Atonement (22 page)

That fact rattled Con. When had she and Doug been at it again? If these two kept butting heads, someone was going to get seriously hurt.

“Boys, I don't need you to hold my hand. I've dealt with worse than him.”

“Nic, for once, let me do this.”

She scowled at Con, then her features slowly smoothed out. “Everywhere you go, it never changes. Do whatever the hell you like, I'm outta here.” She got into the Jeep, drove around their parked vehicles, and tore off down the road.

“She's on a path to something. I don't know if it's good or bad,” Hunt said.

Dread tightened Con's stomach. He'd always gotten a sense that death hung around Nic like they were pals. Considering her job as a sniper before becoming a cop, it wasn't hard to equate the two. But did that mean death would have a final say in Nic's life before it was time?

The front door opening and closing made Nic pull her head out of the pantry on high alert, her hand going for her sidearm, which wasn't on her hip. Cassy entered the kitchen, fumbling with something in her shoulder bag. Nic breathed easier and removed her hand from her hip.

Cassy paused in her rummaging. “Do you have anything for a headache? I can't find my pills.”

Nic nodded at the bathroom. “In the medicine cabinet.”

Dropping her bag on the table, Cassy moved toward the bathroom. As she passed, Cassy took a misstep and staggered into Nic.

Catching her sister, Nic helped her upright. “That must be some headache.”

“You have no idea.” Cassy rubbed her forehead. “It hit me when I was driving back here. I think I'm having a migraine.”

“Driving back from where?”

“Here and there. I'm going to bed; maybe that will help.”

“Maybe,” Nic said softly as she watched her sister stumble into the bathroom. The lid rattling on her pot diverted her attention. She gave the soup she'd made a quick stir, then left the lid tilted to vent the steam.

Cassy shuffled past on her way to the spare bedroom, disappearing into the room.

Nic wadded up a dish towel and fidgeted with it while staring at the closed door. Cassy's vague answer on her whereabouts didn't sit well with Nic. When she'd been here earlier today, Cassy had given no indication that she had plans to leave. And where would she go? She didn't know the area. Had she met up with Agent Hunt for something?

Come to think of it, after Nic got out of the shower this morning and dressed for work, she heard a furious whispering match between Cassy and Agent Hunt. Nic had chalked it up to an argument over their disastrous relationship. Did they discover something together in the files and not bother to tell her or Con about it? If they had met, or Cassy had gone somewhere to check out things, maybe she had a clue in her pouch.

Abandoning the towel near the sink, Nic slipped over to the table and pulled out Cassy's billfold. There was thirty dollars in cash and a receipt for gas at one of the stations in Eider, nothing else. Nic placed the billfold back inside the bag. With her hands braced on the table, she leaned over it.

So, Cassy went into town, and that's all Nic's stellar investigative skills could come up with. Maybe the gas fumes gave Cassy her migraine. God knew there were just some things that couldn't be explained. Nic pushed away from the table and returned to the stove. Yet she couldn't shake this feeling that Cassy was up to something. Nic sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose to ward off the pain radiating from behind her eyes. Her stomach roiled. The scent of the soup intensified her nausea. Turning off the heat, she shoved the pot to the back of the stove and started for her bedroom, paused, and reversed direction, heading instead for the living room.

Flopping down on the sofa, she let her arm dangle over the edge, her fingers buried in the plush rug. She stroked and twisted the thick strands, a habit she'd picked up as a means to preoccupy her hands while waiting for the targets. The mindless fidgeting helped distract her from the atrocities she'd witnessed almost on a daily basis. That was before Aiden became more than her spotter and fellow sniper. Before her kill numbers spiked, and she was picked for more dangerous missions that required her to eliminate more deadly targets.

Nic felt herself drifting to those moments. She could smell the unique stench of those countries. Feel the heat brush her face, and taste the dust that coated everything.

Snatching her hand from the rug, she bolted upright and banged her fists into her forehead. “No-no-no-no-no,” she ground out through clenched teeth.

Her eyes snapped open, and she scanned the room. A distraction. She needed something to occupy her mind, keep it from dwelling on the past and what she'd done. Gathering her weighted limbs under her, she stood and trudged to the dining room.

The scattered files and reports glared back at her. Nic could go over them again, but there was nothing new to learn from them. Even with the information she'd gathered today. She turned away from the room.

Outside, daylight was fading as the day closed out. Her hoped-for solace was over with Cassy's return, despite her sister being shut away in her room. Nic needed to get out of here but didn't want to go to her normal haunts.

A rapid-fire knock on the door startled her into a defensive stance. Fear be damned. She went to the counter where she'd left her sidearm and stalked to the door with her weapon at the ready. A part of her brain screamed that it could be Agent Hunt or Con, but the PTSD-riddled side took control. Neither man would have knocked in a commanding summons like that.

Cold sweat coated her palms and beaded along her arms. She tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone dry and her throat felt like a wad of cotton had been lodged inside.

Another quick rap made her raise the gun higher and shift to the side. Her chest heaving, she reached for the knob, keeping her aim trained on the center mass. She knew. Every cell in her body knew. Reinforcing her spine with determination like rebar, she flung the door back.

He didn't flinch. Just stared at her with steel in his eyes.

Nic's tunnel vision eased enough for her to notice he'd aged some since she last saw him. He had grown a goatee but kept his hair trimmed in that famous high and tight. His uniform had been exchanged for smartly pressed slacks, an oxford shirt, and a black blazer, with spit-polished black loafers.

“Put the gun down, Nicolette.”

Her lip curled into a sneer. “Go screw yourself.”

“I've had enough of your theatrics. Holster that weapon, now.”

The order lit a raging fire in her head. She adjusted her grip, placing her trigger finger against the side of the guard. The General's eyes narrowed at her threat.

“Is that what you want? To kill me?”

A warm hand clasped her shoulder, breaking the red haze, but she kept her aim steady.

“Nic, put it down,” Cassy whispered in her ear.

Nic rolled her shoulders, trying to dislodge her sister's grip. “Let go of me, Cass.”

“Not until you lower your weapon.” Cassy inched around and set her free hand on top of the slide. Her grip curled around the top of the sidearm, blocking the shell ejector. “If you shoot him, you put us all in a dangerous position.”

With flaring nostrils, Nic glared at her sister. The weight of Cassy's hand on the gun made Nic's muscles quiver from the strain of keeping the gun level. Slowly, she lowered her arms. Once the barrel was pointed down, she heard Cassy flick the safety on. Her sister squeezed her shoulder, and against her better judgment, Nic released the gun into Cassy's hands.

The General's chin tilted a hair, yet he said nothing. His superior, disapproving air spoke volumes. Nic had broken the commandment “thou shalt not piss off thy father” and would now suffer his wrath.

“You self-righteous bastard. Get the hell off of my property.”

A tick in his jaw was the only indication her words had inflicted their damage. She wanted so badly to wrap her hands around his neck and choke the life right out of him. Serve him the same dish of poison he'd spoon-fed her through the many years of being under his thumb.

Here before him stood his final product. A daughter so riddled with bitterness and contempt for him, she'd love nothing more than to see him dead.

Cassy's fingers kneaded into her shoulder. Nic jerked free of her grip and moved toward The General. He didn't take a step back, just rooted himself and stared down at her with that superior attitude that made her want to cold-cock him.

“Either you remove your carcass from my presence, or I do it for you.”

“Nic,” Cassy hissed.

The General raised a hand to stop Cassy. His gesture was short-lived as he was shoved aside and someone came between them.

“Lay a hand on her, and I'll sic my dog on you, boy.”

A vicious rumbling jolted Nic out of her shock at Con's intervention. She peeked around his shoulder and spotted the German Shepherd he'd adopted. Her rage-fueled brain registered the memory that Cadno was a retired MWD and would attack on a single command from Con.

“Con, don't. Just get Nic out of here,” Cassy said from behind her.

With a parting comment that Nic couldn't understand, Con hooked an arm around her waist and jerked her along with him. His abrupt movements only produced a weak yelp from her. She tried to break free of his hold and go back at The General, but Con slung her up and over his shoulder and hauled her to his truck. A piercing whistle made Cadno spin and speed toward them.

Nic's last glimpse of The General was of Cassy ushering him into the house before the door shut.

“Damn it all to hell, Cassy! Get that fucking bastard out of my house!” She screamed until Con threw her into the truck's passenger side. Cadno jumped onto her lap and pinned her to the seat.

Nic struggled under the heavy beast. “Get off of me, you lard butt.”

Apparently Cadno liked the endearment, because he started slathering her with kisses.

“Ugh!”

The truck roared to a start, and Con put it into gear. “Good boy, Cadno.”

“What the hell are you doing?”

“What your sister asked.” Con took the truck over the bridge too fast, and the boards rattled under the tires. “That was your da'?”

“That man is no father of mine. He's a sperm donor.”

Con sighed and beckoned for Cadno to move to the back seat.

Nic groaned as a claw found a tender spot on her leg. She pushed the dog's butt up and over the console, then inspected her leg. “What do you feed him?”

“The same strict diet his handlers did.” Con turned onto the pavement, pointing the truck in the direction of his place. “I think you need to distance yourself from your da' for a bit.”

“What the … That's what I was doing living here. And now that's been eradicated because Cassy led him straight to me.”

“I don't think your sister had a hand in that.”

“Hello! The man is a former brigadier general with connections coming out of his ass. For all she knows he had her phone pinged, or better yet, he put a damn tracking device inside her. She's his favorite—like hell he's going to lose her.”

“And that right there is the reason why we're going for a drive.”

A wet nose in her ear distracted her from the retort she wanted to lay on Con. She scowled at Cadno, contemplating shoving his face out of hers. In the green glow of the truck's interior lights, she noticed a kindred spirit in the dog's eyes. Another veteran with deep wounds, mental wounds. Lifting a trembling hand, she stroked Cadno's muzzle. He butted her hand, then licked her palm.

Nic swallowed a sob and leaned her forehead against the side of his head. Cadno made a noise low in his throat and nuzzled her.

She caught the surreptitious glances from Con. She didn't want his sympathy or his desire to care for her. Burying her face in Cadno's neck, she ignored Con and breathed in the scent of dog and cedarwood.

After a while, she felt the bumps of the tires rolling over rough ground. She lifted her head from Cadno's neck and blinked at the sight on the other side of the headlights. Con had taken them to a remote place. The truck shifted into a lower gear as it began to climb a hill. When the headlight broke over the top, she realized where he'd taken her.

The bluff overlooking Eider and the river.

Stopping the truck and putting on the parking brake, Con turned in his seat to look at her. Avoiding his intense stare, Nic focused on the windshield and the darkened landscape beyond. The truck's cab suddenly felt stifling, and the weight of Con's scrutiny was too much. Moving quickly, she vacated the truck, with Cadno hot on her heels; in his zeal to get out he nearly knocked her over. Free of Con for the moment, Nic moved to the front of the truck and gazed at the view.

Lights twinkled from the homes and businesses still open. And beyond town limits, on the other side of the river bluff, she spotted the fires dotting the open field where the vendors and visitors for the Fall Festival had set up camps. Her breath caught in her throat at the beauty of it.

Joining her, Con pressed his warm arm against hers. Nic wanted to shift away, but a chill had settled in the air, so she welcomed his warmth.

“I love coming up here this time of the year.” He pointed up. “And seeing that.”

How many nights had she lain awake in the field staring at the stars and never appreciating their beauty? But tonight, here in a small farming community in Iowa, it looked better than anything Iraq or Afghanistan could offer.

“I've lived here three years, and not once have I looked at the stars. It's so open.”

“Up above the town lights you get a better view. I like to come up here and think sometimes.”

Nic lowered her head and watched Cadno, who was sniffing out the trail of something.

“Why do you have so much hatred for him?”

“That's an answer you don't want to hear.”