Page 32
Story: Legacy's Call
“Will do, and thank you for not making me wake him up.”
“He isn’t cranky, is he?” He’d give his uncle all kinds of shit for being pissy to his operator.
“Oh, no, but once I called … someone … in the middle of the night, and they were obviously in the middle of something.”
Ronan laughed. “Tell me who, Tink. I have to know.”
“No, sir. I will not. That will go to my grave with me. I was mortified.”
Ronan laughed again. “All right, I won’t push. That’s all I need.”
“Yes, sir. The message has been sent. I’m clear.”
He touched his ear again and looked over atFleur, who was scanning the front of his uniform. “Still looking for a microphone?”
She lifted her eyebrows and nodded. “I’ll find it. It’s kind of a personal challenge at this point. What did they say about Adil?”
“His file is flagged, and I need to talk to my superior if I want information.”
“Is that bad?”
Ronan shook his head. “No. It could mean any number of things. None of which I’m worried about in the slightest.” Most likely, he’d interacted with Guardian and was protected in some fashion. “If he’s a problem, that information would have been relayed immediately.”
He saw her relief. “I’m glad. He’s a nice kid.”
“Kid?” And that was surprising.
“Guy. For some reason, he strikes me as young, but I suck at ages.” She shrugged her shoulder.
“If I wasn’t here, what would you do now?” Ronan collected his half of the duty rosters.
“There’s always something to do. I go shelter to shelter to make sure everyone has been registered through the admin tent. We have some resources we can give the ones coming out of abuse. Tammara, the camp counselor, will talk with them about coping and how to deal. For those who’re pregnant, we tryto identify them and help. We can provide vitamins and possibly extra rations. We try desperately to keep track of everyone, but as I said before, people come and go. We can’t hold them here against their will.”
“Have you ever left the camp to retrieve people in trouble?” He knew she had. When she’d first arrived in the country, she was reprimanded for going close to the conflict zone and removing innocents in the area. That was included in his file on her.
She groaned. “Yes. But believe me, I won’t do that again. I came this close to losing my job after being here for less than a week.” She pinched her fingers together. “But I won’t apologize for what I did. We were able to get sixty people out of the area.”
What she didn’t tell him was that the traffickers had caught her, and if it weren’t for a bombing barrage, she probably wouldn’t be alive. That incident had allowed her to escape. His report on Fleur was extensive. All the Americans who worked at this camp had files, and he had to open his phone and tab in the name for it to come up. Each of his men had the information. None of them were in the dark. Knowledge was power, and shared knowledge was a tactical advantage when working as a team.
“So, your primary mission is …” He wanted to understand what it was she did.
“Anti-trafficking. I make sure the people we register with us are accounted for, and if they’re transported to another IDP camp, their paperwork follows them.” She stood up and walked over to her bookshelf where binder after binder lined the wooden structure. She took one down. “Each page is a person.” She flipped the paper and sighed. “The ones with the red ‘X’”—she showed him the page she was looking at—“are people who have left us. The ones who are highlighted disappeared without letting us know they were going. The ones with the red square by their name were lost during convoys. Some died during childbirth. Too young for their bodies to be able to deliver. Some died because of wounds sustained as they fled. Others come in and stayed and never left. Well, until we were told our camp would be closed. A lack of funding is what they said.” She closed the book softly and put it back on the shelf. “I keep records of all of them. The gaining camp gets a copy of these, not the original.”
She sighed and leaned against the main post in the tent. “I’ve arranged for emergency transportation of people out of conflict areas.” She rolled her eyes. “The right way, and I sent convoys to pickthem up. But lately, there hasn’t been anyone informing us where the conflict is brewing or if any people need emergency evacuation. I was told I would work with local partners to coordinate rescue operations that targeted traffickers. That’s never happened.” She pulled her thick braid over her shoulder and played with it as she looked out the hazy plastic window. “I was so ready to make a difference when I accepted this job.”
Ronan stood and walked over to her. He once again put his finger under her chin, directing her eyes up to him, and no, he wouldn’t stop touching her. She was soft, beautiful, and had a heart as big as this fucking conflict. Unfortunately, the world had taken a toll on her, and he could feel her bruised soul from where he’d been sitting across the room. “You make a difference. How many people have you logged, transferred, fed, cared for, and befriended since you’ve been here?”
She blinked up at him. “I don’t know.”
He looked over at the binders. “Thousands. Your touch has affected the lives of thousands of people and given them a way to go forward. You’ve made a difference. Looking from an optic that focuses on the immediate past is a fallacy. You've had an impactsince the day you walked into this camp. Don’t sell yourself short.”
A sweet smile spread across her full lips. “You are so utterly unexpected in the best possible way.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “How’s that?” Yes, he was too close, and yes, they were whispering, but fuck it. The woman had made it more than obvious she was interested in him, and he wasn’t going to deny she was immensely tempting and sexy in a girl-next-door type of way. Which, at the moment, happened to be his favorite type of sexy.
She placed her hand on his chest. “Most people wouldn’t see what you’ve seen. Most would be entrenched in their lives and move through this camp dealing with their assigned problem or task. You see everything.”
“Everything.” He dropped his eyes to her lips and then back up. She toed up, and he took the invitation. His lips found hers, and fuck him standing, they were just as soft as they looked. He lifted and waited for her to open her eyes. “This can’t lead to anything.”
“He isn’t cranky, is he?” He’d give his uncle all kinds of shit for being pissy to his operator.
“Oh, no, but once I called … someone … in the middle of the night, and they were obviously in the middle of something.”
Ronan laughed. “Tell me who, Tink. I have to know.”
“No, sir. I will not. That will go to my grave with me. I was mortified.”
Ronan laughed again. “All right, I won’t push. That’s all I need.”
“Yes, sir. The message has been sent. I’m clear.”
He touched his ear again and looked over atFleur, who was scanning the front of his uniform. “Still looking for a microphone?”
She lifted her eyebrows and nodded. “I’ll find it. It’s kind of a personal challenge at this point. What did they say about Adil?”
“His file is flagged, and I need to talk to my superior if I want information.”
“Is that bad?”
Ronan shook his head. “No. It could mean any number of things. None of which I’m worried about in the slightest.” Most likely, he’d interacted with Guardian and was protected in some fashion. “If he’s a problem, that information would have been relayed immediately.”
He saw her relief. “I’m glad. He’s a nice kid.”
“Kid?” And that was surprising.
“Guy. For some reason, he strikes me as young, but I suck at ages.” She shrugged her shoulder.
“If I wasn’t here, what would you do now?” Ronan collected his half of the duty rosters.
“There’s always something to do. I go shelter to shelter to make sure everyone has been registered through the admin tent. We have some resources we can give the ones coming out of abuse. Tammara, the camp counselor, will talk with them about coping and how to deal. For those who’re pregnant, we tryto identify them and help. We can provide vitamins and possibly extra rations. We try desperately to keep track of everyone, but as I said before, people come and go. We can’t hold them here against their will.”
“Have you ever left the camp to retrieve people in trouble?” He knew she had. When she’d first arrived in the country, she was reprimanded for going close to the conflict zone and removing innocents in the area. That was included in his file on her.
She groaned. “Yes. But believe me, I won’t do that again. I came this close to losing my job after being here for less than a week.” She pinched her fingers together. “But I won’t apologize for what I did. We were able to get sixty people out of the area.”
What she didn’t tell him was that the traffickers had caught her, and if it weren’t for a bombing barrage, she probably wouldn’t be alive. That incident had allowed her to escape. His report on Fleur was extensive. All the Americans who worked at this camp had files, and he had to open his phone and tab in the name for it to come up. Each of his men had the information. None of them were in the dark. Knowledge was power, and shared knowledge was a tactical advantage when working as a team.
“So, your primary mission is …” He wanted to understand what it was she did.
“Anti-trafficking. I make sure the people we register with us are accounted for, and if they’re transported to another IDP camp, their paperwork follows them.” She stood up and walked over to her bookshelf where binder after binder lined the wooden structure. She took one down. “Each page is a person.” She flipped the paper and sighed. “The ones with the red ‘X’”—she showed him the page she was looking at—“are people who have left us. The ones who are highlighted disappeared without letting us know they were going. The ones with the red square by their name were lost during convoys. Some died during childbirth. Too young for their bodies to be able to deliver. Some died because of wounds sustained as they fled. Others come in and stayed and never left. Well, until we were told our camp would be closed. A lack of funding is what they said.” She closed the book softly and put it back on the shelf. “I keep records of all of them. The gaining camp gets a copy of these, not the original.”
She sighed and leaned against the main post in the tent. “I’ve arranged for emergency transportation of people out of conflict areas.” She rolled her eyes. “The right way, and I sent convoys to pickthem up. But lately, there hasn’t been anyone informing us where the conflict is brewing or if any people need emergency evacuation. I was told I would work with local partners to coordinate rescue operations that targeted traffickers. That’s never happened.” She pulled her thick braid over her shoulder and played with it as she looked out the hazy plastic window. “I was so ready to make a difference when I accepted this job.”
Ronan stood and walked over to her. He once again put his finger under her chin, directing her eyes up to him, and no, he wouldn’t stop touching her. She was soft, beautiful, and had a heart as big as this fucking conflict. Unfortunately, the world had taken a toll on her, and he could feel her bruised soul from where he’d been sitting across the room. “You make a difference. How many people have you logged, transferred, fed, cared for, and befriended since you’ve been here?”
She blinked up at him. “I don’t know.”
He looked over at the binders. “Thousands. Your touch has affected the lives of thousands of people and given them a way to go forward. You’ve made a difference. Looking from an optic that focuses on the immediate past is a fallacy. You've had an impactsince the day you walked into this camp. Don’t sell yourself short.”
A sweet smile spread across her full lips. “You are so utterly unexpected in the best possible way.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “How’s that?” Yes, he was too close, and yes, they were whispering, but fuck it. The woman had made it more than obvious she was interested in him, and he wasn’t going to deny she was immensely tempting and sexy in a girl-next-door type of way. Which, at the moment, happened to be his favorite type of sexy.
She placed her hand on his chest. “Most people wouldn’t see what you’ve seen. Most would be entrenched in their lives and move through this camp dealing with their assigned problem or task. You see everything.”
“Everything.” He dropped his eyes to her lips and then back up. She toed up, and he took the invitation. His lips found hers, and fuck him standing, they were just as soft as they looked. He lifted and waited for her to open her eyes. “This can’t lead to anything.”
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