Chapter Nineteen
Alex knew from the moment he stepped off the helicopter that something was wrong. He always trusted his gut, but that day, he pushed on, trying to reassure himself that there wasn’t anything to worry about.
When the assault on the consulate started, he realized how little time he had and how careful he’d have to be. Being under fire wasn’t anything new, but the ambassador really screwed him and his team by not briefing them in full.
Alex would have brought a bigger team and more firepower, would have had overwatch on the roof and kept his principle man close—the list ran through his head as he moved through the dark courtyard.
Ricky Portillo stepped on the back of his shoe. “Sorry,” he muttered.
Alex stopped, looking back at the man. He shook his head before continuing.
The sounds of shouting and gunfire were in the distance, but that didn’t mean they could take their time.
The courtyard was massive with long, stone hallways that stretched down on all sides. Alex kept the information in his head.
Through the courtyard. Back building. Public affairs.
The duo moved fast, sticking to cover of the building. A few frightened people ran by, and Alex had to make sure none of them were Lena. He waved them on, telling them to keep their heads down and make it to the side lawn.
Ricky quickly checked his phone. “Convoy should be here in two minutes.”
The shouting and gunfire became clearer as Alex and Ricky reached the east wing. The raid wasn’t slowing down, and Alex couldn’t count on reinforcements.
Alex opened the door, training his gun inside. Ricky flanked him, and together they moved quickly to the upper offices. Once inside, Alex’s alertness intensified.
“I hear voices,” Ricky said.
Alex listened to the sounds echoing down the hall. There was a mix of gunfire, screams, and yelling in what Alex guessed was Turkish.
“Hostiles.” Alex lifted his rifle. He gestured for Ricky to follow close and continued down the hall. The area opened up to the public affairs area, where two men held a few people hostage.
Alex crouched low, scanning the threats. The men were heavily armed with holstered handguns, and AK semi-automatics. They were dressed in fatigues, Kevlar, and had red scarves around their faces. Both men pointed the guns at the small group of four terrified people, shouting in a language Alex didn’t understand.
Alex motioned for Ricky to move around the side to get a better vantage on the man on the right, while he could focus on the man on the left.
On the ground near the men, there was at least one body. It looked like a man dressed in slacks and a shirt. Alex guessed they killed off a hostage to instill fear. He couldn’t let it happen again.
He had no time to contemplate anything. He hoped Ricky was on the same level.
The shouting escalated as the man on the left reached down and grabbed a hysterical woman and dragged her forward on her knees. She struggled against him, tears streaming down her face.
“Stop!” she yelled. “I don’t understand you!”
Alex lifted three fingers up to Ricky. They’d shoot, neutralize the threats, and secure the area.
To hell with protocol. Alex quietly lifted his rifle.
The frantic woman continued to cry out. None of the other people could move from their spots. They couldn’t even look at what was going on.
The woman screamed, covering her face with her hands as the shots rang out.
Both bodies of the armed men convulsed as the bullets met their marks. They fell down in poetic synchronization, unmoving—both shot cleanly in the head.
The room got so silent, Alex could hear the rain falling outside.
Ricky let out a whoosh of air, lowering his gun. “Thug life.” He pulled out his phone and calmly began taking a few photos.
Alex quickly moved farther into the room, careful to remain sharp. The soft whimpering from the other people in the room got louder. They moved out from their hiding places, relief washing over their faces.
Alex stepped up to the cowering woman, secured his rifle, and knelt down to place a hand on her shoulder. Her long blonde hair was a mess, and her blouse was torn at the shoulder.
“It’s okay,” he said soothingly. She lowered her hands from her face, and opened her bloodshot eyes, blinking at Alex. “You’re Lena, right?”
Still trembling, Lena let out a sigh of relief, wrapping her arms around Alex. He froze, unsure how to receive the sudden gesture of affection. “Thank you, sir,” she said.
He didn’t hesitate to help her up, keeping her away from any vantage points. “We’re here to escort you out.”
“You were almost too late.” Lena smiled.
Alex smiled back. Then, the wall to his left exploded.
His hands still on Lena, he instinctively pulled her back with him, falling to the ground behind a desk. The sound of rain was replaced by a high-pitched ringing in his ears.
Alex fought hard not to cuss out loud as pain rocketed down his body. Dust and debris filled the air, and Lena lay on top of him, screaming into his chest.
Lena’s voice was so raw with desperate emotion that Alex knew he’d never forget the sound. He closed his eyes and shook his head to clear the confusion.
He focused listening to the mixing with the rain, and a shallow wheezing sound. Alex got up quickly to survey the damage. His eyes fell on Ricky, and his heart dropped.
Goddammit, kid, Alex thought.
The wheezing sound was Ricky trying to breathe. The blast came from outside, and had decimated the wall. The rubble had buried Ricky up to his chest.
He placed the hysterical Lena near the desk that shielded them from the blast and moved over to his fallen friend.
Ricky looked up at him, blood seeping from the corners of his lips. He reached for Alex, grasping his hand. Alex did a quick survey of the damage, trying not to focus on the weeping woman he was supposed to save.
“I’m fine,” Ricky managed. “I think I dropped my phone … it’s got all my music on it.”
Alex squeezed the man’s hand. “I’ll find it. Don’t worry.”
Ricky nodded before taking a final breath. Alex’s entire body tensed as Ricky’s grip relaxed. His eyes glazed over, and that was that. It was quick, and Alex was thankful for it.
He sat back to process what had just happened. He lifted a bloodied hand to his face, rubbing his temple. All he heard now was the storm and Lena’s crying. The others fled into the smoke.
What now?
Alex’s hand grazed Ricky’s phone as he sat there, dumbfounded. He looked at the cracked screen before hastily shoving it into his pocket.
The smoke and dust clogged everything. Alex forced himself to turn back to Lena.
Get going, he ordered himself. He still had a job to do. He kept low, pushing himself away from Ricky’s body, and crawled back to Lena. He tried to pull her back. She wouldn’t budge. She was cowering again, afraid to move.
“Lena.”
“No,” she said. “I can’t.” She hugged her arms to her chest, clenching her eyes closed. Her breathing was so fast and irregular, Alex was afraid she’d pass out.
He thought fast. He had to calm her down before she’d move. “Hey, look at me.” Alex placed a hand on her cheek.
Lena opened her eyes, doing as she was told.
“What’s your favorite place?” he asked. “Where would you like to be right now?”
The woman swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. “Ladurée,” she whispered. “On the Champs-Élysées in Paris.” The wind picked up, making her shake more.
Alex smiled at her. “I’ve never been to Paris. Tell me about it.” He felt Lena’s body relax a little as she took a series of deep breaths.
“The walls are decorated with angels.” Her voice steadied. “They have really good croissants.”
Alex squeezed her shoulders. “Okay. I like the sound of it. Let’s go there.”
Lena’s eyes remained locked onto Alex’s. She nodded and he was able to life her up. “Okay,” she managed. “You’re buying.”
Alex slung his rifle on his back. He kept one arm around her, and drew his handgun out. “It’s just down the stairs and across the courtyard,” he said. “Your father’s waiting.”
When they approached the stairwell, Alex heard Lance call out. It was distant, and Alex knew his coms were in Ricky’s phone. Maybe the threat was resolved; Lance wouldn’t shout unless there was a reason to give away his position.
Alex needed his full attention to make sure the path to the front of the building was clear. He let go of Lena. “I’m going to clear these stairs. Stay here, and I’ll let you know when it’s safe.”
Lena shook her head hard, grasping at his arms. “No, please don’t leave me here!”
“Lena.” Alex kept his voice low. “I need to secure your path out. I’ll be right down this stairwell. Keep your back to this wall and crouch low to void the smoke.”
The woman slowly let go of his arm. “Just hurry.”
Alex turned his attention to the stairs, keeping his weapon up. He walked down to the door, listening carefully. The high-pitched whizzing sound filled the stairwell. Alex inhaled sharply, turning back to Lena. He opened his mouth to say something—anything to get her to move. Lena looked down at him, reaching out a hand, her gray eyes wide with fright.
Alex wanted to close the gap between them. The floor separating them suddenly seemed like it stretched on forever.
One step. Two steps.
Then Alex’s world exploded.
****
The Strong Protection offices were in downtown Berkley, near the YMCA Hotel. Alex had made the drive there earlier to clear his mind. The night stretched on, and Alex sat in his office chair, staring at the dog tags that hung from his desk lamp.
Alex would never forget Lena’s face the moment before everything fell apart. It was burned into his memory forever.
He kept going over the events in his mind, thinking about the shy, terrified woman he tried so hard to save. He didn’t need to be asleep anymore. She was in his head now, and so was Ricky. They were both young, didn’t deserve the fate they were dealt, and Alex would have gladly taken their place.
He’d been in total control until the invading terrorists blew up half the consulate. He relived the entire mission from start to horrible conclusion when he woke up in a hospital two weeks later to Lance, telling him how lucky he was to be alive.
Alex didn’t care about any of that. He just needed to know Lena survived. He knew she hadn’t—he could tell by the look on Lance’s face. It was one of those looks people gave when they didn’t have any good news. Alex frowned at the dangling dog tags.
“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” Lance said from the entryway.
Alex didn’t respond. He kept staring at the tags as if willing them to give him the answer to a question he hadn’t even asked yet.
“What’s going on?” Lance stepped into the room.
“I never talk about him.” Alex kept his eyes on his desk. “But I think about him almost every day.”
Lance sighed, lowering himself into the chair in front of Alex’s desk. “It wasn’t your fault. None of it was.”
Alex felt a smile play on his lips. “That kid was more concerned with his phone than the entire wall crushing his insides.”
“His phone was on you,” Lance recalled. “You wanted to keep it … after.”
“Still have it.” Alex raised his eyes to his friend. “Screen’s cracked, but I can still access his playlists. The guy had horrible taste in music.”
Lance frowned at his friend and the room fell silent.
Alex let out a long breath. “Shit felt simpler back then. Follow orders, have a healthy fear and a respect for combat. I hate it, but I miss it.”
“I still take the Argentina contract once a year,” Lance said. “If you want to, you know…”
Alex leaned forward. “I couldn’t go back if I wanted to. People want the experienced, old dude on their team, like you.” He gestured to Lance. “Not the broken old dude.”
Lance rolled his eyes. “You’re not even mid-thirties yet, ass.”
“Yet, I get out of bed in the morning to aches and pains,” Alex commented. “I take eight hundred milligrams of Motrin three times a day just to take the edge off because I don’t want to get addicted to pain killers.”
“Jesus, how do you not have an ulcer?” Lance shook his head.
Alex sat back, glancing out the window. He was supposed to stay in the city in case anything went wrong, but after leaving Scarlet’s, he just kept driving until he was back at the office. He didn’t want to think about Scarlet and her sad expression as she said good night. Instead, he started thinking about everything else. His mind spun from the tension.
Lance silently watched his friend for a moment. “What’s really going on?”
“Nothing.” Alex didn’t blink.
Lance shifted in his seat. “Just sorting out feelings, and shit?”
“I don’t do feelings,” Alex deadpanned.
“I’m aware,” Lance replied. “But since this situation is screwed eight ways from Saturday, maybe try to figure it out.”
Alex tore his gaze from the window, smirking at his friend. “It’s not that bad. Maybe five ways. Don’t be dramatic.”
Lance teetered back in his chair, placing his hands behind his head. “You like this girl. The ballerina … who’s destined to dislike you by default.”
“Say it like you mean it,” Alex grumbled.
“Not because you did anything wrong,” Lance reminded him. “You know Mikael Rush made mistakes, just like that damn Charles Pace did, springing everything on us. Mission was screwed before we touched down. Tell me you understand that.”
“I understand that,” Alex repeated. “I just can’t get her out of my head. I focus on the bad stuff so I don’t have to think about her all the goddamn time.”
He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to be the one who reassured Scarlet that no danger would cross her path, but he couldn’t. Telling her that Balthazar Maxim was a possible human trafficker and could possibly be targeting North Pointe for women to sell would terrify her.
If she’s scared, her head won’t be in the game. Her work will suffer… Edward had been clear. Be a protector, even if it means shielding her from the truth.
“So, this is serious,” Lance said.
“Couldn’t tell you.” Alex put his head in his hands. “I feel a constant need to keep her safe. Maybe it’s because I couldn’t save them.”
Lance pulled out a small, gunmetal flask and took a swig. He handed it to Alex, nodding to insist he take it. “You can’t save everyone, Alex. No one expects you to.”
Alex looked at the flask before taking a long drink. The liquor burned his throat on the way down, making him wince. “You have the worst taste in scotch.” He handed the flask back.
“Alcoholism is cheap, man.” Lance nodded, then got up, refusing to take the flask back. “Now, get some rest before I tranq your ass.”
When Lance was gone, Alex’s thoughts drifted back to Scarlet.
He couldn’t stop how he felt any more than he could stop the water from flowing under the Golden Gate Bridge. He hadn’t seen it coming. He never thought he’d be forced to face his past in full just to get to her.
Alex’s feelings for Scarlet were powerful, and pushing her away caused a permanent dull pain in his stomach.
Maybe I can explain it to her better tomorrow. Maybe he just needed sleep.