The Woman Left Behind by Linda Howard
By the time she had checked all items off her list and was ready to go, the coffee was made. She turned off the machine, poured the coffee into a thermos she had sitting ready, dumped the grounds into a plastic bag placed there just for that purpose, gave the carafe a quick rinse, grabbed the rest of her stuff, and was out the door. She dropped the plastic bag containing the coffee grounds in a trash can at the curb. She had learned, after that horrendously long mission, to not put scraps of food in her kitchen trash can assuming she’d be there to take it out before it started stinking. This type of job required thinking through every detail, mundane or not.
At 2:13 a.m. she ran out of the condo building. Her car was covered with such a thick coating of frost that at first she thought it had snowed since she’d gone to bed. Unsurprised but swearing under her breath anyway, she started her car, scraped the windshield just enough that she had a small clear space to peer through, and was on her way.
She reached the small private airfield they’d been instructed to go to, and the bottom dropped out of her stomach. This was the same airfield where Levi and Boom had forced her to parachute; though it was dark now and deep in winter’s grip, she recognized the hell hole. Instead of a Twin Otter idling on the runway, a small jet sat there, lights on, waiting for them.
Levi was the first one there. The second arrival was herself.
She parked beside his truck, took a bracing breath, squared her shoulders, and climbed out of her car. On the other side of his truck, a door opened and slammed shut as he got out. Levi being Levi, there was no interior light to give his position away. Annoyed, she realized all the others likely turned off their interior lights, too; one more thing to add to her never-ending list of things to learn and do.
Silently she got out her gear, her go-bag, her thermos, and locked the car, though considering how cold it was, waiting inside the car would be smarter.
“C’mon,” Levi said, “we’ll board the plane and wait there.”
“I need to wait for the air mail,” she said, referring to Tweety and its carrier.
“He can bring it to the plane. Same amount of time, and you won’t be cold. Besides, first ones on the plane snag the best seats.”
“I’m just glad there are seats,” she muttered. When they’d hitched a ride home in a cargo plane, comfort had been secondary. They’d parked themselves wherever they could, in whatever position they could manage.
Two other sets of headlights were approaching; their opportunity to be the first ones aboard was fast disappearing, so she fell into step beside Levi. She’d never been in a small jet before, and she was curious.
The pilot met them at the steps and eyed their bags. “Anything need to go in the hold?”
Levi said, “No, we travel light.”
That was an understatement. Their go-bags were all small duffels, even hers. She had diversified and refined, and her bag now weighed a good five pounds less than it had before.
She climbed the steps and poked her head in. The operative word was small. There was no standing in the cabin; it was like getting into a car. The interior had been configured to allow seating for eight passengers, but the jet wasn’t a luxury model. Aft were four seats facing forward, two to a row. Then there were two seats facing the other four. The fore seat was a two-seat bench, like a small loveseat, with an arm divider, and it faced the cabin door. Levi pushed her forward, into the plane, and by instinct she started down the narrow aisle to take one of the seats in back.
“Here,” Levi said, taking her arm and pretty much depositing her on the loveseat, in the seat closest to the pilot. Then he dropped into the seat beside her.
Not good.
“I wanted to sit in back.”
“Yeah, but I need to sit here, and I want you beside me.” His dark eyes raked her face. “Don’t argue.”
“Why do you need to sit here?” she asked, just as Trapper came up the steps and poked his head in.
“Because that’s the one seat where he can stretch out his legs,” Trapper groused. “No matter how hard I try to get here first, he always beats me.”
She could see that. Levi was the tallest of the team, and the space between the other seats would be tight even for the other guys. What she didn’t see was why she had to sit beside him; shouldn’t she take one of the other seats to give someone else more room? She would rather sit beside any of the others, even Voodoo. Voodoo’s surliness was easier to take than feeling her nerves frayed by every brush of Levi’s arm, or his leg, or feeling the heat emanating from him even across the arm rest. Her senses were so acutely focused on him that she could even smell him, that stomach-clenching scent of heat and skin and testosterone. That was all it took to send her senses reeling back to those moments when she’d felt his weight bearing her down, the thrust of his knee between her legs, the hard bulge of his erection just where—
She took a deep, quiet breath, forcing the memory-sensation away. She was warm, now, heat suffusing her entire body, even her fingertips. Her mouth felt full and soft, as if he’d been kissing her.
This was torture.
She started to move, no matter what he said. But then the other guys were climbing in, filling the other seats. Voodoo was the last to arrive—except for the headquarters guy who ran up with Tweety and the laptop. She got up to take possession of both, signing the three-part form he thrust at her because even off-the-books entities still had paperwork, and when she turned back Voodoo had taken the last available regular seat. She curled her lip in his direction, not that he cared because he didn’t see it. Resigned, she sat back down beside Levi, and buckled in.
As soon as they were in the air, Levi nudged his knee against hers. “You gonna share that coffee you’ve been hiding?” he asked, a twinkle replacing the usual somberness in his eyes. “I saw the thermos when you got out of the car, and I know you didn’t fill it with milk.”
Six other heads turned in her direction. “Coffee?” Boom said, his tone hopeful.
Now she knew why Levi had wanted her beside him; coffee was the lure. The realization was both lowering and relieving.
“Blabbermouth,” she muttered at him. Louder she asked, “Did none of you think to bring coffee? Never mind. Of course you didn’t. You’re men. I lost my head there, for a second.”
“It’s the job,” Boom said. “We just get up and go.”
“So did I, but I punched a button on the coffeemaker before doing anything else.” Resigned, she looked around. “Anything y’all can use for cups? The thermos top is mine, and I’m not sharing.”
They began scrounging around. A few polystyrene cups were found. Levi stuck his head through the curtain that closed off the cockpit, and the pilot was good enough to donate a few more. The pilot had his own thermos of coffee, but he didn’t offer to share. Smart man.
Dividing the coffee eight ways, there was no way for any of them to get much more than an ounce each, maybe an ounce and a half, but when it came to coffee an ounce was better than nothing. Reduced to sips, she savored every one of them. It wasn’t much, but it would get her through.
After the coffee was gone, she hauled out the laptop and checked the program. There wasn’t any real need to, but it kept her busy.
Levi’s long legs were stretched out, and he reclined his seat, settled into a more comfortable position, and tipped his cap forward to cover his eyes. Jina glanced around; because the two seats closest to them were facing backward, Crutch, seated on the opposite side of the aisle and facing forward, was the only other team member whose face she could actually see, and he was already asleep. All of them had reclined their seats and were doing their combat-nap routines, grabbing sleep while they could.
They were the experienced ones, so she should follow their example. She took off her coat and pulled it over her like a blanket, then reclined her seat, curled on her side away from Levi, and closed her eyes.
Maybe she dozed. At the least she created a cocoon for herself, with her head almost covered by her co
Behind her, he shifted position. His arm dropped heavily from the dividing armrest onto her hip, his fingers resting against her butt. She froze, listening, but his breathing remained as deep and even as before. Carefully she lowered the edge of her coat enough to peep at him. His eyes were closed, his features relaxed. Slowly, moving in increments, she pulled one arm out from under the coat and hooked her finger in the cuff of his sleeve, lifted his arm—
His eyes opened.
She froze. That dark gaze roamed sleepily over her, starting at her face and moving down, taking in the way the back of his hand rested against her butt, how gingerly she held his sleeve. Slowly, ever so slowly, he moved his fingers—back and forth, caressing, rubbing, as if he savored even this small contact. His sleepy gaze was raw and naked and hungry, slamming her with the focus of his need. Then his gaze shuttered and silently he moved his arm back to his side of the seat.
Just as silently she turned away from him again, pulling her coat up to shield her face.
From the protection of the coat she stared at the dark cockpit curtain, her heart heavy.
Sixteen
Swearing silently because cussing out loud took too much breath, Jina raced along the rough ground with the equipment bag banging against her back. Tweety was safe in the padded compartment made specifically for him, laptop, sensors, cameras, and power unit protected. Her back was neither padded nor protected, and all that banging damn well hurt.
They were all pelting headlong through the Chocó rain forest, because the double agent they’d been sent to rescue had chosen there to hide from the FARC insurgents pursuing him. Colombia was ostensibly more stable now, with an official agreement between the government and rebel forces, and a much ballyhooed “disarmament” of FARC, but a lot of hostile undercurrents were still running through the country. Insurgents, rebels, drug lords, government forces, and foreign elements still made for a volatile mix.
She hated Chocó. She felt guilty for hating a rain forest, but yeah, she despised it. Rain forests were great for the environment, but not for people. This place had freaking poison frogs. Touch one of the little devils and you went into cardiac arrest. At least they were neon colored, so they were easy to stay away from—except they were so tiny they could hide under a leaf. Even if there hadn’t been any frogs, running through the rain forest wasn’t a picnic in the park. Sundown was just a couple of hours away and the damn place would get dark like someone turning out a light. In the meantime, she had to leap over giant roots, fronds slapped her in the face, monkeys howled as if mocking them and alerting predators to their intrusion (Hey, jaguars and snakes and whatever bad things live here, there’s human meat on the ground!), and she had to keep trucking. And keep a lookout for those damn frogs. She didn’t know about the jaguars, but if she’d ever been in a place likely to have jaguars, this was it.
They were in a long, single-file line, separated by just enough distance that they could keep each other in sight, which because of the vegetation wasn’t truly that far. Levi was leading. The double agent was behind him, followed by Trapper. Boom, Snake, and Crutch were next, then Voodoo, then Jina, with Jelly on rear guard.
They’d made contact with the guy, Ramirez, without any trouble. The rain forest had lit up her screen with heat signatures, but none large enough to be human except for her guys and Ramirez. She didn’t like all the visual static, but she could work through it. She sat on a rock that the guys had made sure was clear of snakes and frogs and ants and carefully guided Tweety through the dense foliage. She watched their backs, weaving in wide circles around them, making sure no one was lying in wait to ambush them, or approaching unseen. With all of Tweety’s available “eyes,” getting anything by him was difficult. Someone would have to know how to disguise their thermal signature to slip past Tweety.
It was when they’d started out that they’d run into trouble. They were supposed to rendezvous with a couple of Jeeps that would take them to an airfield to be picked up. The timing had to be tight, so that any unfriendlies in the area had only a narrow window of opportunity to get to them.
Unfortunately, sometimes pure bad luck overrode the most careful planning. She couldn’t deploy Tweety while they were on the move, so they had no warning. There was a shot from the right; she couldn’t see what was happening because of the vegetation, but training kicked in and she hit the ground.
Levi’s voice in her ear comm was as calm as if he were in a church. “Trapper, do you have a location?”
“Affirmative.”
There was another shot, this one from a rifle. “Target down,” Trapper said.
Jina’s throat constricted so tightly she couldn’t have made a sound. Knowing she could be in a violent situation was different from actually being in one. Someone had just died. One of them could have died. Ramirez was logically the target, but in reality the shooter could have been aiming at any of them, and with Tweety not in deployment she had no way of guarding their backs. She felt as if she’d personally failed them, because this was precisely the situation she was supposed to be working.
“Cover me,” Trapper said.
“Affirmative,” Levi said, and Boom echoed him. They were on each side of Trapper, and literally the only two who could see him. Jina tried to stay motionless and keep her breathing absolutely even and silent, while she listened for any unusual rustles around her. She could see Voodoo in front of her, weapon in hand, alertly scanning his surroundings. Jelly was somewhere behind her, making no sound that would betray his location, doing the same thing.
She should have pulled her own weapon. She was required to carry one, required to be reasonably proficient with it, and though she’d practiced like heck to meet the minimum standards, she’d hit the ground without once thinking about using it and now she couldn’t get to it without making noise.
Mistake number two.
In her ear Trapper said, “Confirmed kill.”
“Babe, deploy Tweety and take a look around.”
“Affirmative,” she replied, trying to replicate the dead-level tone they’d been using, and not knowing if she succeeded. Levi still sounded so damn normal, as if this was no more stressful than crossing the street. She rolled to a semisitting position, trying to keep herself as much under cover as possible, and swiftly unpacked the equipment bag. She had done this so often that getting Tweety in the air was a matter of seconds, rather than minutes.
She eased the drone in a three-sixty, looking for any other unwanted company. She used the thermal imaging, found nothing humanlike, though there were ways to thwart a heat signature. Because of that she took her time, examined every hint of a heat signature she could find to make certain it was animal.
“Babe.” Levi was showing some emotion in his tone now; unfortunately, it was impatience.
“Hold your horses,” she replied testily, and she took Tweety higher, into the understory where the monkeys lived—monkeys that were uncharacteristically quiet, and she wanted to know why. But the ones she found were going about the normal business of monkeys, paying no attention to the human contingent on the forest floor.
Relieved, she brought the drone home. “Clear,” she finally said.
“Medic,” Levi said, back to the emotionless tone.
Medic? Medic! Someone was hurt, someone at the front of the line where the shot had come from. Her blood began rushing through her veins, making her hands shake as she got Tweety and the laptop safely
Now she drew her weapon, feeling like both a fool and a fake, but at least it was in her hand instead of her holster as they moved forward as quietly as possible. Voodoo was already up and moving, his head swiveling back and forth like Jelly’s.
In less than a minute they joined up with those in the front of the line, who had formed a guard circle, each on one knee, around Levi and Snake. A long splinter of wood—if something at least six inches long and half an inch wide could be called a “splinter”—stuck out of Levi’s right scapula, and a dark stain of blood was seeping down his shirt. Jina skidded to a halt, her stomach leaping into her throat.
Common sense told her the wound wasn’t particularly serious; he’d be okay with some stitches and antibiotics. Still—this was Levi. She wanted to shove Snake out of the way and take care of him herself, an insane reaction because Snake was a trained medic and she wasn’t, but one that was so strong she had to look away to keep herself from acting on it. She forced herself to do what the others were doing and focus on their surroundings.
A grunt from Levi jerked her gaze back to him, in time to see Snake use forceps to pull the splinter out. He dropped the bloody piece of wood on the ground. As soon as the splinter was out, Levi jerked his shirt off over his head and twisted his neck to try to get a look at the injury.
“Cut that shit out,” Snake said as he mopped at the blood, which was trickling in rivulets down Levi’s muscled back. “Just hold still.” He pressed the wad of gauze against the wound and with his other hand searched for something in his bag. He didn’t carry a military-issue kit, but a long, narrow bag that he packed himself and carried quiver style across his back. “Shit,” he said again. Quickly he looked around, and his gaze settled on Jina. “Babe, come over here and get a QuikClot out of the bag for me. Things must have got a little disorganized when I hit the ground.”