Her Survivor: A Black Eagle Ops Novel (2 page)

The door opened and Noah Sterling walked in with a large cup of coffee that smelled of whiskey, his blue and green paisley necktie askew.

Owen Pohl waved his Cowboys ball cap in front of his nose. “My God, Noah, whatever
ʼ
tis you got in that cup must be a hundred proof.”

The lawyer placed his hand to his throat and croaked; the drink was for medicinal purposes. He coughed weakly. “I have a terrible sore throat.” Maybe so, but he also had poor acting skills. The man would never bring home an Oscar.

Once the lawyer read through the typical legalities of the will, sipping from his cup every few minutes, he began the list of items bequeathed to the persons within the room.

“ ‘To my lifelong friend Owen Pohl, I leave my white 1960 Chevrolet Impala convertible. I know you’ll take good care of my baby.’ ”

Owen slipped his handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his reddened eyes before honking into the red hanky sounding like some of the geese that nested near the pond below Warrior Falls.

The lawyer continued reading from the sheaf of legal papers. “We put many a mile on that fine banana boat, didn’t we, Owen? And I thank you for your loyal friendship.” The Old Man dabbed his eyes again and nodded, as if Frank were in the room with them.

“Yes, and he can have it. Father acted like it was pure gold. Can we get moving here?” Frank’s daughter sneered. She wasn’t the most likable person Kelcee had met in Warrior Falls, a small, unique town she’d come to adore.

“ ‘To my lifelong hunting buddy, Clint Silver, I bequeath all my stuffed trophy heads and bodies, even that black bear I shot on our trip to Canada. Although Clint and I both know it was his bullet that brought him down. Clint, there was no better hunting partner than you. I also want you to have my guns and gun case.’ ”

“Good grief,” Wanda Brandt complained again. “Trust my father to be preachy, even in his will. Can’t you hurry this up?” She slapped her expensive purse onto the table for emphasis.

Noah Sterling slipped his wire-rimmed glasses down near the end of his nose. “I am
not
some machine one can flick a switch to put into high gear. All my wills are read the same way. I suggest you behave yourself, even if time is so important to you. Surely your real estate agency will survive.” He glared at her for a good minute.

Wanda’s face turned beet red and Kelcee imagined steam blew out of the demanding woman’s ears.

The attorney looked at the will again. “ ‘To Shelby Johnson, I will my GMC truck and three thousand dollars on the condition she and her little boy leave her abusive husband and never return to Warrior Falls. Make a new life for yourself, without that lowlife who keeps beating you. No man should treat his wife the way he does. Run away to a different state, girl, and hide with that adorable boy of yours.’ ”

The lawyer took a sip of his spiked coffee. “ ‘If you stay with your husband, the truck and money revert to Wanda. You get neither until the day the court serves Bo with divorce papers. U.S. Marshal Clint Silver will escort you into your house to help you remove things you and your son need, and will then load it all onto the truck elsewhere, so Bo doesn’t know what you’re driving.’ ”

Shelby nodded and sobbed, while she trembled, no doubt with fear.

“ ‘Now, Wanda, we come to you. ‘Wanda, you were our only child and we doted on you your whole life. When your momma got cancer, you claimed your life was too hectic to help care for her. When my heart started giving out, you told me to hire in help. You were just too busy. Since you value time so much, I’m giving you your grandma Brandt’s grandfather’s clock and your great aunt Bessie’s mantel clock. All of your mother’s jewelry is in our bank vault. It, too, is yours along with all of our stock. Noah Sterling will go over the list with you. Someday, I hope you’ll learn the value of love and caring for others.’ ”

Wanda gasped and jerked straight in her chair. “That’s it? A couple of dusty, old clocks, jewelry, and next-to-worthless stock? Who gets the bookstore and all its books?”

All eyes volleyed toward Kelcee. A bead of sweat trickled down her back. Surely not.

“ ‘Kelcee Todd, I’m sure by now everyone is looking at you. No doubt my daughter is shooting daggers with those piercing eyes of hers. Ignore her. For two years or more, you’ve made sure I took my medicines on time, you reminded me of my doctor’s appointments, made my meals and covered me while I napped with the afghan my wife crocheted. I never had to worry about the store, or the books being shelved correctly, or the register drawer coming out even. You were my sunshine on many a lonely day…’ ”

“I bet she was his sunshine at night, too,” Wanda sneered and scowled at Kelcee as if she were a bug crawling up a wall.

Kelcee could put up with Wanda’s continual looking down her nose at her. After all, they were strangers, but this…this was too much. “Don’t disrespect your father like that. Frank was an honorable man. He
never
touched me in a sexual way. I’d get a hug from him at Christmas, but it was a fatherly hug. Something you’d know about if you had come by more often to see him. Say what you want about me, but don’t you dare dis Frank in my presence.”

“Nor mine.” Clint jabbed his finger on the tabletop.

Owen crumpled his Cowboys hat in his hands. “Mine neither.” He nodded once.

The lawyer waited a pregnant moment while Wanda muttered curses under her breath. He picked up the will again and continued. “ ‘Because of these things and so much more, I’m leaving you, Kelcee Todd, the bookstore and the land that runs to the edge of the pond at the falls.

“ ‘My bequeathal includes the physical building with my apartment upstairs, all the contents inside—books, shelves, furniture, and electronics—except for what I’ve willed to other people. Also the porch furniture and checker barrel used by townsfolk for decades is yours. I can see how much you love the place. It should go to you along with what funds remain in my bank account, after the funeral and other estate expenses are paid. Make a good life for yourself there.’ ”

After two hours of carrying her quickly boxed clothes and books from the room she rented at the local boardinghouse to her new home, Kelcee walked through
her
bookstore. Hers. She’d been upstairs often enough to get dry clothes for Frank when he’d had an accident because he couldn’t move fast enough to get to the lavatory at the back of the bookstore. The apartment would take a lot of clearing out and painting, but she didn’t mind hard work. Still, the reality was having a difficult time taking root. This bookstore and apartment were hers.

The door opened, and the rancher everyone called ZQ strode in. The man was like a movable mountain of granite with a devilish grin. Mannerly to a fault, he was the heartthrob of most women in Warrior Falls—single and married. His marriage to his country had broken many a heart, or so she was told. He doffed his black Stetson. “Howdee, Kelcee, word around town is this store is yours now.”

She swiped tears from her cheeks. News in this small hamlet sure did travel fast. “I don’t know what to think of it.” Her palms lifted and dropped. “This is the last thing I expected. Believe me when I say I don’t know what to do. The place needs some updating, but I don’t know how to go about it myself, nor do I have the extra cash to hire in handymen.”

He slowly circled around. “You need someone to help you lay out plans. Give you some direction.”

“Plans?” Where would she get the money for some kind of architect or construction guy? She had Frank’s old furniture upstairs to replace. Painting to do. Rugs to buy for her living quarters. She didn’t want to drain her savings; she’d been living on the cheap so she could buy a car.

“Yeah. Like a corner for you to read to children. A rearrangement of bookshelves to create small reading nooks like they have in those big-city stores. I have a friend coming who’s good at that kind of thing.”

Kelcee clasped her hands. “I don’t have the money to pay for something like that.”

“Dustin, that’s my friend, is just recuperating from war injuries. Helping you would be ideal. A few hours a day so he can regain his strength and self-confidence. You could help each other. He won’t be very talkative.” He lightly cupped her shoulder. “Dustin’s a decent sort, thrown by his war injuries. He needs a friend and a job to anchor him. The kid won’t want to be paid.”

What kind of man wouldn’t want to be paid for his labor? And just
what
did ZQ mean by this kid needing a friend? If she knew the rancher better, she’d swear there was a twinkle of humor in his eyes and a slight upturn at the corners of his lips.

ZQ stopped at a display of Stephen King’s latest release and read the back cover blurb. He carried it over to the register. “I love how this man’s mind works. Weird as hell and yet he can make you believe every word.” He handed her his charge card and glanced around. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have the latest Highland time travel by Maeve Greyson, would you? Mom loves that series.”

“A lot of women do. They’re over here. I’ve only got two left.” She hurried to the display and grabbed a paperback. “Here you are.”

“Add it onto my bill. You know, it didn’t surprise me old Frank left you this place. Not the way you took care of him. Half of the time he pretended he didn’t even notice. Good friends like you are hard to find. You deserve this store. I can see how much you love it.”

“Thanks. Still, I never expected it.” She glanced around. “Doesn’t seem the same here without Frank, does it? Almost like the spirit seeped out between the cracks of the building.”

A faint smile warmed his features. “That fact alone will make you cherish it all the more. Relax, Kelcee. Enjoy the gift a decent man left you.” He touched the brim of his Stetson with two of his fingers in a farewell gesture and exited the shop, carrying his bag.

Kelcee locked the store behind him. She went upstairs, put fresh linens on the bed, and cleaned the bathroom. Afterward, she emptied the bedroom closet and dresser, filling them with her things. At times, she stopped to shed a tear in gratitude. She had a home that belonged to her. A home where she hoped her brother would never find her.

For if he did, her life would be over.

ZQ was two chapters into his new book when the phone rang. He swung his booted feet off the desk and glanced at his watch before he answered. She usually called this time of night.

“Eagle Ridge Ranch.”

The rapid, frantic breathing of someone having a panic attack strained through the airwaves.

“Ashley, is that you?” It had to be, unless someone had stolen the cellphone he’d sent her just like the one he’d sent to Dust and a couple more of his men, whom he’d heard were in a bad way. He had to include a more subtly worded note with hers because she remained so fragile. By his estimation, she called almost nightly, since receiving the phone, because she needed to hear the command in his voice.

“I wondered if you were going to report in.”

More gasping of air.

“Have you gotten another job as a translator?” She’d been assigned to his unit against his wishes. Not that he didn’t like her. Hell, she worked hard and did her best to assimilate with his team. The major drawback was the country they were in and how the male citizenry viewed women. Unfortunately, for this sweet kid, the worst had happened.

“Ashley, listen to my voice. Do you like kittens?”

“Y-yes,” she breathed.

Progress! He’d gotten her to speak. “One of Mom’s cats had a litter two weeks ago. Their little eyes are open now, so she’s been holding the babies to get them used to a human’s touch. She’d appreciate some help. All you need to do is say the word and I’ll be on my way. I’ll fly the Blackhawk to Phoenix to pick you up.”

There was a gasp, and he inwardly cussed at his thoughtless choice of words. He could almost see her shake her head and thought he heard her expel a frantic “no.”

“Or we could make the trip more leisurely. I could drive the SUV. Mom has the bedroom next to hers all ready for you. I put two new locks on the door. You’ll be safe. But this is a decision you have to make.”

Ashley hung up. ZQ’s spirits were somewhat lifted. She’d spoken a word, the first he’d heard her utter since the team raided the building where she’d been held captive, tortured, and repeatedly raped by the members of a large ISIS cell. God, they were heartless bastards.

He strode to the bar in his office and poured a glass of whiskey, straight up, and quickly downed it to numb the memory. Hell, if she hadn’t had a pulse, they wouldn’t have been able to tell if she was alive, she’d been beaten so badly. Poor kid had gone so deep inside herself to hide from all the shit being done to her, he wasn’t sure the Ashley who’d joined his team and teased his men about all their bad habits would ever resurface.

JJ and Nance were sleeping close to the house tonight. ZQ strode to the kitchen, grabbed four longnecks from the refrigerator, and slipped a rawhide treat into his shirt pocket. He turned on the back porch light and sat on one of the Adirondack chairs positioned around the fire pit between the house and the stables, both the newer one used for horses and the older, larger one he was turning into a training area for his men. “JJ, you still awake?”

From the darkness whispered an answer in the affirmative. Damn, it brought back memories. “Want a beer? I need to talk.”

“Stand down,” JJ told Nance, and she barreled around the side of the ranch house.

ZQ grunted when she landed on his lap and smiled as she bestowed a bounty of doggie kisses over his face. It wasn’t long before her nose went to his pocket to sniff between her shows of affection.

JJ folded himself into a chair and ZQ handed him two bottles.

“Whazup?” He raised the beer to his lips. Nance placed her paw on JJ’s arm and whined as if to ask for permission. “Did you smell something, baby? Go get it.”

She daintily removed the treat with her teeth and jumped down to lie across JJ’s feet.

“Got a call from Ashley.” ZQ sipped at his beer.

The air around them stilled. So did JJ.

“I sent Ashley a phone like I did Dust. Also sent one to Reece.” He chuckled. “Or Steelhead, as you guys called him. I email Cudo since he lives in Guam. When I hear some of my guys could use help, I reach out.” ZQ shrugged his shoulders. “So many suffer from PTSD, just like you are. They might need a place to acclimate to normal life at a slower pace than most. They’re always welcome here.” Moths flew around the porch and pole lights.

JJ stared off. “Roland Cudo in Guam? How did you ever find him? Still got your fingers in the intelligence pie, don’cha?” He shook his head a couple times. “What did Ashley have to say?”

“She calls most every night at the same time. Sounds like she’s in a full-blown panic attack.”

“Nightmares.”

Two horses whinnied back and forth in the stables. Nance stopped chewing her rawhide for a minute to listen, while ZQ guzzled more beer. “That’s what I figured. Rapid breathing and sometimes she whines like a wounded animal, but she never speaks.”

JJ downed the rest of his first beer. “Damn. Damn it all to hell and back. You know she should never have been over there. She’d been trained to translate emails and texts, not go face-to-face with those heartless sonsabitches. Hell, she barely knew how to shoot a gun.”

“She’d been through basic training like every other sailor. Even so, you got my vote on that sentiment. She hadn’t been through the intense training we were. Too bad I didn’t have a voice in the situation at the time. After Stoney got killed, a translator was requisitioned for our unit ASAP.”

“And you mean to fuckin’ tell me she was the
only
one they had? Navy clerical? Hell, she was no trigger puller. What did command think would happen to a petite, beautiful, blond woman once ISIS saw her and set their demented minds on capturing her?”

Yeah, it was just as ZQ figured. JJ had it bad for Ashley. “Every night when she calls, I try to engage her in conversation. Tonight I asked her if she liked kittens and she said she did. Her first word to me, man. I was never so happy to hear a single word in my whole life. Then I made a big mistake.”

JJ glared at him, his ebony eyes sparkling in the night, and his second beer nearly touching his lips. “What?”

“I told her all she had to do was say the word and I’d fly the Blackhawk to Phoenix to get her.”

“Hell, man, what were you thinkin’? You mentioned a helo to her and I lay you dollars to donuts she remembered her helicopter ride when we flew her out of that hellhole ISIS had imprisoned her in.”

“I remember how you two clung to each other, and you kept whispering in her ear. Just how close were you two?”

“Friends. That’s it.” He lifted a shoulder. “Not that we both didn’t want more, but a white woman is still looked down on for being with a black man. Not as much as years ago, but someone as sweet as Ashley deserves respect and the best of everything. My job as a man, who cared for her, was to protect her—even from my affections. She kept saying she didn’t care, but I knew she’d get it from both sides, both cultures.” He sighed. “Especially as long as we were in the service. Men use no filter there. You know that. I wanted better for her.”

This was the most ZQ had ever heard JJ speak. “Next time she calls, you should answer.”

JJ shook his head. “When she’s in panic mode? Hell no. The last thing she needs is a surprise. You keep talking to her. Just don’t expect to hear from her for a couple nights. She’ll go deeper inside herself for a while.” He stood and vanished into the darkness. Nance walked next to his heels, silent as fog on a phantom’s feet.

A smile tugged at ZQ’s lips. He’d set that project in motion. But he’d have to move carefully or JJ would leave the ranch the same way he came, in a noisy cloud of dust. Someone else would need a light touch, too—Kelcee. She was in hiding. He didn’t know from what or whom, but he recognized the signs. And so would nosy Dustin once he started doing odd jobs for her. The kid could never resist a mystery. That was one of the things that made him such a good SEAL—his innate curiosity and instincts.

Dustin counted three rings before ZQ answered. “Moving kind of slow for an Old Man.”

“Was hanging sheets on the clothesline for Mom. Her arthritis is bad this morning. Rain must be coming.” ZQ cleared his throat and the tone of his voice changed. “And what goddamn business is it of yours? Just when was your long nose assigned to keep track of my handsome ass, you brainless bastard?”

It wasn’t often one could rile the Old Man, so Dustin was quite pleased with himself and his decision. “The doctors gave me the word. I’m out of here tomorrow at oh-nine-hundred. If your invitation is still open…”

“It is. I’ll be there. Have your comic books and pretty nightgowns packed.”

Dustin stretched out on the bed, relieved he’d have someplace to go where people understood his moods. “Kiss my ass.”

“Seriously, what size jeans or shorts do you want? I know you’ve lost weight and you didn’t exactly arrive there with a suitcase of clothes. Oh, and Dust?”

“Yeah?”

“Make sure you call your mom. Tell her where you’ll be.”

“I will as soon as I hang up. I’ve been warming her up to the idea of my staying with friends for a while. She’s relieved to have a phone number to reach me.”

True to his word, the next morning ZQ was standing in the doorway of Dustin’s ward at oh-eight-thirty with a bag of clothes. Even in his chambray shirt and jeans, ZQ’s haircut and military bearing gave away his past status as officer in charge. That and the Trident pin he wore over the pocket of his shirt. The Old Man was still a mass of hardened muscle, only now he had some silver at his temples. Fit, cool, and intelligent as hell, the retired commander had always been a case in point that brawn without brains would never cut it. He’d earned Dustin’s respect years ago.

The day ZQ made him LPO, leading petty officer, of Alpha squad, Dustin knew he’d earned the Old Man’s respect as well.

He strode over to Dustin and handed him the bag. “You’re looking good, kid, and I mean that.” A few of the men in the ward recognized ZQ and called his name. One by one, he strutted over to them, shook the patient’s hand if he still had one, exchanged a few words of encouragement, or made a joke if the patient seemed up to it. Meanwhile, Dustin got dressed. Boxers and jeans felt odd after months in hospital gowns.

Two admirals entered the ward and waited. As soon as ZQ saw them, he trooped over and snapped a salute. They led him away from the patients to a corner for a private chat. Even though he was officially a civilian, the admirals seemed interested in hearing what he had to say, nodding and gesturing. Why? ZQ had been retired for a year. Asking questions in return, one admiral handed ZQ a manila envelope.
What the hell is going on here? Is that “Confidential” stamped in red on the side?

Dustin was officially discharged from the hospital and, after being handed a ball cap with the word “SEAL” and the Trident above the bill, was told to wear it outside to keep the sun’s rays from damaging the new skin growth around his eye. He was wheeled out to the curb where a black SUV, with ZQ behind the wheel, waited. The orderly tried to help Dustin out of the wheelchair, but he waved him away. He stood with the aid of a cane and opened the door himself.

His crutches, both a running metal prosthesis and one for swimming, plus one tan boot were placed on the backseat by a nurse, who hugged him goodbye and wished him the best.

The sun shone brightly now that a rainstorm had passed through the area early this morning. ZQ handed him a pair of sunglasses once he strapped himself in. “Let me know if you need to get out and move around or take a whiz. I don’t want your muscles cramping.”

“I’ll be fine.” The last thing he wanted was to be babied.
Just treat me like a man, a fuckin’ man—a whole man.

“Yeah, your stubborn ass says so, now. An hour into our ride, you might need to stretch out, walk around the vehicle a time or two. Stopping is no big deal. We’ll hit Micky-D’s. Get a Coke.”

Dustin gave ZQ a quick glance. “I’m not having a Coke without a freakin’ Big Mac, man, and an order of fries big enough to choke a rhino.” He hadn’t had fast food since right before the team left for Syria.

“Not good for your health, kid.”

“Like getting my foot blown off was?” Things grew quiet after he barked that sentiment, as the tires ate up the flat highway. He wanted to ask ZQ about the folder one of the admirals gave him. Wanted to ask in the worst kind of way, but he knew the man well enough that the only answer he’d get would be a cold stare. Serving under this commander, you soon learned his behavior patterns.

“Were you offered a medical discharge?” ZQ’s glance shifted from the road to him.

“Yeah, I refused it for now. I want to see how I am after more healing time and another round of PT. See if I can walk without my cane when I use the standard prosthesis. I can run fairly well with the sprinter style. Swimming’s still a little awkward with the amphibious one, but I’ll get the hang of it. Command gave me two months to make up my mind. Of course I’ll have to pass medical exams, too.”

“We’re about halfway home and there’s a McDonald’s up ahead. Let’s make a stop. It won’t hurt you to move around for a little, give that cane a workout.”

Inside, customers stared at Dustin’s scarred left side of his face. Murmurs scorched his ears and he tugged the bill down farther over his face. Damn, he felt like a freak and he didn’t like it. The doctors had talked about plastic surgery, but the VA wouldn’t compensate him for it if he took a medical discharge.

Military medical had fixed his eye and the scars around it, but the skin was still pink with healing. What remained was a long scar from his cheek to his jaw and two smaller ones branching out toward his ear like tentacles. Although he wasn’t sure he wanted to use up his savings to pay for more pain of skin grafting, he didn’t know if he was emotionally prepared for the stares and pointing and whispers if he didn’t.

ZQ paid for their food even with all his bitching about Dustin ordering two Big Macs, double order of extra-large fries, a chocolate shake, and large Coke. “You want to eat your
snack
in here or get our order to go?”

For a minute, Dustin wanted to fold in on himself. Then he gathered some courage to glance around. “To go. I’m not ready for this shit.”