A Soldier's Quest Read online

  “Never occurred to me that on the farm, animals are for work.”

  “Or food,” he added.

  She winced.

  “You aren’t a vegetarian, are you?”

  He said the word as some people might say republican—or democrat.

  “No, but I prefer not to meet my food, not to acknowledge it might once have been furry and cute. I like my sustenance packaged in plastic with a lovely price sticker on the front.”

  He shook his head. “Then why are you here?”

  “Because I can make a difference.”

  He stared at her for a long, charged moment, then nodded. “Me, too.”

  BOBBY WATCHED REALIZATION spread across Dr. Harker’s face. They both wanted to save the world—just in different ways.

  He also saw the exact moment she rejected his way and stiffened. “Killing people can make a difference?”

  “If they’re the right people.”

  She made a disgusted sound deep in her throat and began to rummage in her backpack again.

  “I do more than kill.”

  She glanced at him. “Like what?”

  Lie. Cheat. Steal. Infiltrate. Search. Destroy.

  He doubted Jane would approve of his usual activities.

  “Anything else in there?” Bobby flicked a finger at the backpack.

  She stared at him for another second, green-brown eyes glinting in the fading, tropical light. Night approached. Soon they’d have nothing but each other—and the dog.

  “Animal cookies,” Jane announced.

  “Is that some euphemism for bullsh—”

  “Hey!” She shook two yellow cartons with caged giraffes, zebras and elephants imprinted on their sides. “They’re actually animal cookies. Gutter brain.”

  Bobby smiled. Dr. Harker was a lot like his sister, and he liked his sister. Hell, he liked Jane. Which was damned odd.

  She was everything that usually annoyed him. A do-gooder who got herself into impossible situations. A bleeding heart who sneered at military necessity. Of course they were always the first ones whining for help in a crisis. Just look at her mother.

  Jane tossed one of the cardboard boxes into his lap. He stared at the bright colors. “My niece loves these,” he murmured.

  “You’re close?”

  “Never met her.”

  “Does she live in Botswana?”

  “Then I’d have seen her. She lives in Illinois, near my parents.”

  “When was the last time you were home?”

  “Not sure. Before my niece Zsa-Zsa arrived, anyway. Probably longer.”

  He’d been offered leaves. He’d taken another mission instead.

  “I’ll go home as soon as you’re safe,” Bobby said.

  “Promise?”

  He lifted his gaze to hers. “You’ll be safe. I promise.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Not that. Promise you’ll go home.”

  “I guess.”

  “What’s so bad about home?”

  “Nothing.”

  Right before he’d met her he’d even been pining for the place.

  “It’s just—”

  How could he explain that the farm that meant so much to his parents, his brother, meant nothing to him? Every time he went there he couldn’t wait to leave. He didn’t like planting; he couldn’t stand cows. He loved his family but—

  “The farm isn’t for you,” she finished.

  “Yeah.”

  “My mother’s life isn’t for me. Meetings, parties, power. She doesn’t understand how I can prefer a hut to a penthouse.”

  “I have to agree with her there.”

  “You’d like to live in a penthouse?”

  “Only if it was a good way to infiltrate a terrorist organization.”

  She shook her head. “Why do you see a terrorist around every corner?”

  “Because there is.”

  “Paranoid,” she muttered.

  “Not in my world.”

  In his world there was a terrorist on every corner. Or at least behind every seemingly innocent face.

  He’d seen children blow up checkpoints in a land that was supposed to be promised. Locked up women who smuggled weapons and firearms beneath their dresses, pretending to be pregnant when they were merely insane. He’d met men who held out one hand in friendship, while hiding a grenade in the other.

  “I don’t like your world,” she said.

  “I’m not wild about it myself.”

  “Why don’t you quit?”

  His mother asked the same thing every time he spoke with her, and he gave Jane the same answer.

  “If I don’t try to save the world, who will?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  JANE LAY WITH HER HEAD pillowed on her backpack, staring at the stars. He wanted to save the world.

  She found that more attractive than deep blue eyes and great, big biceps.

  His was a foolish wish but an admirable one. A goal Jane could get behind since she had the same delusion herself. Interesting that their wants were the same, yet their methods were completely different. Of course there was a whole lot of world to be saved.

  Staring at the sky brought that truth home. Under the vastness of a midnight universe, her life seemed very small.

  The men who were trying to kill her must have the same thought. She shivered, even though the night was warm.

  Lucky pressed against her leg, heated body covered with scratchy dried mud, both comfort and discomfort in one package. Jane put her hand on the dog’s head and shifted so she could see Bobby.

  He sat with his back against the dirt face of the cliff, rifle across his knees. He’d said he would keep watch until sunrise. She had no doubt that he would.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever stayed awake all night,” she murmured.

  His eyes, which had been scanning the trees, the valley, the sky, flicked to hers. “What about a giggling-girl party?”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “Where did you live, under a rock?”

  “Boarding school. Close enough.”

  “I’d think you would have been up giggling every night in that case.”

  “You’ve never been to an all-girl boarding school, have you?”

  “No.” He gave an exaggerated sigh of disappointment, which made her laugh.

  “I was too tall and too…robust to be popular. Too much of an egghead to be witty.”

  “That doesn’t sound like much fun.”

  Jane didn’t want to remember her past; she wanted to hear about his. What kind of a family produced soldier boys?

  “You have a brother and a sister?”

  “I have four brothers and a sister.” At her incredulous expression, he continued. “Farm family—need a lotta hands. We were all born a year or so a part.”

  “And your mother’s not psychotic?”

  “Depends on which day you talk to her.”

  Jane tilted her head, but he was grinning. “Mom was tough. Couldn’t get much past that woman. Considering we grew up without turning into serial killers or bums, she did all right.”

  “What did you become?”

  “My oldest brother was almost a priest.”

  Jane had never known anyone who’d almost been a priest. Technically, she still didn’t.

  “Aaron’s a…well, professional do-gooder, for want of a better term. He and his wife run a home for runaways in Las Vegas.”

  Sounded like something the senator would be interested in funding. If she could get enough publicity out of it.

  “My sister, Kim, is studying to be a lawyer, which is pretty amazing since she has a two-year-old. Her husband’s a farmer, same as my brother, Dean.”

  “Is Dean the one who’s left-handed?”

  “Yeah. He took over the farm from my father a few years back, though not without a struggle. Dad wasn’t ready to give it up. Until he had a heart attack. He and my mom live in the big house, and Dean shares the thresher’s cottage with his son.” />
  “And Dean’s wife?”

  “No wife. Just Tim.”

  “How did he manage that?”

  “Tim was abandoned in Las Vegas. My niece brought him home.”

  “Like a puppy?”

  “She does that. So did her dad.”

  “Pretty precocious for a two-year-old.”

  “Not Zsa-Zsa. Rayne.”

  Jane’s head spun with all the names. “How many nieces do you have?”

  “Zsa-Zsa—her real name is Glory—is Kim’s daughter. Rayne is Aaron’s and she’s fourteen, and then there’s Aaron’s latest, Faith. She’s…new.”

  “You don’t know how old?”

  “I was out of the country at the time. I’m just glad I remembered her name.”

  “What about nephews?”

  “One.” He frowned. “Two.”

  “The family’s expanding so rapidly you can’t keep track?”

  “Pretty much. My youngest brother, Evan, just got married. He and his wife own a bed-and-breakfast in Arkansas.”

  Jane counted on her fingers. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. “You’re missing one.”

  “What?”

  “One brother. Aaron. Dean. Evan. That leaves you and…?”

  “Colin.”

  The way he said the name, then stared at the sky again, disturbed Jane. She could think of a lot of bad things that could have happened to Colin. The curse of being a doctor.

  “Is he all right?” she asked, when Bobby continued to stare at the sky and scowl.

  “Better off than me,” Bobby muttered. “Get some sleep, Jane. Tomorrow could be rougher than today.”

  She opened her mouth to ask more, then thought better of it. Bobby had answered every question, except the last, with nothing but honesty. His reluctance to discuss one brother should be respected.

  So why did it only make her more curious?

  NIGHTS TOOK FOREVER to pass when you were all alone and wide awake. Thankfully Jane had drifted off after only forty-five minutes of shifting, mumbling and cursing. Sleeping on the hard ground wasn’t for civilians. However, Bobby could sleep anywhere—or not sleep at all as the occasion warranted.

  Field sleep had been part of his training for Delta Force. When on a mission with his twelve-man team, someone was always on guard. So Bobby learned to fall asleep quickly before it was his turn to take the watch.

  But when he was on a singleton, he slipped into field sleep, where his mind rested but was also alert for the slightest noise or movement. In that case he became instantly and completely aware.

  He’d been educated in other tactics, such as slowing his heart rate to fire a sniper rifle between beats. When doing such intricate shooting, the mere thump of the heart could throw a bullet off by several feet at long range.

  In cold weather, or icy countries, Bobby possessed the ability to warm a trigger finger, or nearly frostbitten toes, by directing the flow of blood to the extremities through consciousness of mind.

  SERE training had taught him how to stay awake for days—one of the first things an enemy did to a captive was to deprive him of sleep—without feeling the strain. This mind-over-matter method also allowed Bobby to watch a building or a subject for long periods without losing his concentration. Delta operators called this the drone zone, where the body became impervious to aches, pains and exhaustion.

  Lucky gave a low woof and stared at the trees. An instant later an iguana slowly poked its head into the moonlight.

  Concerned the dog would chase the reptile and Jane would chase the dog and then they’d have chaos, Bobby said, “Stay,” low and stern.

  Lucky tilted her head, then laid it over Jane’s back, her single eye focused unwaveringly on Bobby.

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t trust me, either.”

  If the dog knew his secret thoughts, she’d probably go for Bobby’s throat. Ever since Jane had ripped her shirt and bared her belly, he’d been having short, lustful fantasies, which disturbed him a lot. Shouldn’t he be thinking about Marlie?

  Three months ago he would have taken this alone time to stare at her picture and imagine her face when he knocked on her door at last. However, the thoughts that used to keep him company in the field no longer held any appeal. Thinking of his brother’s wife with too much fondness skirted too close to lines he would never cross, even if Colin had.

  In truth, he should be glad he was attracted to someone else. Didn’t that prove he was moving on?

  He sighed. It would if he could stop feeling so guilty about it.

  Bobby and the dog kept vigil as the moon crossed the sky. Lucky didn’t sleep any more than Bobby did. Every time a reptile skittered too close, or a mosquito buzzed too loudly, Lucky grumbled. Nothing was going to sneak up on them while she was on the job.

  Dawn was still a hint on the horizon when Bobby relaxed into field sleep. He hadn’t been there for ten minutes when he felt something out of place. Slowly he opened his eyes, scanned the forest. Had he been dreaming?

  Not likely. Bobby didn’t do much dreaming. Probably a result of his odd sleeping habits.

  What would be the point, anyway? He’d only get interrupted when the dreaming got good.

  So if something had disturbed him, why hadn’t Lucky barked? Bobby shifted his gaze and nearly swallowed his tongue.

  Both the dog and the woman were gone.

  JANE CAME AWAKE IN the darkest part of the night—after the moon had disappeared and before the sun rose—with an impossible urge to pee. Didn’t that just figure?

  She glanced at Bobby, who appeared to be sleeping. Although, she could swear she saw a sliver of white—as if his eyes were still half open—and that just creeped her out.

  Should she wake him up and ask for a hall pass to the jungle bidet? The idea was mortifying. She hadn’t needed permission since she’d left high school.

  Jane sat up. Lucky began to prance.

  “Gotta go, too? That’s convenient.”

  Bobby didn’t move as they headed for the trees. She still had the distinct sensation he was watching her, so when he didn’t call out for her to halt, Jane slipped into the foliage with Lucky.

  After completing their business, Lucky trotted toward the water and Jane followed. As long as she was here, she might as well wash her face, rinse her teeth. She had a feeling Luchetti wasn’t going to allow much time for grooming.

  Jane reached the small indentations filled with water to find Lucky already body-deep in mud. “You are not going to be welcomed on that airplane.”

  Or in Washington, for that matter. Good thing Jane didn’t plan on staying.

  She knelt next to the largest puddle. “I’ll just find out when my mother lost her mind and be on my way.”

  Bobby would be on his way, too. Probably today. The thought made Jane melancholy.

  Annoyed that she could become attached to someone so quickly—how pathetic was that?—Jane scooped lukewarm water into her palms and splashed her face. The soft shuffle of a boot made her open her eyes.

  “Bobby?” she said, just as Lucky erupted into her drug-dealer snarl.

  “JANE!”

  Bobby wasn’t proud. He’d shout down the forest if she’d only answer.

  That she didn’t had him very worried. She couldn’t have gone far. Only to the water, or the nearest open-air latrine. Maybe she was embarrassed to answer while she was otherwise engaged.

  “Lucky!”

  He doubted the dog would have the same problem.

  The only reason Jane and Lucky had gotten away was because he’d tuned his ear to the animal’s nervous mumbles. When there hadn’t been one, he hadn’t awoken.

  “Stupid!” he muttered. “Trust yourself. Nothing and one else.”

  Since the dog had better ears and a nastier disposition, Bobby had to conclude that no one had entered their camp and spirited them away. Jane and Lucky had left of their own free will, which meant they had to be around here somewhere.

  So why wouldn’t they answer?


  The ground on their plateau was hard and dry. Not a footstep to be followed. But when he neared the water, he discovered both a foot and a pawprint.

  “Jane! Lucky!” His voice sounded angry and scared—which was exactly how he felt.

  If she was messing with him—something he’d expect of his brothers but not of a do-gooder physician—he’d, he’d…

  Well, he couldn’t kick her ass, but he’d think of something.

  However, if she wasn’t messing with him—and the more time that passed the less likely that seemed—they were both in deep trouble.

  Terrified he’d find Jane’s body, or worse, Bobby rushed to the watering hole and found more pawprints, as well as more footprints. A lot bigger ones than Jane’s.

  Unfortunately, once they reached the jungle, the tracks disappeared. The ground was too dry for an imprint.

  So Bobby followed procedure, trekking in steadily larger sweeps, around the water, deeper and deeper into the trees, but he found nothing.

  Which was as impossible as it was annoying. He stopped and glanced at a sky filled with pink, orange and red streaks of light.

  It was as if Jane and Lucky had been plucked out of the jungle.

  Disgusted with himself, Bobby almost missed the only clue he had. A small broken branch and half of a bootprint dug into the softer, wetter ground beneath a fern. He was headed in the right direction.

  Since he hadn’t found any blood or bodies, whoever had snatched Jane and Lucky didn’t want them dead. Yet. Which was confusing as hell.

  Yesterday they hadn’t been so picky.

  So were these the same guys with different orders? Or different guys? The only thing that really mattered was who was giving those orders.

  They’d gotten a decent head start on him. Nevertheless, he’d catch up. Eventually.

  What he couldn’t figure out was why they’d left him alive. Not that they’d have been able to kill him—he hadn’t been that out of it. Still, they had to know he’d follow, and that he’d be pissed.

  Bobby stopped dead in the middle of the jungle. Was that what they were after? Could the nefarious kidnappers be trying to get their hands on him and not Jane, after all?