Page 6

CHAPTER 6

F leur put what was left of her MRE food into the larger pouch and rolled the top. She’d eat the crackers tomorrow. That would mean one full day of rations that could go to someone else. “Thank you for dinner,” she said as he stood and slung his weapon back on his shoulder.

“Anytime, and I mean that. We have enough, and we can get more.”

“How?” she asked as she stepped out of the tent into the darkness.

He shrugged. “We have resources you don’t. Guardian takes care of its people.”

“You said earlier most of your family works for the organization. What do they do?”

“Well, my dad is retired. He was a founder of the organization. My aunts and uncles work for the organization as well in different capacities. Then there are my sisters who work in headquarters. They’re both married to people who work for Guardian, too.”

Fleur swung her pouch of food as they walked. “Sisters? Including the one who was taken?”

He nodded. “She’s the most determined person on earth. I have no idea how her husband deals with her.” He chuckled.“She’s amazing.”

Fleur heard the admiration in his voice and smiled in the darkness. He was a family man, which she appreciated, although she couldn’t tell anyone why it did. “That makes Guardian a family affair, doesn’t it?”

“Especially since my brother Deacon runs a team, too.”

“There are two like you working at Guardian?” Laughing and having fun was so easy around this man.

“There’s only one of me.” He chuckled. “Deacon is very much his own person, as am I.”

“This is me.” She pointed at a small two-person tent behind the big tent where she worked.

“Where are all of your belongings?” He frowned. There was hardly any room in the tent .

“In the admin tent in the trunk under the conference room table. I have room enough for a change of clothes and my sleeping cot here. I have some books and a lantern. It’s battery-operated and rechargeable. Plus, I can zip this flap. Less creepy crawlies that way.”

“And where’s your tent? Because it looks like it was sent to you from a camping store.”

She shrugged. “It was. My cousin sent it to me. I didn’t need all that room. We put homemade bunk beds in it and provide beds for twenty children.”

Ronan crossed his arms over his chest. “Not many people would do that.”

“Wrong.” She laughed. “I did it. Shelly sleeps in the medical tent and gave up her tent for the same reason. Louis sleeps in the camp’s communications tent and gave his up, too.”

Ronan smiled at her. “I stand corrected.”

Fleur grabbed at her heart. “Oh, a man who admits when he’s wrong. Be still, my heart.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “I enjoyed tonight. What time can you meet tomorrow to go over those reports?”

“Ah, I have to help Shelly with the clinic line in the morning. I’ll be back as soon as that’s done. But you have access to the documents. You saw where they were filed, right?”

“I did.”

“Then just make yourself at home. Earl Adams and Louis Halstead were the only people working in the tent with me. Both are on loan to other sections because convoys have been stopped. Earl works with sanitation, and Louis is helping out with repairs and works in the administration tent when he can.”

“I’ll do that after I talk to Habib.”

“Oh, that’s right.” She slapped her head with her hand. “I forgot. I’ll see if someone else can cover for me on the clinic line.”

“It would be better if you weren’t present.” Ronan held up a hand when she started to object. “Simply because I can meet with him on his ground in his camp.”

“You’re going to go into the militia camp?” She shook her head. “Remember when I said you were the complete package? I retract that. Brains are required to be that, and you’re obviously missing a few.”

Ronan tossed his head back and laughed. The deep, throaty boom surrounded her, and she smiled at him. Their sense of humor melded so well. “I won’t be going alone or unarmed. ”

She put her hands on her hips and stared up at him. “Well, that would change things.”

“I’ve worked with factions of militia throughout the world. They respect money and power. Guardian has both.”

“But there are only five of you and over seventy or so of them.”

Ronan chuckled. “That makes it an unfair fight. We’ll have the advantage.”

She rolled her eyes. “Not full of yourself, are you?”

“Nope. I just know the capabilities of my team. Good night, Fleur. I’ll see you after you get done at the clinic.”

“Good night, and thank you for dinner. I admit I was hungry.” She lifted the remains of her dinner.

“The invitation stands, and I mean that.”

“Thank you.” She watched as he walked back toward his camp then unzipped the small tent, stooped to go in, and turned on the battery-operated light. After zipping herself in, she took off her boots and sighed, wiggling her toes. The freedom of not wearing boots was simple but one she enjoyed. She slept in the clothes she wore and would shower and change her clothes in the morning. The light blanket she had wouldn’t be used except as protection for her cot. She pulled the rubber band off the bottom of her ponytail and unbraided her hair. Her one luxury was her brush—real boar bristles with a mahogany handle. She closed her eyes and brushed her hair, starting at the bottom and working her way up.

“Knock, knock.” Shelly’s voice came from outside her tent.

“Come on in.”

Shelly unzipped the flap and stooped in. After zipping up the flap, she sat on the end of Fleur’s cot. “Okay, I’m insane. Tell me I’m insane.”

“Not only are you insane, but you’re bat-shit crazy, but why am I telling you?” Fleur asked.

“I’m thirty-five years old. I’m not a teenager.” Shelly dropped her head to her hands. “But I think I have a crush on one of the Guardians.”

“Oh, is that all?” Fleur snorted. “Join the club, girl.”

Shelly’s head snapped up. “Who, and please don’t say Jug.”

“Ronan.” She winked at Shelly. “Jug is a really big guy. I thought you went for the more metrosexual type.”

“Who says that anymore?” Shelly rolled her eyes heavenward. “Cultured. I preferred a cultured man. Or I thought I did. ”

“Well, obviously, I say it.” Fleur started brushing her hair again before she smiled and nudged Shelly with her toe. “So, Jug?”

Shelly nodded and shared with a small smile, “He’s got a hard shell, but I think that’s protecting his soft center.”

“Why do you say that?” She worked her hair as she talked to Shelly.

“Because he was all gruff and demanding, making changes to the way we stored the high theft items and fussing like crazy, but when one of the kids came up with a cut on his hand, Jug lifted him up onto his lap, gave him a piece of candy, got him to stop crying, and kept his attention while I cleaned the cut and bandaged him up.”

“And that went straight to your heart, didn’t it?” Fleur said knowingly.

“On an exploding rocket. Big, handsome, bossy, and he’s good with kids. I think my panties exploded.” Fleur laughed at her friend as she fanned herself with her hands. “Tell me about Ronan. Isn’t he the one who put you in your place this afternoon?”

“He is. But I apologized and realized you were right.”

“Hold the presses, Fleur Buchanan took my advice to heart? I’m going to faint.” Shelly dropped to the cot, her head landing in Fleur’s lap. Fleur flopped her hair on Shelly’s face. The woman made sounds like she was choking and fought her way through Fleur’s mane to sit back up. “Okay, fainting spell over. Spill.”

Fleur stopped brushing her hair and stared at the bristles of her brush. “I told him the truth, that I was trying to find a way to take people out of the camp and that maybe you were right, and I was being selfish. Actually, I realized I’d been self-centered. Everything was based on what I could do without asking what others were doing or what I could do to help them. I think it was a way to deal with survivor’s guilt.” What Ronan had said rung true. “I’ll tell Rana I won’t meet with her contacts.”

“Oh, thank God, but don’t distract me with my smartness. Ronan, huh?” She lifted her eyebrows a couple of times.

“Yeah, girl, he makes me laugh and gets my sense of humor. Plus, damn. He’s sexy. That chiseled jaw, those muscles, dark brown eyes, and his voice. God, that deep baritone vibrates through me. So, if you’re insane, you can move over, and I’ll join you on the ride.”

“Maybe we’ve been over here too long.” Shelly closed one eye and looked at her. They both said, “Nah,” at the same time and laughed.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” Shelly said. “You’re working with me tomorrow morning, right?”

“I’ll be there.” Fleur watched her friend leave and then finished brushing her hair. She wasn’t insane. She was attracted to Ronan but knew the man was only there until the camp was shuttered in about two months. Plus, the camp had zero privacy, so her crush had no chance of going anywhere. But for the next two months, she’d have someone with whom she could laugh, work, and hang out with. That made her smile as she braided her hair again and turned out the light in her tent.

Ronan was a handsome puzzle of masculinity. He had a passion for taking care of people. She could tell even though he hadn’t said those words … exactly. The way he talked with her, his insightful questions, the concern he had for the IDPs, the staff, and his team was a glaring part of his personality. That and his sense of humor. She’d shown him her worst and been an absolute putz more than once and instead of distance and disgust, he’d shown her grace and goodness. That was almost sexier than the man was. She’d never run into a man like him before. He was a strength she didn’t kn ow she needed. She was tired of being strong, and that realization hurt a bit. But Ronan was someone she could lean on. She knew it but couldn’t explain it.

She listened to insect night songs and the small sounds of people moving around the camp. For the first time in a long time, her mind wasn’t chasing problems; rather, she fell asleep thinking of the tall, muscled, sexy man with a deep voice and wonderful laugh.

Fleur brought the last patient into the medical tent. The morning sick call included a variety of bumps, bruises, cuts, and returns to remove stitches. Several younger kids had a fever, which was always a concern. Shelly had a translator question them about where they’d been and what they’d eaten and drank. The common denominator was a stew that one of the older girls had cooked using too old meat. Food poisoning was bad, but not as bad as a contagious bug. As the last person left, Rana arrived from the admin tent with a young woman. “Dr. Shelly, Adara is new here. She needs your help.”

Fleur knew immediately what that meant. “I’ll put the sign up outside. ”

“Thank you,” Shelly said as she removed her gloves and smiled at the new camp resident. She asked Rana, “Did you explain what was going to happen?”

“I did.”

That was the last Fleur heard. She closed the medical tent flap and dragged the sign in front. The sign said “Do Not Enter” in three different languages. If an emergency happened, the sign would give Shelly enough time to stop the exam before she responded.

Fleur walked back to the other side of the camp and heard the Jeep before she saw it. Ronan and two of his men drove back into the camp. Jug stood up, manning the huge machine gun mounted to the vehicle's frame. Men inside the camp would normally worry her, but not these men.

She watched the Jeep park before stepping into the tent she used as an office. The file she’d put away last night was spread out on the table, and one of Ronan’s men was reading through a report. He looked up as she came in. Nodding his head, he went back to the report. “Hi. I’m Fleur. I’m not sure I remember your name.”

“Wraith,” he said but continued to focus on the report .

“Is there anything I can do to help?” She moved over to the table, which was just a board on top of boxes.

He handed her a stack of reports. “Need to know what day they were attacked.”

“Date or day of the week?”

“Both.”

“Got it.” The man didn’t mince words, did he? Well, that was okay. She could be quiet, too. She reached for a tablet and pen and went to work. By the time Ronan entered the tent, she and Wraith had found a pattern. Each of the convoys was attacked on a Tuesday. There was no trend as to going or coming back, nor was there any correlation with which of the three camps they used.

“What do you have?”

“You were right. It’s the day of the week,” Wraith said. “Tuesdays.”

Ronan nodded and touched his ear. “Dude.” He smiled. “Thanks for that information, but I just talked to him at the militia camp. All the convoys were hit on Tuesdays.”

She leaned over and whispered, “Is he talking to someone, or has he gone off the deep end?”

Wraith smiled. “He’s talking to our operator.”

“Like telephone operator? ”

“Like computer systems,” Ronan said.

“Oh.” She narrowed her eyes. “I still can’t see a radio.”

“You’re not supposed to,” Wraith said.

“Huh.” Fleur stopped and looked at Wraith. “Why not?”

“Tactical advantage,” Ronan answered.

She frowned at Ronan. “I thought you were talking to the dude.”

“Just Dude,” Wraith replied.

“Okay.” She looked at Ronan. “Are you done?”

Ronan smiled. “For now. He’s doing some research.”

“On what?”

“On whom has access to satellite information on Tuesdays that would feed the militia the information on your convoys.”

Fleur frowned. Thinking about satellites wasn’t in her wheelhouse. She shrugged and suggested, “Maybe it’s only above us once a week?”

Wraith smiled, and Ronan chuckled. “Not the way it works. Depending on the orbit, satellites circle the Earth once every twelve hours.”

She frowned. “I didn’t know that. How will he find out which satellite was used?”

Ronan shrugged. “Something about narrowing down what satellite was in the area during the time frame of the convoys and then searching out who had access. From there, it’s a matter of communications to personnel in this area.”

Fleur let her jaw drop open. “What? He has access to that information?”

Wraith put down his papers, tapped his ear, and said, “On my way.”

“Who was he talking to?”

“Stryker,” Ronan said, sitting in the chair Wraith had vacated. “Our operators have access to information most don’t.”

“Why?” Fascinated, Fleur leaned over to look in Ronan’s ear. The tiniest earbud in all of creation was nestled inside. “That’s how you hear him?” Ronan nodded. “How do you talk to him? Where’s the mic?”

Ronan smiled. “Trade secret. If I told you, I’d have to?—”

“Kill me. I know, I know.”

“God, no. I’d have to get you to sign an NDA, and I’m fresh out of those.”

She blinked and then laughed at him. “You’re the most unexpected man.”

“Glad I can keep you amused.”

“You do,” she said and pointed at the papers. “Are we done with these? ”

“Not quite. Do you have duty schedules on who works the communications tent on Tuesdays?”

She felt the smile slip off her face. “I can get them from Miller.”

“Ask him for that and something else. I don’t want to tip our hand.”

Her gut dropped. “Why? Do you think he’s involved?”

“No.” Ronan shook his head. “But if you were asked for that information and you knew the person asking was working on the convoy issue, would you do some snooping of your own?”

Fleur nodded. “I would. So would Miller.” She sighed and tapped the top of the table with her pen. “I can ask for duty rosters from admin, communications, and kitchen areas.”

“Perfect. Since the beginning of the year, please.” Ronan pulled the reports toward him. “Now that we know which day to focus on, we can look for other similarities.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

Ronan nodded as she stood up. “I’ll be here.”

Fleur walked next door and called at the flap. “Miller, okay to enter?”

“Sure, come on in.” Miller had a fan on his desk, and the air moved comfortably around the small tent. “What can I do for you?”

“The Guardian people want the duty rosters for admin, communications, and the kitchen area since the beginning of the year.”

“There in the filing cabinet.” He pointed behind her. “Under duty rosters, but why would they want them?”

“I can honestly say they are leaving no stone unturned.” She blew out a breath of air. “Details, details, details.” Which was the truth.

Miller chuckled. “Well, at least they’re trying. I hope they find something soon. Maybe we can relocate most of these people before we have to bug out.”

“I hope so, too.” Fleur grabbed the files. “I’ll have these back to you as soon as they’re done.”

“Sounds good,” Miller said distractedly, working on whatever was before him.

Fleur exited his tent and went back into hers. “Here you go.” She put the file for the communications tent in front of Ronan.

“All right. We need to find out who works on Tuesdays.” Ronan grabbed half the stack and handed her the other half. He stopped and looked up at her. “Unless you have something else you need to do?”

She shook her head. “There are over a hundred staff members in camp. Only three of us work on convoys now.” There used to be six. Two other sections had lost two people each. She lowered her eyes to the rosters.

When Ronan tapped her foot with his boot, she lifted her gaze. His deep voice promised, “We’ll find out how this happened and who’s responsible.”

She smiled sadly. “It’s still raw. Does it ever get easier?”

“Eventually, the pain dulls. For me, the memories are just as sharp as the day it happened, but the emotions are … contained.”

She nodded and turned back to the rosters. When she received each notification, she knew exactly where she was and what she was doing. The pain, the agony of anger, guilt, and rage at the treachery—every emotion was sharp and vicious and drew psychological blood. Did she want the pain to ebb? Yes. Would it? She glanced at Ronan. She hoped it would.