Free Fall (15 page)

Still, Jose rested a hand over his 9 mm just as Mr. Smith did the same. The afternoon’s attack was still too fresh in his mind, the smell of the mortar exploding, the feel of Stella’s heartbeat against his.

The steps came closer and Jose realized he recognized the tread well. So well, it should have unsettled him all the more.

“Stella,” he called out, “Smith and I are out here just shooting the breeze.”

She probably already knew, but best to be sure.

A second later, she rounded the corner, fire shooting from her eyes. Her arms pumping, her braid swaying with her every determined step, she stalked straight up to Mr. Smith and said softly through gritted teeth, “When the hell were you intending to tell me they’re trying to set off a bio toxin in the middle of a diplomacy visit?”

“Bio toxin?” Jose jerked to attention, his every instinct narrowing to block out anything that distracted him from Stella’s words.

Ironic as hell since Stella was a walking, talking distraction by just breathing the same air space.

But for now he blocked out the planes roaring overhead, the sun baking down, the overpowering urge to take Stella somewhere, anywhere, and hide her away safely. Instead, he zeroed in on the moment, one of those instances that battle-honed instincts told him was a crucial, defining instant. She smoothed her palms down the thighs of her jeans, leaving a hint of perspiration before tucking them in her pockets. She tugged the tunic, flipping back her braid nervously.

Shit. If Stella was sweating, this was beyond bad.

An angry tic twitching at the corner of one eye, Smith snapped the cigar in half. He stepped closer, his voice low. “Agent Carson, you’re going to need to be more specific with what information you’ve uncovered and how.”

Stella’s bracing sigh wasn’t reassuring. “I accessed the writing on the cloth and ran them through some programs. I’m assuming your programs didn’t decipher the pattern yet or you sure as hell wouldn’t be standing around shooting the breeze, taking a smoke. Bottom line, I realized I only have half the puzzle because there’s another cloth out there somewhere. But from what I can put together, the separatist group responsible for my capture has a nerve toxin. I believe it’s a variation of the tetanus toxin, one so intense a regular vaccination won’t do anything but delay the onset of symptoms for a few extra minutes.”

Jose closed his eyes for a long heartbeat processing what he’d heard. He didn’t doubt her conclusion for a second. They may have had their problems in the romance department, but when it came to her job, Stella was one hundred percent rock solid. He found that brilliant mind of hers sexy as hell most of the time. Right now, he’d wished like crazy that he could be wrong… That
she
could be wrong.

Cursing softly, Smith turned to Jose. “The symptoms of extreme exposure to tetanus are… what?”

Jose’s brain shifted into medical mode, but knowledge brought him little comfort. Horrific images filled his head. “Muscle spasms so intense they lead to paralysis, then suffocation.”

“Mr. Smith, if that’s let loose in a large gathering,” she hesitated, swallowing as if her mouth had gone dry, “a large televised gathering…”

The loss of life, the worldwide panic… the consequences were… beyond imagining. He might as well have been cleaved down the middle. Half of him still shouted to get Stella somewhere safe, while the other half of him knew they would both do their jobs and their jobs were going to take them to the core of the threat.

Smith flicked the broken cigar into a trash can. “Smoke break over. We need to roll. Carson, patch a call through to Sutton and see if you can find out more about where he got the kanga. We’ll also need to send someone back to the compound to search again.” He charged ahead in a blur of generic dark suit, words floating over his shoulder. “And we can talk later about why the two of you felt the need to play me.”

***

Strapped into a CV-22 heading to Mogadishu, nearly a seven-hundred-mile trip, Stella fought down the welling outright panic that had been threatening to swallow her whole since she’d cracked part of the code. The CIA had stepped the operation into high gear.

No cigar breaks.

The bulk of their mobile command unit was being related to Somalia’s capital, ahead of the arrival of the vice president’s wife. They had limited time to prevent the attack. Attempts to persuade her to abandon her trip fell on deaf ears. Canceling the visit would embolden the very warlords she and the U.S. administration as a whole condemned.

Now it was up to the CIA, Interpol, the Secret Service, and the military to ramp up their efforts to keep the nation’s second lady safe.

From what Stella gathered, the rest of the details were on the second stretch of cloth. But the details on the first length of fabric had been chilling enough. The deciphered code contained the formula for a bio toxin.

Ajaya had been warily helpful thus far. From what the teenager had said, the attack was supposed to take place when the vice president’s wife made her goodwill visit to Mogadishu—also known as Xamar. The celebrations would be huge, spanning days. There would be everything from a brass band welcome on the tarmac to a speech at a local monument to high profile diners at a convention center. He vowed that he’d only heard about a regular package bomb.

But the code indicated otherwise.

The potential devastation was beyond imagining with so many different scenarios to protect against. An outdoor bomb? An indoors insidious release through the air ducts?

Once Smith had led them back into the hangar, he’d mobilized his CIA team. The PJs were included for on-the-ground security.

Even if they prevented the release of the bio toxin, there was still the potential for panic if word leaked.
Mass
chaos.
The PJs’ medic skills would be in high demand. With that kind of threat hanging over their heads, Smith had never gotten around to chewing her out for breaking into his intelligence files to get her own private take on that cloth.

The tension in the aircraft was thicker than the humidity. And it was mighty damn dense, carrying the scent of hydraulic fumes and fear. Yes, fear, because she knew something these big badass warriors would never admit. Anyone with sense was afraid at a time like this.

She wanted to reach for Jose, needed the reassurance of his touch, but knew now wasn’t the time. Even though they’d worked as a team to give her time in the hangar, they had left so much unsaid.

He’d been here for her again and again, even when she pushed him away, he came through for her. She pressed her leg to his, giving what comfort she could without dinging that male pride. The flex of his thigh against hers told her he noticed even as he continued to sit in his webbed seat, his head resting back, his eyes closed.

How could he be so calm in light of what they were facing? They had scraps of intel to chase down a major terrorist plot likely to take place eighteen hours after they landed. Not much time to defuse things that could change world dynamics forever. She saw Smith on his comm set still chasing down leads about the second kanga.

She looked at the other men on Jose’s team, all of them sprawled much like Jose. Catching catnaps? Storing energy, no doubt, which she should be doing. Jose breathed evenly, his eyes closed and his hands folded over his stomach. How many times had she watched him just this way? He always snagged power naps—in a chair, on a train, anytime he had to wait. She’d figured out his body went on autopilot, grabbing rest whenever he could to make up for all the times he pushed himself for days straight in rescue situations.

God, there was so much to admire about him. She felt small and petty right now for pushing him away because he didn’t have room in his life for anything more.

For a full life with her.

Bad, bad, bad idea letting her thoughts run that path. No good could be found there. She needed to be smart, focused. Tearing her gaze away, she looked around the belly of the aircraft until her eyes landed on Fang; the junior team member wasn’t sleeping at all. His foot was twitching. He looked around at his napping teammates, his gaze and movements jerky. This was big stuff early in the newbie’s career.

Big stuff for any stage.

Fang realized she was watching him and he bulked up, sitting straighter with bravado, then shrugged sheepishly. “Can’t sleep,” he said. “Smells like straight up crotch in here.”

A laugh popped free and God it felt good right now.

Bubbles peeked out of one eye. “Lovely, Fang. Lovely.”

They could all use a laugh right now. Stella reached into her bag and tossed her fuzzy loofah at Bubbles.

Sgt. Novak flinched back.

Jose laughed. Hard. Wade Rocha pinched the bridge of his nose as he chuckled, and slowly they all settled back to sleep, but their bodies less tensed, less ramped. Well, all but Fang. The baby-faced PJ was still awake, but less tense at least. His hand dropped beside him, reaching under his seat and Stella realized…

Holy crap. The dog from earlier was tucked under there asleep.

The kid looked like Tom Hanks from the actor’s early days, with curls and an aw-gosh-golly attitude. He waved a hand. “It’s all cleared and official, ma’am. Some folks at the base arranged the paperwork since they care about the dog so much. No worries about the military getting their knickers in a twist.”

“Fang,” she reached to pat the dog’s belly, “somehow I don’t think anyone’s going to be riding your ass about the mutt today.”

“Guess not.” Fang scratched his shoulder under the seat harness. “A group in the States sponsored the dog a while ago and since we were headed out, the dog will be swapping over to another plane in Mogadishu. He’ll be gone before…” He swallowed hard. “I mean, like, if the worst happens. The dog will be safe.”

“Fang, you’re going to be okay,” she said with a total conviction she knew he needed to hear. “I’ve crunched the numbers. I’m the queen of logic, remember?”

He nodded and grinned like a grateful kid before closing his eyes.

The dog scrabbled across the grated floor and tucked in beside Jose. His hand slid down on top of the animal’s head and right away she thought of Jose’s old commander, the one he’d told her married a lady who worked with therapy dogs for veterans under stress. She could totally imagine how that would work right now.

In fact, she could envision a lot at the moment, that tenderness in Jose that had so drawn her. How could he not recognize that in himself? The part of him meant to nurture…

“Stella,” Jose said softly without opening his eyes, just leaning closer to her where no one could hear them, “just because I like dogs doesn’t mean I’m primed for domestic bliss. And don’t deny you were thinking it.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to. I can feel your thoughts, lady.”

Didn’t that just make her point? They were so in tune with each other, it was wrong that he kept denying what they could have together. “You’re petting a dog. It’s like one of those pictures circling around the Internet of soldiers with pups. It’s heart-tugging, all right?”

“Okay. I just don’t want you to make too much of it. Yeah, I’m human and the mutt is comforting. You’ve been kidnapped. You got shot at earlier today. You could get shot at again. I’m rattled, but I’ll pull it together before we land.”

“I know you will. I have complete faith in your ability to do your job.”

“Too bad that confidence in me didn’t carry over into the relationship department.”

His voice rumbled so lowly it almost blended in with the drone of aircraft engines. But she caught every word all the same. His hand slid away from the dog and the mutt inched on to the next available hand… on to Bubbles, who looked less than pleased to have company, especially fuzzy company. The fuzzy-phobic PJ unbuckled from his seat and guided the pup back to the crate strapped down, although Bubbles chose to sit beside the dog. Softie.

Stella glanced away and back to Jose. Frustration sparked inside her over him laying the whole breakup at her feet. She looked around at the others and they were catching their own catnaps or far enough away where they wouldn’t overhear. A part of her winced at having such an intense conversation when they were anything other than alone, but their life was anything other than normal or convenient. They had to grasp moments when they could.

“Jose, you’re the one who didn’t want me to settle down with a couple of rug rats.”

His eyes crinkled at the corner with one of those sad smiles. “Like you would ever settle down.”

“If I had kids, I would make changes to my life.” And she meant it. “I want to be there for my children. I don’t want them to grow up like I did, not if I can help it.”

“Moot point for us anyway.”

She flinched, reality a cold freakin’ splash of water. “We could all die today.”

“That’s not what I meant, Mary Sunshine.” He bumped his knee against hers.

“But it’s true. The risk here is off the charts.”

He glanced over at the mutt in the crate as if he wanted to haul the dog back out. “I can’t walk into missions thinking that way.”

“You approach
every
mission thinking that way.
That
others
may
live.
Right?”

He sat up straighter. “You’re afraid I’m going to check out on you.”

“Is it so wrong to worry you could be killed, living life with that kind of reckless approach?”

“I just didn’t expect that from you.” He searched her eyes, his forehead furrowed. “I thought you would understand. You signed on for the same thing. Who did you expect to fall for when you hang out with guys like me all the time?”

His words stung, making her sound foolish when she wasn’t. She’d just had a plan and he arrived too early. “You make it sound so analytical.”

“You’re the one who’s logical,” he reminded her gently.

She sagged back with a sigh. “Apparently not about falling in love.”

“You love me?”

He studied her warily, making her all too aware of the pain they’d both felt over their breakup.

“I did.”

His hand rested on top of hers gently, but his jaw was hard and set. “I still do.”

Oh God, he was breaking her heart here. “That’s not fair.” She squeezed his fingers. “Especially not now with what we’re about to face.”

“Nothing between us has been fair.” He pulled his hand free, crossed his arms over his chest, and went back to sleep.

Four breaths later, his chest rose and fell evenly, his body lanky and relaxed as if they hadn’t just torn each other’s hearts out again, damn it. She ached to wrap her arms around the comfort of that goofy looking dog, but surprisingly Bubbles was scratching the mutt’s muzzle through the mesh grating.

She
needed
to find peace, resolution, and she needed to find it fast. They would be landing shortly, then go through another debrief with Smith and his intel comrades. Even now, intelligence organizations were following up, gathering data through satellites and drones and human assets on the ground. Those tasked with detail tomorrow would be forced to sleep tonight, to block out the world and recharge their bodies for whatever waited for them when the vice president’s wife landed to greet a welcoming crowd of at least a couple hundred. Thousands more gathered outside the airport’s secured perimeter.