Protecting Dallas

by Krista Wolf

  WHOOSH!

  I was out of the dust cloud. Into the open. I saw three men react immediately, raising their weapons until they were level with my truck.

  SHIT!

  I ducked, jerking the wheel hard. Loud pings and ricochets echoed across one side of my vehicle. Following that, I heard two sharp cracks, from far away. When I looked up again, two of them men had fallen.

  Whoa.

  The third one was sprinting like hell in the opposite direction.

  “UMMPH!”

  I whirled, and suddenly there was Kane. He was flat on his back, covered in dirt. Writhing around… with someone else pinned against his body.

  I flung open the door and ran for him, without even thinking. As I got closer I could see what was going on. He had one man in a headlock, while two others stood there kicking him in the ribs. A third stood poised over my lover, with the butt of his rifle raised high. Ready at any moment to bring it down on his skull…

  “KANE!”

  They whirled, and it occurred to me instantly that shouting probably wasn’t the best option. I hadn’t even flipped the safety on my weapon yet.

  “Dallas?”

  I saw Kane’s broad back twist viciously, and the guy he’d been wrestling with suddenly stopped moving. Half the men facing me turned back around. The others raised their rifles.

  CRACK!

  A bullet tore though an enemy’s shoulder. This time it came from the side, instead of above. Another man was advancing forward calmly, his teeth stark white against the dusky gloom of his face.

  It was Dietz.

  Thank God!

  The other man scrambled sideways, firing as he ran. As he and Dietz traded shots, I advanced forward… just as Kane grabbed the leg of his nearest opponent and yanked him to the ground.

  That left the man with rifle butt, who turned to face me. His gaze caught mine and there was an instant of shock… then recognition.

  ALACARD.

  His face was still bruised, his forehead scabbed over from our scuffle in New Orleans. He didn’t seem phased by it. In fact, his mouth curled into the most wicked of grins.

  Dallas…

  He moved slowly now, like a snake. No… like a snake charmer, keeping me locked in his trance-like gaze. Holding me prisoner with his beady black eyes, unable to move or do anything or—

  DALLAS!

  In a fraction of an instant, he snapped his weapon downward and leveled it at me. It happened robotically, like his arm was hydraulic…

  CRACK!

  The rifle came alive in my hands. Shit, it was like it shot itself.

  Alacard looked down, at the blossoming red hole in his chest. A dark stain was spreading outward, looking black in the moonlight.

  Best of all, his face was contorted in a mask of complete surprise.

  CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

  He jerked a few times, stumbling backwards. Then he crumpled, just as Kane sprang to his feet.

  “Dallas!”

  CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK!

  “DALLAS!”

  Somehow I stopped before my clip was empty. But only just barely.

  “Holy shit, Dallas.” Kane’s hand closed over the barrel, pushing it downward. “I’ve never seen you move that fast,” he swore.

  You’ve never seen me deal blackjack.

  The thought only barely registered in the furthest recesses of my mind. I was still numb. Speechless. Tingling all over.

  My lover’s arm slid around my waist, pulling me in the direction of the cliff face. “C’mon.”

  “B—But the truck…” I managed to say. “It’s that way.”

  Kane said something, but I could barely hear now. I thought maybe I’d gone deaf from the sound of gunshots, but then I realized the deafening sound was above me. And it was getting louder and louder.

  “Forget the truck,” Kane was practically shouting into my ear. “Come this way, we need cover.”

  “What’s happening?” I yelled. The dust was swirling again, only this time there was was a storm. Or at least it seemed that way as I looked up, trying to find recognizable patches of the clear night sky.

  My whole body was shaking. Even my ear drums were vibrating.

  “What the hell is going on?” I shouted.

  Kane’s breath was hot against my ear. His voice was loud but calm.

  “Helicopters.”

  Sixty-Three

  KANE

  It was beautiful, seeing the way it all unfolded. Watching the entire platoon repel from the two Sikorskys, inserting themselves smoothly and effortlessly into the fight.

  My only regret was that it was over too soon.

  Less than five minutes after the first chopper arrived, it touched down safely on the hard-packed clay. Thirteen SEALs and two officers stood over a line of fanned-out prisoners, all disarmed and zip-tied and face down in the dust.

  “Medina, right?”

  The man addressing me by my last name was as grizzled as they came. He stomped over confidently, the dark hair peeking out beneath his hat all streaked with grey.

  “Yes Chief,” I saluted.

  He extended his hand. I shook it, while he measured me with his eyes.

  “Chief Rogan. Team Four, third platoon.”

  “I know who you are, sir.”

  “Good. Now why the fuck are you grinning?”

  I wasn’t even aware I had been. As the man stood waiting for an answer, I couldn’t do anything but shrug.

  “I really didn’t think you were coming.”

  The Chief scowled and removed his hat. “You shitting me son? After what you told us?”

  I wanted to laugh. Not at the man, but at the situation. It was all so absurd, so totally insane. It would take a whole day to explain it, and another week to—

  “Of course we came! Woodward was pretty goddamn insistent. Between him and what I read of your service record, we couldn’t not come.” He paused for a moment. “Although there was some pushback…”

  For a few seconds he looked thoughtful, as if considering something unpleasant. Then he shook his head.

  “This is a right fucking mess, son,” the Chief spat, looking around. “You know that?”

  “Oh I know it, sir.”

  “Quit all that ‘sir’ shit and tell me what the hell is going on.”

  As the choppers’ engines wound down, I went over the basics. The details could come later. It took me a minute to identify the parties involved, pointing out men, bosses, vehicles…

  “Two trucks slipped away,” I said abruptly. “I think they headed east, while we were in the middle of…”

  “The shitstorm?” he finished finished for me. “Don’t worry, we know all about it. We’ve already got intercepts. Hell, this is a joint operation, between the Army and Nellis and—”

  “SIR!”

  We both turned our heads at the same time. Two men had pulled back the hidden dust-cover and were standing over a whole pit of perfectly-stacked brown paper bricks. The Chief raised one wild eyebrow.

  “Cocaine?”

  “We assumed as much, yes.”

  “This about drugs, then?”

  I shook my head. “Much more than that.”

  The man paused, putting his hands on his hips. He let out a long, deep breath.

  “So…” he squinted up at me. “That stuff Woodward was telling us…”

  “All true, Chief. Every bit of it.”

  He scanned around again, looking at everyone, everything. His eyes swept over the men on their bellies. His face contorted into a grimace.

  “Jesus Christ,” he swore loudly.

  “And Mary and Joseph,” I added.

  Sixty-Four

  MADDOX

  It was several hours before it was all over. Before every last suspect left in the back of a police car, or worse, chained hand-and-foot and dragged off by the Military Police. The LVMPD wanted us to follow them back for statements of course, but the Chief got us out of there by claiming we were ‘hi
s people’.

  Eventually, only one of the choppers was left.

  “Full debriefing,” Rogan barked, as he walked back to the transport. “My office, all of you. When I’m good and ready.”

  Kane replied with a curt nod. It seemed to satisfy the man.

  “For now,” the Chief said, “get some rest.”

  He disappeared into the transport, two men shifting quickly aside for him. I marveled at how he seemed almost totally surreal. Like a character out of a movie.

  “So this was your doing, huh?” I poked Kane. It was the first actual conversation we’d had since the chaos started.

  “Yup.”

  “Alright, then. How’d you pull it off?”

  Austin and Dietz inched forward. They were both pretty interested themselves. Dallas was already by my side, hanging off one shoulder. Probably already trying to make amends for the truck incident.

  “Well I touched base with Woodward first,” Kane said. “Told him the shit was about to hit the fan, and he was standing way too close not to be splattered.”

  The analogy made me laugh. “So why didn’t he just move?”

  “I didn’t give him the option,” Kane replied. “I told him if we went down, he was next. Without question.”

  “And he believed you?”

  “He had to. Especially when I told him Dietz was hearing things. Bad things. Namely, that he was flapping his gums to us back in New Orleans.”

  Austin rubbed at his jaw. “God, that’s dirty.”

  “Dirty times,” Kane acknowledged.

  “So then what happened?” asked Dallas.

  “Woodward got in touch with all new superiors. Between the both of us, not to mention Dietz on the inside, we rattled the tree hard enough to shake a platoon loose.”

  “And we ended up with Rogan.”

  “Yup,” Kane said again.

  “We got lucky,” said Dietz. “Lucky that he’s good people.”

  “We sure did,” Kane agreed. “Because this almost didn’t happen. There are officers involved who aren’t even here right now. People that were trying to squash this every inch of the way.”

  “If not for Rogan,” Dallas theorized.

  Kane nodded slowly. “Yeah. If not for Rogan.”

  The whole thing was a can of worms. A filthy, shit-stained can of rotten worms, that nobody really wanted to touch.

  But the can was open now. And there was no closing it.

  “Ever think of telling us?” I needled Kane.

  “Telling you what?”

  “Oh I don’t know…” I sneered. “That maybe you had SEAL Team Four showing up?”

  “Nah.”

  “Why the fuck not?”

  “Didn’t wanna get your hopes up.”

  I still couldn’t believe it. Still couldn’t comprehend how everything could get this messy, this fast.

  “There’s enough on Connor’s data chip to take down some very high-level operators,” Austin vowed. “And way too many people here tonight, for it to get swept under the rug.”

  Thank fucking God, I thought to myself.

  “So shit’s about to get hairy?”

  Dallas jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “That wasn’t hairy?” she exclaimed.

  “Hell no,” I teased. “We had the whole thing under control… that is, until you took the wheel again.”

  Austin couldn’t suppress a chuckle. Even Kane smiled.

  “Yeah, somebody take her keys away already?”

  While the laughter died down I studied Dallas’s expression. Even now she was still flush with heat and adrenaline. But she wasn’t sad. She wasn’t upset, or shell-shocked, or distressed, or anything like that at all.

  Considering what she’d been through, and what she’d just done, it was almost a miracle.

  And that’s exactly why you love her.

  I realized that it was. Dallas had brains, courage, and strength. A rare and wonderful combination in any person, much less a soulmate. And that wasn’t even taking into account the rest of her assets.

  “So that’s it?” Dietz asked finally. “We’re all done?”

  We stared at each other for a moment, all five of us in a circle. The only sound was the low hum of the Sikorsky going through its pre-flight.

  “Seems like it,” Austin shrugged.

  Kane spat a gob of blood through a split lip. “Better be,” he added.

  Dallas was kicking at the ground. Not saying much of anything.

  “I can go home,” Dietz said. His voice was different now. Softer. “I’m finally out.”

  I reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Gonna be some loose ends,” I offered. “A lot of them, probably. But nothing that can’t be tied up.”

  Out on the horizon, the first hint of pink was cracking the sky. Dawn was coming. My stomach rumbled.

  It was Austin who spoke up at the end.

  “Anyone for pancakes?”

  Sixty-Five

  DALLAS

  Two weeks. That’s how long it took to sift through the ashes. Two weeks of meetings and debriefs and borderline interrogations.

  The police wanted answers, of course. But with the LVMPD getting credit for one of the biggest drug seizures in Nevada’s history, their interviews were all good coffee and even better smiles.

  When it came to the MP’s however, things were a lot more complicated.

  We didn’t hear from Rogan until after a sweeping series of arrests had been made. It was all internal stuff. Very nasty. The kind of high-level shit the Navy and Air Force both wanted to keep tightly under wraps. When we were finally called in, the whole process took several long days. But between Woodward and Dietz and the files my brother had squirreled away, the last pieces of a really fucked up puzzle finally started coming together.

  Alacard, thankfully, was gone. So was Evan Miller, although I was never really told if that happened by my hand or a result of someone else’s. Either way, three Captains and two Chief Warrant Officers were literally hauled off in chains. There would be more than just court-martials - there would be military tribunals. And these, I was assured, would take place behind very closed doors.

  April was just a few days away by the time it was all finished. Dietz had finally gone home to Norfolk, even taking his tooth with him. My insurance checks arrived; structure and content money from the fire. Numbers and commas on two tiny slips of paper… all that was left of my childhood home.

  One evening I was looking at the guys, watching them mill around the house. They looked restless now. As if struggling to find something to do.

  They’ve been protecting you for so long, the little voice in my head told me. They don’t know what comes next.

  It was a stark realization. One I hadn’t even considered, or prepared for.

  So what does come next, Dallas?

  I supposed I needed to move on, maybe get a fresh start. I could probably get my job back, but for some reason dealing cards just didn’t seem all that appealing anymore.

  Neither did Vegas.

  There were just too many memories here. Too many ghosts. Too much in the way of bittersweet—

  “Dallas?”

  I glanced up and Maddox was leaning into my doorway, looking more amazing than usual. His arms were all pumped up. Probably from just working out.

  Damn.

  I let my eyes crawl over him for a few happy seconds. Time had been short lately. Over the past couple of weeks, there really hadn’t been much room for—

  “Can you come with me for a minute?”

  I smiled as I followed him down the hall. He extended his hand, and I took it happily as he led me into the kitchen.

  The others were there too. Neither one of them were seated. Austin stood to one side of the table, arms folded. Kane was on the other, leaning back into his usual spot against the counter.

  “Another family meeting?” I joked.

  “Something like that.”

  I looked down, and noticed there was a
box on the table. A gift box in red and white, tied off with a ribbon.

  “Well it’s not my birthday,” I said.

  “We know.”

  The box did look like a cake box, only fancier. I was blushing a little as I stepped up. Austin pulled out a chair for me.

  “Oh, so I’m gonna to need to sit down for this?”

  The guys looked at each other, all three of them.

  “Probably,” Kane offered. “Yeah.”

  I sat down. Pulled on the ribbon. It fell away, and I lifted the lid, wondering what in the world they were collectively giving me.

  Inside the box was a beautiful, leather-bound book. I took it out, surprised at its weight. How heavy and warm it felt in my hands.

  “Open it.”

  I flipped the cover, and there he was: Connor. Staring back at me through time. Flashing me the most beautiful, wonderful smile… a smile I almost forgot he had. Almost, but not quite.

  I think I gasped. Covered my mouth with my hands. But then I was flipping through the book, page after page, picture after wonderful picture of my brother in the prime of his life.

  Tears welled up instantly, then began to fall. They streamed down my cheeks so quickly I had to lean back to avoid them dropping onto the beautifully embossed pages.

  “Here.”

  One of them handed me a tissue, but it wasn’t nearly enough. I might need a hundred.

  “I…”

  The sentence failed. Words were absolutely meaningless. I kept flipping and sobbing, over the most amazing set of photographs I’d ever laid eyes on. Connor, in various uniforms, camos, and fatigues. Standing or kneeling in the most exotic locales. Grinning back at me, first from a ship, then from a desert, then from some tropical beach with a bright blue sky.

  There were dozens of photos. Hundreds. Lots of pictures had the guys in them as well. Photos of Connor and Maddox holding their rifles, shoulder to shoulder. Photos of my brother with Kane and Austin, playing cards in a quonset hut.

  “Keep going,” Maddox said.

  I flipped some more, and suddenly I saw myself. It was a picture taken while we teenagers, or at least while I was. Connor and I stood together, embracing and laughing, as if the photographer had done something funny. Or as if the two of us were sharing some secret, silent joke.