The Edge of Courage (Red Team) (23 page)

“Yeah, that part I got. But why? What kicked it off?”

“I don’t know. The smoke. The burned dogs.”

“I told Kit not to over-cook them,” Blade interrupted.

“It was like a worm hole right back to the explosion.”

“Did you see anything new while you were checked out?”

Rocco leaned his head back against the post behind him. He shut his eyes. Drawing a deep, slow breath to fight off the panic, he opened his mind to the memories triggered at supper.

“Kadisha was handing Zavi to me. She was going back in the compound for her mother. I grabbed her, tried to stop her. She said that I had done this, that I had killed them. She ran back inside, and the whole thing blew.”

He looked at Blade. “Did I do it? Was there an order to level the compound? Did I have you or Kit call for an airstrike?”

“No. We got the kill order to take out her father, but without you, we didn’t know where he’d holed up. And there were too many civilians living there for the whole village to be a target. It wasn’t our side that blew the compound.”

“Kadisha was pregnant with our second kid.”

“Christ.” Blade drew a long breath and slowly released it. “I’m sorry, bro. I didn’t know.”

“I would have loved that baby. I would have brought Kadisha and the kids here. And though we wouldn’t have stayed married, I would have taken care of them, all of them.”

“I know you would have, my friend. Wouldn’t have expected anything less from you.” He massaged his thigh. They sat in silence for a little while, listening to the sounds of birds settling in for the evening.

“So for the real reason I came down to talk to you—Kit brought back some interesting security footage from the diner. We noticed Mandy’s plumber had an extreme reaction to the team when they stopped for supper. He texted someone, only it wasn’t via his cell phone account—he used some other online account.” He looked at Rocco. “Didn’t you say he was in the diner the day you felt an enemy there?”

“He was there.”

“Kit wants you and Kelan to go to his house tonight and retrieve his phone so that we can see who the hell he messaged and how.”

Rocco looked at him and slowly grinned, feeling he was getting back in the game. “Sure, I’ll go get it.”

* * *

Alan made his routine circuit around the house, checking the lock in the front shop, locking the door between his apartment and the shop, then locking the back door. The whole action was preposterous, as if a locked door could keep him safe. It was an illusion of safety, nothing more.

And yet, house-by-house, his neighbors did the same safety checks he’d just completed, locking all the doors, shutting off the lights, slipping into their comfortable beds—ignorant of the fact that he had enough C-4 in his van to blow half the block.

He retrieved a bottle of whiskey and went into his room. Glasses littered his nightstand. One from the night before still had a little amber liquid in it. He tossed that back, then refilled it to wash down two prescription sleeping pills. He slumped down on his rumpled bed in the clothes he’d worn during the day, and waited for the pills to take effect.

When sleep didn’t immediately quiet his mind, he splashed more whiskey into his glass to top it off and lit a cigarette. He caught sight of the amber vial of pills. His life hadn’t turned out the way he’d expected it to when he was a kid. When he’d entered the plumbing business right after high school, he was proud of having selected a career in a field that would never be without customers—in good times or lean. But he’d been careless with his money and lost most of it gambling and drinking. He’d wanted more, always more. Nothing was ever enough.

One day, in his mid-forties, he realized he was broke, getting older and failing in every way that mattered. It had been easy to take the money he’d embezzled from the large plumbing franchise that employed him. So easy. And just as easy to lose it in gambling hells. He thought he’d win it back, but he only lost more. He’d sold his soul for that money. And then he had to run, hide, become less than he was. Become nothing.

It was at that low point that Amir had found him, offering sweet solace with that silky voice of his, assuring him his life would be better if Alan joined their cause. He could barely even remember what Amir had said their cause was. It didn’t matter. They gave him a new identity. Found him a woman to marry, and cleared the way to this job. It was everything he’d ever wanted, and he took it. In exchange, he’d only been asked to make the drive down to Denver every few weeks in anticipation of an unknown assignment to be handed out sometime in the future.

He sipped his whiskey, remembering the vow he’d made when his wife had died; he’d decided to be different, to be what she had seen in him. She’d been a good woman, his Mary. Kind and honest. Married as strangers, he’d strived to be worthy of her. He’d stayed put in Wolf Creek Bend, and he’d honored his commitment to put her daughter through college—so far. But now that he’d made such a mess of things, Mary’s girl would be better off without him. He looked at the pills again. He could check out. For good.

But if he did, he had no doubt that Amir’s people would hunt Fee down. She was the only good thing left in his life. He’d tried to protect her from Amir by pretending indifference but doubted he’d fooled the bastard.

The only chance he had of getting them out of this situation was to blow Mandy’s therapeutic riding center all to hell. Amir wanted it done while the construction crew was there. Alan couldn’t stomach that. He’d blow the damn place at night when no one was there. He’d do it soon. As soon as he could bring himself to do it. Amir be damned. He’d do it when he was good and ready. Then he’d take Fee and hit the road. Again.

* * *

Kelan parked in front of the plumber’s shop. Mandy had told them he lived in an apartment in the back of his store. It was approaching 1:00 a.m. The entire street was quiet and dark.

Kelan looked over at Rocco. “You okay to do this?”

“I’m fine.”

“Then let’s move. You take the shop, I’ll take the apartment.”

Only a double bolt lock protected the shop, which Kelan picked in a few seconds. There was no alarm system for them to disarm. Rocco began looking around the papers on the counter while Kelan slipped through the door between the shop and the residential area.

It was a seedy little space that would have looked shoddy even in its prime thirty years earlier. The current suite of worn and mismatched chairs and the odd collection of TV tray tables did little to improve things. The living room was open to the kitchen. Four doors led to other areas.

Kelan stood still for a moment, listening for a dog or a bird or anything that would give his presence away. Nothing stirred.

He walked through the open space, looking for Alan’s cell phone. Not seeing it in the living room, he entered the first door to his left. A man was asleep in a bed. Clothes were scattered around the floor, over a radiator. Drawers were open in two different dressers. The room had the gamey smell of unwashed human. The man’s phone was on his nightstand, next to a full ashtray and several glasses. Kelan took it, plug and all, then returned to his exploration of the rest of the apartment.

One door opened to a bathroom, one a closet. The last was another bedroom, as threadbare as the rest of the apartment, but unlike the other areas, it was very tidy. There were no toys to indicate it was a child’s room. The bed was rumpled, as if someone had been sleeping in it. Kelan had a bad feeling as he looked around the room. An unmade bed in a room this neat meant someone had just left it. He looked under the bed and around the other side of it, but didn’t find anyone. A suitcase sat on the floor in front of a dresser. He knelt down beside it and lifted the top flap, curious about who was visiting the plumber. Inside were neatly folded jeans, a stack of tiny T-shirts, and a cluster of stringy panties and bras.

Kelan jack-knifed to his feet. This was a woman’s room. The closet was the only other space someone could hide. He stood to the side as he opened one panel. He spanned the space with his flashlight, but found it empty of anything other than clothes and boxes. He pushed the other panel open and flashed the light in that half, catching a pair of big eyes and an enormous Colt revolver. The girl cocked the gun as she lurched forward out of the closet. Kelan backed a step away, his hands held in front of him.

“Easy now, kid. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What are you doing in my home?”

“I didn’t know you lived here.”

“That’s not the answer I was looking for.” She pushed him back through room, the gun pointing straight at his heart. Her grip was incredibly steady. She wore only a skimpy pair of knit shorts and one of those tiny, strappy tees he’d seen in her suitcase. Her hair was a mop of little curls—it was hard to tell the color in the dim light, but it appeared to be blond. And she was half his size. He had at least a foot in height on her, which would have made her about five foot three.

“Now, hold on there. We’re the good guys.”

“Show me some ID.”

“I don’t have any.”

Her gaze darted to the dresser. Kelan saw her cell phone sitting there. He grabbed it and shoved it in his pocket.

“Give that to me,” she ordered.

“No can do. How about you put that gun down?”

“How about you get the hell out of my house?”

“Okay. I’m leaving.” He took a huge gamble and turned his back on her at the threshold to the living room. Rocco stood there.

“What’s taking so long?” he asked Kelan.

“Ah, we got a situation.”

“What kind of situation?”

Kelan moved a half step from the door and looked back, keeping the girl blocked from entering the living room but letting Rocco see what the issue was.

“Shit. How did she see you? You’re supposed to move like a shadow.”

“I never said that,” Kelan argued.

“Who is she?”

“We haven’t exactly exchanged pleasantries.”

“Hells bells. You’re going to have to bring her with us.”

“Right.” Kelan spun around, gripping the girl’s wrist and elbow to stabilize the gun. She fought him in the no-holds-barred way of a desperate woman, stomping her heel down on his booted foot, clawing at his hand, trying to bang her head into his nose. With very little effort, he pinned her against the wall so that he could remove the pistol from her hand.

She turned her head and drew air to belt out a loud scream, but Kelan quickly slapped his hand over her mouth, holding her in a way that kept her from being able to bite him. He was wondering how the hell they were going to get her out of the place without waking the plumber and the entire neighborhood when Rocco returned with a roll of duct tape.

They taped her wrists, ankles and knees, then Kelan placed a piece across her mouth. He straightened and slung her over his shoulder.

“I’ve got Buchanan’s phone,” he told Rocco. “You find anything interesting?”

“I got his appointment book. I hate having to take her.”

The girl was still struggling over Kelan’s shoulder, hitting his kidney with her fists. “It’s a real party for me, too.” He took the appointment book from Rocco. “Go get her stuff. Her suitcase is in her room. No idea how old she is—see if you can find her purse. I’m going to get her settled in the Expedition. Don’t dawdle. I saw sleeping meds in the plumber’s bedroom, but I’m not sure how much noise Buchanan can sleep through.”

Kelan made his way through the living room and into the shop. She got in another good strike at his left kidney. He swatted her backside. “Knock it off. How about you don’t hit me and I won’t hit you?” Kelan growled at her bottom.

She settled for a minute, but as soon as he stepped outside, she pushed up against his back, whimpering. He shoved her farther over his shoulder, closing his mind to her muted pleas. If she was involved in the plumber’s treason, she’d receive no mercy. He doubted she was, however. He thought she looked to be about twelve—until he remembered the lacy lingerie he’d seen in her suitcase and reevaluated that assessment. Little girls didn’t wear stuff like that, did they?

Hell, if she was under age, they’d have to turn her over to social services. And good riddance, he told himself as he settled her in the backseat of the Expedition. He fastened her seat belt, then sat beside her. Rocco was right behind them. He put her stuff on the passenger side of the front seat, then took the wheel. Neither man spoke on the return trip.

When Rocco opened the front door for Kelan and his package, he couldn’t help giving his old friend a grin. “This is not going to go well.”

Kelan moved into the living room, ignoring the humor in Rocco’s voice. He unsheathed his knife and sliced through the tape at the girl’s ankles and knees while she still hung over his shoulder. He set her on her feet in Mandy’s living room, then cut the tape on her wrists, leaving the one across her mouth for her to remove.

“What’s going on? Why did you take me?” She punched his shoulder. Her little fist barely made an impact against his lean strength.

Kelan’s face darkened. “What did I tell you about hitting?”

Several pairs of boots thundered up the stairs ending any chance of a reprieve he might have had before having to face the team.

“This better be good,” Blade said as the men stopped in a half-circle around Kelan and the girl.

“What the hell have you done?” Kit asked, shouldering his way through the ring of men. The girl stepped back against Kelan, her arms folded over herself. The top of her head barely reached his chin. The look Kit was giving her would make a seasoned warrior nervous. Wanting to deflect Kit’s focus from the girl, Kelan wrapped an arm across her arms, pulling her close.

Val gave the girl a warm look-over. “Kelan! How many times do I have to tell you, ‘female good, jailbait bad?’”

Kelan’s normally effervescent mood was rapidly diminishing. “We found her at the plumber’s. She’d already seen us. We couldn’t leave her there.”

“Who is she?” Kit snapped.

“Fiona Addison,” Rocco said, holding up her driver’s license and school ID. “Age 20. A student at Colorado State University.”

“Well, Ms. Addison, mind telling us what you were doing at Alan Buchanan’s apartment?” Kit asked.