices he’d made in the name of freedom and country. She wanted to tell him she’d hide in a cave for the rest of her life as long as he was with her. Begging him to stay wasn’t out of the question. But, in silence, she watched him walk away as Travis fell in beside him. In thirty seconds, they’d disappeared into the forest.

  * * * *

  The flight was a blur. With fear needling her stomach, Kellie only wanted to be alone with her thoughts. Not even Chip’s sad eyes coaxed her back from self-recriminations. They’d landed at Spokane International. Jeremy had a dark sedan meet them at the airport, complete with two suits right out of Men in Black. He didn’t say where he was taking them, and she didn’t ask because it no longer mattered.

  Blake said his good-byes, on his way to secure a ride back to Felts Field, where he’d reclaim his airplane and fly home to Vegas. Kellie was going to miss his comic relief, and, more surprising, his comforting presence.

  He gave her a hug as he shouldered his heavy bag, which would have stunned her if the world hadn’t already tipped ninety degrees on its axis. “MacGyver will be okay, you know. You two are good together. I hope it works out.”

  She forced herself to smile and nod since he was being so nice. “Thanks for everything, Blake. I’m sorry…” There was too much to be sorry for. Words wouldn’t come, and she shrugged.

  He patted her shoulder as though he understood. “You know where to find me if you ever need a listening ear.”

  Jeremy hustled her, Pop and Chip to the waiting car, giving instructions for the driver to deliver them to a safe house for the night. “It’s all ready for you. Key’s under the flower pot. Make yourselves at home. I’ll be by later to make sure you have everything you need. We’ll figure out the plan for tomorrow.”

  They leave a key outside? No fancy alarm system or bulletproof glass? So much for the realism in TV and motion pictures.

  Pop shook Jeremy’s hand with a sly wink. “Thanks, Marshal. You let Anna know you’re all right now, you hear?”

  Jeremy smiled, a hint of embarrassment seeping into his skin color. “Yes, sir, I will.” He glanced her way. “Take care of Kellie.”

  Okay, maybe she should thank him, too. He did nudge her in the right direction when she’d fled Tony’s hotel. Great. One more thing to feel guilty about. Yeah, this was turning into quite a pity party. Silently, she watched Jeremy disappear inside the terminal.

  She looked away, panic nipping at the edges of her mind. What was wrong with her? She should be relieved. Anna was alive and safe. The members of her family were all going to make it through this unscathed. What more could she ask?

  MacGyver.

  He was risking his life for a cause that wasn’t his. Worse yet, he intended to take a life—another life—in order to make hers, Anna’s and Pop’s safer. MacGyver was doing what he thought was right. She almost envied him. The two halves of her world were no longer black and white but gray instead. Lukewarm. She had one foot on each side of the fence.

  For me—he’s doing all of this for me. And I have nothing to give him in return but a guilty conscience.

  Was she the only one who could see how messed up this was?

  Her soul had been in turmoil for so long, she’d forgotten what it was like to be free. Even if MacGyver was here beside her, the upheaval would still be pressing against her diaphragm. It hadn’t just appeared when MacGyver went off to do his macho thing. It’d been right there, inside her, for a long, long while.

  The last time she’d been truly happy, aside from the magic night she’d spent with MacGyver, was before Iraq. Before her decision had caused such devastation to her and Christian Sorenson. She’d destroyed both their lives. What was it MacGyver had said? Run toward the battle, not away.

  She’d been running away, as far and fast as she could go. But not anymore.

  Kellie threw her arms around her stepdad just before he ducked inside the car. “I have to go, Pop. Don’t worry about me. I’ll find you when I’m done.”

  As he drew away, his sad expression was eclipsed by his smile of understanding. “You do what you have to do, Kellie. Some things are worth fighting for. I’d go with you if I wasn’t an old man.”

  “Ma’am, we have to leave now,” the driver said as he held the door open.

  “You’re not old, Pop.” She gave him a quick kiss and backed away a few steps before turning and racing toward the terminal building.

  One of the suits started to give chase but stopped when Pop growled, “Leave her be.”

  Kellie left them all behind as she spotted Blake climbing into a cab at the curb. She knocked on his window just as the driver started to pull out. Blake rolled his window down.

  “Can I get a ride to Felts Field with you?”

  Blake frowned, searching her face until a slight grin began hitching his mouth. “Hop in.” He jerked a thumb toward the opposite door.

  Kellie didn’t hesitate. She circled the cab and slid into the seat beside him. The driver took off with an impatient grumble.

  “So, what’s the plan?” Blake still regarded her with a half-assed grin.

  Plan? She didn’t have a plan—she had a list. The second item was to figure out whether she could live with what happened in Iraq and get some help if it turned out she couldn’t. But first, she had to make sure MacGyver didn’t die because of her. For damn certain, she couldn’t live with that.

  Kellie leaned closer and lowered her voice so the cab driver wouldn’t hear. “Do you have any ammo left in your bag of tricks?”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  “What are you thinking, Bro? Are we taking him down?” Travis turned off the ignition of Charlie’s Ford Taurus and looked at MacGyver. He hadn’t asked about the conversation with Kellie or questioned why MacGyver’s mood had soured during the thirty minutes it’d taken them to haul ass to Spokane. After finding a place to leave the car at the back of the airport parking lot, apparently now he wanted to talk.

  MacGyver grunted as Kellie’s horrified words swam through his head again. “So…you’re going to…what… kill him?” The accusation in her expression had jolted him. Why was he letting her opinion bother him so much? Up until then, there’d been no doubt in his mind what needed to happen to safeguard her and her family—Palazzi had to die.

  “I mean…I don’t have a problem either way. Just say the word.” Travis pulled the key from the ignition and shoved it in his pocket.

  “The plan stays the same,” MacGyver growled. It all boiled down to whether he’d be satisfied with Palazzi leaving prison in ten or fifteen years. Just in time for Kellie and Anna to have let down their guards. MacGyver couldn’t see how a short-term solution solved anyone’s problem.

  Travis held his hands up in surrender. “Just checking, Bro. You good to go?”

  MacGyver nodded. “We’ve got twenty minutes before Jeremy calls in the feds. I’ll go in the front and figure out how to separate Palazzi from his hired guns. The possibility of collateral damage is high if a firefight ensues, so guns are a last resort.”

  Travis reached for the door handle. “We need to stop him before he gets on that plane. If he escapes back to Vegas, we might never get another chance.”

  This wasn’t the place MacGyver would have chosen to engage the enemy. Too many things could go wrong. The marshal had called in a favor from an FAA safety inspector he’d helped out a couple of times. The inspector had coaxed enough information from someone in the control tower to learn that Palazzi and six companions were waiting for the pilot of his Leer jet to arrive.

  The rest was up to MacGyver and Travis—get Palazzi out of the terminal before the feds from the marshal’s office swooped in and arrested the others. Palazzi would simply disappear, courtesy of MacGyver. It wasn’t a well-thought-out plan, and it certai
nly wasn’t foolproof, but it was all they had at the moment.

  “Let’s go.” MacGyver checked the load in his gun and slid it into the shoulder holster Jeremy had provided for the occasion. “I’ll meet you out back in ten.” He stepped from the car, zipping his sweatshirt a quarter of the way up so it wouldn’t fall open and give away his loaded weapon. He hated hoods, but he tugged it over his head anyway and slapped on his sunglasses. Palazzi would no doubt recognize him on sight. MacGyver needed just a little bit of an edge to maneuver through his men without them calling his hand prematurely. Friendlies in the line of fire was not acceptable, so MacGyver needed to choose his own time and place for the confrontation.

  “So…you’re going to…what…kill him?”

  Damn it! Kellie’s voice, replaying in his head, wasn’t going to work. This wouldn’t be his first kill. The Navy had trained him well. If Kellie never looked at him again without contempt in her eyes for what he was about to do, he wouldn’t blame her. Nonetheless, he would take down this target because Palazzi’s death would keep her alive, and he didn’t care how outraged she became over his actions. It wasn’t open for discussion. A conscience, at this point in the game, wasn’t what he needed. It would only get those around him hurt, and that wasn’t going to happen.

  Stuffing his fists in his pockets, he strode toward the north entrance. An inspection through the glass doors confirmed everything was quiet inside. He spotted three of Palazzi’s men, dressed in rumpled suits, scattered near the exits. If he could see around corners, he’d bet there’d be another one stationed just inside the door MacGyver was about to enter.

  There was no sign of Palazzi, but the skin on the back of MacGyver’s neck started to prickle with the certainty the scumbag wasn’t far away. He had no doubts Palazzi and his men would be armed. The small airfield didn’t have the luxury of metal detectors at the doors, nor sophisticated scanning equipment, but that also worked in his favor.

  MacGyver opened the door, stepped inside and walked toward the ticket counter like he had a reason to be there. Midway, he stopped at a kiosk and filled out a luggage tag. Though any fool could see he didn’t have luggage, it gave him an opportunity to scan the interior. Palazzi’s number four man lounged near the door MacGyver had entered as he’d suspected. Number five was ordering a cup of coffee from a wannabe-Starbucks pop-up near the one rental car counter. Number six and Palazzi himself weren’t visible, and that screwed the hell out of MacGyver’s plan.

  He continued to the ticket counter, nodding to the only security guard as he passed. Overweight and watching, mesmerized, as a couple of kids played with Fidget Spinners, the guard was wholly unprepared for what was about to go down on his watch. All the more reason MacGyver needed to find Palazzi and get him out of there without causing a disturbance.

  He checked his watch. In five minutes, he was supposed to meet Travis out back with enough information to finalize their strategy. MacGyver glanced at the board announcing the arrivals and departures as he strode toward the ticket counter. “Excuse me, miss. Is the five fifteen from Bozeman on time?” An innocent question to make his presence look legit.

  The pretty brunette smiled and nodded. “Yes sir. It should be landing in thirty minutes.”

  “Thank you.” He turned toward the windows and the rows of seats that looked out over the runway. So far, so good.

  Three strides later his plan disintegrated.

  “He’s got a gun!” The woman’s shrill cry pierced the low hum of activity, and the terminal exploded with screams, gasps and the sounds of people running. MacGyver spun around and met the terrified gaze of the dark-haired ticket girl who’d frozen in her place. He motioned for her to duck down behind her counter as he tried to make sense of the scene before him.

  The other travelers had disbursed, some taking cover behind chairs, counters or whatever they could find, leaving the center of the large space open and empty, except for the two men currently acting out a scene from The Godfather.

  Thirty feet away, the security guard had drawn his weapon, pointing it at a man who’d apparently just come from the restroom. Of course. Palazzi’s number six hired gun. The edge of his jacket was pushed back far enough to reveal the butt-end of a semi-automatic firearm in his shoulder holster.

  “Hands on your head! Get down on the floor!” The security guard’s hands shook as though he’d never had to use his weapon before. There wasn’t a chance in hell Palazzi’s hardline thugs would take him seriously.

  Palazzi’s man laughed. “Well, which is it. Hands on my head or down on the floor. I can’t do both at the same time.”

  The obviously flustered guard keyed his radio and spoke into it—a code word no doubt meant to convey there was trouble in the terminal. The guard had no idea how serious the situation was, and the help he called for was probably too far away to be of any use.

  From behind and to the right of MacGyver, someone manually injected a shell into the barrel of a gun. At the sound, travelers again screamed and shifted away from the new source of danger. The security guard swung around, his weapon still leveled waist high. For several seconds, the guard and Tony Palazzi stared each other down. Sweat poured off the guard’s face while a diabolical smirk played across Palazzi’s.

  If only MacGyver could get the guard’s attention and signal him to lower his weapon. Continuing this impasse was going to get him killed—best case scenario. Worst case—a lot of innocent people could get hurt in the crossfire.

  “What’s your name?” Palazzi stepped away from a table situated near a corner food cart, leaving what looked like a plate of nachos and a beer. In a black overcoat and hat with a gun in his hand, his eyes shined, giving him a slightly crazed appearance. His face was lined and haggard. Apparently, the Vegas mobster hadn’t been sleeping worth a damn.

  “Levinson,” the guard replied.

  “Well, Mr. Levinson. I find it hard to believe you’re paid enough to lose your life over this. Drop your gun and no one will get hurt.” Palazzi sounded reasonable enough, yet the maniacal glint in his eyes didn’t let up.

  “Sir, you’re in violation of at least three federal laws right now, so it’s you and your friend who should put down your weapons…before my backup arrives.”

  Levinson’s voice wavered slightly, and Palazzi snickered, looking around at a couple of his boys, who joined him in laughter. “Oh…well…if that’s the case…” Palazzi’s grin disappeared.

  No! MacGyver’s heart hammered in double time as he took a step toward the guard, holding his hand out in front of him as though he could force the rent-a-cop to drop his weapon. Time seemed to slow as he looked from the guard to Palazzi. The flex of the mobster’s trigger finger rendered MacGyver’s attempt to influence the guard pointless. It was already too late.

  A single shot rang out, and the gun in Palazzi’s hand jumped, a thin wisp of smoke curling from the barrel. The security guard crashed backward into the coffee cart, sending glass decanters, cups and hot coffee in every direction. His handgun spun across the mud-tracked vinyl. Landing on his back on the floor, Levinson didn’t move.

  Screams cut off in mid-breath as Palazzi pumped another round into the ceiling. “Nobody move!”

  MacGyver closed his eyes for a moment, blocking out the uniformed man, lying amid coffee paraphernalia, a neat, round hole in his forehead and the back of his head completely obliterated. Levinson hadn’t stood a chance against Palazzi and the other gunmen in the room, but there was nothing MacGyver could have done. If he’d tried, not only would he have forfeited the game, but it was likely more innocent people would be dead.

  He swung around to eye the madman with the gun. A nervous eye tick accompanied Palazzi’s scrutiny as he looked from person to person, and a muscle worked in his jaw, adding to his man-overboard appearance. Rage emanated from him until he looked ready to snap. Apparently, not getting his hands on Kellie, and thereby Anna, had been t
he final straw, sending the control freak over the friggin’ edge. Unfortunately, that wasn’t exactly good news for MacGyver. It was only a matter of time before Palazzi recognized him.

  Brandishing his weapon, he spun in a half-circle, everyone’s full attention now fixed on him. “Nobody move and we won’t have any more unfortunate incidents. My friends and I will be out of here shortly, and no one else has to die as long as you do what you’re told. So sit down, stay put and be quiet.”

  Terrified people began dropping to the floor in groups of two or three. A young girl, maybe fifteen, picked that moment to dash across the terminal toward a man and woman who huddled together on the floor, their arms outstretched toward her.

  Palazzi whipped toward the clatter of footsteps. “I said down on the floor!” As he roared, the girl froze and clasped her hands over her ears, tears beginning to stream down her face.

  “Please, please, she’s our daughter.” The father implored Palazzi while he tried to calm his sobbing wife.

  “You should have taught your daughter some respect so I wouldn’t have to.” Palazzi stalked toward the girl, grabbed her hair and yanked her to his side. By sheer luck, the move placed her directly between MacGyver and Palazzi, guaranteeing MacGyver a few more seconds of anonymity.

  He turned and dove toward one of several pillars in the center of the building. Jerking his gun free of his holster, he tucked his shoulder and rolled, jumped to his feet again and pressed his back to the concrete support.

  People who’d settled onto the floor at Palazzi’s direction now scrambled to put distance between themselves and MacGyver. As he peered around the edge of the column, the man who still lounged near the bathroom door, Palazzi’s man number six, yanked his weapon free and made a beeline for MacGyver’s hiding place.