WAR: Opposition: (WAR Book 3) (34 page)

“Good.” Obi was the only West African member of Lachlan’s team. While his official role was team sniper, he also provided much needed insight into West African life. Wil trusted his judgment. Not that the private security force was the weakest link. Both Lachlan and Wil knew that the greatest potential danger existed on the government’s side. Too many government operations had recently failed due to betrayals by soldiers sympathetic to the rebels.

“I wish I had the manpower to spare to assist,” Wil said. “But I can’t risk it. Not with the tight deadline we’re under.”

Lachlan grunted acknowledgment. “Understood. I’m hoping to wrap up our current mission early so that we’ll be able to provide support.”

Wil’s landline phone rang. “Gotta go. My contact has phoned in early.” He signed off with Lachlan and picked up the incoming call.

Forty minutes later, Special Agent Walton had confirmed Wil’s suspicions about Jarrod being the only witness to the attack on the base in Southeast Asia. She concluded with “So you see why we need Jarrod alive and well to testify.”

“Yeah, that’s not the part I’m having trouble with.” Wil made another note on his whiteboard. The investigators believed an army general was behind the attack. While following those leads, they’d discovered deposits that they’d traced back to hidden bank accounts that tied in to another investigation. “Tying the general into some global cabal bent on world destabilization is going to be difficult to prove. Not to mention risky.”

“No kidding. But I figure the best way to get to the heart of it is to spread the task around to as many people as possible.”

“Less chance of another successful coverup,” Wil agreed. “But how do you know you can trust me?”

Walton gave a disbelieving laugh. “What, haven’t you heard what they call you?”

“Uh, no.” Most of the terms used in Wil’s presence were derogatory comments regarding his lack of legs or snide suggestions about his possible sexual orientation.

“They call you the Marine Corps’ David. The lone fighter taking on the Goliath politicians in Washington to protect our men and women serving in West Africa.”

Wil opened his mouth, then closed it. Cleared his throat to dislodge the ball of emotion. “Ah. No. I’ve never heard anyone refer to me and my team using anything but pejoratives.”

“Well, in certain circles you’ve become a folk hero. I’d never trust you on that alone, but I’ve seen your records and talked to enough people to know you’re solid. And if we’re right, then you have a personal stake in this.”

“Yeah.” According to Walton, several highly ranked military men from around the world belonged to this global cabal. Confirming data Wil had seen in Rio’s reports. However, proving that the general in Southeast Asia, or Bogey One, were part of the cabal would be both difficult and potentially fatal. Men who intended to profit by selling arms and other equipment to all sides in the armed conflicts they’d instigated would not hesitate to kill a few lowly members of the military such as Wil and Special Agent Walton.

As much as Wil wanted to believe that he’d found another ally in his search for Bogey One, he couldn’t help but wonder if the special agent’s offer was a trap. Unable to completely trust her, Wil decided that for now he’d pretend to play along. “You know that my team is operating on limited resources and we’re currently on a tighter rein than ever?” he asked.

Personally, Wil had come to believe that the incident with the would-be bomber had been a setup aimed at discrediting him and shutting down his unit. But whoever had set it up—and Wil suspected the hand of Bogey One—hadn’t counted on the extensive documentation Wil’s team had created in their repeated requests for the equipment necessary to implement the security upgrades. Instead of a hostile observation team looking over his shoulder every step of the way, which was what he’d originally feared, Wil now only had to deal with the threat of a surprise inspection.

A slight difference, but he’d take it.

“Understood,” Walton said. “In any case, the first priority has to be bringing Jarrod in.”

“How confident are you that Jarrod will stay alive once we turn him over to the official delegation?” Wil had received notice that as soon as Jarrod was under Wil’s protection, a team of four members of CID and one lawyer would be sent to retrieve him.

“I give him a seventy-five percent chance of making it back to the States alive.” Something in the special agent’s voice made it clear she didn’t like those odds any better than Wil did.

He tapped the end of his marker against his whiteboard. “What about once he reaches the States?”

“General Baty, the new head of operations in Southeast Asia lost his nephew in the attack on the base. He was never satisfied with the investigation and has promised to fight tooth-and-nail to keep Jarrod alive for questioning. But if this cabal truly has members embedded in all aspects of our military, then Jarrod’s odds of survival aren’t much better once we have him.”

“You’re not making it easy for me to sell Jarrod on cooperating.”

“Sorry. You know better than anyone that even the tightest security isn’t infallible. And if what we suspect is correct, the cabal can’t afford to have Jarrod testify.”

“Right.” Which meant it was time for Wil to enlist the help of his brother, Max. Between the two of them, they should be able to call in enough favors to locate a trustworthy team to protect Jarrod until he took the stand.

They spent the next couple of minutes hashing out the logistics of the handover. After he hung up, Wil snapped photos of the whiteboard, uploaded them to his private, secure server, then erased the notes from both the board and the camera. He couldn’t decide if finding out that Bogey One might be part of a larger conspiracy was an improvement, or just one more damn complication he didn’t need.

But one thing was for certain. He’d do everything in his power to make certain Jarrod had the chance to testify. Even if it meant Wil had to act as the man’s personal bodyguard all the way to the witness stand.

“
W
hat do you mean
, you’re running out of time?” Kirra demanded. Seth’s look of hopelessness tied her stomach up in knots.

He shrugged and glanced away. “I have an assassin after me. Either he’s going to stop playing around and kill me, or he’s waiting for backup to come and arrest me. Plus Sankoh and the rebels are pissed at how I’ve kept you out of their hands. Do you really think I have much of a life expectancy with that kind of opposition?”

She stared at him. “We’ve escaped all of them. Why are you acting as if suddenly our chances of survival are nil?”

“Not your chances, Kirra. Mine. Your brother will protect you. Not me.”

“He’ll protect you, too, if I ask him.”

Seth shook his head. “No. Trust me, he won’t.”

“But—”

Seth headed for the door. “The rain is lifting. I’m going to wash up, then we should hit the road. I don’t trust the guy who called me. He might be able to track us via my satellite phone.”

Kirra frowned as he disappeared down the passage. He cared for her, she knew he did. He even liked her. He’d trusted her enough to tell her about his past, yet he was still hiding something from her. Something dangerous enough that he remained convinced that the best way to protect her was to distance himself from her.

“Seth, what kind of trouble are you in?” she whispered.

She knew without a doubt that if she let him turn her over to Dev, Seth would disappear without a word.

Furious that he could even contemplate leaving her despite the connection between them, Kirra set about tidying up the room. As she stripped the sheets off the bed she pulled too hard and overbalanced. Stumbling back, she tripped over Seth’s backpack. She hit the floor on her bum and the pack fell over, spilling some of its contents. Then the sheet settled over her head.

Kirra fought her way free of the sheet, crumpled it into a ball, then set Seth’s pack to rights. But when she grabbed one of his shirts to shove it back inside, she heard a crinkling underneath. Two unsealed, blue airmail letters had fallen out of the pack.

One letter was addressed to a woman with the same last name that Dev had used on Seth’s voicemail.

Kirra’s breath caught. A relative? Or a wife? Had she so misjudged Seth that she hadn’t even suspected that he was married?

She exhaled slowly. No. That wasn’t fair. Seth had never given any indication that his affections rested elsewhere.

Nor had he made her any promises. Quite the contrary. He’d told her they had no future.

Biting her lip, she stared at the letters. Instinct told her these were important.

They’re none of my business.

If she opened them she’d be violating Seth’s privacy. She hesitated.

I have to know what he’s protecting me from.

She carried the letters into the kitchen and lit the lantern on the table. Seth had no right to withhold information. No matter if he thought he was sparing her from fear or worry. Keeping her in the dark prevented her from making informed decisions. She refused to let him treat her as anything less than an equal.

A quick glance down the passage confirmed that the door to the bathing room remained shut, so she unfolded the letter to the woman with the same last name.

Hi Mom,

I know you thought I probably died long before now. In a way, you’re right. The Seth you knew died many years ago. The man I’ve been since then is no one you would want to associate with. I’m sorry for that. It’s not your fault. Never think that. I just trusted the wrong people. You were the best mom a guy could have had.

The reason I’m writing you now is to say good-bye for real. A situation has come up and I’m not going to make it out alive. Trust me, it’s better this way. Once I’m dead, you’ll finally be safe.

Don’t try to find out what happened to me. Don’t ask anyone in the military what happened to me.

Anyway, I just want you to know that I love you, Mom. Never doubt that for a moment. My biggest regret is that I so screwed up my life I couldn’t make it back to see you or Danika. Or Dad before he died. I wish I could have met little Brianna.

Not a day has gone by when I don’t think of all of you and miss you.

You might hear some bad things about me down the line. They’ll likely all be true. I’m sorry that I turned out to be such a disappointment as a son. I did my best to keep my mess from spilling over onto you, but now I’m backed into a corner. I don’t think my passing will be any great loss to the world. If you mourn me, please mourn the man I was when you last saw me. A man who still had his idealism intact. A man who still thought he could make a positive difference in the world. That’s the man I long to be today, but I can never return to that place.

In a month or so, you’ll be contacted by my lawyer. I’ve left what I have to you and Danika. It’s not much.
My plane is the only thing of value. You should be able to get a little bit of money from selling it.
Sorry. The plane has been destroyed. I really wanted you to have some income from it.

Don’t cry too long for me, Mom. I made mistakes but they were never your fault. Never anyone’s fault but my own. I’m going to make them right in the only way I know how.

Peace and love.

Your son,

Seth

Eyes blurred with tears, Kirra pulled her bandanna out of her pocket and wiped her eyes. Sorrow, sympathy, and despair squeezed her heart and clogged her throat until she could barely breathe. She blew her nose, then read the letter again. She didn’t have the heart to read the second letter.

After the second read-through, Kirra dropped the letters to the surface of the table, pushed out of her chair, and walked over to the window. Dawn had turned the sky to gray. Dark clouds promised another storm, but for now, the rain had stopped. Leaning her forehead against the cool surface of the glass, she focused on regulating her breathing.

She sucked air deep into her lungs and belly. Held it, then exhaled slowly. Trying to move past the betrayal. Trying to ignore the fact that the connection between her and Seth wasn’t a strong enough reason for him to keep on living.

God, it hurt. But part of her had been expecting something like this. He’d warned her, hadn’t he? She just refused to listen. So there was nothing to do but lock up her emotions and pretend that Seth hadn’t just ripped out her heart.

When she heard the bathing room door open, she glanced down the passage to the slice of light spilling onto the floor. For a brief while, her hope that she’d found something special with Seth had been like that patch of light, brightening the darkness of the past few days.

The light on the floor widened, then was replaced by shadow as Seth emerged wearing just a towel around his waist.

He headed toward the bedroom, then paused and instead moved toward Kirra. When he reached the kitchen doorway, he glanced at the table and froze as he spotted the letters. Then he raised his head and his furious gaze clashed with hers.

“What the fuck, Kirra?” He strode into the room and snatched up the letters. “These are private. You had no right to read them.”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have made love to me, letting me think that you cared about me, when all along you’ve been planning to die!” So much for restraining her emotions.

“I never made you any promises,” he snarled.

“Perhaps not verbally, but don’t you dare tell me that you weren’t sending a different message with your body.”

“That was a selfish mistake. I just wanted to grab one moment—” He cut himself off and looked away.

The pain cut so deep, Kirra briefly closed her eyes. Then she opened them and snapped, “What? You thought that making love to me was something akin to a prisoner getting one last request before he died?”

A muscle along his jaw ticked.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh perfect. Just perfect. You know I have a history of picking the wrong men. Men who aren’t capable of loving me. Who hurt me. You had to know that last night’s intimacy would only make it more painful when I learned of your death.”

“You weren’t ever supposed to find out what happened,” Seth gritted out. “Once I handed you over to someone who could keep you safe, I planned to disappear.”

“Like that somehow makes it better?” She wanted to smack him for being so dense. “Just what kind of trouble are you in that makes you believe you have to die?”

“That’s none of your business.” He turned to leave.

Kirra gave a low cry of frustration, darted forward, and grabbed his arm. “Don’t you dare tell me that you planning to kill yourself isn’t my business! I love you. That makes it my business!”

“I’m not planning to—”

“Don’t you dare deny it.” She snatched the letter to his mother out of his hand and waved it in his face. “You say right here that you’re going to end it all.”

“It’s not like I intended to crash my plane or blow my brains out,” he muttered, keeping his eyes averted.

Everything inside her stilled. “You’re planning death by assassin.”

His slight flinch confirmed that she’d nailed it. The bitter laugh that spilled out of her sounded as if it came from the frightened, needy girl she’d been after Kyle’s death. She flung the letter at the table and stepped back. “What a horrible surprise to have me stumble into your life instead.”

Seth raised his eyes. “No. I—”

“No. Listen to me.” She took a deep breath as anxiety twisted her stomach into knots. She
had
to get through to him. She couldn’t bear it if he died. “Tell me why you didn’t leave me alone that night at the bar. If you were already planning to let the assassin kill you, why help me?”

As much as she wanted to tell him that she knew why he’d gotten involved, she held her tongue. He needed to see it. To admit it.

After a tense silence, he said, “Because you were the most beautiful thing I’d seen in a long time. This gorgeous, bedraggled angel. And—” He closed his eyes and whispered, “I couldn’t let the rebels have you. That’s not who I am.”

Kirra bit back her relieved smile and put her arms around him. “You’re right, Seth. That’s. Not. Who. You. Are.”

Seth squeezed her so tightly, she could barely breathe. “Kirra, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter how I feel about you. I’m trapped and there’s no way out.”

She felt the tension running through his muscles. Knew that he wanted to bolt. Or to lash out. But instead, he remained in place, quivering under her touch.

“So tell me what’s going on. Let me help you.”

He shook his head. “There’s nothing you can do. Just leave it.”

She couldn’t stop the growl that rose into her throat. “No. You don’t get it. I love you.” She pressed her cheek to the warm skin of his chest. “There has to be another way out.”

Seth jerked free of her embrace and stepped back. “Don’t you think that if there were any other solution I’d take it? I don’t want to die, but it’s the only way to protect my family.”

No. Oh, no. She could fight against anything except Seth’s deep love for his family that he’d revealed in his letters. Ignoring her breaking heart, she murmured, “Please, tell me what’s going on.”

He sighed, then glanced down at the towel around his waist. “All right. But let me put some clothes on.”

She followed him down to the bedroom, afraid to let him out of her sight.

As he rummaged in his backpack for a change of clothes, he blurted, “I’m being blackmailed.”

Kirra sucked in a breath and sat down hard on the bed.

“It happened not long after I reached South Africa.” He dropped his towel and pulled on his shorts and trousers. “I worked odd jobs off the books in order to afford forged papers establishing my identity as Michael Hughes.” He cleared his throat. “You only know my real name because—”

“Because you didn’t think you’d be alive long enough for it to matter.” Her throat constricted and she lowered her gaze to the floor. Since the moment he’d met her Seth had been running toward death, while she’d been running toward life.

“That, and…well…” He shrugged. “I didn’t want to lie to you. I wanted to hear my real name from your lips. I wanted to be Seth again, the man who’d been an honorable—if something of a risk-taker and questioner of authority—member of an elite military team, instead of Michael Hughes, powerless and trapped pilot with blood on his hands.”

Knowing that he’d wanted to be someone better for her only made the pain worse.

“I took out a loan in order to buy a used plane,” Seth said. He was using the same detached voice he’d used when telling her about Southeast Asia. “I’d intended to set up a business flying for NGO’s or maybe even doing tourist flights.”

He paused while he pulled a t-shirt over his head. “Everything changed when I received an envelope in the mail.”

Hearing the anguished hitch in his voice, Kirra braced herself.

“The envelope contained close-up photos of my mother, my sister, and my then three-year-old niece,” he continued. He flicked his thumb against his index finger. “The photos were taken inside their homes, at private moments. I’d barely had time to look at all of the pictures when I received a phone call.”

Kirra held her breath.

“The call was scrambled, but I think it was from a man,” Seth said, putting yesterday’s clothes into his pack and closing it up. “He told me that he’d sent the photos. That he knew who I really was. He told me that if I attempted to contact the authorities, anyone I spoke to would die the same way the friends I’d reached out to had died after the attack on the base.”

“How did he know about that?”

“I don’t know, but it freaked me out. Worse, he told me that he had a hit man stalking my family. As long as I took whatever flying assignment he gave me, he wouldn’t order the hit man to torture and kill my family. As a bonus, he’d pay off the loan on my plane.”

“That’s why you’ve done work for the rebels and other criminals.”

“Yeah. The first six months or so I flew jobs for him all over Africa, but for the past eighteen months, I’ve been working strictly in West Africa.”