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“I braided my sister’s hair when she was little.”
“Where does your family live?”
Pain flashed across Stone’s face. “When I was fourteen a drunk driver hit our car, I was the only survivor.”
“I’m sorry. I know how that feels.” The memory of my mother’s shattered body flashed across my mind, and I shuddered. That day was forever etched in my mind. In a matter of seconds, my world had been destroyed.
“You were there when your mother died?”
“I was.” It was like it happened yesterday.
“How old were you?”
“Four. There was so much blood.” I rubbed my temples. “My father went mad. He left me there while he chased down the terrorists.”
Stone hugged me gently. “When did he come back for you?”
“Three weeks later.”
“Shit.”
I grimaced. “Tell me about it. Kuwait’s Ministry of Social Affairs put me in a foster home and my blonde hair drew a lot of attention.”
“I’ll bet. As soon as my grandfather learned about the accident, he came for me. I was big for my age and full of anger. Grandpa took me back to his ranch and put me to work. By the end of the day, I was too tired to get into fights. He taught me all he knew about cattle ranching and rodeoing. When I turned eighteen, he dragged me down to the Marines recruiting center and had me join up. He said they would teach me how to control my aggression and he was right.”
I snorted. “Control your aggression? Seriously? They turned you into apex predator like my father.”
“I was always an apex predator; they taught how to control it.” Stone’s sat phone beeped. He checked it. “Let’s go. Grandville is throwing a fit.”
“I need my guns. Roberts is not going to stop until I’m dead.”
Sergeant Stone smiled as he opened the men’s room doors. “You might be cute as a bunny, but you could give a badger a run for his money in pure meanness.”
“Why, thank you. My father calls it my natural camouflage.”
Rodriquez handed me my gun belt. “We’ve got your back, Chiquita.”
“Thanks.” I strapped on my gun belt, checked my Sig Sauers over, and grabbed Bertha. “Let’s go see what’s got Grandville in such a lather.”
Chapter Nine
The instant we walked into General Master’s office, I knew there was a problem. Both Generals were stone-faced and staring at two Arabic men in business suits. Most businessmen in the Middle East wore flowing white robes. What kind of scam were they running? They turned to face me and within two seconds my guns were pointed at them. “You so much as twitch and I’ll blow your fucking heads off.”
“Put your guns away,” General Grandville snapped. “They’re with the CIA and are here to arrest Private Reynolds.”
Stone stepped into view. He had his gun pointed at the businessmen too. “What’s the charge?”
“Treason,” General Masters answered.
I laughed. “They arenotCIA. The one with the nasty scar on his face is Rafi Muhammed. He’s on the Saudi’s terrorists watch list and he’s Eric Roberts hired muscle. The pretty one is Mustafa Jaziri, and he’s wanted for twelve counts of murder in Turkey. The warrant is fake. If you don’t believe me, call CIA headquarters in Langley and verify it.”
His teeth bared in a snarl; Muhammed hurled a knife at me.
Diving to one side, I fired.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
I shot to my feet and stared at Muhammed’s and Jazin’s bullet riddled bodies. Holy shit!