Chapter Twenty-nine
Rose and Sienna did the sidestroke together, close enough to talk while swimming. What felt like an easy warm-up seemed to be exercise for her cousin. Thunder rumbled in the distance, reminding Rose of the day Angelo had plucked her out of the pool while Maji ran after a drone. A woman with a handgun, against a flying machine with unknown weapons. She glanced over at Maji, who sat in the shade on a lounge chair, a cap and dark glasses hiding her face. And yet Rose was sure Maji was taking everything in, as well as listening on the comm to whatever was happening in the house.
“You think the light bothers her?” Sienna asked.
Rose flushed, caught looking. But Sienna’s question was innocent enough. “Why should it?”
“Ang mentioned Ri’s got some issues, you know, from the war. I just thought, maybe.”
“What kind of issues?” Rose stopped moving forward and started treading water, her back toward Maji.
Sienna put her feet down, seeming happy to stand for a moment. “Well, besides the facelift, there’s the moods and the headaches. And he’s a little worried about fireworks. But how can we have a party on the Fourth, and no sparkles?”
Rose remembered the last time she went to town to see the sparkles with Sienna and the family. The bigger the bang, the more Sienna liked it. “I suppose a lot of vets have trouble with fireworks. Maybe we could do some kind of light show instead. More ooh and aah, less kaboom.”
“You really do like her, don’t you? I mean, like her like her.”
Rose wondered how much to admit to. She smiled ruefully, feeling dishonest. “Well, you wondered why I’m still single. Apparently only the unattainable appeals to me.” The look on Sienna’s face startled her. “Plus, I would never get between Ang and a woman he cared about. Even if I could.”
“Oh, come on. You could if you wanted.”
Rose frowned. “Flattering, but no. People are what they are. I don’t waste my time on straight women.”
“Well, maybe Ri’s bi. Or maybe she’s gay, and she just don’t know it. I hear that happens.” Sienna shaded her eyes with her hand, the better to assess her cousin’s girlfriend. Rose knew without turning exactly how Maji looked in her running shorts and crop top, her shoulders and abs showing. She didn’t have to wait long to hear how Sienna saw her. “And she is, kind of…muscly. Not that she’s butch exactly. But she is a badass. You can tell by how she walks and talks.”
Yes, Rose thought. Much more here than in the dojo. There Maji had nothing to prove, no persona to project but her own. “Well, she’s Ang’s badass. So that’s that.”
Tom ambled out with a pitcher in his hand and an empty glass. “Iced tea?”
“Thanks.” Maji wondered why he hadn’t just asked over the comm. When he motioned to her to switch to listen only, she knew she would find out.
“You got the headaches again?”
“Nothing serious. Little light sensitive. A bump on the head will do that.” She was dodging, and they both knew it. He’d seen her a few months ago, in the field when she wasn’t a hundred percent yet.
“So will enough stress. Not the kind you do great under—the kind you don’t.”
Tom knew her too well, the price of living and training side by side. And yet she’d never told him her real name. That could wait, maybe forever. On this op, the part getting to her, the clock was ticking.
She sighed and took her shades off to look him in the eye. “I’m not okay. But I will be.”
“Maybe Dev should check you out.”
“No. All I need is some rest, a chance to let the neurons reset and calm down. Don’t call the medic. But you can help.”
“Anything you need. Neck rub?”
She had no idea how to get from the safe ground of her injuries to the big ask. “Nah. You’ve already given me two nights without a watch. Sleep’s the best.”
“Maybe Dev’s got supplements or something. A B-12 shot. Let’s ask.”
“Maybe. It’s more stress than anything, at this point. Couldn’t hurt.”
“Maybe it’s time to rotate protectees, Ri. You got no shields around yours—that’s stress you don’t need.”
Stop dancing, Rios. Tell him. “I got enough. No, it’s the endgame that’s bothering me. You know it’s gotta be bigger than our brief, right?”
“’Course. Two biggest targets we could go after, and our key player operating without a cover. Feds can’t be fully briefed, or we’d have been shut down by now. At this point, I’m not asking any questions, on a strictly CYA basis.”
“Amen, brother. Glad you caught up. And Dev?”
“He sizes it up about the same. Only he asked the question I was afraid to say out loud.”
“You want me to say it for you?”
“No. I don’t hear it, I can pretend it isn’t true.”
There was no way to soften this truth. One of their own was going down, and they couldn’t stop him without sacrificing the mission and a slew of civilians. “Well, it’s too late for me. I asked, and he told.”
“Jesus, Ri. No wonder you’re in knots.” He looked away, then back at her. “He can’t think we’re going to help him.”
And yet, Angelo expected it of them—the only sacrifice larger than risking your own life. Back when Tom was on a normal all-male team, she knew he’d taken point on disarming a homemade nuclear bomb hidden in a high-rise. “You got called to work a dirty bomb once, right?”
“It’s not the same. Even with everyone else evacuated, they weren’t safe. The chance it was a normal explosive dressed up was negligible. Wasn’t a true me-versus-them call.”
“Then why did you make them evacuate?”
“Just in case. Just to give them a chance.”
“Well, this one’s real. And there’s only one way to keep his hands steady. He needs us.”
“I’d rather take on a nuke, Ri.”
“Me too, brother. Me, too.”
As she ran to the shelter of the kitchen, Rose noted Maji standing under the shallow overhang, waiting to make sure everyone else was safely out of the storm before following them in. Sienna had made Frank walk her up to the house at the first sprinkles, holding an umbrella over her like a valet. Jackie and Tom had dashed in as the rain began in earnest. Rose felt a little guilty, coming in last, savoring the downpour.
Lighting flashed, and the smell of ozone filled the air. When the boom came a few seconds later, the kitchen windows rattled. Rose watched Maji close her eyes and sway slightly. She recalled Sienna’s gossip about Ri’s trauma and knew some of that was just part of the Ri cover, ways to explain behavior that might otherwise raise questions. But some part of it must be grounded in truth. Hannah was worried, after all.
Rose took Maji by the elbow and guided her inside. “Sit down.”
“I’m fine. Probably low blood sugar.” But she didn’t look fine—she looked pale.
“Tom! Get Dev,” Rose barked into Maji’s ear, hoping it was the one with the comm in it. At Maji’s wince, she said, “I’m sorry. Is he coming?”
Maji nodded, her eyes half closed against the overhead lights. Rose moved to the wall and flicked the lights off.
“Thanks.” As Rose saw Dev in the doorway and moved to fill him in, Maji caught her wrist. “Hey, will you keep everybody out of here for a little while?”
Rose saw pain and vulnerability in Maji’s eyes. She nodded, wishing she could do more. “Sure. Wait. You’re shivering.” She grabbed a beach towel left behind by a dry Jackie and wrapped it around Maji’s shoulders. “I’ll go turn the damned AC off.”
“You wanted to see me, you could just ask,” Dev said, checking Maji’s pupils. The penlight sent knives through her eye sockets, but she managed not to squirm, breathing through it. “Besides the photophobia, what else?”
She thought about downplaying her symptoms, but decided against it. He was the team medic, and if she couldn’t perform under stress, she would need him even more. “A little trouble with multiple conversations, finding words in a pinch. And some headaches. Distracting, not disabling.” But in a crisis, bad enough.
“And you thought a woman’s TLC would do the trick? Typical.” He tested her peripheral vision with a sneak attack, and she batted his hand away. “Not bad. More rest might do. If you sleep alone.”
“Dude, why do you give me twice the shit you give the guys?”
He snorted. “Just keeping you grounded. You already have a fan club. You don’t need me piling on.”
“Having your team’s support is not having a fan club. You know I don’t expect any more or less than any other operator.”
He ignored her briefly, putting the electric kettle on to boil and fussing with a teacup. He returned shortly with a steaming mug and sat across from her. “Tom’s in love with you, and Ang thinks you can do anything. First one’s trouble, second’s dangerous. ’Cause you may be hot shit, but nobody can do anything. And he should know better than to ask.”
The thing about Tom slid into her brain and skated right by. She focused instead on Ang knowing better. Had Dev figured out what Ang wanted of her, as well as his endgame? Her head hurt too much to read the nuances. She needed blunt, like a blunt object.
She reached for the transmitter, to key the radio silent.
But Dev said, “Shh,” and pulled the towel closer around her. “Frank’s got no comm, and we blocked Ang. It’s just us three. And you look like you might puke. Just shut up and breathe for a minute.”
With a bedside manner like that, no wonder he was selling cars. She almost smiled. Dev motioned for her to drink, and she blew on the mug, then sipped. Some kind of ginger tea, with extra herbs. Ayurvedic treatment.
He reached over and took her left hand, squeezing a spot that made her gasp, then relax.
“Tea and accupressure. Which week in combat medic training did they teach you that?”
Dev just gave her the little smile he reserved for old ladies and colonels with ridiculous expectations. “The week we learned how to use what’s on hand. And self-care—which you clearly aren’t practicing. No wonder you’re a mess.”
“Thanks.” She sipped some more. “Camp’s been helpful. And I was doing fine under stress until…”
“Till our fearless leader dumped the dirty work on you.”
So he really did know. Maji guessed Angelo had picked all three of them for their ability to suss out the truth in the absence of any real information and still talk to him. Maybe even help. “I could talk to Hannah. Firewall’s down, for once. But I should do it face-to-face.”
“Cohen? No. She’s in JSOC’s pocket. This part of the op has to stay completely off book.”
Maji looked at him squarely, feeling the tea and acupressure, along with sharing the weight of her burden, centering her again. “It is. But she’s on board, and we’re going to need her skill set to pull this off. Not to mention connections, since we can’t use our own.”
“You can say that again. I got a wife and kids to think about. Twenty years at Hotel Gitmo’s not in my plans.”
Maji blinked. She had assumed Dev was assigned here, like her. “Does JSOC even know you’re here?”
“Why should they? I can spend my hundred and twenty however I want.”
Wow. He wasn’t on assignment, like her or Tom. “Tom said he’d rather face a nuke.” Neither of them smiled, and Maji felt the urge to change the subject. “Mira and the girls will have you back soon. I miss them.”
“They miss you too, Ri. When we’re done here, come see lovely Jersey.”
“Thanks.” It was hard to picture him in a real neighborhood, though. “You really went with regular Reserves? After all this.” She sucked down the cooling tea, watching his face form an answer.
“When you settle down and have kids, you’ll understand. The whole world shifts. They put up with my bullshit lifestyle too long, as it was. Now I only have to go up to Conneticut for my Reserve time, and I still get to be a combat medic. Good thing, since I can’t put Delta on my resume.”
Maji stared down into her nearly empty mug. “I shouldn’t ask you two to help. Not with this part. Hell, you both outrank me.”
“Yes, Sergeant, we do. Plus, we have more field experience. And we’ll follow you to hell and back, whether you ask us to or not. Question is, how do you want to accomplish this extraction?”
She felt fuzzy-headed. Extraction? That was a nice way to put it. “Obvious, dude. We just make sure nobody knows any of us were involved. Oh, and nobody comes after the Benedettis for it.” Why did she want to giggle? It wasn’t funny.
Dev peeled her right hand off the mug and gently pressed the spot that had made her want to yelp earlier. “You’ve got a sniper, a medic, and the best-connected PMC in the world on your team. Together, we should be able to manage one perfect op.”
For the first time, the answer seemed obvious. Maji hoped she’d remember it when she woke up. “Dev. What’d you put in that tea?”
“Herbs, dude. And now you’re going to sleep.”
“Is that a prescription?” The words felt too big for her mouth. Was she slurring?
“It’s an order. Your brain needs to reset itself. Before you go back on watch tonight.” He glanced away. “Tom? You got Rose handy? Sweetie pie needs to be tucked in.”
Tom laid a mumbling Maji on the bed in Rose’s room, rather than Carlo’s. He offered to give Rose a hand, but she refused. Maji appeared to be sedated, but not belligerent. She didn’t protest when Rose slipped off her shoes and giggled when her socks slid off.
When Rose tugged on her shirt, however, Maji managed to pull herself upright. She looked a little disoriented.
“You’re in my room,” Rose said. “I’ll close the window if you want.”
Maji shook her head. “You like fresh air. Am I on watch?”
“No. You’re just taking a nap.” And Rose decided Maji could do that just as well in her top and shorts. “But tonight you can sleep in Carlo’s room.”
Maji shook her head, apparently trying to focus on Rose’s face. “Back on watch tonight.”
“There’s an alarm on the window. Surely I’m safe enough with you in the next room.” Rose pressed Maji back until her head rested on the pillow and pulled the sheet over her.
Maji squinted up at her. “Junta don’t care about windows. I keep you safe, chica.”
“Maji? What are you talking about?” They were many miles and years aways from Central America’s bloody conflicts. “There’s no junta here.”
Maji blinked and frowned. “Sorry. Someplace else. Brooklyn.”
The brownstone. Where Sal played his part in the New Underground Railroad. “How many kids stayed with you?”
“Lots. Always scared. Saw stuff no kid should see. Too late to save them. But I could still help.”
“By sleeping on the floor, by the door?”
“Nobody gets by me. You can sleep in my bed. Safe now.”
Rose stroked her forehead. “Okay. Shhh.” She wondered just what Dev had given her. As she watched, Maji turned onto her side, snugging into her pillow and pulling her knees up. Safe in Rose’s bed, but mentally back on the floor in her childhood home. On watch for some poor child she’d befriended and given up her own bed for—many times, Rose gathered.
Rose wished she could soothe away the terrible images that must haunt Maji’s mind, having heard those stories. She remembered the camp sessions where they practiced witnessing—listening to each other’s stories without judging or even commenting. She could imagine Sal Rios doing that for undocumented fugitives of violence taking refuge for a night or two in his home. Witnessing for them at his kitchen table, over comfort foods from their homelands, while Maji played nearby with their traumatized children.
In camp, Maji had said things that seemed now like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle beginning to form a picture. That it was easy to hurt a person, but hard to learn how not to. That listening was harder than fighting. That not being able to help was hard, but stopping yourself from helping was the hardest. Rose could always tell when Maji said these things that there was a story behind them. But each time, Maji let the girls tell their own stories instead of her own. It was a great way to teach. And to protect yourself.