Deadly Aim (Bad Karma Special Ops Book 2) Page 4

  Tony Vincenti grunted. “We needed to get Herrera.”

  “Baltazar and Juan Pablo Herrera were not our mission.” Colonel Mahinis gave the party line. “You put a dent in his operation and showed he’s not invincible. Judge Vallejo won’t back down.”

  “Except they have to get Herrera in custody,” Ray pointed out.

  “You did your job. Mission accomplished. The Herreras are the Colombians’ problem. Not ours.”

  Mack wished that were true. What were the chances the Colombians would actually get Herrera and put him in jail or a grave? The Bad Karma team didn’t put “a dent in his operation.” They may have taken out a dozen or two of Herrera’s protection force, but he’d recruit more poor suckers, lured in—maybe to their deaths—with enough dinero. Thank God Amber and Darcy were two thousand miles from Herrera. Not that they’d left any evidence to lead the drug lord back to the Bad Karma team.

  “Missions will go to Alpha team until your new team medic is assigned and up to speed. Good job. Dismissed.”

  Groans echoed throughout the room at the colonel’s declaration. Being sidelined sucked, but Vincenti needed to recover, and the newbie had to integrate into their well-oiled machine before they put their lives on the line in future deployments.

  Outside the command post, Mack breathed in the cool night air. He needed to get the mission and the judge’s daughter’s haunted look out of his head. Stop picturing something like that happening to one of his girls.

  Tony caught up with Mack before he reached his truck. “Dinner?” He motioned to his bandaged arm. “I deserve a nice steak.”

  Dinner with Tony beat going to an empty house with a frozen dinner or can of soup. “Need someone to cut your steak for you?”

  “I can find someone better looking than you for that.” Tony tossed him a grin before getting into his SUV. “Meet you at Logan’s.”

  Mack checked the dashboard clock in his truck. Heading out of the lot, he tugged his phone from his pocket and tapped the top number on the screen.

  “Hi, Dad,” Amber answered his call in her usual subdued, pre-teen manner.

  “Daddy?” Darcy piped in from the background. “It’s my turn to talk first.” The image of his youngest’s excited face, wanting to talk to him, hit Mack right in the heart.

  “Fine. Here,” Amber said a moment before Darcy’s greeting came over the line.

  “Daddy, I miss you!”

  “I miss you, too, monkey.” The reminder he’d missed his mid-week dinner and nightly calls poked at him. Damn, after the past few days, he needed to see them. Now. Tonight. “Thought I’d come by and give you girls goodnight hugs and kisses.” Tony would understand the change of plan.

  “Mom! Dad’s on the phone,” Amber called out.

  “I can show you a picture of me with the bunny Yao got for her birthday! He’s so cute. I want a bunny, too, but Mommy said no.” Darcy didn’t stop for a breath.

  “You’re not getting a bunny.” Rochelle’s voice came through loud and clear. He could picture her face with the my-way-or-no-way expression that had become all too familiar in the past few years.

  “I know.” Darcy dragged out the words in a sad, singsong manner. “Daddy’s coming over.”

  “What? Let me talk to him,” Rochelle demanded.

  Oh, crap.

  “What’s this about you coming over? It’s bedtime. So, unless you’ll be here in the next five minutes—”

  “I can be there in twenty.” If he hit the lights right and ignored the speed limit.

  “They’ll be in bed.”

  “Come on. I missed out on dinner this week.”

  “I had nothing to do with that. That would be because of your job.” The condemnation in her voice scraped his nerves worse than the drill sergeants who’d screamed insults in his face.

  His job. Everything circled back to that. What happened to the woman who promised to love, honor, and cherish? He clamped his jaw shut, so he didn’t actually ask. “I’m not asking you to keep them up until midnight. We’re talking ten minutes past their bedtime.”

  “Only you’ll get them too riled up to sleep. I’m the one who has to deal with dragging them out of bed for school tomorrow.”

  “Let me take them tonight.” He offered the perfect solution. “I’ll get them in bed and to school in the morning. It’ll give you a break.” He preferred not to beg, but getting to spend time with his daughters was worth groveling to his ex.

  “If I say yes, next time you go out of town or have special training, you’ll want to trade your night again. It messes up our routine. Tomorrow, you get them for the whole weekend. That’s good enough. You can make it up to them then.”

  Dammit. Couldn’t she be reasonable? Give a little for once. He shouldn’t be surprised. She was the one who gave him the Army-or-me ultimatum because she couldn’t deal with being a Spec Ops wife any longer.

  He was already in the elite 75th Ranger Regiment when they met and married. It appealed to her then. Her attitude changed as the conflicts in the Middle East dragged on and on, deployment after deployment. But they could have worked out a compromise. Instead, Rochelle seized every opportunity to punish him for their failed marriage.

  “You should have asked me before you told the girls you were coming by.” Rochelle broke the extended silence. “I don’t appreciate you making me look like the bad guy. The custodial agreement is clear.”

  Pick your battles. Pick your battles. “Fine.” Contempt leached into his voice. “I’d like to say goodnight to ’em.” At least they’d know he had tried—wanted—to see them.

  “Of course.” Rochelle’s martyred tone was akin to the warning sound of an incoming missile strike. “And you can break the news that you can’t come over tonight after all. Darcy,” she called.

  Why not? Chalk up another instance of disappointing the girls.

  “Hi, Daddy,” Darcy greeted him again.

  “Bad news, monkey. I, uh, didn’t realize it was already your bedtime. Sooo, it’s too late to come by tonight, but I’ll see you tomorrow, and I promise we’ll do something fun. You girls can pick, okay?”

  “O-kay,” she drawled. “Can we go to the pet store so I can pet the bunnies?”

  “Sure. If that’s what you want.” Even though it’d likely piss off Rochelle, it might win him some points with the girls, and they were who mattered. He said his goodnights, telling Amber to think of something she wanted to do. He debated if her embarrassment of being seen with her dad would spare him from having to endure a trip to the mall. Mack could only hope.

  Seven

  Based on the side-glances sent Kristie’s way in the weekly briefing back in Savannah, speculation abounded the true nature of the assignment in Colombia. She got that. If it had been one of her teammates flying a covert mission, she’d have been hungry for details, too. Except she couldn’t give them the details that they wanted.

  She ignored the stares in favor of getting up to speed on the missions that lay before them. Routine flying. Routine training. The meeting didn’t last long.

  “Donovan, need you a minute.” Major Sun singled her out after dismissing the rest of the pilots. He motioned for her to follow. Her rubber-soled boots hardly made a sound on the tile floor as she paced down the long, quiet hallway to his cubicle of an office.

  The major took a seat and leaned over the desk. “I read over your report but wanted to tell you that Colonel Mahinis called me himself after the mission to tell me it’d been a success. Baltazar Herrera is head of the most brutal drug cartel. The Colombian government has been after him for years. Every time they get close, he gets tipped off. When they finally managed to pick up his son, Juan Pablo, using him to get his father didn’t go as planned.”

  While she appreciated being filled in, albeit after the fact, why was the major telling her this now? The mission was called a success. Still, she didn’t know what picture Josué’s report painted.

  “The cartel kidnapped the daughter of the judge
who denied Juan Pablo bail. The Colombian government asked for U.S. intervention, but if Herrera learned we were there, he would have moved the girl—or killed her. Thus, the training mission cover. I figured we owed you that after reviewing the mission reports.”

  Good Lord, poor girl. Kristie had wondered how she was involved, but this was worse than she’d imagined.

  “Job well done. Which brings me to the call I got this morning.”

  Call? She sat up straighter. Major Sun’s expression made tingles race down her arms.

  “Colonel Ball from the 82nd Aviation wants to see you.”

  “See me? About …?”

  “About a position, I believe, tomorrow at thirteen hundred.”

  “Tomorrow? That’s …” This was so sudden it had to be big. But Bragg. “Have you heard anything about openings at Fort Carson?”

  He hesitated and ran a hand over his buzzed hair. “That’s a no-go—for now. There’s still Fort Drum and Hood. Though Bragg sounds like it could be a sure thing. Unless you’ve changed your mind about staying here.”

  She loved Savannah, but staying here, even for a MEDEVAC slot, wasn’t starting fresh the way she needed. She didn’t want to forget Eric, but there were too many reminders of him here. Favorite restaurants. Friends. Those things made it hard to move forward.

  “I think I need to meet with the colonel.” That didn’t commit her. She’d have time to mull it over. What were the chances other opportunities would pop up like spring flowers?

  Kristie arrived in Fayetteville early enough to drive around the perimeter of Simmons Airfield, located across the highway from Fort Bragg. She pulled up to the security checkpoint to access the airfield, watching a pair of UH-72 Lakotas fly overhead. It gave her the feeling of home.

  She didn’t get the chance to sit after giving her name to the colonel’s aide before she was escorted to his office.

  “Chief Donovan, I appreciate you making it on such short notice.” Colonel Ball stood to shake her hand. “Have a seat.”

  He sported the standard, almost civilian looking, aviator haircut, as opposed to the traditional Army buzz. There were hints of silver at his temples and lines at the corners of his friendly eyes. “A friend of mine sent over a mission report he knew I’d be interested in as I’d originally wanted it assigned to us.” He motioned to a clipped stack of papers with thick black lines obscuring the first half of the top page.

  Colombia. Had Ray sent it?

  “I recognized your name. You’ve put in for a MEDEVAC position.”

  “Yes, sir.” Anticipation nearly lifted her from the seat.

  The colonel’s mouth pursed, and for several seconds, his gaze settled on a folder bearing her name before returning to study her.

  “Walk me through your decision-making process for the events on your end of Operation Sparrow.”

  Wouldn’t he have this in a copy of her report? He obviously had security clearance since he knew the name of the mission when even she didn’t. She drew in a full breath and clung to her waning confidence.

  She stuck to the facts, and Colonel Ball nodded to signal his awareness of the instrument-system-training cover they’d been fed. She explained why she’d felt it necessary to exit the aircraft to cover the men they were extracting. Though she preferred to forget that she’d fired on, wounded, and maybe even killed a man, she kept the emotion from her voice and projected a strong, professional detachment.

  He listened as she recounted the details around them dusting off without Sergeant Hanlon. “Can you explain why you returned to the landing zone when you had a critically wounded man on your aircraft and risked taking more fire?”

  “Chief Lundgren requested it. He had more intel on the situation.”

  “You know Chief Lundgren?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The colonel’s mouth shifted, and he took his time before asking, “Would you have gone back if it weren’t Chief Lundgren giving the order?”

  “He didn’t give an order. I made the decision.”

  “Based on?”

  She hadn’t come here for an inquisition. If he needed proof she could make life-and-death decisions under pressure, she’d justify her reasoning and show him why he should give her the MEDEVAC slot.

  “Josué Varga indicated Herrera’s men could have heavy weapons; however, at that point, we’d only encountered small arms fire. The injuries I saw didn’t appear life-threatening. I weighed the risks of leaving a man behind—in daylight and possibly low on ammunition—and determined there was a greater chance of ending up with a casualty if we didn’t return for him.”

  “I agree. I flew MEDEVAC for seven years, starting back in Operation Iraqi Freedom. Did two more tours in Afghanistan. It can be brutal emotionally. You get an up-close look at the carnage that happens in war. Even when you get there within minutes, it’s not always enough. Do you think your personal history could have played a part and pushed you to take the risk?”

  Unable to deny it, she held his gaze. “I think it was the right call.”

  “Are you familiar with Complicated Bereavement?”

  Those two words sucked the air from her lungs and hope from her soul. “My psychologist and I discussed it in counseling before my last deployment.” She disagreed with Dr. Wynter’s concerns that flying MEDEVAC would extend her period of grieving for Eric well beyond the normal time frame.

  Apparently, it had still gone in her personnel file. The reason other commanders passed on giving her a shot in MEDEVAC became crystal clear. Wasn’t that freaking fantastic. And totally unfair. “I joined the Army because I wanted to fly MEDEVAC. I don’t want to fly MEDEVAC because I lost him. I know I can’t bring him back.”

  Colonel Ball leaned back in his chair, studying her. “I’m no psychologist, but I have to agree with Dr. Wynter. I can’t take the chance you’re not ready, nor prolong your cycle of grief. I’m not going to offer you a MEDEVAC slot today.”

  Then why the hell did he rush her here and dangle this hope in front of her? Fine! She didn’t want Bragg anyway.

  “But I want you to fly for me,” he continued.

  What? “I—I don’t understand.” Did he want her to go through another psych eval to prove she was moving on? That sounded like bureaucratic bullshit. How did they expect her to show them she was moving on while denying her the chance to do it?

  “You have an exemplary record. The instincts, decision-making, and knack for teaching make for an excellent instructor pilot—which I need. I was about to offer the slot to someone else when I received a copy of the Operation Sparrow mission report. I wanted to talk to you first.”

  “I’m already an instructor pilot.” Did he expect her to get excited about a lateral move after yanking the MEDEVAC carrot out of reach?

  “You’ve had a taste of flying missions for the most elite soldiers in the U.S. Army. We’re not the 160th SOAR, but we’re close. It’s a step up.”

  She didn’t have the right anatomy to fly with the 160th—until that all-boys club joined the twenty-first century. There were women in the Rangers now. Except that wasn’t her dream. The idea of inserting men like Eric and Ray and their friends into dangerous situations was the opposite of her mission plan. “I appreciate it, but I want to be responsible for saving lives.”

  “There’s more than one way to do that.” He picked up the report. “I need the best pilots to ensure we bring our guys back alive.”

  She couldn’t think of a single word to say as the room rocked like her craft in gale-force winds.

  “Other commanders may see Dr. Wynter’s note as a red flag. But with more time, signs of grief recovery, another psych eval, you may get a MEDEVAC slot. I’m offering you something now. You fly for me, show me you’re moving forward in your career and life, and you still want to switch to MEDEVAC, I’ll make it happen.”

  “I’d like some time to think about it, sir.”

  “That’s fair, but I’m on a tight schedule. My current instructor pilot leaves f
or his new post next week. This past weekend, his intended replacement broke his wrist and suffered a concussion doing BMX bike stunts.” He rolled his eyes. “With summer coming, I needed to fill this slot yesterday. Can you let me know by Friday? If you take it, I’d like you to start ASAP.”

  This was not the Army way. Usually, she’d have months before a permanent change of station. Her head spun. “I can give you an answer by then.”

  Eight

  Kristie got caught in the end-of-day exodus from Fort Bragg, and she was a few minutes late when she rolled into the restaurant parking lot. She was off-balance when she’d left her meeting with Colonel Ball. Her housing inquiry hadn’t gone any better. Was this the best move? According to what she’d just learned, waiting for another option might be an exercise in futility. She hoped talking it out with Ray would give her some perspective.

  The special on margaritas must have been a draw since customers were already waiting for tables inside the packed restaurant. Spying Ray and Stephanie, Kristie bypassed the hostess stand and headed toward their table.

  Seeing Mack sitting beside them, she almost stopped dead in her tracks. What the …? Great. This put a kink in her plans to get counsel from her friends. Mack popped into her thoughts once or twice a day since the mission last week, so he wouldn’t help her think clearly, either.

  Before she reached them, Stephanie sprang to her feet to pull her into a long, hard hug that whispered “Welcome home,” giving Kristie the familiarity and connection she needed.

  “I’m so glad you called.” Stephanie released her, and Ray slipped in for a quick one. “Kristie, this is Mack Hanlon, from Ray’s team.”

  “Nice to see you again.” Mack held her hand longer than necessary. There was enough recognition in his steady gaze to spark desire low in her belly.

  “Again?” Stephanie skewered them with a gaze worthy of any trained interrogator.

  Kristie gave a helpless shrug. “I just gave their team a scenic tour.” During which she shot a man. She couldn’t shake the memory.