Read Online Operation Zulu Redemption: Hazardous Duty - Part 3 by Ronie Kendig - Free Book Online
Authors: Ronie Kendig
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and Trace climbed into the front seats.
Trace looked over his shoulder at her. “We’ll have a doctor at the hotel waiting.”
She nodded. Had all but forgotten about her ankle.
But her mouth was dry. Her body exhausted. Sam’s strong hands wrapped around hers. Her heart. . .jammed. She wanted to snatch her hands free.
What’s going on with me? What’s with the anger?
The animosity churning in her chest stunned her. Sharing the passionate kiss with Sam on the deck in Manson felt like a lifetime ago. Why? Didn’t she want him? Want the hope of the life they’d taken the tentative steps toward starting?
One question gaped at her more than any other.
Why am I not happy to see Sam?
Trace
Athens, Greece
2 June – 1020 Hours EEST
With Annie huddled between him and Sam again, Trace hustled her into the hotel room. A million alarms blazed when he registered a man and two children sitting at the small dining table in the far corner of the room. He nearly dropped Annie.
“Uh,” Houston punched to his feet and pointed to another man. “Dr. Foster is here.”
“Got it,” Boone said, nodding Trace toward the others with a
take care of it
look as he slipped in and aided Sam in delivering Annie to the bedroom.
A short, stout man with dark hair and a medical bag rushed after them.
Trace closed the door and locked it, then turned to face the others. He rested his hand on his Glock.
The side door opened and Téya emerged with a middle-aged woman with wet brown hair. She wore clothes that didn’t quite fit her short frame.
Téya’s eyes widened. “Commander.” She waved the woman to the table, then went and passed the woman a bowl from a room service dining cart.
“Anyone want to fill me in?” he asked as he watched the woman cast nervous glances at the man.
“Commander,” Téya said in a voice that was entirely too calm. “This is Carl Loring and his wife, Sharlene.”
Stunned, he stared at the couple. The children. So, Zulu had accomplished their objective. “What took so long to find them?”
Nuala rose from a chair where she’d sat undetected until now. “The slums—it’s like its own small city. It’s a”—Noodle’s gaze darted to Téya’s—“miracle, really, that we found them at all.”
“We were hiding,” Carl Loring said. “And when you don’t want to be found in a place like that, it’s possible to stay hidden for. . .” He shrugged. “Probably forever.”
Something smelled rotten. Trace stared at Téya. Then Nuala. They wouldn’t look at him. Or at each other.
“I can help you,” Loring said. “I was the financial officer for HOMe for the last eight years.”
“So why are you living in the slums?” Trace folded his arms.
“
Hiding
in the slums,” Loring corrected, then glanced at his wife. “We aren’t sure what changed, but about two months ago, a man came to our door. He said some things were going to come to light, but if I’d help him, he’d make sure my family and I were safe.”
“What things?”
“Financial statements. Black market transactions between HOMe and various organizations.”
Trace scowled and searched their faces. “You have this proof?”
“N–no,” Loring muttered, looking to his wife. “I was in the process of uncovering the information when everything went crazy.”
“Someone burned down our home,” Mrs. Loring said, her eyes glossy.
“He got us into the slum and told us to stay there. Then he came to me early this morning and said you would help.”
“Who are you talking about?” Trace asked. “Who told you we’d help?”
“Not you, he said
she
would.” Mr. Loring pointed to Téya. “Miss Reiker.”
Trace unfolded his arms and pulled straight. “Who gave you her name?”
“The man,” he said, flicking a finger in the air around his cheekbone. “He said you saved his life, so he owed you.”
Téya darted her gaze around nervously, swallowing.
“Who?” Trace demanded.
Wetting her lips, Téya drew up
Trace looked over his shoulder at her. “We’ll have a doctor at the hotel waiting.”
She nodded. Had all but forgotten about her ankle.
But her mouth was dry. Her body exhausted. Sam’s strong hands wrapped around hers. Her heart. . .jammed. She wanted to snatch her hands free.
What’s going on with me? What’s with the anger?
The animosity churning in her chest stunned her. Sharing the passionate kiss with Sam on the deck in Manson felt like a lifetime ago. Why? Didn’t she want him? Want the hope of the life they’d taken the tentative steps toward starting?
One question gaped at her more than any other.
Why am I not happy to see Sam?
Trace
Athens, Greece
2 June – 1020 Hours EEST
With Annie huddled between him and Sam again, Trace hustled her into the hotel room. A million alarms blazed when he registered a man and two children sitting at the small dining table in the far corner of the room. He nearly dropped Annie.
“Uh,” Houston punched to his feet and pointed to another man. “Dr. Foster is here.”
“Got it,” Boone said, nodding Trace toward the others with a
take care of it
look as he slipped in and aided Sam in delivering Annie to the bedroom.
A short, stout man with dark hair and a medical bag rushed after them.
Trace closed the door and locked it, then turned to face the others. He rested his hand on his Glock.
The side door opened and Téya emerged with a middle-aged woman with wet brown hair. She wore clothes that didn’t quite fit her short frame.
Téya’s eyes widened. “Commander.” She waved the woman to the table, then went and passed the woman a bowl from a room service dining cart.
“Anyone want to fill me in?” he asked as he watched the woman cast nervous glances at the man.
“Commander,” Téya said in a voice that was entirely too calm. “This is Carl Loring and his wife, Sharlene.”
Stunned, he stared at the couple. The children. So, Zulu had accomplished their objective. “What took so long to find them?”
Nuala rose from a chair where she’d sat undetected until now. “The slums—it’s like its own small city. It’s a”—Noodle’s gaze darted to Téya’s—“miracle, really, that we found them at all.”
“We were hiding,” Carl Loring said. “And when you don’t want to be found in a place like that, it’s possible to stay hidden for. . .” He shrugged. “Probably forever.”
Something smelled rotten. Trace stared at Téya. Then Nuala. They wouldn’t look at him. Or at each other.
“I can help you,” Loring said. “I was the financial officer for HOMe for the last eight years.”
“So why are you living in the slums?” Trace folded his arms.
“
Hiding
in the slums,” Loring corrected, then glanced at his wife. “We aren’t sure what changed, but about two months ago, a man came to our door. He said some things were going to come to light, but if I’d help him, he’d make sure my family and I were safe.”
“What things?”
“Financial statements. Black market transactions between HOMe and various organizations.”
Trace scowled and searched their faces. “You have this proof?”
“N–no,” Loring muttered, looking to his wife. “I was in the process of uncovering the information when everything went crazy.”
“Someone burned down our home,” Mrs. Loring said, her eyes glossy.
“He got us into the slum and told us to stay there. Then he came to me early this morning and said you would help.”
“Who are you talking about?” Trace asked. “Who told you we’d help?”
“Not you, he said
she
would.” Mr. Loring pointed to Téya. “Miss Reiker.”
Trace unfolded his arms and pulled straight. “Who gave you her name?”
“The man,” he said, flicking a finger in the air around his cheekbone. “He said you saved his life, so he owed you.”
Téya darted her gaze around nervously, swallowing.
“Who?” Trace demanded.
Wetting her lips, Téya drew up
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