Hung (39 page)

F
red's shoulders
sag back into their customary position, his momentary rebellion disappearing as suddenly as it appeared.

"
F
ine
. Just, don't lose him — okay?"

A
gainst all the odds
, I start to feel sorry for him, my natural sympathy springing through once more. After all, this whole tough girl act I'm putting on
is
a façade…

"
D
on't worry
– if anyone asks, tell them I stole him. I doubt that right now they'll kick up too much of a fuss…"

F
red looks doubtful
, but knowing that he doesn't have a choice, just says, "You got it."

"
T
oss me his lead
, will you?" I ask, turning to leave. Again, Fred does as he's told, and much to my surprise, I effortlessly catch the length of canvas. "Want to get some air?" I ask the excitable German Shepherd nuzzling my leg, and he looks up at me with what can only be described as a smile.

"
I
guess that's a yes
…"

C
hapter Twenty Four
- Katie

"
Y
ou don't need a lead
, do you, buddy?" I ask the glossy furred, majestic looking dog walking to my right hand side. Jake cocks his head slightly and looks up at me, and if I were slightly more inclined to speculation, I'd think that he understands every word I say – perfectly.

B
ut he's just a dog
, isn't he?

J
ake barks once
, "
woof
", and again I look at him critically – surely he didn't mean that? No… I think I'm overthinking things. Then again, he
is
a Delta Force trained dog, and if they only accept the best and the brightest
of the best and the brightest
into Delta in the first place, maybe the same holds true for the dogs. I'm pretty sure, come to think about it, that when they showed the video of SEAL Team Six assaulting Osama Bin Laden's compound, the Navy SEALs actually had dogs rappel down from helicopters.

S
o
, if they can get to grips with military quick lining, then is it so crazy to think that Jake might be bright enough to understand every single word I'm saying? Probably… But that doesn't stop me from thinking it anyway.

"
O
kay
, then," I say, leaning over him and unclipping the lead from his collar, "have it your way." I half expect him to run off, haring after one of the wild birds in the area, or chase after a passing Humvee, but he doesn't do any of that – just stays completely still, standing next to me and looking up.

"
G
ood boy
," I say, suitably impressed. I haven't really thought what the plan is going to be, now that I've got Jake in my – for lack of a better word – custody. What I'm doing is probably considered to be stealing military property, so I think to myself that it's best that we don't get seen out in public. After all, by the sounds of things – I'm no longer an anonymous nurse: apparently in my absence I've become famous.

U
h oh
.

"
C
ome on
, let's go back to mine – I'm sure we can get you some food sorted out. How's pizza?"

J
ake's eyes
narrow and he pins his ears back when I say the word pizza, and I am completely, one hundred percent certain that he knows what I'm talking about. He's brighter than half my family! I lean down and give him a scratch under his chin.

"
M
iss
?" I jump out of my skin, and realize right then and there that it's going to take me a long time before I completely come to terms with what I've gone through over the past few days. I might be physically okay, but mentally… That's a whole other picture.

"
A
ccept my apologies
, the last thing I wanted to do was startle you," the man says as I turn to look at him, but he's standing in front of the bright, midday sun, and all that comes into view is a broad, muscular outline.

"
W
ho
… who are you?" I ask, quickly adding, "This isn't about Jake, is it?"

"
J
ake
?" the man – an officer, judging by his bearing – replies, looking confused. The realization that he has no idea what I'm talking about comforts me, because the last thing I want is for someone to take Jake off my hands before I can get him squirrelled away somewhere safe. Unfortunately, whoever's standing in front of me is pretty quick on the uptake, because before I've even finished my train of thought, he says, "Ah – that looks like a collar from the stores at Fort Bragg to me…"

H
e kneels
down and scratches Jake behind the ear, and Jake lets out an almost feline purr of satisfaction, which is – again – comforting, because if this dog is anything, he's probably a damn good judge of character. Now the officer's kneeling down, I can get a better bead on what he looks like, and to be honest – it doesn't help much. Other than his distinctively broad and muscular frame, he's a pretty ordinary looking guy, and I'm just turning my head away when I see something startlingly unusual jump out at me.

"
Y
our eyes
…" I say stupidly, looking down at the most violently emerald green set of eyeballs that I've ever seen. In the midday sun, they're speckled green and gold, and they look like vivid, expensive jewelry.

"
I
get that a lot
," he says drily, "but thank you all the same."

I
realize
that I need to try and reassert control over this conversation – I have no idea what direction it's going in, and that's not good, not good at all, especially as he appears to have realized that I'm trying to abscond with military property…

"
C
an I have your name
, officer?" I ask, trying to keep my voice as level as possible.

"
U
nfortunately
, and I really wish this wasn't the case, it's – uh, classified," he says, hurrying to finish the rest of the sentence as he looks at the mild incomprehension on my face, "but believe me – I'm here to help you."

"
C
lassified
?" I mouth under my breath. "I didn't even know you could classify a name…"

"
Y
ou can't
, not really," he grins – and I notice that the action lights up his otherwise ordinary face spectacularly, "but it's not really the
name
that's classified…"

T
hat’s
the piece of information that allows my brain to click into gear, and to put – if not a name – then at least an organization to his face. The guy was definitely Delta Force – from what I've pieced together from Mike, he's got it written all over him – the hugely muscular frame, the limited amount of personal information he's giving away, and – above all – the unbridled self-confidence he has.

"
R
ight
…" I say, imbuing the short sentence with a tone of understanding.

"
S
o you get it
, then," he says, and I think to myself –
either I do understand all this cloak and dagger stuff, or I'm just talking to a crazy person. And if I am, then what does that make me!

"
S
o
, Officer Classified – if you can't tell me who you are, can you tell me why you're here?" I ask, now thoroughly confused.

"
I
presume
Mike's told you something about the organization he works for?" Officer Classified says.
That's a bit of a mouthful of a name…

I
shrug
. "Honestly? Not really – we haven't had much time to talk…" I trail off, blushing as I realize what he must think I mean by that, and hasten to change his mind. "I mean," I stumble, "with the kidnapping, and all…"

"
G
ood
," he smiles – seemingly taking the high road, "as secretive as we strive to remain, sometimes people can't help but to open their mouths when they see a pretty face…"

"
T
hanks
, I guess."

"
A
nyway
," Officer Classified continues, straightening up and seeming to bring himself to his point, "the reason I'm here is because the organization I work for has a motto – actually, a way of doing business – and we don't like to leave a man behind."

I
stay quiet
, not knowing where this is going, but getting more and more curious the further I plunge into this cloak and dagger routine.

"
A
nd we think
that what's happening to Mike is," he pauses, "objectionable."

"
O
bjectionable
?" I laugh cynically. "You can say that again!"

"
P
recisely
," he says firmly, and the tone of voice shuts me up immediately. I can tell that this man is used to being in command, and I'm not surprised, because he has a demeanor that positively demands respect. "As I said, objectionable. Now, officially, we can't be seen to interfere with things…"

"
B
ut unofficially
?" I ask, curious.

H
e smiles
. "You've hit the nail on head. Officially, I was never here, but unofficially, I think you can be the solution to our problem…"

"
M
e
?"

"
Y
es
, you. You do want to help Mike, don't you? The way things are looking, he could be behind bars for a few years."

I
cut him off
, outraged. "That's disgusting!" I shout. "He didn't do anything wrong; he saved my life, for God's sake!”

"
I
couldn't agree
with you more," the officer agrees in a conciliatory fashion, "and believe me, Mike's saved a whole heck of a lot more lives than just yours! The thing you've got to understand is that even though you and I, hell everyone on this base, knows that Mike's an American hero, national politics is going to get in the way now…"

"
P
olitics
?" I ask, confused. A few days ago, I was just a humble nurse, doing a tough job to the best of my ability, and apparently now I'm being thrust into the national spotlight. My head's spinning – I'm not sure I ever signed up for anything like this!

"
O
h
, you better believe it." Officer Classified grimaces. "Your kidnapping, and Mike's subsequent rescue attempt is going to open up a whole kettle of fish in Washington, and between you and I, the easiest option would just be for them to torpedo Mike's career. They've done it before, and they'll do it again…"

"
Y
ou can't let
that happen!"

"
I
t's too late now
." Classified shrugs. "Some bastard in Washington has already leaked his name to the national media. We'll find out who did it, but it's too late for Mike – he can't ever go back into to the field with Delta again…"

I
hide a smile
, noticing that this super secret organization suddenly has a name…

"
B
ut there must be
something we can do. Otherwise, why are you here?"

"
W
e need your help
."

I
can't imagine
why he's just said that. I have no idea what help someone as insignificant as me can possibly give a military outfit as powerful as Delta Force, but I keep my mouth shut and wait for him to tell me. Whatever it is, I'll do it.

"
Y
ou have something of
…a national profile now," he says, and I grimace at the reminder, "and we have a limited window of opportunity for you to take advantage of that."

"
H
ow
?"

"
I
f you threaten
to go public about what happened to you, talk about how disgraceful security on base was, and how no one except a wounded hero bothered to come after you – regardless of how true that is – people are going to listen. Especially if we leak the fact that Sergeant Carson is in the running for a Silver Star…"

S
o it is true
!

"
L
isten
, if you do exactly what I tell you, you and Mike will get out of this and live happily ever after…"

"
A
nd Jake
?"