pdf - Eye of the Storm.PDF (28 page)

"Oh hell yeah." She nuzzled his neck. "We need to do that again—and really soon."

He laughed, his breath ruffling her hair. "Well, give me a chance to recover, and we'll discuss it. Plus, didn't you mention rear entry?"

She nodded, her hair catching in his morning beard growth. "Yeah. I figured over the back of the couch, so I can look out at the snow-covered mountains while you take me from behind. Let's give the moose and other wild animals a thrill."

He clutched her to him as he laughed. "It's a plan. Later, when it's dark and all the two-legged creatures are in bed. Right now, I need a shower and some food. How about you?"

"As long as we shower together, yeah. I still need some skin time, even if it is just bathing one another. Today for breakfast, I want one of Scotty's spicy chili omelets. I'm tired of the pap I've been eating because of all the morning sickness."

Ren lifted her off him. "Sounds good to me. Then what do you want to do today?"

She eyed him. "Go to the Bat Cave and help my brother track that frick-fracking traitor." She smoothed a hand over his bed-rumpled hair. "He's still out there, big guy.

And you and other contract operators—and our U.S. Special Forces teams—aren't safe until his bad ass is caught."

"While the bastard's been lying low, we can't count on him not resuming business as usual. He was making too much fucking money to give it up for long. He needs to be taken out, if for no other reason than he has you in his sights. Bannon will have seen to that."

She frowned. "Do you think Bannon is even alive? We haven't found a trace of him anywhere. The traitor either got Bannon a new ID or…”

"Killed him," finished Ren, "just like Bannon killed Jordan." Jordan's body had been found in a remote area of the Nez Perce Forest by a ranger. No signs of Bannon anywhere. Keely shivered. "Let's get that hot shower, baby. You're cooling off after that hot bout of sex." He grinned and kissed her. "Which I thank you very much for, by the way."

"You're very welcome." She didn't let him know her shivering wasn't because she was cold—it was more preternatural in nature. Her neck itched like crazy. Something bad was about to happen, and she didn't know what, when, where or who. She could only be vigilant.

"More bacon, Keely?"

She patted her tummy and shook her head. "No, thanks, Scotty. Junior and I are full."

Ren reached over and stroked her back. "Junior?"

"Yeah. When the baby was doing back flips in utero I saw two dangly things—the cord and a teeny-tiny penis. I thought you saw it, too."

"Ah, no." Ren pulled out the pictures the ultrasound tech had given them. He carried them in his wallet. He looked at them carefully and passed them to her brother who'd joined them for breakfast at the Lodge. "What do you think, Uncle Tweeter? Nephew or not?"

Tweeter studied the photos for a second or two. "Nephew."

"We're having a boy." Ren hugged her.

"Happy?" She leaned into his embrace.

"Elated." He kissed her ear. "How's the little mommy feeling?"

"Full—and not sick for a change, thank you Jesus." She took a drink of her juice.

"Ready to do some work downstairs." She glanced at her brother who'd just shoved his plate away. "You ready to track some bad guys, Uncle Tweetie?"

Her brother shot her a grin. "Oh hell yeah. The program you created is ingenious, but it creates a lot of trails to follow. I could use some help fine-tuning the code to be more selective."

"Shouldn't be too hard." She turned to Ren. "I'll be down in the Bat Cave with my brother and three levels of security between me and the outside world. That do it for you?"

"That's an affirmative." He leaned over and kissed the tip of her nose. "I'll be out training with the men. Trey and Price want me to help weed out the recruits we aren't keeping on."

She frowned. "I've kept you from your work these past few months."

"Not an issue." He pulled her onto his lap and stroked her back. "I wouldn't have traded these past months for anything. Trey and the guys have handled things just fine.

And now that we're taking on more operatives, I can stay out of the field even more. Do more recruiting, training, and operations planning."

"Will you miss the field?" She played with the hair at the nape of his neck.

He turned his head and kissed her neck. "No. I've got better things to do than to get my ass shot at. Face it, I'm getting old. It takes a lot more recovery time between jobs and injuries than it used to. Security work at this level is for younger guys. Plus now, I have a wife and a baby to keep me at home. I'm more than ready for that, sweetheart."

"Good." She kissed his jaw just under his ear. "I was worried I was cramping your style."

He whispered for her ears alone. "I'd rather wake up to what we had this morning than be sitting in some jungle for days waiting for my kill shot."

She laughed. "So glad I rate above sniping."

"You rate above it all, sweetheart." He kissed her once more, then lifted her off his lap, and tapped her butt. "Go to work. I'll see you at lunch."

"Yeah. I'm already thinking about chili with lots of cheese—and dill pickle chasers."

Tweeter and Ren laughed as Scotty muttered, "Damn, got to make more chili before lunch. At this rate, I need to buy beef futures."

*

Ren left the Lodge and followed the cleared path to the barn they used for indoor training and workouts. It had snowed again overnight. At this time of the year, they always had two to three feet of snow on the ground. The pathways between the main buildings and lodgings now had packed snow walls along them. From the air, it looked like a snow maze. Maybe later he'd have the new recruits do some cat-and-mouse pursuits using the plowed paths. A few obstacles blocking the ends of some of the walkways and they could do some mock urban warfare.

More and more of their jobs for corporate clients involved rescuing kidnapped employees and executives in third-world cities. Usually, they mock-battled such rescues in the barn by constructing temporary walls; using the snow-lined paths would add the environment as an additional obstacle. Besides, they could always receive a job for a rescue in Siberia or somewhere equally as cold. It had been awhile since he had recruits do Arctic drills since a lot of their business was in the many jungles and deserts of third world countries, but that was no excuse to neglect cold-weather-warfare.

He shoved open the door to the barn. Trey had the ten recruits doing hand-to-hand combat. Today was Krav Maga, the Israeli special forces street fighting martial art. He preferred it and had been amazed when he'd found out that Keely had learned it from her twin brothers. It had probably saved her life in South America, that and her ability to knife fight.

His lips tilted into a slight smile. This morning's girl-on-top sex was all about his little warrior telling him she wasn't a fragile little female. Now that she wasn't throwing up two times a day—and hadn't that scared the shit out of him—she'd be back to her usual fighting weight and demand on being treated as a partner and not a helpless little woman.

He sighed. He was more than willing to resume a more active level of sex in their bed—and elsewhere—but fighting hand-to-hand and gun battles were still not on his list of "Things Keely Could Do." There would be hell to pay for him holding that opinion, but Keely would soon learn that he'd allow nothing and no one to harm her—not even herself. He didn't care how healthy she was and how safe the baby was in her womb, she was not a warrior. She was a mother-to-be and his woman. She could save all body contact sports for their bed. The jury was still out on sniping. She was the best damn sniper he'd ever seen, and he'd insist she keep her skills up. Even he knew that all his good intentions to keep her safe could go awry—and a gun was the best equalizer a woman had.

"Yo, Ren." Trey's fingers snapped in front of his face. "Wake up. Where's your head?

Still in bed with that woman of yours?"

The men in the room all laughed.

Ren glared and the room went silent. He turned to his brother. "Let's leave Keely and our bed out of the training room."

Trey put up his hands. "Sorry. Touchy this morning. What's wrong? Is she sick again?"

His brother's voice held only concern, and Ren knew Trey had only been teasing. He needed to lighten up. Because of the no-women rule, the single men tended to tease the married ones. It was just Trey being one of the guys, and envious of Ren's good fortune.

"No, in fact, she ate more food than I've ever seen her eat. Your nephew is one hungry little baby."

"Nephew?" Trey's eyes lit up. "For real?"

Ren grinned. "Yeah, I didn't notice the little penis on the photos until it was pointed out to me. A son—I'm having a son."

Trey slapped him on the back. "Way to go, daddy. Now how about helping me whip these sissies into shape?"

"Yeah." Ren stripped off his jacket. "Later we'll do some icy urban street mock warfare on the grounds. The snow walls along the walkways are high enough to provide cover now."

"Good idea," Trey said. "Never know when crazy Icelanders might start kidnapping corporate executives to make money for their bankrupt country."

Ren snorted and kicked his brother in the ass. "Fucking comedian, aren't you?"

"Yeah, asswipe. Let's show these guys some moves."

Trey threw a vicious punch which Ren blocked and the training began.

* * * *

"Good idea, Ren." Vanko's gaze fixed on the two teams—black ski caps for baddies and white for good guys—playing out a running gun battle with simulated ammo that left red splats when the victim got hit. The ammo was similar to paint balls.

Ren eyed one guy on the white team. "What do you think about Risto Smith?" As Vanko watched the tall, dark-haired former Marine, Ren reviewed what he knew about the recruit. Of Finnish and Native American descent, Smith had been a LRRP in Afghanistan, the kind of guy that lived on the land for days and gathered intel for his Marine superiors. His military record showed two tours in Afghanistan and before that he'd seen his first duty as a regular grunt straight out of high school in Iraq. Smith had mustered out, gone back home to Upper Peninsula Michigan, and realized he couldn't hack civilian life or a civilian job. He applied to SSI and here he was.

Vanko finally replied. "Good man. Likes the cold. Told me he hated Iraq and loved being in Afghanistan at the higher altitudes and in the snow. Also told me his hometown gets over 200 inches of snow on the ground in a normal year. Makes me homesick for my home in the northern Ukraine."

"Sort of has an unfair advantage here." Ren chuckled. "Trey and Price both like him and he passed Keely's enhanced background check. We'll take him on. He stated on his application he'd like to work out of his U.P. home, but has no problem being stationed here, if required. Guess he has a private island in the Cisco Chain of Lakes area. We need someone in the Midwest.”

"Good to have someone that close to central Canada and the border. Lots of drug running, smuggling of other kinds and potential for terrorists crossing into the U.S."

"Yeah, that there is." Ren made a note on his data pad. "We'll invite him to eat with us this evening. Talk money and equipment needs for that private island of his. We can negotiate it as a secondary SSI staging and training site."

"No need for electronic equipment from what I hear," Vanko said. "Risto's a geek like Tweeter and Keely. He was waxing poetic with Tweeter about some new server he built. Keely overheard and the three of them talked in a language none of the rest of us could understand."

"Keely spoke with him?" Ren turned to look at Vanko. "When was this?"

"A week or so ago. You were on a conference call." Vanko jabbed him in the gut.

"She wasn't alone with him. She only sees you as a man, you know. The rest of us are brothers and buddies. Risto was really respectful. He'd even read some of her published papers."

He nodded. "Understood. I didn't realize she was interacting with the men so much.

She's been so sick."

"Well, yeah." Vanko laughed. "She only sat there for about twenty minutes, then she turned green and ran for the bathroom. I'm glad she's over the sickness. I was beginning to get sympathy nausea."

"You and me both." He smiled and made another note to ask Keely what she thought about Risto on a personal level and not on the data she'd obtained. The sound of gunfire and breaking glass had him scanning the mock battleground. "That was live ammo.

Where in the fuck did that shot come from? And what got broken?" A bullet whizzing by his cheek and hitting the wood of the door leading onto the roof had him ducking. "We're under attack!" He switched his headset on. "Trey, I just got shot at. Get those men weaponed up and secure the perimeter of the Lodge."

Trey's voice. "Roger that."

"The sniper is about five hundred yards east of here on a ridge. Permission to go nail his ass."

"Who's this?"

"Risto Smith, sir. I can get him."

"Risto, get live ammo and take someone to cover your ass."

Price's voice. "I'm with Risto. I also saw where the shot came from. We're on it."

"Anybody have a sit rep on what window got hit?" Ren and Vanko made their way from the roof, down into the back of the Lodge.

"Great room window." Quinn's growling tones instantly recognizable. "Hit my damn scotch."

"Lock down the basement. I don't want Keely upstairs until this is over." Ren shoved his way into the house.

"Too late, big guy."

"Keely," Ren groaned. "Where the fuck are you, baby?"

"Patching up Quinn since Lacey isn't here to do it. He neglected to mention he was holding the scotch at the time."

"He okay?" Ren entered the back hallway at a jog and headed for the great room and Keely.

"Yes. Just a scratch." She muttered something he didn't catch. "Quinn is being very brave. He gets a sucker."