Laura Kaye - Hard As It Gets

Silent support radiated from all the men, shoring him up to finish the tale.

He scrubbed his hands over his face, the scruff there now pronounced. “SOP when a convoy stops is fives and twenty-fives. Gunners do five-meter scans in all directions. Soldiers dismount to secure the territory twenty-five meters out from the convoy. Your father told us to stand down. Fucking ridiculous, because a stopped convoy is a sitting duck for a grenade launcher. But your father got out of the truck and approached them like he didn’t have a care in the world.”

As he spoke, the blood slowly drained out of Becca’s face. But now that the words were spilling, he couldn’t stop them. You could’ve heard a pin drop as he drew a breath to forge on.

“The ringleader of the roadblock—an Afghan police commander we’d never before seen—shook your father’s hand, then said, ‘I have a message for you: death finds all traitors.’ The man shot him point-blank. After that, the shit hit the fan.” Rixey easily recalled the barrage of reports through his headset, the gunfire, and the pounding explosion of the point vehicle. “The front trucks were trapped when a grenade disabled the third truck. The team bailed from the vehicles, taking cover and returning fire. Insurgents went after the transport vehicles without checking their cargos, like they knew exactly which ones to take. Easy put two rounds in the police commander’s gut. I think that’s the only thing that kept them from staying until they picked every last one of us off.”

Becca took two steps backward and sagged into a folding chair.

“After they left with the opium, six of us were still alive, though four were shot to shit. Shane did his best to keep us from bleeding out while Easy got one of the gun trucks up and running. By then, Zane was gone. We radioed for backup, but we were on the road again before anyone showed up.”

“The casualty notification officers said he’d died in a routine checkpoint incident,” she said in a shaky voice.

“That’s the official word,” Shane said, voice tight, expression dark.

“But what you’re saying is . . .” Becca swallowed, hard, the sound audible across the distance that separated them. “That he led you to that roadblock with . . . what? The secret intention of turning over those trucks of opium to terrorists?”

She put the pieces right together, didn’t she? Nick just nodded.

“But . . . why? Why would he do that?”

“There’s a fuckton of corruption in Afghanistan,” Marz said, elbows on the desk and hands fisted together. “Opium’s a persuasive mistress. The local police are on the take. Upwards of forty percent of them in some regions test positive for the drug. Hell, among our own forces, positive drug tests for opium have increased more than tenfold since we’ve been over there.”

She spun toward Marz. “The Army was my father’s life. You think he would sell you out to make money off the drug that killed his oldest son?”

No one responded. The deafening silence was an answer in itself.

Nick cleared his throat, memories forming a thick knot. “When we got back to base and were stabilized, they immediately started in on interrogations. It became evident pretty damn quick they were investigating us rather than the incident. Our suspicions about your father were roundly shut down to the point where we were threatened with prosecution if we continued to voice them.”

“They ruined our records, Becca,” Murda said, leaning against the wall, his expression lethal, his tone like ice. “Every man in this room had exemplary service records. Look at them now and you’ll find a long list of disciplinary problems and hints of dereliction of duty, supposedly reported by your father. Makes it look like we’re trying to discredit his leadership to clear our own names. Someone was in on this with your father, protected him while he left us swinging.”

Her gaze dropped to her lap, where her fingers knotted and unknotted.

“They forced us out on other than honorable charges,” Shane said with barely concealed rage. He stabbed a finger into the table. “Made us sign nondisclosure agreements in order to stay out of prison. It’s a permanent mark on our records that will never go away.”

Nick had to hammer home the point. It was his only shot at getting her to forgive him. “Those NDAs are the main reason I didn’t—couldn’t—tell you the truth. But I also didn’t want to hurt you. And, shit, how could this not hurt?”

Becca kneaded the muscles in her neck and shook her head. “I don’t know what to say.” A single tear trailed down her cheek. Her glassy blue eyes cut to Nick. “Who was the message from?”

“What message?” Nick asked.

“You said the police commander gave him a message. From who?”

Wouldn’t he like to know. It was one of the pieces of the puzzle that screamed corruption. “We don’t know. But apparently Charlie stumbled on something that might help us answer questions just like that one.”

Becca rose to her feet and closed the distance between them, her movements stiff, her sad blue eyes spearing him. “You promised to be honest with me. To treat me as a partner in this.”

He shook his head. “I promised to tell you everything about our investigation to find Charlie. And I have.”

“Bullshit, Nick.” Anger burned away the sadness from her eyes. “You’re splicing hairs too thin to be cut. Correct me if I’m too blond to follow, but this story, if it’s true, is fundamental to finding my brother. If my father was working with some bad guys and Charlie found that out, then those bad guys are who probably took him, broke into our houses, and tried to kidnap me, right? Same investigation.”

“I wanted to tell you, but the NDA affected more than just me. Breaching it risks all of our freedom, not just mine.” His brain latched onto another part of what she’d said: Story ? Becca thought he was telling a story . His chest cavity filled with crushed glass. “Are you saying you don’t believe me?” He held his arms out. “You don’t believe us .”

“Yes, I do. I mean, I think . . . shit, Nick. This just redrew the map of my world. I don’t know what the hell to think right now. Okay?” Her voice cracked. “It feels like losing him all over again.” Silent tears fell, and her expression filled with utter disappointment. “You asked me to trust you,” she whispered. “And I did.” Becca shook her head. “God, Nick, we just—” She gestured toward the door.

We just made love. Damnit, Becca, I know. The truth of the words sliced into him on a cellular level. He understood her anger. It was hard to accept any reason for being lied to by someone you love.

If she even loved him. Or ever could, now.

“So, what is it that Shane wants me to participate in?” she said in a monotone voice. She turned toward his teammate.

Sonofabitch . She was shutting down, and he was losing her. He felt it down to his bones. And as much as he wanted to drag her back to his bed, beg her forgiveness, and do any penance she required to make it up to her, he couldn’t. Because they had a time-sensitive lead hanging over their heads.

And a fight to finish about how to pursue it.

Shane looked over her head to Nick.

“Don’t look at him. Look at me . Tell me .” She planted her hands on her hips.

Shane’s eyes narrowed, but he started talking. “Man who says he attempted to abduct you called through the reward line and asked for a meeting with you this morning. He knew about the pinkie, so he seems legit. We’re supposed to call him back at oh seven hundred to set it up.”

Life filtered back into her voice. “This is good news, right? If he knows about the pinkie, he probably knows where Charlie is.”