Free Fall (Elite Force #4)(44)
Author: Catherine Mann

She crinkled her sunburned nose. “They’re under the impression I’m an interpreter for Interpol.”

“Good cover story. I guess ignorance is bliss.”

“I actually thought I might segue back into that field someday…” She looked at him through her eyelashes. “When I’m ready to settle down and have a couple of rug rats of my own.”

Time to veer off that topic ASAP.

He looped an arm around her waist and hauled her close. “Talking about kids when you smell like guava and sex feels somehow wrong to me.”

Pressing a hand to his chest, she arched her back. “Are you going to be that guy? The stereotypical dude we see in Hollywood movies who’s afraid to commit? I really expected more originality from you than that.”

Now that stung. “Call it what you want. I have a commander who’s on his fourth marriage. Stories like that can give a guy pause.”

“How’s his fourth marriage going?” She snapped the waistband on his shorts.

Damn, he loved her sass. “I believe he’s got a keeper this time,” he admitted begrudgingly. “Of course, he’s not in the field as much anymore. Good thing, since they have a kid on the way.”

“You’re not helping your case here. Any other tales of military life misery you want to share to shore up your argument?”

“You’re too smart, you know that, right?” His teammates and their wives were producing like rabbits these days. Brick and his wife had a new baby. So did his old teammate Hugh Franco.

“So it can be done,” she pressed, her smile tight. “You just don’t want to.”

“Roger.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Not really.” Images of his nephew tormented him, little Michael scarred for life because he’d been neglected by an alcoholic mom too drunk to hear her child’s screams. Bianca had already been through rehab. They’d thought she’d turned her life around.

They’d grown complacent and Michael would pay the price for the rest of his life.

Jose refused to be complacent. Every day he fought the urge to take a drink and yes, so far he’d won. But this was his battle. He’d devoted his life to saving others on the job. How in the hell could he justify the risk of breaking the sacred promise of a parent to protect a child?

Intellectually, he understood from AA meetings that others found a way to rebuild a family life. But that didn’t stop the images of Michael for him. Only work offered him complete forgetfulness and he was beginning to realize Stella wouldn’t be able to accept that. Hell, she deserved more.

He slid an arm under her legs and lifted her against his chest. “Enough talking. I’d rather take you for a swim.”

He waded into the Shebelle River, knowing he’d only delayed the inevitable with Stella. They were headed for the crash…

***

Holding her sleeping body against him now as the sun rose on a new morning in Mogadishu, he let the memory of that afternoon kick around inside his head awhile longer. They hadn’t broken up that day, but it had marked the beginning of the end for them.

Orange gold rays just beginning to streak through the window reminded him their pocket of time—this unexpected last chance to be together—was ending. In less than an hour, he would have to wake her so they could report for duty.

Report in to do their jobs in a world where missions like this one were becoming too frequent, near brushes with the possibility of a cataclysmic attack. How long could they keep dousing these threats? Was he wrong to hold out on committing to Stella because of what might happen when time was already so damn precious?

No, damn it. Because he did love her, too much to risk adding another ticking time bomb to her life.

He kissed her shoulder lightly, whispering against her freckled skin, “Love you.”

Easing from the bed to shower alone, he left her.

***

Annie leaned against the wall in the back of the cafeteria where eight classes of students had been gathered to watch news footage streaming out of Mogadishu today. The broadcast was subtitled. Her stomach knotted. The lingering scent of goat liver from lunch made her nauseous.

The room was packed with wooden tables and chairs, and she couldn’t stop the illogical thought of how the number of people would be a fire code violation back in the States. She just needed to keep reminding herself that a school, home, and regular meals were tough to come by for children in this region, much less for orphans. This concrete building with a cracked foundation and peeling paint was a godsend to these kids.

She was making a difference here. Saving lives rather than taking them. And yes, there were days she wanted to rage in frustration over the lost children, the stolen lives, and unbearably poor odds for a free future. However, she couldn’t turn away. Teaching here, spending her life, being as much of a mother to these children as she knew how—that was her atonement for the harm she’d caused in the line of duty.

For abandoning her own children.

An arm’s reach away, an eleven-year-old girl named Khaali leaned back in her chair. “Why do we have to watch this, Mrs. Johnson?”

Khaali had lost her mother to a post-childbirth infection. Her father left the infant with her grandparents and disappeared. The grandparents were killed in an uprising three years ago and she’d been brought here. She was one of the lucky ones. She’d had a fairly stable, well-fed first eight years and hadn’t ended up on the streets after her grandparents were killed.

Luck was a relative thing in a country that stoned women to death.

Annie knelt beside her. “Because I teach you English, I also teach you about English-speaking countries. This is a visit by a very important American woman. She is the wife of the vice president of the United States. Look at all the celebration in place. This is a big deal.”

The television screen was filled with images of the pre-ceremonies keeping the crowd entertained while they waited for the plane to land. Dancers performed in regional garb. The colors and sounds of local culture drew Annie now, just as it had when she’d left the States. She loved this country and its people. She turned back to Khaali.

“Boring.” The girl tipped her chair back and forth.

“She cares what happens to you.” Annie palmed the back of the chair, gently forcing all four legs on the floor again. “She cares about things that are happening to young girls and boys in this country.”

Khaali stared at the television, twirling the edge of her long yellow headscarf between two fingers. “Do you really believe the words from one lady, a lady who just happens to be married to someone important, will bring back our friends, like Ajaya?”