Sudden Death

“So were you.”

Price shook his head. “Not me.”

“A guy in Sacramento was killed wearing your dog tags.”

Price continued shaking his head. “Don’t know anything about that. I tossed them five years ago. The day I walked out on the army.”

“Where?” Megan interjected.

“Excuse me?”

“Where did you toss them? In the garbage? Gave them to a friend?”

“Why?”

“My victim had them around his neck.”

Price shrugged. He glanced left and right as if waiting for someone to jump him. “Don’t know, don’t care.”

Jack said, “He could go after Padre next. It’s connected to one of your missions. I think it’s related to the one with the reporter. Your team disbanded after that.”

“Don’t fucking bring up that little prick.” Price slammed the empty bottle down on the bar. Without asking, the bartender brought another.

“We have to catch this guy. Padre gave me the players, and the only people still alive who were on that mission are you, Padre, and Jerry Jefferson. Jefferson is still overseas.”

“And Rosemont,” Megan added. “We’re looking for him right now.” Hans said he’d put in a call after getting the list of operations from Padre, but Megan hadn’t been briefed.

“I hope he’s dead.” Price snarled.

Megan didn’t like George Price. “How did you feel about the rest of your team?”

He leaned forward almost imperceptibly. Jack tensed beside her, but Megan held her own. She wasn’t going to have either of these men bully her, lie to her, or manipulate her. She had too much riding on this case. Justice for the dead, for one. But more important, stopping the killers from claiming another victim.

Price’s voice was low. “Let me make it perfectly clear, Miz Elliott, Barry Rosemont was never part of my team. He was our fucking albatross. He killed Thornton as certainly as if he’d pulled the trigger himself.”

Jack said, “Padre said it was a trap.”

“You can call it a trap. I call it a setup. They were waiting for us. Because Rosemont couldn’t follow orders. He wandered off, was seen by one of their spies, who reported it. By the time we realized we were being followed, our target was long gone and we were surrounded. Thing is, Rosemont knew he’d been seen. He didn’t tell us because his assignment was to write about a Special Ops mission from planning through execution.”

Price was so tense Megan thought if she touched him he’d blow. She stayed silent; this was Jack’s world.

“I was in Somalia,” Jack said quietly. “The media really fucked us over there.”

“I don’t blame the assholes in the media as much as the damn politicians thinking that every battle should be broadcast live so the world can watch. And the military leaders who went along with them. Public relations. Fuck that. War ain’t pretty, never was, never will be.”

“Who had the bright idea to send a reporter on a covert mission?” Jack asked.

“Hackett.” Price practically spat his name. When Jack didn’t say anything, Price added, “He’s retired. He should be dead, too.” Price stared straight ahead. “Joe Thornton had two boys. Little kids. He had four more months and then he was out. Was going to be a cop, was already accepted to the police academy.”

The pain in Price’s voice hit Megan hard. Her dad had come home melancholy at times, looking a lot like Price did now: hard, defeated, hopeless. But Dad had always come back to himself, had always been a solid, noble role model. Price was no role model, but Megan didn’t think he was a cold-blooded killer either. Nor was he a torturer. If Price killed anyone, it would be the person he held responsible for the failed operation, not his compatriots.

“Scout had a girlfriend,” Jack said, surprising Megan. “Rina had two boys. Thought he’d finally settle down a bit.”

“Sometimes it’s not in the cards for men like us,” Price said. “Sometimes it is.” He looked pointedly at Megan. She resisted the urge to shift in her seat, but couldn’t stop herself from straightening her back.

“Why’d you attack Russo?” Jack asked.

“Haven’t you wanted to deck your commanding officer now and then? When they were stupid?”

“I never did.”

“You’re a better man than me.”

“You didn’t deck him. You stabbed him.”

“That was an accident. I just wanted to beat the crap out of him. It got out of hand. And it was his knife. He pulled it first.”

That was news.

“Why?”

“The interview he did. Five years ago, right after we brought Thornton’s desecrated body home. He went on one of those twenty-four-hour news programs and blamed us for what happened. He was there, he knew exactly what happened and what Rosemont did-and didn’t do. Yet he told America that it was his fault, him and his team. That Rosemont had been our responsibility, and we lost him and Thornton because of an error in judgment.”

Price slammed his hand on the bar. “I was like an uncle to Joe’s boys, but I haven’t seen them in five years because their mother thinks I’m the reason their dad is dead. When I saw the program, I snapped. Russo had excuse after fucking excuse, but the fact was, he felt guilty that we didn’t go back after Rosemont. When he gave the interview, he’d just gotten word that the reporter was a hostage, not dead like we’d thought. The Taliban was between us and them. We called in reinforcements and waited for a couple Blackhawks so we could return and extract Thornton. But they were hidden, as secure as possible under the circumstances.”

Price closed his eyes. “Thornton radioed, said Rosemont had panicked. Compromised their position. His radio was on when the bastards shot him.” He drained his beer. “Twenty-two minutes. The prick couldn’t sit still for the twenty-two minutes it took the choppers to rendezvous with us and return. Joe died a hero. That’s what Russo should have said.”

Twenty minutes later, Price dropped Jack and Meg back at the airstrip. “You don’t have to disappear,” Megan said. “I’m not going to turn you in.”

Price nodded. “I appreciate that. But I’m outta here. Sometimes people do things they don’t want to do. You’d feel guilty about it, but you won’t lie if you’re asked a direct question.”

“But-”

Price shook his head. “I’m a good judge of character. That’s how I’ve stayed a free man for the last five years.”

“What happened to your dog tags?” Megan asked.

“I thought Russo was a dead man. I didn’t mean to stab him, but I didn’t want anyone else taking the fall. I dropped them on his body and disappeared. Haven’t seen them since.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

One thing Karin’s mother taught her was how to gather intelligence. If you learned your target’s strengths and weaknesses, you could better strategize.

This lesson was particularly important when you were playing double agent, so to speak. That she’d been using Ethan didn’t bother her; that she intended to seduce Lyle Hackett bothered her even less.

When she’d started planning Ethan’s revenge, she’d had to locate their targets. That wasn’t so easy, and Ethan wasn’t a lot of help.

But because of his public comments and the attack on his life, Lieutenant Ken Russo had been the easiest to track down. He’d retired to Florida where he lived off disability and worked part-time as a bartender. It had been no