CHAPTER 15
Ali felt her heart twist when Ram muttered those words to her. What the hell! Despite wearing her emotions on her sleeve right now, she was caught off guard by his anguish when he spat out that admission. She not only heard it, but felt it rip into her heart. My God, what happened to him as a child?
Yes, she’d appreciated his trying to tease her, even though he was awkward in how to go about it. Now, Ali understood why. The suffering in his eyes had transported her back in time with him. She’d had this odd vision of him as a vulnerable child, a little six-year-old, his hair tousled, his face open, and a pleading in his eyes to be held. The feelings washed powerfully through her. He’d never know it, but this wasn’t the first time Ali had picked up on people or their pasts, and at first she’d attributed it to an overactive imagination. But over time, she’d come to realize that what she saw was something else.
When she’d mentioned this to her mother, shortly after she’d joined the military, she had learned that she’d been born with a caul. At first, Ali didn’t know what that meant, but as her mother went on, she said it made her extremely psychic and intuitive. In the past, she’d have a flash, like a color movie screen move across her eyes and she’d see either herself, Cara, or someone at school doing something. And then, within forty-eight hours, it would actually happen. It was déjà-vu in real time and it always startled her because she couldn’t explain it.
In the military, especially with her black-ops work, she used that “sixth sense,” as her mother referred to it, all the time. Lockwood’s team had come to not only listen to her intuition, but to trust it—and her. Her teammates had very sharp intuition already, as life-and-death situations made a person refine that survival sense to a knife’s edge. But her intuition was more than that, and her team had recognized it. Her skill was not only useful—it had saved their lives.
Ram had distanced himself from it and said nothing. He was a non-believer, but never challenged her “knowing” because over time he had recognized that she really did have a special ability. Now, Ali felt shaken, the view screen she’d seen of Ram as that pathetically thin, needy, haunted-looking little boy threw her off her stride. Often, especially after a verbal sparring with Ram, she wished she knew more about the childhood he’d had—and if he hadn’t been so prickly toward her, she would have asked him about it, but knew it was a very personal request.
She suddenly remembered Randy Cross, one of the SEAL shooters, whose wife, Claudia, had just given birth to another baby girl. Randy was nearly in tears over the video that his wife had sent of the birth, and she’d felt her own eyes tear up. She could feel Randy’s anguish at not being there for the birth of his second daughter, that he could not comfort and support his wife. And he was always passing photos of his newborn daughter around to the team, as well. There was no doubt he was an involved family man, even if he was seven-thousand miles away from Claudia and his growing family.
Ram had walked away from the celebration among the team members, a dark scowl on his face, his hands stuffed into his pockets, shoulders hunched upward, as if he didn’t want to hear anything more about it.
Why had Ram walked away from Randy like that? She now recalled another instance when Steve, another shooter, was sharing a video on his tablet of his son’s sixth birthday. Again, Ram had walked away, not waiting to see it.
Something very deep and dark moved within her as she quickly went over those memories. She had always possessed remarkable psychological insights into people. Ali had known that something had armored Ram up tighter than Fort Knox—where the gold reserves for the United States were kept—and she wondered what kind of incident happened to him as a child that made him this way. She remembered that while they were still in J-bad, Ram’s father had been in an accident and in the hospital. He never went home to see him.
Now, Ram opened the door to the armory for her and she nodded her thanks. In the old days, she’d have made sure to open her own door—but not right now. Ali could feel Ram trying to make this op move forward without rancor and she was trying her best to do the same. She wondered if Ram had a sister. Someone younger than him . . . or perhaps an older sister? Maybe a brother, or two? How badly she wanted to ask because it was obvious, at least to her, that he was emotionally invested in getting Cara rescued for her sake. That had come across loud and clear. It had taken Ali by surprise, but then, as Ram had said, “Maybe I’ve matured.” Maybe he wasn’t as anti-family as he’d been at J-bad. Maybe the intervening years had honestly softened him? That would be good in her estimation.
He led her to the counter where she met Joe, one of the armorers. She explained what she needed and Joe nodded, wrote it down and then invited them into the back where all weapons, cartridges and heavier types were logged and kept.
She felt torn between finding the right length of barrel in the M4 section, and pondering Ram’s gruff comment. It had brought up a fascinating new insight into him and his unknown, mysterious family.
Ram had a shopping cart that he pushed behind them, and it began to fill up—in no time she had a .45 pistol, an M4 with a short barrel, her heavy Kevlar vest, and all the other equipment she would need for the op. Joe, an ex-SEAL in his late forties, had been the armorer for SEAL Team Six, the gold standard team. He’d gotten out because Tal Culver-Lockwood, President of Artemis, had offered him more money than he could have imagined.
Tal had told him she wanted him to design his armory on the second floor below ground, set it up, buy the best in equipment and arms, and spare no expense. There was no way Joe could say no to such an incredible offer. He was considered the best of the best when it came to armory-related skills, and Tal was grateful for his expertise, his warmth, and his good ole boy West Virginia drawl.
There was nothing to dislike about him. He had Ali’s safety upmost in his mind and offered her a wealth of experience as she went through each weapon she chose to carry on her for this op.
She also appreciated Ram’s experience. This was all part of their background as SEALs, and as a Marine, it was like being in a family once again. Once all her armaments were in the cart, Joe would have one of his assistants be sure they were cleaned and ready to go into her weapons bag within an hour.
It would be delivered to the US Air Force C-130, one that they utilized on some ops like this one, an hour before the flight took off.
“That went faster than I thought,” she told Ram as they said goodbye to Joe and left the armory.
“Joe makes it easy, but then, he’s the best.”
“And nice,” Ali added. She saw Ram’s straight black brows dip. Damn! Why wasn’t she thinking before she spoke in his presence? “I mean,” she stumbled, “he . . . ”
“I know what you meant.”
Ouch! Wincing inwardly, Ali hated to hear that grate in Ram’s voice. She’d touched a nerve in him—again. Always. Midway down the hall toward the bank of elevators, she halted and spun around, facing him. Ram nearly ran into her, but ground to a halt six inches away, surprised by her sudden, unexpected turn.
“Look,” Ali said quietly, keeping her own emotions at a low level. “I know we have a rocky past with one another.” She saw him take a few steps back, his eyes becoming stormy looking. “For whatever reason, I’m finding myself blurting out stuff without thinking, like I did in the past. I meant nothing by that comment, and I don’t understand why you’re taking it so personally. It was a comment about Joe. Not you.”
His hands moved to his narrow hips. “I know I’m not a nice person. It’s on me, not you. So don’t you take it personally, either, all right, Montero?”
It hurt her that he called her by her last name, just as he always had. Maybe nothing had changed between them. What about that embrace he’d given her at the airport? Hadn’t it meant something? Her instincts told her it had.
She cast around for other reasons. Maybe both of them were worn down, exhausted by different stressors, and they weren’t being as careful tiptoeing around one another as they had before? She didn’t know.
“Call me Ali, will you?” she demanded, lifting her chin, her mouth set. She needed to get them on a peaceful footing once more and maybe her request would do it.
Once again, surprise flared in his eyes and she could feel her request shake him up, although he tried not to show it.
“Well . . . okay,” he muttered, wary.
“I should have asked you to call me that earlier,” she said, stung by his grousing, hesitant attitude.
“Okay . . . I guess I can.”
“Didn’t you mean it, Torres? Or was it part of the game to be nice to me while I’m here underfoot again?”
“Dammit, Ali, there’s no game here, so stop reading into something that isn’t there, will you?”
They were both breathing faster, locked in that same old pattern of conflict. “Maybe if you’d come clean with your reasoning, I wouldn’t be sitting here trying to figure out where you’re coming from, Torres. Did you ever think of that? I’m no mind reader!” Her voice was rising, her volume escalating. She saw him grow red in the face, a sign that he was frustrated with her. Ali had a quick tongue and an even faster brain. She could run circles around Ram sometimes. And this was one of those times. When he got emotional, he didn’t think on his feet. He blundered—badly.
Ram stood there, trying to stop breathing so hard, but the adrenaline was pouring into his bloodstream and he purposely ratcheted his rhetoric down. “Look, we’re both trying to be nice to one another for an obvious reason: Cara. She’s your sister. As badly as you want her back, Ali, I want her back for you and your family just as much. I can’t even begin to imagine the terror, the helplessness, your parents feel twenty-four hours a day. We have the same objective. We need to stay on point. I know it’s a narrow place to be with one another given our past history, but it’s where we have to try and stay.”
Ali felt all her mounting anger dissolve beneath his low, persuasive tone. “You’ve really grown up,” she muttered, lifting her hand. “I wouldn’t have believed it, except I’m seeing it.” She saw amusement enter his eyes even though his face remained hard and expressionless.
All his walls were up. His thick armor was in place. It hurt her because she didn’t want this any more than he did. Why had they fallen back into it so quickly with one another? “This was my fault,” she admitted in a rasp. “I shouldn’t have snapped back at you. It’s my turn to say I’m sorry.” The words stuck in her throat, but Ali knew she had to say them. This whole mix-up was her fault. She’d jumped in and reverted back to the sniping person that she could be on occasion.
Ram’s reaction was immediate. His shoulders, which had tensed and lifted, came down and relaxed. His thinned mouth loosened. Most of all, she saw forgiveness—or something akin to it—in his gaze as he held hers.
“We’re both edgy for this op to begin. It’s going to be damned dangerous. We’re walking on eggshells with one another, Ali, as well as walking on eggshells with this mission, because we both know it doesn’t have much chance of succeeding.”
Taking a deep, ragged breath, she straightened, allowing the tension within her to dissolve. “You’re right. I’m really exhausted.”
“I know you are. You’re looking pale, in fact. Are you okay?”
Ali didn’t know how to respond to his caring words; they were so foreign. He’d never asked her that kind of question in the past.
“I’m fine,” she lied. “Just coming off that op with Captain Gomez and the Mexican Marines is taking me a little time to recover. We almost had Azarola trapped, and I wanted that bastard so badly.” Never mind she’d lost a lot of blood, but she refused to go there with Ram.
She wasn’t about to discuss her gunshot wound. More than anything, she had to keep that hidden from the team. Ali didn’t want any questions about it. If they knew she was wounded, they’d wonder if she was capable to undertake the mission, and she wouldn’t lie if they asked, so “out of sight, out of mind” was her plan during this op. She knew she could perform up to her usual standard.
“I imagine,” he said, taking another step away from her, his hands off his hips, “you’ve got to be ready for a twenty-four-hour nap.”
She managed a wry smile. “What I’d give for that. But I can’t sleep. My whole world is focused on Cara. I’d just lie awake imagining the worst.”
Nodding, he said, “I understand, but Alexa Culver, Tal’s younger sister, who used to run the sex-trafficking division at Artemis, says our imaginations are fueled by our knowledge, so it makes it ten times worse than just imagining what could be happening to Cara and not knowing the realities of what she’s facing.”
Wearily, Ali stood there, wanting him to step forward again, open his arms and allow her to walk into them once more. What a crazy world of emotions she was wrestling with, on top of her overwhelming fear for her sister! There was nothing she could do about it because she had no control over it. Touching her brow, her voice quavered slightly. “I-I’m sickened by it . . . I can’t sleep. If I do, I wake up in a nightmare where she’s being raped by Azarola or his soldiers. God . . . ” she whispered, placing her hands against her face for a moment, trying to fight back nearly overwhelming grief and anxiety.
“Look Ali, we’ll be taking off tomorrow,” he soothed. “Artemis has a medical clinic here. You might want to go over and ask for a sleep med just to catch up on your rest before we leave.”
Dropping her hands, she held his concerned gaze. “I’m sleep deprived, no question,” she admitted. “But sleep meds don’t do it for me. I’ll just gut through it. Thanks, though.”
“You know, I like the way we’re sharing with one another,” he said tentatively, waiting to see her reaction. “It’s . . . different. Thanks.”
Ram was right. In that moment, Ali saw that he didn’t want to fight with her any more than she did with him. “Our past is pretty muddy,” she agreed wearily. “And I like that we can talk in a reasonable tone of voice without getting all upset.”
“Right now, if I had a sister like Cara,” his voice was roughened with emotion. “I’d be sleepless, too. I’d want this op to be done already. I wouldn’t be able to stand the waiting . . . ”
“I know. Waiting isn’t doing me any good,” she admitted. She was moved by his obvious concern for her and her sister. Further, Ali was stunned by his ability to think of people other than himself—and how it might be affecting them—threw her even more. Ram had never showed that side of himself in the team.
“There’s a sleep section up on the third floor,” he said. “Let’s get you signed in and then you can come check out the shut-eye zone. Each is a small apartment, about six-hundred square feet, with a bathtub and a shower—everything you might need. The cafeteria is on the second floor next to the Mission Planning area.”
She managed a half grin. “I bet Lockwood had something to do with that placement. Our chief is a bona-fide junk food addict!” She managed a chuckle. Ram’s face lightened, and just seeing laughter in his eyes made Ali feel good. It wiped away some her growing weariness.
“I’m sure of that,” Ram murmured. “Come on. Let’s get you some downtime. You’re really looking pale, Ali.”
She walked with him to the elevators, keeping a few feet between them. Should she tell him she liked him calling her by her first name? Ali felt that even if she called him by his first name, the Grand Canyon would still be strung between them, and it stopped her from doing it. Old habits die hard and this was one of them. It was a step she couldn’t take—yet. As they entered the elevator, she asked, “Do you have a nickname here at Artemis?”
The doors whooshed shut.
“Everyone calls me Ram, but Wyatt sometimes changes it to ‘Bullheaded’ when I disagree over an op’s tactic or a strategy he’s proposing,” he flashed her a shy, boyish smile.
Leaning back against the carpeted elevator wall, she laughed a little. “Bullheaded. That’s a good one, Torres.” She saw some sadness return to his eyes, but he didn’t say anything. Ali could feel him wanting desperately for her to relax their relationship and call him by his first name, but she was too exhausted to go there. Ram had to prove himself more than he had already to her—a lot more. One day of being “nice” to her didn’t change anything as far as she was concerned. She was still on guard, wary of him, and his ability to suddenly turn like an aggressive, rabid dog and savage her with his stinging rejoinders.
The doors slid open to the third floor, and bright sunlight spilled into the busy corridor. There were many glass-enclosed offices with colorful fabric blinds that could be lowered or raised within each of them. Ram led her down another carpeted hall to one with lowered lights. The sounds of the offices were left behind.
“This is where I crash sometimes after an op,” he said, opening the door with his card.
“Don’t you have an apartment to go to, though?” she asked. She winced, and realized that was personal information, and she never went there with Ram. But things did seem to be changing—for both of them. And maybe that was a good thing.
“Yes, I have a condo about two miles from here, in Alexandria. And I give Mazzie to Tyler or one of the other men to take care of in my absence.
“You have Mazzie?” She heard the surprise and feelings in her tone as she searched his face. His smiled warmed her.
“Of course. After you left, Wyatt made sure that Mazzie could come back to San Diego with us. That was my last deployment, and she’s been with me ever since.”
Joy filled her. “I worried about Mazzie when I left Wyatt’s team. I wasn’t sure . . . well . . . what would happen to her.”
“I kept her,” he said. “You don’t throw something away that you love.” He shifted and looked toward the hallway. “A lot of the people who work for Artemis are in the same high rise. There are times when I come back from an op and am so exhausted that I just choose to crash here, instead. It’s a great perk available to us, and it’s easy to collapse on the closest bed I can find and sleep it off here. Afterwards, I can drive home to my condo and start living a civilian life again.”
“I sleep a lot in my hideaway, but I use a rope to tie myself in so I won’t roll off the platform and find myself falling a hundred feet to the ground below,” she replied drily.
He pushed open another door, signed her name on a roster, and gave her an entry card to a small apartment. “You always were smart,” he said, giving her a look of praise. “It’s not the best way to sleep, but at least you’re safer that way.”
She followed him down another carpeted corridor and found apartment seven. She swiped the card and the pocket door whooshed open. “Nice,” she murmured, following the walnut wood floor to the living room and kitchen. “Small but cozy. I like it. Kind of reminds me of a nest—warm, safe, and comfy.”
Closing the door, Ram said, “Our employees like this option and I think Tal is going to have more built as we continue to expand. Let me give you the general layout and then I’ll leave you alone.”
She flashed him a look of gratitude. “I appreciate that you’re helping me. You’re probably just about as tired as I am.” Ali needed to offer him that olive branch after all Ram had done to help acclimate her. Sure, he was the leader of this op and it was his job, but the look he gave her, a clearly appreciative one, made her feel good. This was the kind of relationship she’d always wanted with him.
As he showed her around, her mind and heart were elsewhere. What had happened to Ram in those three intervening years to make him grow up, become mature and more adult than the defensive adolescent he had been on the team? She was dying to ask him, but Ali didn’t feel they were on stable enough ground yet. She felt grubby and desperate for a hot bath and a bed. There was time enough later to pursue her questions about Ram’s personality change.
Ram quickly showed her the stocked fridge and the location of everything else she might need. As he circled back to the pocket door, he said, “Sleep in tomorrow. We’re wheels up at 1500.”
“Thanks for everything,” she said, standing near the foyer.
He pulled a business card from the pocket of his well-worn jeans. “My cell number is on there. If you need anything, just call me, okay?”
Their fingertips met and Ali tried to ignore the heat stealing up into them. How badly she wanted to touch this man. But how? Instead, she said, “Thanks, Torres. Where do I find you if I sleep in? Will you be at your office tomorrow morning?”
“Yes. Catch me there.”
*
Hours later, Ram lay naked, his body moist, heat radiating from his skin after the long, hot shower he’d taken at his condo minutes before. Mazzie was home with him and asleep on her doggie bed out in the kitchen—she preferred the warmth it provided during the winter months. It was nearly 2200 and he hoped that Ali had already fallen into a deep, healing sleep. He stared up at the ceiling, the fan moving sluggishly around and around, sending cooling breezes across his body, drying him off.
Ali.
He hadn’t realized just how much she had affected his whole damn life until today. He’d actively fought his desire for her when she had joined Lockwood’s team. She was taboo. Off limits. Not to be touched. Not to be chased or even flirted with under any circumstance. No intimacy could ever be shown, because an intimate relationship would damage the dynamic of their team, and Ram would never jeopardize the men’s lives to pursue his personal desires.
Today, he’d quickly aborted a strong sexual reaction to Ali. She’d have spotted that erection in a heartbeat. He wondered how she’d react if she discovered that he’d carried a special photograph of her for years in his wallet. It was his little secret and he often felt ashamed because of his powerful attraction to her as a woman, not just as a team member. Was he some kind of pervert? That brought a grimace to his mouth. What he felt for Ali he’d never felt for another woman. She was one of a kind—his kind. But how could he convince her of his loyalty and trust toward her? He’d broken their trust years ago and now he felt like a jigsaw puzzler trying to find the pieces to put it back together again. Oh, he knew Ali trusted him in combat, but he really wanted to offer her now was intimacy between them—and it was far more than just sex. She filled a hollowed out part of him, and he needed to find out if she felt anything for him other than distrust.
What had spun him around was that his body wanted her just as powerfully today as when they had been team members. This, after three years! Jesus, he was certifiable! No other woman he’d ever bedded had taken a hold of his heart—his soul—as Ali had. They’d never even touched one another until their embrace earlier today at the airport. They’d certainly never kissed. Nothing.
And she seemed to want absolutely nothing to do with him. Was he crazy? Was he so desperate to find a woman he could settle down with that he had chosen the one woman who would tell him to take a hike?
The truth was, Ram was damned lonely. He avoided his parents in Nogales, Mexico, like the plague—between his ex-prostitute mother and his pimp father, his family sickened him. Now, he understood why some children divorced their parents. Fortunately, as a black-ops member, he could put great distances between them and himself, often disappearing for years.
He never wanted to step foot in that city again. It was a border town rife with all kinds of sub-level human beings, among them, his parents. And damned if he was going to be anything like them! In fact, his sordid upbringing had spurred him to excel at everything he did on his own, to better himself, to never become a bottom feeder like they were.
The Navy SEALs rewarded people like him, and he’d loved his time with them, but his knee joints, after six years of heavy duty use, were becoming iffy. Ram wanted a pair of legs to walk around on for the rest of his life, so he’d left when his enlistment was up.
Getting a job with Artemis had allowed him to choose the type of ops he wanted to go on, and this op to rescue four kidnapped women was one of them. He normally didn’t take ops that involved excessive exercise or violence, preferring to be a spotter, a watcher, undercover and calling in the intel. Those roles didn’t demand much of him physically. But this job would. He was glad he continued to jog daily, using the Artemis gym—the best he’d ever seen—so he could stay in top shape.
His mind wandered back to Aliyana. He gave a low groan, liking the way her name rolled off his tongue. It was a musical name, one that made him relax and sigh with satisfaction. She did that for him, whether she knew it or not. Of course, Ram knew she’d scoff at him if he owned up to it, thanks to their fractious past.
Seeing her again had brought up a loneliness that reminded him that time was passing him by and that he secretly longed to find the right woman and settle down with her. He wanted a family. He swore he would have one or two children, and each one would be loved and hugged, shown that they were wanted by both parents and supported by them as they grew up. Not shoved away in a small hotel room and forgotten.
Ram wanted to rewrite his family beginnings and start all over again, revising his story. He’d make a far different one for his wife and children. He knew finding the right woman was the key, and when he’d first met Ali, God help him, he’d known she was the one. He knew it moments after that first unforgettable meeting at the SEAL HQ—and he’d savagely stuffed his reaction to her.
Only, something had gone terribly wrong, and things unraveled quickly between them. She’d once called him a sourpuss to his face, adding that he was a dark cloud that rained on everyone’s parade. Why couldn’t he lighten up? Why couldn’t he be one of them, instead of standing apart from them scowling, always the loner?
Yeah, that was true, he supposed, but her observations had scarred him deeply. Actually, Ram had known there was something wrong within him. He was broken in ways most people never were and now, someone else had recognized it in him, too. The older he got and the more he saw life and the world, the surer he was that it all went back to his toxic family. He felt like a fish out of water, an alien from another world. He’d never fit completely into life on this earth because he just wasn’t normal.
Cursing softly, Ram slowly sat up, dangling his legs over the king-size bed, scowling into the darkness. Why did he still hope he could forge something healthy and positive between himself and Ali? And why did it seem like a dream that could never come true?
He’d come a long way, though. Today, all his friends were at Artemis and treated him like a member of their big, sloppy, loving family. Since working here, he’d changed for the better. Artemis had been a healing ground for Ram. Here, he was respected, looked up to as a Senior Mission Analyst, and people genuinely liked him.
He’d started to blossom here, little by little. Now, he could joke with others, laugh, and hug back when hugged. This was a touchy-feely lot compared to the SEAL community, where people didn’t touch each other much. But the team spirit between members on a mission was just like when he’d been a SEAL. That was, of course, thanks to the man who ran Mission Planning at Artemis, Wyatt Lockwood. He had been a highly respected SEAL, and Ram had felt safe enough to open up here in this familial environment.
He was grateful to be working for a company that paid higher wages than any other security company in the world. Staff members had the latest in hardware, gadgets, and software. This place rocked, and he was happy to be a part of something that was changing the world for the better, one mission at a time.
Now, Ali Montero had catapulted back into his life and Ram once again felt tentative, unsure, and wary. He’d seen some positive shifts in her reactions toward him and wondered if they were real, or if she was putting on a game face while the team went off to rescue her sister and the other three women. Ram didn’t know, but he wished to hell he did.
A plan began to develop. Lying down again, hands behind his head, Ram closed his eyes, allowing all the “what-ifs” to emerge. He didn’t have much time to somehow remold his connection with Ali. Once they were on the mission, the focus would become narrow and changed. Plus, it was going to be a level-one op, which meant people could die.
Just thinking about that made him very uneasy. Somehow, some way, he had to protect Ali without being obvious. He vowed he would keep her safe, whatever it took, come hell or high water.