Once a Marine (8 page)

Rafi’s observation confirmed they were on the right track. Caution became ever more crucial. They could stumble upon the encampment suddenly. A disaster for them and the hostages they came to rescue.

Chapter Six

BD ran to the pool cabana. “I found Enzo. He’s very excited about joining our design team. He’ll call later to talk to you about some of his ideas.” Elated, she dropped into the chair next to Shari.

Shari leaned over a large wicker table stacked with several sketchbooks. The drawings had been done last time she and BD were in Honolulu, and the designs she studied were unique from those shown in Grayson’s recent spring collection.

“If I go back with the company, I’m going to demand control of the design department. I’ll be true to the icons, but I’m going to insist on incorporating some of these ideas. These are good, really good. I know my parents refused to consider any of them, but they need to change with the times, to modernize beyond the classic stuff we make.”

Remembering that Whitney and Norah hadn’t been very impressed with their ideas, BD picked up a drawing of a silk jacket embellished with lace. “Look at this. Lace is in again. It feminizes the basic jacket design and would have a lot of appeal to a younger generation of Grayson customers. How about pairing it with a slim suede skirt with a hint of similar lace at the pockets?”

Shari took the drawing. “That
is
perfect.” She put down the jacket design and dug through a pile of sketches. “Here’s the very one. Remember this skirt? All we have to do is add a touch of lace here and here and it’s to die for.”

BD smiled. The skirt was something she came up with several months ago. “It’s very subtle, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely. I love it.” She put the two sketches side by side. “I remember when you drew this skirt. The uneven hemline with the slight flare takes a simple, functional skirt and gives it panache.”

Datu appeared with a tray of cool drinks and pupus. “Mr. Whitney and Mrs. Norah call to say they coming. Be here tomorrow afternoon. I send car bring them here.”

Shari sighed. “I didn’t expect it would take them long to show up.” She cast an ironic glance in BD’s direction.

BD reached for the pupu plate. “What are these, Datu?”

“Angara make special for you, Kalua pig and fresh pineapple. Wrap in bacon and bake bake.” He pointed to some white jellied squares. “This Haupia. You try.”

BD put one of the rubbery white squares on her tongue. “Mmm, it tastes like coconut.”

Datu beamed. “Yes, traditional Hawaiian coconut pudding. Always make for luau.” He turned to Shari. “We make luau for your parents, Missy Shari?”

“No, Datu, their visit is business, not a holiday. They’ll be happy with anything Angara prepares. You tell her to make whatever she likes. They love her cooking.”

Datu nodded. “Which bedroom in house you want me get ready?”

Shari pursed her lips, tapped her chin with a slender finger, and exchanged a resolute look with BD. “Let’s put them in the guest room here on the back of the pool house. It’s comfortable and private.”

Datu raised his eyebrows and cocked his head. “You no want parents in big house?”

“No, I think they’ll be more comfortable out here.”

He gave her a quizzical look, made a small bow, and returned to the house without further comment.

Shari turned to face BD. “And,
I’ll
be more comfortable with them out here.”

BD smiled. “I’m sure they’ll get the message.” Her admiration for Shari’s firm resolve grew.

“Yes, especially since they invited themselves. I have half a mind to book a suite for them at the Kahala.”

“Let’s not push it. They want something, and you want something. I have a hunch you’ll get what you want by bedtime tomorrow.”

“I hope you’re right.” Shari closed up the sketch pad and placed all the loose drawings in a portfolio. “Let’s take a walk on the beach. We need to discuss strategy.”

BD and Shari hatched their plan. Shari would stay with the family business, at least for the present.

“Remember, you have enough name recognition to start your own competing company.”

“I know.” Shari nodded, her face taking on a tight-lipped expression. Clearly, she had considered that seriously. “I own a third share of Grayson stock, I sit on the board of directors, and I’ve never exercised any of my shareholder power.”

“You defer to your parent’s wishes in everything.” Until now BD hadn’t fully appreciated Shari’s complicated relationship with her parents and the company.

“That’ll change starting now. When my mother pulled the rug out from under me, it hit me like a kick in the stomach. I really thought I’d misheard her. That morphed into deep-down hurt and anger. My stomach burns when I think about it. Mother was so casual, so flippant. ‘Oh, by the way, Daddy and I’ve decided to elevate Judd to CEO.’” Her mimic of Norah’s voice and gestures was uncanny. “‘We’ll find another place for you, Shari dear. Until then you’ll continue to be the face of Grayson.’

“As if that wasn’t bad enough—she told me just prior to the showing of the Spring Collection—Mother said they would make the announcement at that evening’s champagne reception. Their public seal of approval would appear in the press the next day.”

BD shook her head. Did Whitney and Norah think public humiliation added to Shari’s emotional mix was OK? How dense could they be?

Shari paused for a moment. “How can I face them? People inside and outside the company knew
I
was slated to move to the top management spot.”

Even though careful to show Shari the respect she worked to earn, people still thought of her as the tall blonde teenager with the sexy pout. The girl who modeled Grayson designs simply because she was the pampered only child of the owners.

BD felt a wave of regret for her petty thoughts. She wasn’t guilt free on that score herself.

Shari tied her pareu tight at the hip. “I’m twenty-nine. You and I both know my days as model are numbered. Jaycie and Delphi are twenty and twenty-two. They have several years left, and if my parents and I don’t blow it, they’ll stay with the company.”

“If I had my way they’d lose the blonde wigs. It would be so much more interesting to have a brunette and a redhead on the runway with you.”

“Yes…Grayson is in a rut…and digging deeper every day.”

Shari talked about her dream to bring the company more into the mainstream. “Mother dashed that when she cavalierly dismissed their promise to me.”

Were Whitney and Norah completely clueless? What gave them the right to treat Shari in a way that would never fly with any other employee of the company? Norah often trampled the feelings of others. A characteristic Shari unfortunately shared with her mother.

Whitney founded the business years before he met Norah. Grayson was an established and successful fashion house when Norah joined Grayson as a young model. It was common knowledge in the company that she’d wasted no time insinuating herself into Whitney’s affections.

When Shari was born a year and a half later, Whitney dutifully divorced his wife of thirty years, married the much younger Norah, thus guaranteeing her future. Their prenuptial agreement included a provision for a one-third share of the company for Norah and a third for their child, Shari.

Even though women the world over loved owning a Grayson, a timeless and coveted status symbol, BD didn’t think the company would change fast enough to accommodate a new generation of dedicated customers to replace their existing, aging loyalists.

BD brought Shari up short by pointing out some of the callous characteristics she’d inherited from her mother. “Truthfully, I sometimes wonder why I continue to put up with your unpredictable behavior.”

Shari huffed, “Whether you believe it or not, I’ve wondered about that myself. You and I are both bullheaded and stubborn. Perhaps we’re too much alike.”

“The big difference being, you were born into the business with all the advantages of the family scion.”

Shari raised her eyebrows when she tilted her head to look BD in the eye. “You’ve been more outspoken lately. I saw the signs. You’re fed up with taking my crap, and I’m fed up with dishing out so much crap. I promise to work on it.”

“Start soon. If you’re not careful, you’ll lose the best, smartest, and most dependable assistant you ever had.”

Now that Nick was out of BD’s life, there was no reason she couldn’t move on. With every day that passed, with no sign of Rafael Cruz, she accepted the reality that he was a one-time fling. A hot fling of soul shattering proportions, yes, but he wouldn’t be a factor in any decision. He disappeared. It was for the best. Yeah, maybe, but she wouldn’t say no if he called.

Shari turned in the direction of the villa. “Do you know I haven’t had a true blue friend since before I started modeling for Grayson? I lived at the company and had private tutors at the company. I was always in the company of my parents with nobody my age around.”

A moment of clarity hit BD. “Twenty years is a long time in a woman’s life without trusting female friendships. I’ve neglected friends the last three years myself.”

Shari sighed. “For a long time I thought my mother was my best friend. Wishful thinking.” She paused. “Do you ever think of me as a friend or just your boss?”

BD took her time answering. “Friend or boss, you’re very high maintenance. I can handle that in a boss, but you make it very difficult for me to think of you as a true friend.”

Shari stopped walking. She turned to face BD. “I’d like to work on changing that.”

“People talk about changing, but deep down they don’t really want to change. That might be the hardest thing there is to do in life. It’s much easier to manipulate the people around you than it is to change yourself.”

“Don’t give up on me yet, OK?”

Chapter Seven

After several patient hours, four lookout sentries were identified and located. Before dawn, Rafi snuck around to neutralize the man who dozed behind the big rocks on the far side. Once that guard was down, another team member would quickly dispatch the guard closest to the trail. Joe and the fifth man crept around the back of the encampment to eliminate the fourth sentry.

Though he remained dead calm, sweat slid down his back and dripped from his nose. Each drop sounded like thunder to him when it hit his knee with a splat. He laid his rifle down, unsheathed his knife, and slid the blade through a belt loop. Holding the wire garrote handles he crept like a cat closing on her prey.

A twig snapped under his foot. Rafi dropped soundlessly to ground as the now alert sentry stood to peer in his direction.

Still as a stone, Rafi barely breathed. Slow, cautious footsteps approached. He released the garrote. The killing tool dropped gently onto the dirt. He clutched the handle of his knife, slid it out from under him. And waited.

Eyes agog, the kidnapper had no time to react when Rafi sprang and buried the wicked blade into his chest. Rafi ripped savagely upward into the murdering rebel’s heart. He held the man to keep him from falling and alerting another terrorist. Rafi placed his big hand over the man’s mouth and nose to block the sounds of his last breath. In silence, he lowered the man’s body to the ground, removed his headband, and knotted it around his own head. He moved forward a few feet to take the sentry’s place. He flashed a hand signal to the rescue team members who watched him through night vision scopes.

It took Joe’s team more than an hour to eliminate all four sentries. That left less than an hour to close in on the encampment before relief sentries were expected.
Expected
was the operative word. Too much reliance on expectations was where a mission could get royally fucked up. And fuck-ups were what they trained and prepared for.

Joe’s team was made up of experienced veterans. Rafi had worked with some of these same men on past operations. He was especially valuable to this mission because of his language skills. The hostage family did not speak English. To ensure their safety they had to understand what was going down, when it went down. Once all hell broke loose Rafi’s assignment was to get to them as fast as possible.

The first snafu happened when the teenage son of the hostage family jumped into the fray after Rafi’s knife flew past the kid, burying itself in the neck of a guard. The boy leaped on the rebel whose function was to eliminate him and his family in case of a rescue attempt. The man slashed the kid in the upper torso with a machete.

His screaming mother alerted any other guerrillas who were caught napping or otherwise occupied. Two terrified younger children broke and ran.

Rafi shouted to the hostages in Tagalog. “Get down, get down!” The father made a grab for the two children. Everybody in the camp scattered. Shots rang out from every direction. Embers from a cooking fire scattered and ignited a crude shelter. Flames erupted, blocking the rescue team from seeing what happened at the back of the encampment.

“Goddammit!” Joe yelled from the rear. “Move in, move in. Grab those kids and shut that woman up!”

Rafi crouched and ran the last few steps to the clearing. He pushed the woman down, ordered her to be quiet, grabbed the wounded boy by his ankle, and dragged him to the edge of the encampment. The terrified woman crouched and scurried after him.

Rescuers moved in from every direction, neutralizing the kidnappers and shooting down those who made a break for it. The hail of gunfire stopped almost as soon as it started. Dust and flames rose from the makeshift camp. The only sound—the whimpering of the youngest children.

“Report!” Joe shouted into the stillness.

One by one his men yelled out their code numbers, through the thick cloud of dust and smoke. Every man was accounted for. “Mop up!” A couple more gunshots and Joe’s team moved into the center of the camp.

“Secure the hostages! Douse that fire!”

The second snafu happened when a cache of ammunition ignited and exploded near the shelter’s roaring flames. Rafi gasped with pain, and nearly passed out as a white hot piece of shrapnel savagely embedded itself in his upper thigh. He went down, unable to hang on to his weapon. His handgun hit the ground. A wounded rebel, presumed dead until a split second before the explosion, made a grab for it.