Into the Storm (19 page)

She rolled her eyes. “No, it was a…misjudgment of character.”

“A what?”

“No fair. It’s
your
turn.”

“Yeah, but that’s freaking cryptic. Misjudgment of character—what does that mean? You were shot in the back by a friend?” He’d gotten it right, he could see from her face. “Jesus, Lindsey.”

She tried to downplay it, but it was too late. “I thought he was a friend—the perp. He was someone I thought I knew, but apparently didn’t. He was going for suicide by cop, and I…I couldn’t see it.”

Oh, man. She was pretending it was nothing, that even talking about it wasn’t any kind of big deal. But Jenk knew better. He tried to imagine having to shoot Izzy. Or having Izzy shoot him.

“So he just shot you?” Jenk asked. “Your alleged friend.”

She nodded. “He wanted me to shoot him, but I wouldn’t even draw on him. I was so wrapped up in talking him down, you know? I was clueless. So he discharged his weapon to get my attention. I dove for cover, he kept shooting and actually hit me. I think he was as surprised as I was. God, talk about spilling secrets. I haven’t talked about this with…Well, Tom knows, but he doesn’t bring it up.”

Jenk’s heart was in his throat, but he made his voice as matter-of-fact as hers was. “Did you have to kill him?”

“No, I was, you know, too busy bleeding. He settled for suicide by SWAT team. They killed him to get me to the hospital. So what haven’t you done that you still want to do?”

For about four seconds, Jenk considered following her lead. He considered just letting the headlines news version of the story she’d told him remain as a matter-of-fact as she’d intended. But he couldn’t do it. “If you ever want to talk about it…I live in that world, too. I’ve had friends die. Not like that, but…Close enough.”

Lindsey gazed at him, searching his eyes. For the first time, probably since he’d met her, amusement wasn’t lurking somewhere on her face, ready to slip out through her constant almost-smile, or sparkling in her eyes. She looked wary and vulnerable, and quite possibly even a little afraid.

So he brought her back to her comfort zone. “So what haven’t I done that I still want to do? My notepad is around here somewhere.” He pretended to look for it. “Have amazing sex with Lindsey Fontaine was pretty high on my list. Where’s a pencil? I can cross that one off.”

She shoved him. “I’m being serious here. I just told you…and now you’re making a joke?” She was pretending to be indignant, but he could see her relief.

“I’m being serious, too,” he said, grabbing her hands as she started tickling him. He twisted, throwing his leg across her to pin her down. Although he suspected if she hadn’t wanted to be pinned, he wouldn’t have succeeded. “This whole night has been amazing.”

And there it was again. That hint of fear. What was she so afraid of? “It has been, hasn’t it?” she whispered.

He kissed her, and, God, she kissed him back so sweetly, he felt his bones melt.

So he told her the truth. “The thing I regretted most—when I thought I was going to die—was that I didn’t have a family. You know. Of my own.”

“A family,” she repeated. “Like, two point five kids, a dog, and a minivan?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “It was…weird. I was trying to dig myself free, but…fully expecting to be blown into a million pieces, and I was thinking about Charlie. You know, Paoletti.”

Lindsey shifted slightly away from him. “It’s one thing to babysit. Because you get to go home afterward.”

“I know,” Jenk said. “I do. It’s just…Tommy’s so…satisfied. I’ve known him for years and…I know things aren’t perfect for him. Last year, after that sniper attack, when Murphy’s wife was killed—that was some serious bad shit. Larry Decker, he was team leader of that op, and he’s still running at pucker-factor five thousand. He’s being eaten alive by the fact that she died—what was her name?”

“Angelina,” Lindsey told him.

“That’s right. Deck’s still dying from it, still carrying Angelina’s death with him every single day. I’ve seen it happen in the teams, when officers lose men, when guys lose teammates. Some of ’em can’t forgive themselves, even though it’s not their fault. And it ends up killing them, too. They change—not for the better.

“But Tommy,” Jenk continued, “he had Kelly standing beside him. And it wasn’t that long after Angelina’s funeral that Charlie was born. I know that helped, too. It’s not that Tommy didn’t mourn or grieve or even feel responsible for any mistakes that were made. But he handled it, he processed it, he implemented some new rules, stepped up your training levels, too. I’m sure he thinks about her every day. Shit, I think about her a lot, and I didn’t even know her. But Tommy’s found peace, and I know his path was easier because he had Kelly and Charlie to hold on to.” He paused. “That’s what I want. That’s what I realized after Izzy saved my life.”

He had no idea what Lindsey was thinking. He only knew that she’d pulled herself free from him, pulled the blanket to cover herself as she curled up, one arm beneath her head, just watching and listening to him talk.

“At the risk of bumming you out,” Lindsey finally said, “I’ve come to know both Tom and Kelly pretty well and…I think they’re the exception rather than the rule. Most people’s relationships don’t come close. Take my parents, for example.” She shuddered.

“Divorced?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “But I’m not sure if they ever really talked.” She paused. “My mom lost her fight with cancer, not quite two years ago.”

“Wow,” Jenk said. “That must’ve sucked.”

Lindsey nodded. “Yeah. She was diagnosed when I was eleven. She fought a good fight, but it kept recurring. She made the decision to have home hospice care about a week before I was shot. That’s why I quit the force. I spent all that time in the hospital, and she never left my side. And all I could think was, what if I get hurt again, when she’s confined to a bed? And I wanted to take the time, you know, to be with her while I could. It was…good. That I did it. I always intended to go back, but then Tom called me and…” She shrugged. “Here I am.”

She’d had an extremely tough couple of years. Jenk would never have guessed it. She was always so upbeat, so ready with a smile.

Unlike Tracy, who walked around with a list of complaints, ready to rattle them off at the slightest hint of an invitation.

It was the first time he’d even so much as thought of Tracy in hours and, almost as if he’d conjured her, his cell phone rang.

It was her. He’d given her a special ringtone.

Lindsey sat up. “Is your phone really playing ‘Here Comes the Bride’?” She started to laugh.

Jenk nearly tripped over the bedcovers as he hurried into the hall, where his phone was blasting majestic organ chords from the pocket of his pants. He silenced it, double-checking the number. Yep, it was definitely Tracy. Holy crap, it was after 0300.

That was the only reason he answered it. “Jenkins.”

“Thank God, you’re there!” It was Tracy, and she was crying. “I’m so sorry, Mark, but I didn’t know who else to call. I just didn’t know what to do, I’m sure Lyle’s at my apartment and—”

“Whoa, whoa,” he said. “Slow down. Where are you? Are you safe?”

“I’m in a cab.” She started to cry harder. “Lyle’s looking for me. He was
so
upset.”

Shit.

Lindsey, meanwhile, had found the towel Jenk had worn out of the shower. She’d wrapped it around herself, apparently not as comfortable as he was to stand there, naked, in his hallway. She met his eyes briefly as she slipped past him and into the bathroom, closing the door tightly behind her.

She was smart. She’d no doubt figured out that it was Tracy on the other end of the phone.

“Tracy,” Jenk spoke over her noisy sobs. “Honey, I can’t understand what you’re saying. You have to slow down and breathe, okay? Where are you? You said you’re in a cab—where’s the cab?”

“Outside your apartment,” she told him, and his entire world tilted.

“You’re where?”

“Right outside,” she said again. “But I don’t have any money to pay the driver. Will you…Will you pay the fare so that I can come up?”

Lindsey opened the bathroom door. With her clothes back on. “Where is she?” she asked silently.

“Downstairs,” he told her, hating the surprise and then realization that flashed in her eyes.
You’re wrong,
he wanted to tell her.
Whatever it is that you’re thinking, you’re wrong.

He stepped into his pants, taking his wallet from his pocket. He could fix this quickly by giving Tracy some money to get a hotel room. She’d clearly had too much to drink. Sleeping it off would be a good idea. But, crap. He didn’t have that much cash.

“I’ll be right down,” he said to Tracy, then snapped his phone shut. “I’ve got to handle this,” he told Lindsey. A quick trip to the nearest ATM would solve the problem. Or he could just go with Tracy to that motel over by the Ladybug, use his credit card.

“Of course.” Lindsey went to get her jacket from the dining room chair where she’d left it.

“I’m just going to make sure she’s somewhere safe, then I’ll be back. Twenty minutes, tops.” He pulled on his T-shirt. Whoa, was that really what he’d smelled like for most of the evening? He took it back off again.

Lindsey was already halfway out the door. “I have to go.”

“Please don’t.”

She didn’t stop. “I have to. Don’t worry, I won’t let her see me.”

“Linds…” The hell with it. He put the T-shirt back on, jammed his bare feet into his boots, and clattered down the stairs after her.

But she’d pulled another ninja.

She was already gone.

C
HAPTER
N
INE

S
AN
D
IEGO
, C
ALIFORNIA
F
RIDAY
, D
ECEMBER
9, 2005

S
ophia trashed the paper target. It shredded, exploding into confetti as the force of the weapon she was firing jolted her to her very spine.

The ear protectors she was wearing brought the noise level from unbearable to merely hellish. She couldn’t imagine firing this thing without them, on a battlefield. It would be insane.

She ran out of ammo—it didn’t take very long at all to empty the magazine—and the silence settled around her.

“Excellent,” Dave proclaimed, as she set the weapon on the table, following the shooting range’s strict rules. “Much better. Do you remember how to reload?”

She took off the headphone-like ear protectors and picked up the clip. “I think so.”

“The MP5’s much too big for her.” Sophia spun around to see Decker standing there. How long had he been watching?

He turned to her, actually meeting her eyes. “You should try the MP4. It’s lighter and smaller. Of course, it doesn’t have the same range. It’s nicknamed the ‘room broom’ because it’s good for indoor situations. But it’s definitely more your size.”

It shouldn’t have been a surprise to see him there. This was the closest range to the Troubleshooters office. And Sophia knew Deck believed in a strict daily practice regimen. It was, he’d told her once, an essential part of staying on top of his game.

“This is the equivalent of the weapon I had last night,” she told him. “I wanted to feel what it was like to use it correctly.”

He nodded. “You did okay with it. Considering it was your first time.”

“I killed Tom, and I killed you,” she said. “I don’t consider that okay.” Was this really happening? Were they actually standing here, having a civil conversation? She glanced at Dave, who was preoccupied with his Palm Pilot.

“That trick you pulled on Lopez and…who was it?” Deck actually settled in, leaning slightly against the wall. He was dressed as if he’d come from a meeting, in one of his ill-fitting suits, standard white dress shirt, also a size too large. He’d taken the jacket off, loosened his tie, and rolled up his sleeves. He looked as if he’d worked his entire life in a cubby-divided office, mousy and meek, clothes hanging off his skinny frame.

In truth, he was solid under there. Bumping into him was like running into a brick wall. Sophia knew this from experience. She knew some other things about him from experience, too.

“Gillman,” she told him now, hoping he wouldn’t be able to tell where her thoughts had gone. “Danny Gillman and Jay Lopez. They’re quite a pair, aren’t they? It was pretty obvious that they’d fall for the damsel in distress ruse.” Which was exactly what she’d tried on Deck, a million years ago. And now she was completely rattled. Had he come here to break the news to her, to tell her he’d already delivered his resignation letter to Tom? “I know I was lucky there were only two of them, and they both fell for it. Although the plan was only to distract them while Dave escaped, and I know it probably wouldn’t have worked in real life, because one of the reasons it
did
work was because Danny and Jay know me.” She was babbling, she heard herself babbling, and saw that Decker had stopped leaning. He looked ready to run away. “They both sent me flowers today, congratulating me on my success last night.” She laughed, and it sounded fake, forced, even to her own ears. “That’s a first, huh? Getting flowers from men I’ve killed? They were nice though, the flowers—”

Dave touched her arm, interrupting her, grounding her, his fingers warm and solid through the sleeve of her blouse. “You did an excellent job last night,” he said, then passed the conversational baton back to Decker. “Don’t you agree?”

“It was good work,” Deck said. He glanced at his watch. And here it came.
I just wanted to tell you that working with you is impossible for me. Gotta go.

“I had no idea sending flowers to the person who killed you was the proper protocol, post–training-op,” Dave commented mildly. “What do you suppose Mark Jenkins likes best? Roses or lilies?”

Sophia laughed.

Deck actually smiled.

“And you owe Sophia a bouquet, Deck,” Dave kept going, “although a lunch date would probably be an acceptable substitute.”

Sophia shot him a look. What was he doing? But he’d gone back to staring at his Palm Pilot.

“Lopez and Gillman were just…They’re so young and…” She rolled her eyes. “A little too enthusiastic. Besides, I killed Deck by mistake. Which is one of the reasons I’m here today. To try to figure out what I did wrong.”

“Killing Tom was your mistake,” Decker told her. “As for me…” He shook his head. “You had no idea I was in your kill zone. That was my fault. I should have let you know I was there.”

“Everything happened so fast,” Sophia said. “Although it always does, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Decker agreed. “Warp speed. Or at least you think it’s warp speed until you’re in the middle of a firefight. Then you get a real look at what
fast
means. At the same time, adrenaline can make everything seem to slow down, stretch out.”

Just standing here talking to her was such hard work for him, he was actually sweating from the effort.

“I don’t think I got the adrenaline rush until after it was over,” Sophia admitted.

He actually smiled again. It wasn’t as genuine as his smile at Dave’s flower joke, but it wasn’t bad. “Lot of good it did then, huh?”

Sophia managed a smile, too. “Yeah.” She also managed to keep her mouth shut when Decker didn’t say anything for a moment. Don’t babble, don’t babble. He didn’t like it when she babbled.

So there they were, standing there, smiling at each other, both so tense they were about to snap. Or at least she was smiling at him. Decker’s smiles were always much too brief. But he was looking her straight in the eye, as if he were trying to read her mind.

He opened his mouth, as if to speak again, but down the range, someone opened up with an automatic weapon. And Sophia instinctively ducked. She caught herself, turning it into a major flinch rather than a flat-out dive for cover.

Both men—Decker and Dave—took a step toward her, matching concern in their eyes.

“I’m okay,” she said. “I just spaced. I forgot I was in a firing range, although this should have been a clue.” She held up the ammo clip she was still holding.

“You want to go again?” Dave asked. “Or just head to lunch?” He turned to Decker. “We’re going to the Greek place. Want to join us?”

Deck looked at his watch again.

And Sophia just said it. “Or do you have to go write your resignation letter?”

“I guess you didn’t talk to Tom yet,” he said, and her heart sank. “About going to New Hampshire.”

Sophia shook her head, turning to look at Dave. He made a never-heard-it face as he shook his head. “I’m going to New Hampshire?” she asked.

“We all are,” Decker told her, told Dave, too. “Along with Team Sixteen. When I left the office, Tom told me it was a go—it happened much faster than he thought, but…We’re doing more war gaming, and we’ll get some winter training in, too. They’re having the coldest winter up there in around fifty years. I, uh, requested you—both of you—participate in my squad. I won’t be a team leader—we’re going to be mixing it up with Sixteen this time, letting their officers lead. But he agreed it would, uh, be a good idea if we continued to…Work together. For a while.”

Sophia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. And then she could, because this was Decker. She’d told him she loved her job, and that was all he’d had to hear. He was going to do whatever he had to do to make sure that she could stay. Sweat was nothing. He would bleed if he had to.

He glanced now at Dave. “I’m hoping you’ll accept the assignment.”

“Winter in New Hampshire,” Dave said with absolutely no inflection. “Whoo-hoo. That’s about as good as it gets. I’m in.” He turned to Sophia. “You are, too. You can take a day trip into Boston.” Back to Deck. “Her father’s at Mass General. She’s been trying to find the time to go see him. This works out perfectly.”

Decker was visibly surprised. “Your father’s alive?”

Sophia closed her eyes.
Oh, Dave, wasn’t this hard enough?
“Yes,” she said aloud. “It turns out I have an aunt—his sister. She tracked me down a few months ago. He’s alive, but he’s been sick. Last week he went into the hospital, and…Aunt Maureen’s been calling again.”

“You don’t have to go,” Decker said. He was fierce in his conviction. “You owe him nothing.”

“Except he’s your father,” Dave pointed out. “And after he’s gone, you’ll never have another chance to talk to him.”

“I haven’t decided what I’m going to do,” Sophia said.

“If there’s anything I can do to help…” Deck said.

“Thank you,” she said. “You’ve already helped a lot.”

He smiled at that. “Yeah, right.” Another glance at his watch. “I’ve got to get moving. You might want to get lunch to go. We’re leaving tonight—2100 hours. Pack your warmest clothes.”

And with that he was gone.

Sophia stood there, listening to his footsteps fade away. It was only when the outer door closed with a resounding
thunk
that she turned to Dave.

“I hate you,” she said.

Dave nodded mildly as he finished locking the weapon back in its case. “I know.”

Izzy spotted Marky-Mark just outside the grinder. “Hey, hey, Romeo. How’s the view from the top of the world?”

The little dude was on the phone as Iz jogged over. Whoever he was ringing didn’t pick up. His mouth tightened, but he didn’t leave a message. Probably because Izzy was listening.

“Uh-oh,” Izzy said. “Trouble in paradise already?”

Jenkins was seriously pissed. “This is the worst fucking time in the entire history of the world for me to leave town, and we’re going to fucking New Hampshire for cold-weather training. Have you heard this? New Hampshire? At 2100? Tonight?” His voice went up about five octaves.

“Yeah,” Izzy said. “They want us to practice freezing our balls off. I say we petition to stay here, do the entire op in the warehouse freezer at Stu the Butcher’s Wholesale Meats.” He followed Jenk into the grinder, where BUD/S class 5000, or whatever number they were up to these days, was doing endless PT. They were still in early phase one of their training. The grind ’em up and ring ’em out phase, hence the name “grinder.”

Jenk kept off to the side, but he joined the class as they started their push-ups. He was a maniac. He did this all the time, jumping into whatever torture the SEAL candidates were enduring, and not just keeping up, but making it look effortless.

Izzy sat down on the ground near him, leaning back on his elbows. “So what happened last night?”

Jenk push-upped, eyes on the ground. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me, Argentina. I saw you leave the Bug with Lindsey.”

That one got him a glance, but Izzy wasn’t sure if the disbelief Jenk leveled at him was for Lindsey or Argentina.

“She drove me home,” Jenk said. He was such a good liar. Izzy studied his technique whenever possible. He’d added just the right amount of
dude, get a grip
with a dash of
don’t I wish she’d come inside…
Truly brilliant.

“So how was she?” Izzy asked. “Hot or unbelievably hot?”

Point-blank refusal to accept the lie wasn’t enough to break the M-ster. “Number one, she drove me home,” he said, the fact that he was on his forty-seventh push-up nowhere in his voice. He sounded as if he had his feet up on his desk. “Number two, even if by some miracle I’d
had
intimate relations with her, I wouldn’t talk about it.”

“Dude, dude, dude,” Izzy said. “You better believe she’s talking about you right now, with all her friends. Haven’t you watched
Sex and the City
? Shit, she’s giving a blow-by-blow, complete with exact specifications—length and width—of your physical attributes.”

Jenk was unfazed. But he glanced at his phone.

He’d put his cell on the ground next to him, set on silent so it wouldn’t disturb the tadpoles, but close enough so he could see it light up if someone called.

Someone important. Izzy wasn’t going to try to guess who. Lindsey.

Izzy reached over and picked it up, which—hello!—got a rise out of Marky.

“Give it back, Zanella.”

“No worries, Weebs, if it rings, I’ll hand it over.” He clicked on the outgoing call log. Lindsey, Lindsey, Lindsey, Lindsey, and…Lindsey. Starting at 0930 this morning. No, wait. Starting at 0430. “You called her at 0430? No wonder she won’t call you back.” Or maybe she had. He checked the incoming call log. Nope. Nothing from Lindsey. Except. Whoa, doggies. “Tracy called you at 0314 last night?”

Jenk sat up, wiping the sweat off his face with the bottom of his T-shirt. “Give me that.” Izzy surrendered the phone. “You have serious boundary issues, Zanella.”

“Holy crap,” Izzy said as the lightbulb went on overhead. It was five hundred watts and quite illuminating. “You were with Lindsey last night and Tracy called, begging you to do her.”

“Yeah, right.” Jenk did crunches now, his phone safely in his pocket.

“No, wait…” Izzy was thinking aloud. “Midnight, it’s a booty call; 0300, it’s
help, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.
Or the equivalent. A flat tire. Ditched by the ex in some cheap motel.
But he promised me he’d marry me this time…
” He imitated Tracy. “Am I warm?”

“No,” Jenk grunted.

But Izzy knew he’d discovered why Jenk believed this was the worst time—how had he put it?
The worst fucking time in the entire history of the world to leave town.
“You were banging Lindsey for, what, the second? Third time? When the phone rings. Hello, it’s crazy Tracy.
Come save me.
And you were stupid enough to go, which sends a giant message to Lindsey:
You are my second choice.
And maybe she
was
your second choice, until you did a face-to-face with Tracy and it hit you.
She’s
the one-night bang. Lindsey’s a much better fit in that forever slot that you’re suddenly so desperate to fill. Why are you so desperate to fill it? I have no idea. But okay, you handle Tracy, and finally around 0430, she passes out on your couch. You try calling Lindsey, but she won’t pick up. You try again today, but she’s definitely dodging you. Dude. That’s gotta suck.”