Deadly Ties Page 3

  Nick mumbled, agreeing and disagreeing. Sam and Nick went back and forth a bit, and then they all fell silent.

  Mark had no idea what position Nick had taken, but Mark had his own problems to worry about. He slumped back, doing his best to absorb what had happened.

  Deep inside the Green Zone, the chopper started its descent at headquarters. Tim glanced from man to man. “Gentlemen, it’s time for us to go home and get ourselves lives.”

  Seated beside Joe, Sam jerked. “Whoa, bud.” He had helmet head. His hair was smashed in places, ruffled and on end in others. “Two short, we no longer have a viable team. Mission selection will be the pits.” He rounded on Nick. “Figured out your final call yet?”

  Nick shrugged, then his body tensed. “I don’t like the way things are shaping up. They’ll never let us run two short, much less three. They’ll disband the unit.” He leaned back, crossed his outstretched legs at the ankles. Sand sprinkled off his boot. “The team’s the only reason I’ve hung in here. If you’re gone, it’s gone, so I’m gone.”

  “That’s it then.” Sam rolled his shoulders. “We’re just moving up the timetable on them before they move it up on us.”

  There’d been high-level talks of breaking up the unit. The work would continue to be essential, but the political climate didn’t currently welcome it. So the unit would be formally disbanded and informally re-formed elsewhere by others under a different covert umbrella.

  Joe crossed his arms over his chest, seemingly at peace with their decision. “None of us planned to make this a career. Duty called with 9/11. We answered. Now we’re done.”

  One by one, they all nodded. But none returned Mark’s gaze. All eyes were on the medics. Both pulled back from Jane’s body, and one made the sign of the cross. “Sorry, sirs. Nothing more we could do.”

  Mark moved and squatted beside Jane. Her pasty skin was cool to the touch, but without her warm expressions, her vibrancy, she didn’t much look like herself. That should have helped. She was at peace now. But it didn’t.

  I already miss you, Jane. You needed me and I wasn’t there. I won’t ask for forgiveness—I haven’t earned it. But I’ll regret failing you every day of my life. Tears washed down his face. I’ll never forget you.

  With a trembling hand, he closed her sightless eyes and then lifted the sheet over her beloved face.

  2

  August 2007, Atlanta

  K ill order Alpha 24733.” The woman’s voice didn’t falter. “Execute it immediately, Lone Wolf.” Male or female, when issuing a kill order, most hesitated or showed some emotion, but not Raven.

  “Yes ma’am.” Karl Masson stared through the darkness to the target: a young woman, midthirties, brown hair, thin face, seated on her patio. Definitely her, though he wasn’t crazy about killing a woman sitting in her own backyard. It raised concerns about his own wife and her safety while he was away on business. But orders were orders.

  He lifted his rifle, sighted in until her left temple was dead center in his scope’s crosshairs. Then he pulled the trigger.

  She jerked, then slumped.

  It was done.

  Why her husband hadn’t just paid her alimony, Karl had no idea. Some men were tough to figure. They were crazy in love one minute, and when they weren’t the next, they suddenly got greedy. The man was done with her, and she was disposable.

  There was no need to double-check the body. Fired at this distance on that trajectory, the bullet had penetrated her brain. She was as dead as dead gets.

  Karl tucked the rifle under his long coat and held it close to his body. It was a rainy night, so anyone spotting him would assume he was wearing a raincoat. He made his way along the hedge to the sidewalk and then down the empty street. Lightning streaked a jagged path through the sky and thunder rolled, making far more noise than his weapon had. The woman he’d just killed had to be pretty miserable to be sitting out on her patio in the rain.

  He cut through the yards to the next street over, paused on the sidewalk to look through a wide window, and watched a woman stir a pot at her stove. He loved glimpses of domestic life. Made him less homesick.

  At the curb he got into his car, stashed his rifle, then drove away. After he cleared the subdivision, he phoned the boss.

  “Raven.”

  He reported the mission code, the kill-order authorization code, and then added, “Complete.”

  “Excellent. Any problems?”

  “No ma’am.” If there were, he wouldn’t tell her. Raven didn’t react well to bad news. He’d clear it up and then report.

  “Excellent. You’ve quickly become my go-to man.”

  That was his goal. “Whatever you need, ma’am.”

  “Thank you.” Her tone lightened. “Raven out.”

  Not so much as a flicker of compassion for the dead woman. That was a common trait for NINA—Nihilists in Anarchy—members in general, but especially for high-level ones, and Raven was as high up as Karl knew existed. Words like mercy and compassion were not in her vocabulary.

  NINA was an international organization, and its members were dedicated to making money. Governments, terrorists, private individuals—NINA did whatever to whomever for the right price. And Raven alone determined what that price should be. She sat on NINA’s throne and chased money with such a single-minded focus, it wouldn’t surprise Karl to discover her blood was tinted green.

  He drove a couple of miles down the road, then lifted his phone from its console cubby and tapped Angel to speed dial home.

  “Hello.”

  Karl softened his voice. “Hi, Angel.”

  “You’re calling early tonight. Everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine.” He accelerated and headed north out of Atlanta. “I finished my business ahead of schedule, so I’m coming home. Tell the motorcycle gang they have to go.”

  “Oh, shoot. I was having such fun with them.” She laughed, lusty and deep. “You’ll make it in for Brent’s game, then?”

  The motorcycle gang was a longstanding joke between them that never seemed to get old. “Wouldn’t miss it.” Love swelled in Karl’s chest. Family was everything. “Did you see the doctor today about that lump?”

  “We’ll talk about it when you get home. Did you explore any of Atlanta while you were there?”

  “Not this time. Too homesick to linger.”

  “Twenty years and I still have it, huh?”

  “Baby, you’ll always have it.” He smiled, but it was strained. “Did the doc give you bad news today?”

  “That can wait. I’d rather hear you tell me how adorable I am.”

  “You’re adorable. Now tell me what the doc said. Otherwise, I’ll be worried sick about you all nine hundred and ninety-seven miles.”

  “It’s fine, Karl.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Angel. I can hear it in your voice.”

  “Pull over and stop, and then I’ll tell you.”

  Karl whipped onto the shoulder of the road. His mouth went dust dry. He licked his lips and stiffened, bracing for whatever she might say. “Okay, I’m parked.”

  “It’s cancer, honey.” She sniffed. “Malignant, I’m afraid.”

  “No.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “What are they going to do about it?” Cut it out? Chemo? Radiation? He didn’t care what they did as long as she lived. She had to live.

  “I go in for surgery tomorrow morning. My mother is here with the kids.”

  “Surgery? And you didn’t call me?”

  “I didn’t want to tell you this over the phone.”

  She was holding back. As awful as this was, she wasn’t telling him everything. “What else?”

  No answer.

  “Angel, tell me.”

  “It—it’s probably too late.”

  “Don’t say that. Don’t even think it. They’ve made significant advances, you said so before you went. All you need is a fighting chance. That’s all you need.”

  “Yes.”
>
  “That’s right, yes. Just a chance. That’s all it’ll take.”

  Silence fell. Angel broke it. “You’re going to have to accept this, you know. You can’t protect the kids and me from everything. I know you want to and you try, but this is … different.”

  “Doctors don’t know. Not until they’re in surgery and can see for sure. There could be a chance.”

  “Karl, no.” She sobbed. “It’s my body and I know.”

  “What do you know? You have a lump. Just a little lump.”

  “It’s too late, honey.”

  The finality in her tone chilled him, drained away his rebellion. And sitting in the rain on the side of a road too far away from their home in Syracuse, Karl stared through the spotted windshield into the darkness and sobbed with his wife.

  “Do the kids know?” Angry lightning slashed the night sky, and thunder clashed, reverberating in his ears.

  “I’ve told them.”

  “How are they taking it?”

  “Brent’s better than Shelley. She’s dazed.”

  At seven, she would be. She’d been shielded from death and as much else as possible. How would he work with the kids? He kept his mind busy, avoiding the question he didn’t want to ask because he didn’t want it answered. He wasn’t that brave or strong.

  “Mom’s offered to move in so she can help with the kids.”

  “Angel—” He cleared his throat. “I don’t work without you.”

  “You have to, Karl. The kids will need you. And I need to know you’ll all be okay.”

  That hit him like a sucker-punch to the gut. So brave. So strong. But she needed reassurance too. “How long?”

  “Three months if things go well tomorrow.”

  He blew out a sharp breath. She’d be gone before Christmas. If things go well. “And if they don’t?”

  “Please don’t make me answer that.”

  “Okay, baby.” He cranked the engine. He needed to get home. Before she went into surgery, he had to see her. He pulled back onto the highway. They talked and soothed and sobbed some more, and finally, somewhere near Roanoke, Virginia, he accepted the truth.

  There would be no chance.

  His beloved Angel was dying.

  3

  The path of the righteous is like the first gleam of dawn, shining ever brighter till the full light of day.

  —PROVERBS 4:18

  Present Day

  G et up on the balls of your feet.” Lisa Harper walked across the Crossroads Crisis Center exercise studio to Kelly Walker. “In that position, he’ll attack you from the left. You need to be able to pivot and get your arm up. Then when he does attack, you twist and bring your arm down. That will break his hold.” She hiked her leg and feigned a kick to Kelly’s right knee. “Pop his kneecap and he’s down. You can get away.”

  Sweat-drenched, Lisa dabbed at her face with her sleeve and shoved strands of damp hair that had escaped her ponytail away from her eyes. She addressed the twenty-four students in her self-defense class: all women-in-jeopardy from people who wanted them hurt or dead. Her chest went tight. “Everybody got that?”

  Some mumbled, Kelly nodded, and Melanie Ross, the Crossroads Crisis Center receptionist, groaned. “Not me,” Mel said. “Not yet. Can you show us again?”

  If it would help, Lisa would show them fifty more times. “Sure.” Movement from the door caught her eye, and she glanced over just as Mark walked in with a man she didn’t recognize. She ignored a little flutter in her heart and smiled. “Ah, good. Mark. Come help me demonstrate.”

  The man with him took a seat on the bleachers, and Mark walked out to where Lisa stood before the class. He nodded a greeting to the women. “What are we doing, Lisa?”

  “Self-defense tactics. Level one.”

  For the next fifteen minutes, Lisa and Mark demonstrated escape-and-evade tactics. Winded and worn, they wrapped up. The class applauded.

  Mel got to her feet. Dressed funky as usual in lime green and hunter orange, she rubbed her neck. Her hair stood in short, gelled chocolate spikes that hadn’t moved an inch during the entire class. “It’ll take me a year to learn all that, but if Mark’s helping you teach it, I’ll gladly invest the time.”

  The class laughed.

  “You’re adorable, Mark Taylor.” Mel batted her eyes, flirting and clowning around at the same time.

  “Back off, sister.” Lisa smiled, but she meant it. Why she should feel so proprietorial toward Mark she had no idea. But she always had. She peeked over at him. He winked at her and something in his eyes softened. She loved his eyes. Dark gray, flecked with deep blue and hints of gold. Intoxicating. “Sorry, Mark.”

  “No problem.” He grinned at Mel. “If you were ten years older, we might have something to talk about, sweet stuff. Until then, consider me your big brother.”

  Mel pouted. “Just what I need. Another overprotective relative.”

  Lisa laughed because she was overprotective. She tried to watch herself, but she didn’t always succeed. “Here we go. One more time.” She lifted her arms and signaled Mark. “Come on. I’m ready.”

  “Are you?” A spark lit in his eyes.

  Her breath escaped. “Give it your best shot.”

  “Seriously?”

  She nodded, motioned him to bring it on.

  He sidestepped, then came in at an angle, moving fast. Lisa feinted left, moved right, and caught him on the ribs with a jab.

  He shifted his weight and her fist slid off, doing no damage. Before he could counter, she ducked low and tight and went for his instep.

  He rotated his foot and countered, catching her by the throat and holding her out of reach. “Never, ever let your opponent get his hands around your throat,” he told the class. “If he’s taller, he’ll probably have a longer reach. Combine the two, and he’ll just lift you off the ground, and you’ll be done.”

  “Unless you do this.” Lisa jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist.

  He automatically caught her.

  Solid. With a square jaw and light stubble that so appealed. Always tender and gentle with her. That tenderness set Mark apart from other men because it took effort on his part. He was large, strong inside and out.

  She blinked hard and held his steady gaze. How in the world had she missed the full-force magnetism in his eyes for so long? Magnetism and mirth. Potent combination. Unsure what to do, she pecked a kiss to his cheek. Not because she wanted to, but because she had to or she’d kiss his lips, and that would be a huge mistake.

  You’re acting like a love-starved crazy woman, Lisa Marie Harper.

  Love starved, maybe. But not crazy. She just didn’t expect being this close to him would affect her this way. It was a sensual assault. No part of her was unaware of any part of him. That’s what’s crazy.

  He mumbled softly so only she could hear, his breath warm on her face, mirth still in his eyes. “You can do better. I know you can.”

  Assault. Assault. Assault. Only one way to counter this kind of attack. She wrinkled her nose at him. “Absolutely, I can. But will I? That’s the question.”

  Before he could respond, she addressed the class. “I, um, don’t recommend kissing your opponent under ordinary circumstances, but it might surprise him enough that he lets you go.”

  Mark dropped her right on her bottom. “Like that?”

  Stunned, Lisa tilted her head back and saw the twinkle in his eye had spread to his mouth. “Yes.” She clasped his extended hand, rose to her feet, and rubbed her smarting bottom. “Like that.”

  Kelly and Melanie started giggling. “Pretty entertaining watching you two.” Mel swayed side to side.

  “But this is also serious business.” Mark glanced at Lisa. “The point is for you to use whatever tactics or weapons are at your disposal. The unexpected can be the one thing that saves your life.”

  “Mark is exactly right.” Lisa put her hands on her hips. “You have to always think. Always assess. Never pause for a moment. Th
e bottom line is to do whatever it takes to protect yourself.”

  “I’ll still be here next January trying to learn this stuff.” Mel dragged her hands through her hair. “If I’m lucky … and I’m not or I wouldn’t be here.”

  “Be determined, Mel. The important thing is you will learn it. You all will.” Lisa waved. “Same time next week. Remember to practice every day—and, oh, don’t forget the party tonight at Three Gables. You’re all coming, right?”

  Kelly Walker tapped Lisa on the upper arm. “Everyone in the entire village will be there.” The amusement drained from her face. “Well, except for he-who-shall-remain-nameless.”

  Dutch. “We can but hope.” If there were a way to mess up the celebration of Lisa’s getting her medical license, Dutch would do it. Since the day her mother had married him, he always messed up anything that made Lisa happy, and gauging from his attitude and past exploits, he always would.

  Chatting, the women returned Mark’s killer smile and filed out of the studio. The blond man, wearing tight jeans, a white shirt, and sunglasses, who’d come in with Mark, stood at the bleachers, then walked over to join Lisa and Mark.

  “Lisa, this is Joe, a friend from my military days.” Mark lifted a hand. “Joe, Lisa Harper, a doctor here at the center.”

  No last name. No information about him. Clearly he was one of Mark’s spy friends. Not that Mark ever had admitted being a spy, but everyone close to him had just sort of figured it out on their own when Benjamin Brandt, who owned Crossroads, hired Mark as the chief of security for the center and his home, Three Gables.

  Lisa extended a hand. “Hi, Joe. Welcome to Seagrove Village.”

  “Thanks.” He shook her hand and smiled. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Mark talks about you all the time.”

  Surprised, she glanced at Mark, but he looked away. No sense getting excited and making more of it than it was, probably just social chatter. “Mark is very kind. My mother and I owe him a lot.” That would win her the grand prize for understatement of the year. Without Mark, she wouldn’t know if her mother were alive or dead. Dutch made sure of that.