Operation Summer Storm (9 page)

His eyes flashed a dangerous warning. “This is why you should have stayed at home,” he snarled and brushed past her to take the lead once more.

She resisted the immature urge to stick her foot out as he went past and trip him. Having him injured would not be conducive to getting her sister back. The anger he’d managed to stir within her though, did give her the momentum to keep going.

It was still dark but Summer could make out streaks against the sky every now and then as she passed beneath a break in the foliage. The further they walked though, the thicker the canopy become. She had no idea how long they’d been walking but it felt like days. Her legs were tired and her clothes were stuck to her as the increasing humidity sapped at her strength. Her shoulders hurt as the straps of her pack rubbed sensitive skin with every bounce in her step.

Stumbling over an exposed root, Summer braced herself against the truck of a nearby tree and closed her eyes. She hated Cambodia. With each clumsy fall and slip onto her butt, her loathing increased. Tate had been right—she couldn’t keep up and now she’d have to face the angry scowl of irritation he saved just for her. When she opened her eyes, she saw him look back and stop. Stifling a small groan, she pushed herself away from the tree and met him as he walked back down the line toward her.

“We’ll stop for a rest,” he told her as he reached her.

“I’m fine,” Summer said but wished she wasn’t puffing quite so heavy as she spoke.

“Don’t be stubborn. You need a break, so we’ll take one,” he said overruling her objection firmly.

“Stubborn? Me?”

Frustrated and feeling miserably inadequate, she swiped at the trail of sweat that trickled down her face and stung her eyes, sitting there feeling sorry for herself. She knew she was holding them up.

Del stopped and held out a piece of cloth toward her. Surely they weren’t going to gag her again? She eyed it with a healthy dose of suspicion. Leaning over—he tied it around her head, and stepped back to survey his handiwork, “That ought to keep the sweat outta’ your eyes a bit.”

Summer smiled, grateful; at least now she wouldn’t have to keep wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

“If you can manage to drag yourself away Del—you might remember why we’re here and keep your mind on the job,” Tate snarled coming back over, his jaw clenched and a scowl covering his face.

The two men stood facing each other for a moment before Del gave a slight shake of his head and walked back to the other men.

“He was only being helpful,” she told him after Del had moved away.

“He’s not here to be your nurse maid,” Tate snapped.

Summer looked up at him and shook her head in disgust. She was too weary to argue. She did nothing but rub the man the wrong way. “Let’s keep going,” she said. “The sooner this is over the better.” She stood and looked down at her pack with a grimace. Around her, the men shrugged their heavy packs onto their backs silently, making Summer felt guilty. How could she complain? Her pack only weighed a fraction of what theirs did. They carried ammunition and weapons, as well as their own food and equipment. Though as she bent to pick up her pack she was sure it had doubled its weight since she’d last taken it off a few minutes ago.

Bracing for the pain she knew would come once the weight of the pack settled on her sore shoulders, Summer gasped as it was taken from her hands. She turned just as Tate swung it over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“You’ll move faster without this,” he said as he bent down to retrieve his ugly black gun then paused as he straightened, noticing the dark expression as it crossed her face. “What now?”

“I can manage the damn pack,” she told him tightly.

“I can handle it,” he bit back, continuing to walk past.

“Of course you can. I forgot I’m dealing with GI, bloody Joe,” she muttered as she stepped around him and followed the others as they moved out once again though she’d be damned if she’d admit it was much easier going without the stupid pack.

Chapter Six

By mid-day the humidity had escalated and Summer felt as energetic as a wrung out rag. Her hands were grimy and she was sure she’d sweat more in this one day than she had in her entire life combined! They stopped again not long after, and the men immediately secured the area—each taking turns as a sentry, and set about unpacking.

“What’s happening?” she asked Del as he moved past her a few moments later.

“Setting up camp for the night.”

Summer frowned and he backed away, “Uh uh,” flashing a lopsided smile he pointed over at Tate, where he rested with one knee on the ground—concentrating on a map before him. “Take it up with him.”

Narrowing her eyes, Summer got to her feet and crossed the small clearing, waiting for him to look up and acknowledge her. When he didn’t, she cleared her throat pointedly. “Why are we setting up camp at this time of the day? I can keep going.”

“We’re setting up camp here because this is as far as we can go,” he said, flicking an annoyed glance toward her which he didn’t even bother to hide.

Summer felt her frown deepen at his attitude, “What do you mean?”

“We can’t risk alerting anyone that we’re out here, and if we go any further we’re going to spend a very uncomfortable night trying to remain undetected.”

“So we’re close to the camp?”

“Not too far,” he confirmed in a clipped manner.

“Can’t we just keep going and get her now? Why do we have to stay the night?”

Summer took a small step back as he unfolded his large form from the ground and stared down at her tightly. “Because despite what you think—I’m in charge and I say we stay here.”

“But we’re wasting time,” she argued through gritted teeth. Why was he being so damn difficult?

“We’re doing this smart. You can’t just storm in there and take the place without studying the layout first.”

“You said you’d been studying the layout.”

Swearing under his breath Tate glared down at Summer as she placed her hands on her hips firmly and eyed him with an unwavering glare. In her profession she handled all kinds of people. Drunks, injured in Saturday night brawls, prisoners brought in for specialized treatments. Even little old ladies with dementia—their size in no way, an indication of the strength they could summon when they felt threatened and disorientated. She wasn’t easily intimidated by a few low curses and a frown.

“We still have to go out and do some reconnaissance before we decide to go in.” When she went to open her mouth, once again, he cut in brutally, “Do you want to get your sister out alive? Or would you rather watch them kill her right in front of you?”

Summer bit her lip uncertainly. She knew he was right; he was the professional she’d gone searching for to do this job. Of course he knew what he was doing; besides, he wouldn’t be dragging this expedition on any longer than he had to. She sighed and returned to the spot she’d been sitting across the clearing.

Around her she watched as the others broke out rations from their packs. Summer eyed hers with detached curiosity. She was too tired to reach out and open the pack but forced herself to do it anyway when her stomach reminded her it still needed feeding. Opening a ration pack she found inside her own bag, Summer was pleasantly surprised at the type of food she discovered. There was no end of goodies. Realizing she hadn’t any idea what had been packed inside the large pack she’d been issued, she proceeded to dig through and find out as she ate.

There were no real surprises. Two changes of clothing, wrapped in plastic. She’d been told earlier it was the only way to ensure your clothes stayed dry. After being here not quite a full day she could believe it. For someone who hated wearing wet clothes, this sure was the wrong place to be.

She also noted, with some relief, a medical kit. Thank goodness someone had been thinking ahead. There were also several ration packs. Nothing exciting, certainly nothing to keep her mind off what was going on in the camp, whether her sister was all right and how long it would be until they found her and got her to safety.

At various times the lookout changed and the men who weren’t on watch took turns sleeping, or studying the map they had spread out on the ground. When it grew darker, they set out their sleeping bags and wasted little time chatting. It was nothing like the camp out back at the hanger. This was…serious.

There was no fire—they couldn’t risk alerting anyone in the vicinity they were here. Summer shivered, not from cold but because of the strange sounds of the jungle and the unrelenting darkness about her. The deafening, endless shrill of insects sounding more like steel grinding against steel was so loud it was hard to imagine such little creatures were capable of creating such noise. Then there were the wild, maniacal shrieks and screams which came from somewhere high up in the trees. Although she knew these sounds came from animals—down here on the jungle floor, feeling completely out of her comfort zone, they unnerved her. “It helps not to think about it too much.”

She jumped at the whispered voice that came from nearby. Leaning his back against a tree stump with one arm draped across an upraised knee, Tate sat motionless in the dark beside her.

“I don’t think I’ve been able to stop thinking about it at all since it happened,” she whispered back.

“Just let us do our job.”

Summer wished she could read his face, but it was too dark to make out his expression. “I’m trying.”

“Very trying,” he agreed without missing a beat. “How did you find all this evidence?” he went on, still not looking at her.

She turned on her side to face him better and caught the slight gleam in his eyes as a brief beam of moonlight penetrated the trees in the canopy above them. “Willow told me that if anything ever happened to her, I had to go and look for a box with some files in it. I thought she was going crazy—she kept saying she knew something happened to Michael, that he’d been murdered—his plane crash hadn’t been an accident but I didn’t believe her,” she said sadly.

She thought back to the eve of her sister’s departure, Willow had pressed a small set of keys into her hand, “If anything happens, Summ, promise me, you’ll go get the box and do exactly what it says.” Naturally, she’d balked at the odd request, demanding an explanation, but Willow had brushed off her concern, as ‘just a precaution’, and Summer had reluctantly let the matter drop.

“When he didn’t turn up at the rendezvous we assumed he’d chickened out…or sold out to Tréago,” Tate said, interrupting her troubled thoughts.

“Michael would never sell out to a monster like him.” Summer’s temper flared in immediate defense of her brother-in-law.

Tate didn’t reply and she felt rather than saw his reserved judgment burning into her from across the short distance. “Everyone has their price.”

For a moment Summer was too shocked to respond. “Maybe in your world, but I know Michael, and if he said he was coming to meet you—he would have done everything he could to make it.”

“You said your sister was using the medical team as a cover? What do you think she was doing here,” he asked.

She glanced over at him warily. “I don’t know, she’s been so consumed with this conspiracy theory, I have a feeling she might have been following some kind of lead in Michael’s notes.”

“So your sister presumably knew about us?” he asked.

Summer bit the inside of her lip as she considered her answer, “I don’t know; she’s never mentioned that she did.”

“You read the files and knew all about the explosion, and if she’s picked up Vosta’s investigation, then you’d have to say she knew about us as well,” he drawled, “so what the hell has she been doing sitting on that evidence all this time?” His voice, brittle and cold, made her drop her gaze uncertainly.

“I don’t know…but I’m sure she had her reasons,” she said quietly.

“You said she was a journalist as well?”

Summer nodded slightly and reluctantly returned her gaze to his face. In the moonlight she caught the bitter twist of his lips.

“Maybe she figured exposing Tréago, was a better story, than proving the innocence of four, dumb, Marines.”

“Maybe she just wanted to make sure Tréago wouldn’t find a way to get out of it before she handed over the evidence,” she said, stiffening, at the implied callousness of her own sister. “I don’t know why she didn’t try and make contact with you earlier, but I’m sure she had her reasons.”

“Well, that’s comforting. Glad to know she would have eventually handed over the evidence to clear us…after she got her precious story.”

“That’s not what I meant,—”

“Get some sleep, Sheldon. You’re going to need your energy tomorrow.”

Turning her back on him, she clenched her jaw and fought the urge to growl in frustration at the man behind her. He had the unsettling ability to send her from one emotion to another within the time span of a single conversation.

* * * *

It was more of the same the next day. Before light they were up and moving and she had no idea how she was going to keep it up but somehow she did. She’d rather cut off her own leg than admit to Tate she couldn’t do it.

Digging through her medical supplies, she folded up some soft gauze and slipped them under her shirt to protect the already raw, rub marks her pack had created the day before. At some point Tate had re-organized her pack. She felt the difference in weight as she shrugged it on ready to move out. While it was easier to carry, it still rubbed her shoulders. Gritting her teeth, she pushed through the stinging sensation, and kept going.