Marta Perry - In the Enemy's Sights

“Are they having problems?” Ken spoke for the first time, but she’d been aware of him, standing and watching, for the past hour.

Too aware. It had made her jittery, that steady gaze, and maybe the dogs had picked up on her feelings.

“Not really. Lisa’s a fairly recent volunteer, so she and Queenie don’t have much search experience. But they’ll work it out.”

She nodded, satisfied, as Queenie lifted her head and sniffed, then gave a soft woof.

“There, she’s got it now. Search-and-rescue dogs have to be able to pick up the scent from the air.”

“Angel looks as if she’s thinking she could do it better.” He bent to pat her dog.

“Angel always thinks that.” The dog looked up at the sound of her name, tail wagging.

Queenie had reached the pipe now. She pawed at the board Jay had pulled across the entrance, barking furiously. Lisa joined them and the two of them “discovered” Jay, who climbed out with a bored look.

“Good job, Lisa,” Julianna called. “Reward her now.”

Lisa, hugging Queenie, responded with a brilliant smile.

“You were right to push her to try once more,” Ken observed. “You never want to end a training session on a failure if you can help it.”

“I try. Sometimes it’s a tough call, but I knew they could do it if they just got out of each other’s way. They have a long way to go, but they have the right stuff.”

His smile flickered. “I usually hear that expression about pilots, but I guess it applies. How long will their training take?”

“Two years, if Lisa wants FEMA certification. I’m pushing her to do that. We don’t have nearly enough trained teams available.”

He whistled softly. “I had no idea there was so much to it. If it’s volunteer work, who pays?”

“The volunteer.” That was what most people didn’t understand. “Hours and hours and hours of work, and plenty of money for materials. We’re only paid when we’re actually deployed.”

“You have to be dedicated, don’t you?”

She thought she detected admiration in the glance he sent her way and hoped she wasn’t blushing. “We’re always scrambling to find places to train that won’t cost us. That’s why it’s so good of Quinn to let us train here.”

“Well, the Montgomerys and Vances owe you. We learned firsthand the value of what you do when you found my brother and his girlfriend in that mine collapse at the ranch.”

She ducked her head at the implied compliment. At least they were talking easily to each other now. After the way things had gone at the coffee shop a few nights ago, it was more than she’d hoped for.

Lisa came up to her then, and she was distracted from Ken’s presence for a few minutes while she gave the young woman some suggestions for their next practice. When she turned back, she found Jay Nieto looking up at Ken with something akin to worship in his eyes.

“Did you two introduce yourselves?” she asked.

“Are you kidding?” Jay had lost the bored expression that was becoming habitual. “I know who he is. Major Kenneth Vance. He’s an Air Force pilot.”

The aliveness in Jay’s eyes startled her. It was the most interest he’d displayed in anything other than the gang of older kids he kept trying to impress.

That gang and their leader, Theo Crale, was the main reason she’d taken an interest in the boy. If she could keep Jay out of a street gang and keep him in school, he might have a decent future. Given Jay’s unexpected enthusiasm, Ken’s presence could be an incentive to keep Jay interested in working for her.

“That’s right,” she said. “He’s helping out here while he’s home on leave. Ken, this is Jay Nieto. He’s been giving me a hand with the training.”

“Nice to meet you, Jay.” Ken held out his hand and Jay took it, color deepening in his thin cheeks.

“You graduated from the Air Force Academy, didn’t you? There was a piece in the paper about you when—” He stopped, obviously embarrassed at having made reference to Ken being shot down.

“That’s right.” Ken’s smile was a bit strained, but probably Jay didn’t notice. “Are you interested in going to the Academy, Jay?”

Jay’s face turned wooden, and he shrugged, his gaze dropping to his sneakers.

She knew that look. She should. It was one she’d worn often enough when she was a teenager, afraid to reach for what she wanted.

“Jay, it’s okay to dream big,” she said gently.

He shrugged again. “School’s for wimps, that’s what Theo says.”

“Theo’s wrong.” She wanted so much to make him believe that. “Doing well in school opens doors for you.”

“Maybe I don’t want doors open.” Jay flung his head back defiantly, jet-black hair falling in his eyes. “Maybe I’d rather do things my way, not yours.”

“Jay—”

But he swung around and darted off, not even waiting to finish the cleanup work and be paid.

Ken looked after him with raised eyebrows. “Tough guy.”

“He’d like to make you think so.” She wondered how much to say to him. If she opened up a bit, maybe he’d be willing to take an interest in the boy. “My grandfather knew Jay’s family when he lived in New Mexico. Jay is Zuni, like us. When his mother died, his dad moved here, but Jay’s had a tough time adjusting to life away from the Pueblo.”

“So you’re trying to help him.”

She shrugged. “I remember what it feels like—not belonging. Unfortunately, Jay’s trying to impress the wrong people.”

“That Theo he mentioned?”

“He won’t get anything but trouble emulating somebody like Theo Crale.” She gave him a challenging look. “Now, if he had someone else to look up to, someone he admires—”

Ken’s expression turned bleak, his brown eyes seeming to darken. “Not me,” he said harshly. “He admires someone who can fly. And that’s something I may never do again.”

The only light in the abandoned tunnel came from a battery lantern on the rickety table, and the woman picked her way across the littered tunnel floor carefully. She wasn’t about to ruin a new pair of Italian shoes just because he had summoned her.

Most people had heard rumors of the tunnels that had once run from The Springs to what had then been Colorado City, the rowdy, wide-open town in frontier days. Colorado City had long since been absorbed into Colorado Springs proper, and the tunnels forgotten, until he had found a use for them. That was like him, to take something and pervert its ordinary purpose to something bent.

She stopped at the table. He’d have heard her come down—he had ears like a fox.

“Stop playing games and come out here. I don’t have much time.”

A footstep grated, and he appeared in the archway. “You always have time for me, don’t you, querida?”

She forced a smile, trying to show an affection she didn’t feel. “You sound even hoarser than usual. These tunnels aren’t good for your throat.”

“Yet another thing for which I have to thank the Vances and Montgomerys. Making me hide like a rat in these tunnels, while they live the high life.” He yanked out a chair and slumped into it. “I understand Kenneth Vance is back in town.”

“So I’ve heard.” She said the words cautiously, not wanting to stir his icy rage to life. He’d been livid at the failure of the attack he’d engineered on Vance’s plane through his drug contacts in South America.

“These Vances have more lives than a cat. Just like my new name.” He gave a bark of gravelly laughter. “Funny, isn’t it?”

“If you say so.” She shifted position, careful not to touch the dusty table. “You have something you want me to take care of?”

“Yes.” He slapped his palms down on the tabletop. “Kenneth Vance is about to discover that Colorado Springs is just as dangerous as his missions over South America. And since he’s spending so much time there, it will be a pleasure to bring Montgomery Construction down with him.”