Fayetteville, North Carolina
1000 hours
Roger paced and the nurses running up and down the hospital hallway gave him a wide berth. He not only felt like hell, but he was pretty sure he looked it too. Beck hadn't answered his phone despite the numerous calls Roger had made over the last few hours, and Roger had reached the point where he was going to have to let the brass and his cousin Paul, the President, know. They had to be made aware of Beck's state of mind. That Roger had yet to inform them of Beck's instability was unforgivable, but Roger had found himself between a rock and a hard spot. He had the responsibility of taking care of his men. That meant cutting Beck some slack when dealing with shit that Roger himself was struggling to handle.
If he took the human element out of being a commander then his men would lose heart for the team. Courage, loyalty, perseverance, everything that made a soldier stand true in the most hellish of battles came from the heart. He was keeper of their hearts and he'd failed miserably since Lebanon. His only hope was that they'd get through this. That his men would heal and they'd once again regain their solidarity for the team. Restoring the same respect that he'd had before wouldn't happen but he didn't necessarily deserve it now.
His phone vibrated and he read the text. It was from Beck. Gag order still in place. No guarantees though. In DC for the day.
The man's destination had Roger biting another bullet. Since DT was in Georgia that left only Pecos for Beck to visit at Walter Reed. Pecos who had been blinded in the explosion. One minute in the company of his wounded men and Roger himself was screaming inside to be honest with them. Just exactly what shape was Beck going to be in when he got back?
But as Beck was on leave there wasn't a damn thing Roger could do to stop him.
Which meant he had no more excuses to avoid Mari.
His cell rang and Officer Cain's number showed on the screen. Hopefully there was good news. As in the madman after Mari was dead.
"Weston here."
"Lt. Col., I think we may be on to something. Unfortunately, it's bad news."
"What do you mean?"
"We ran the name Dugar through the system along with Mari's description of the man and if we're right then the situation is serious. Ever hear of Frank Dugar?"
"It's not ringing a bell."
"Extremist. Part of the Washington Viper Militia the FBI took down two years ago."
"The group behind the Vigilante Bombings?" The knot in Roger's gut was practically suffocating. The Viper Militia had set themselves up as America's judge. They were suspected of bombing abortion clinics, burning migrant camps and health departments for aiding and abetting illegal aliens, and assassinating several local judges and city officials for crimes against America when court cases or legislature didn't line up with their philosophy. The FBI had raided their camp. Most of the militia had died when a cache of explosives had detonated during the gunfight. Several of the extremists, though, had escaped over the border into Canada and had disappeared.
"That's right. Before hooking up with the Viper Militia, Dugar spent most of his life either in jail or in mental institutions. His last conviction was for aggravated assault. Nearly beat a man to death over a traffic dispute, but the judge went light on the sentencing because the other man pulled a gun on Dugar first. Sucker missed the shot and Dugar didn't give him another chance. Stay alert and let me know if you see anything suspicious."
"Will do." Roger disconnected then looked up to see Dr. Stewart exit Mari's room and it startled him. He must have been so absorbed in the conversation that he'd missed the doc going in. It could very well have been Dugar.
Kicking his own ass, Roger greeted the woman then asked about Mari. "So what's the prognosis?"
"Good. The cramping is gone. Her blood levels are okay. The baby is fine as far as any tests can determine this early in her pregnancy. She can go home, but I am going to preface that by saying she absolutely must get into a prenatal care program and she must start eating properly. She's going to need some help functioning with both her hands bandaged and the cuts on her knees are going to make walking painful, but she needs to get up and walk about the house every few hours until she is ready to venture out."
"I'll see that she does all of the above, Doc."
"Good. Here's my card. She needs to set up an appointment in about a week for her stitches to come out. The nurse will give both of you Mari's home care instructions before you go." The doctor glanced at Mari's closed door and lowered her voice. "Two other things, she refuses to take anything for pain, afraid that it will harm the baby. I'm sending a prescription home with her, but if she won't take that perhaps she'll take Tylenol. Also, I think it would be good for her to see a counselor, one who deals with victims of violent crime. Mari may not have been seriously hurt in the attack, but emotionally she is very traumatized."
"I'd already thought of getting her into counseling. She's been through-a lot." Roger then clamped his mouth shut. Mari had been through a lot and he was the man responsible for it. Thanking the doctor again, Roger stepped into the room and braced himself for the impact Mari had on everything about him. Emotionally and physically the sight of her delivered a one-two punch that had him reeling in his boots.
It didn't make a damn bit of sense and had to be a mixture of his guilt and his long-starved libido. There wasn't a thing about her that didn't prey on his mind. He hadn't seen her gloriously long hair since the grocery mart's bathroom yesterday, but he could remember every nuance of the blue-black curtain. Her golden eyes were rich and perfectly framed by thick lashes. She'd been given a traditional Muslim headscarf and gown this morning and she hadn't wasted a second before putting them on. The hospital employees had asked around after her admission last night, and had located the clothes for her to wear. He supposed he should have done that for her, but then, burying her beauty under a mound of clothing hadn't been uppermost in his mind. Keeping her safe from being buried six feet under had.
An hour later Mari was discharged from the hospital and he'd driven his car to the front pick-up area for her. The nurse brought her out in a wheelchair. There were other patients loading to go home and he winced as he saw the numerous bouquets of flowers accompanying them. Something else he'd neglected to do. Exiting the SUV, he left it running and moved around the car to help Mari.
"It's a beautiful day." She gave him a tight smile. One that didn't hide her painful grimace as she moved her legs to stand and used her elbows to try and push herself upright. He gritted his teeth for half a second and then couldn't take it anymore.
"Too pretty a day to hurt. Let me help and we can work on the moving around bit a little later." He scooped her quickly off her feet and into his arms. The nurse moved to open his car door and all hell broke out. The wheelchair Mari had been in seconds ago flipped over backwards as a high caliber bullet plowed through its vinyl back and shattered the plate glass window fronting the hospital behind them.
"Get down!" Roger yelled, crouching low, using his SUV for cover as he scanned the direction he thought the shooter might be. A nearby security guard drew his weapon and started shouting and pushing people down for cover. One lady ran screaming by him and Roger knocked her down to the ground behind a cement pillar. She lay there crying, but at least she was alive.
Another bullet ricocheted off the cement sidewalk less than a foot from where he held Mari. Roger had no choice but to get the hell out of there. Everyone else would be safer too. He had no doubt that Dugar, the crazy SOB after Mari, was on the other end of that rifle. The adrenaline, rage and fear pumping though him was unlike anything he'd ever known. He felt as if he would explode from the nuclear mix. Especially when he saw Mari's pale face. She looked as if death had already claimed her and she was prepared to leave this world behind.
Over his dead body and damned soul! Neither of which were going to happen, so that meant nothing was getting to her EVER.
Lunging forward, he placed her on the floorboard then dove over the top of her for the driver's seat. The car's engine was already running, so all he had to do was shove the car into drive and steer. He did that and managed to stomp on the gas pedal. Within seconds, he sailed down the pick-up lane. The driver's side back window exploded before he could turn the corner and Mari cried out as she huddled on the floor. He'd expected her to cry out for help, but she wasn't. She kept asking for forgiveness.
He filed the fact and drove like a bat out of hell.