Strategic Engagement (Wingmen Warriors #5)

Strategic Engagement (Wingmen Warriors #5) Page 29

The computer dinged behind him with incoming mail.

Damn. He'd wanted answers from Max, but why couldn't the guy have hit send on the e-mail five minutes prior and saved him from landing in this hellacious conversation? How many times did this woman have to shove the ring back in his face before he got the message?

Daniel jammed the solitaire in his pocket and opened the post from Max.

"Ammar has entered the U.S. Wren and I have the boys locked down and safe."

Trey and Austin's uncle in the States? Warning bells clanged in his mind, louder, until he realized they were merely an echo of the alarm from the security computer.

Someone had breached the first line of defense.

Chapter 16

Mary Elise stared at the security computer, monitor images of the yard still uninhabited except for gulls. Alarm silent now. Except for in her head where the alarm still blared and the memory of Daniel slipping off into the band of oaks and pines stayed imprinted.

Of course it made sense that she shouldn't go with him. She didn't have the training to move silently enough to stay undetected. She would be a liability to him out in the open.According to logical Danny, she should stay here, locked down tight behind a dead bolt with her loaded gun. Still, the situation chafed.

Nerves tangled into a snarl that rivaled her hair after a shower. Fear gummed the tangle to near unmanageable levels. Why had she wasted time arguing with Danny? Why couldn't she have waited to make her damned stand for independence—all because she was scared of taking a final step?

Stay calm. The alarm could be nothing worse than a rowdy raccoon setting off a trip wire. Right?

One really heavy raccoon.

If only she could do something besides stare at the freaking computer screen. She hated the inaction.

Well, hell. She was starting to sound like Danny. Part of her wanted to be just like him, able to dive into a situation, completely confident in her judgment. Sure, Danny was a little arrogant. But, doggone him, he was usually right.

And to give him credit, he was trying to include her. Once confronted, he shared more about tracking Kent's finances, working through Ammar's possible connection together when he could have bluffed his way through.

So why the knee-jerk need to pull back from Daniel?

Intellectually she knew he wasn't a threat to her independence. He might get angry and stomp around, but the man eventually listened. He cared.

Danny's words in the car tripped through her mind, his confusion about her reluctance to go for even a simple doctor visit. The answer sidled past her defenses with blinding clarity.

Those doctor visits symbolized weakness to her, and above all she couldn't bear to be weak, dependant. Just as it didn't help denying herself the healing balm of words to negate there was even a problem, staying away from Danny couldn't protect her from the risk of loving him.

The rest of the answer followed in a rush, now that her defenses had been breached. Sharing burdens didn't equate loss of control or weakness, with the right person by her side.

With Danny by her side.

His innate honor, his ever-logical sense of fairness would make him a man to trust. He might not always agree with her, but he would listen to her. Respect her.

Love her.

How strange that Danny with his black-and-white reasoning helped her see the shades of gray to find the formula for making it all work. She sank back on the stool, exhausted and exhilarated all at once.

A flicker of movement on the screen snagged her attention. Danny?

Nerves drew taut, near to breaking. The figure cleared the trees. Not Danny.

Kent.

Icy pinpricks tingled over her scalp.

Her ex-husband stepped deeper into the clearing. Closer to her hiding place in the cabin. Sunlight played dappled shadows over his blond perfection. She'd once found the dimple in his chin endearing, his classic looks and clean-cut appearance safe.

She'd been so horribly wrong.

Bile roiled up her throat. Swaying, she gripped the edge of the counter. He stared at the cabin, eyes intense, as if he knew.

Of course he knew she was inside.

Oh, God, where was Danny? He couldn't be dead. She refused to believe that. What the hell should she do?

Kent pulled his hand out of his pants pocket, his fingers clenched around a rock-size object. Her methodical, understated ex couldn't have a grenade. Something so overt—so messy—wouldn't be Kent's style.

Still, she winced. Zoomed in with the camera and saw … a piece of paper banded around some kind of weight.

With a gentle underhand toss, Kent lobbed it onto the porch. Mary Elise heard the thud echo in stereo from outside and through the computer's speaker.

He raised his hand, waved once in a mocking salute and waited.

She shifted on the bar stool, trying like crazy to adopt Daniel's logic and blend it with her own intuition about the madman she'd married. Stepping outside would be reckless, and undoubtedly Danny would be furious with her.

Unless Kent had already—

She sliced that thought away. Damn it, she couldn't even consider that, because then she couldn't think at all. But what if Daniel had been hurt? Time became crucial.

Or worse, what if he hadn't even discovered Kent as of yet and stumbled on him unaware? She knew with a certainty born of both intuition and logic that Kent was well armed in some fashion. Perhaps he had backup lurking in the cover of trees waiting to take her out while he watched.

Certainly a possibility. In which case Daniel would stumble on two people unaware. Which left her with only one choice. She would have to alert Daniel. All she needed was a single warning shout. Or shot.

The past year had taught her she could survive almost anything. But she knew without question, she wouldn't survive seeing Daniel die.

Daniel stared down at the dead body at his feet.

The Javaro paddle dangled from the rope, deactivated. The dead man's unblinking stare made checking for a pulse unnecessary. Problem was, the paddle hadn't killed him. A bullet through the temple from someone else's gun had, someone with a silencer, since he hadn't heard a shot.All of which meant another armed party lurked out there. Searching for Mary Elise. And the dead man couldn't help with any information, most likely the reason he'd been silenced once injured.

Daniel shifted the weight of the .45 in his hand. He didn't need to check the man for identification, either. The frozen face below was a direct mirror of one of the mug shots he'd pulled up from intelligence files.

The assassin who'd been hired to kill Mary Elise a year ago.

The dead bastard lying on the ground had been used the way sacrificial troops were run through land mines to clear the field for the next line to march through. Scanning the trees, the path, Daniel found disturbed pine straw continuing down the path. Toward the cabin.

Mary Elise.

A shot split the air.

He flattened to the ground, rolled to the side and steadied his gun in a fluid move. Nothing. Nobody in sight. Crouching, he darted through the trees, dried leaves crunching beneath his feet.

His heart pounded in time with his feet. Damn it, how could things have gone to hell so fast. What could he have done differently? He searched his mind—and came up with zip. Other than the fact he'd been lured out, separated from Mary Elise.

He'd expected McRae to be devious. He hadn't expected tactical savvy.

Of course he should have, if he'd listened to Mary Elise. The commander's warning from only days prior thundered through his head. Every flyer faced the possibility of meeting a missile some day.

His death he could face. Mary Elise's was unacceptable.

Daniel drew closer to the cabin. Voices carried on the wind. Mary Elise's. Relief hammered him until he almost forgot to make his feet keep moving.

Another voice drifted. Male. The cabin showed through the cover of trees.

Mary Elise eased down the porch steps, gun drawn and steady on the man standing with his back to Daniel.

Good girl. She had McRae cornered, withstanding whatever garbage the bastard was pouring her way in his relentless talking, and holding her own.

Daniel strode closer, sight line clearing. A tie flapped over the man's shoulder, jacket long gone but white shirt a crisp beacon—with the harsh slash of a gun tucked in the waistband out of sight to Mary Elise.

Daniel stopped cold.

He couldn't let her see him now. If Mary Elise called a greeting, thinking she had McRae safely pinned, the bastard would have time to draw.

To shoot. Her.

Daniel blinked as if he could change the hell in front of him. He'd been so damned sure he could protect her. Of course he'd been concerned about injuries, but never, never had he allowed himself to consider that she could die.

Mary Elise dead.

The past and present merged in a blaze of reds—her hair, strawberries, blood. In the middle of the roaring fury, it hit him, why he'd run so hard from her eleven years ago. He hadn't run from commitment, or even from admitting how much she meant to him. Hell, he'd already realized now how damned much he loved her then. How much he loved her now.

He'd run because he was afraid of losing her.

And damned if he hadn't fallen right back into old patterns by picking a fight with her in the cabin. They'd almost replayed the past all over again—the mistakes forgivable in their youth but totally asinine now, given they should know better. Be stronger. Wiser.

Ah, hell. Love wasn't wise, either.

But love did make a person stronger. He just prayed it would make Mary Elise strong enough to stand down a madman until he could come forward with reinforcements.

Training overrode emotions. Crouching low, Daniel made his way around the perimeter of trees, dodging through whatever cover he could to work his way closer. He would have to take out McRae, but it would have to be fast.

Daniel assessed the terrain. Counted steps. Organized the plan of attack in his head.

He inched forward, eyes trained so firmly on McRae he almost missed the flash of movement to his left.

Pivoting, he brought his arm up to defend his face just as a knife came slashing down. Burned. Knocked the gun from his hand. "What the—"

"Where are they?" Ammar asked in heavily accented English, eyes wild with fanaticism. "Where are the boys?"

Mary Elise stepped deeper into the yard, prayed, inched another step, Kent subtly moving toward her every time she did. Closer to the buried bucket trap.

If only she could keep him talking. Good Lord, why had she never realized how much this man liked the sound of his own voice?"You still haven't unwrapped my gift, Mary Elise. How rude."

Her fingers convulsed around the crystal paperweight clenched in her fist, the paper crackling around it. No, she hadn't dared do anything after scooping it from the porch.

Was he trying to distract her so he could launch forward?

She locked her gaze with Kent's when she desperately wanted to look down for affirmation on the placement of the submerged spike trap.

God, she hoped her peripheral vision and memory were on target. She needed him disabled, couldn't risk him overpowering her, because heaven help her, she wasn't sure she could actually shoot him. "How about I check it out after you're in jail?"

"That's no fun." He tugged his tie back over his shoulder, tiny pelicans traipsing their pattern across blue silk. "Remember how much you enjoyed seeing me open this for my birthday? The bearer of gifts enjoys watching the receiver unwrap the present almost as much as selecting it." A slow smile crept across his face. "I enjoyed watching you find my other gift, the plant. You knew it was from me, didn't you?"

"You really are a twisted bastard." She willed her feet to adjust closer to the nearest bucket.

"And you're illogical. Old territory. Move on. Did you like the other gifts? The syringe? The fertility clinic flyer in Baker's mail?"

Flyer? Her mind winged back to the stack of junk mail in Daniel's condo on the coffee table, how he'd fidgeted with it after she'd told him about Kent.