Smoke Road Page 4

  So, she got that delicious color in paradise. Nani reached out her hand as if they were just being introduced. Starting over?

  Oh, shit. Luca could not stand up right now, not after looking at that ass and picturing it in a thong on a tropical beach.

  He leaned forward, awkwardly extending a hand. “Luca Luciano. Italian. From South Philly.”

  She smiled as they shook hands, like she knew what she was doing to him. Which, of course, she did. A woman like her knew how to manipulate a dirty-minded sinner like him.

  Luca sat back and gave her the smile she expected. “Why don’t you meet us out at the obstacle course tomorrow? You can get to know the men in their natural habitat.”

  She nodded, her braid swinging. “Sounds great. See you bright and early, ready to roll.”

  Luca watched the empty doorway long minutes after she’d left, rubbing his arm and thinking about his family.

  They were in danger. Hell, they’d already lost Nando. JT was driving cross country trying to bring Mama and Lucy back to Idaho along with Nando’s widow, Avital, and his twin, Dolf. Cash was in Colorado, probably still backpacking and mountain biking, oblivious to the flu raging around him.

  And Luca was sitting here in his air-conditioned office, vaccinated from danger, protected from death, when he was the least worthy among them. It wasn’t right.

  Chapter Five

  Tanner

  Tanner Hillish woke every day at the same time—the Lord’s light streaking through his open window and raising him from slumber. He reached for the Bible on his nightstand.

  Small and weathered, with a bullet hole at its center, that Bible had saved his life—both figuratively and literally. The bullet that had lodged in the pages, halting its path to Tanner’s heart, now hung around his neck on a simple brass chain. He kept it close as a constant reminder of the Lord’s will. His life was for the Lord; he was an instrument of that divine being.

  Holding the Bible close to his heart, he reached out for his afternoon libation—rattlesnake poison brewed with chaga mushrooms—a recipe he’d received directly from the Lord and that all his followers imbibed in sparing amounts. He drank it down in one shot, the bitter brew sending tentacles of nausea through him but his body did not reject it, one of the signs of a true believer.

  Tanner knelt next to his bed, the concrete floor rough and cold against his bare knees. He bowed, resting his forehead against his clasped hands.

  “May I hear your direction. May I follow your path. May I continue to lead my flock with wisdom and truth—allowing the birth of pure, good children. May the men I lead walk the path of righteousness, following in my footsteps as I guide them to do your bidding. May my heart and mind stay open to you.”

  There had been a brief and horrible time in Tanner Hillish’s life when he could not hear God. Medication, a cocktail of lithium and antipsychotics, had silenced God’s voice.

  But never again. Never again would Tanner be led astray by the promises of science—by the proclamation of doctors that he was sick.

  His prayers recited, Tanner rose to his feet and began ten minutes of jumping jacks, then he dropped to the ground and started push-ups, the crushed bullet clinking against the floor each time he lowered himself to the ground.

  Sick? He was the picture of health. He was the man chosen for the most important job since Moses. Those doctors thought they knew better than him. So many people did. But Tanner knew the truth; God had a plan and Tanner was his instrument.

  The world would be scorched of the unworthy and inherited by the pure and the faithful.

  Chapter Six

  Luca

  Dr. Navigator was on time the next morning despite Luca’s vague invitation, and the fact that there were several obstacle courses on the base. She wore sweatpants, a black tee and a billed hat pulled low and tight over her braid. “Captain Luciano.”

  “Doc.” Luca inclined his head. “Got some people for you to meet.”

  “I see they’re on the course already.” She gestured to the squad who were working as a team to scale the twenty-foot wooden wall section.

  “Just a little warm-up exercise for everyone but your commanding officer.” Luca indicated Commander Iktan Balam, standing on the sideline of the course, shouting encouragement.

  She frowned. “I thought you were my man.”

  Baby, I’ll be your man for anything you like. Only it’ll be after hours, and rather noisy...

  “No, ma’am. Commander Balam outranks me and is fully fit for duty, with no injuries. Sir!” Luca snapped to with a salute as Balam spotted them and approached.

  Dr. Looks-Too-Damn-Good didn’t salute, but she drew herself up parade-straight and extended a hand to Balam. “Commander. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Thanks for being available for this assignment on such short notice.”

  “Dr. Kagawa. Captain Luciano tells me you’re a bioterror expert.” Balam, a.k.a. Jaguar, appeared to be taking her measure. Balam wasn’t an easy mark, thank God. He and the doc were about the same height, but Balam was built like a fireplug. The doc’s eyes tracked the ink wrapping every inch of Balam’s visible skin from the neck down. “You’re a tattoo artist. What other skills do you bring to the table?”

  “I wasn’t aware this was a job interview, Doctor Kagawa. I’m available for your mission and in charge of this unit.” Balam spun on his heel and bellowed out onto the field. “Company, fall in!”

  The men had made it over the wall and barely begun the rope net climb, so they dropped back and jogged over, forming up.

  Balam pointed to one of his men, “This is weapons sergeant Nate Stolen. Goes by ‘Big Nate.’”

  Dr. Kagawa nodded at the short man with his bulging muscles, crooked teeth, and bourbon-brown eyes. “Sergeant. I’m looking forward to going over our arms and ordnance list.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You should all please call me Dr. Kagawa, or Doc if you must shorten it,” Nani added. Jaguar gestured to the next man.

  “This is Andre Gray, NCO. Goes by ‘Tug.’ He’s our navigator.”

  “Doctor, ma’am.” Tug loomed forward to shake her hand and she smiled up at him. The New Orleans native’s grin was starkly white against his black skin, and he was clearly taken with Dr. Exotica because he didn’t let go of her hand.

  Luca stepped forward to move things along. “Next up is Patel Gujarat. Goes by ‘Biscuit.’ He’s our logistics man, and you’re gonna love what he can do in the kitchen.”

  “Doctor Kagawa.” Biscuit bent a little at the waist in a semi-bow, something Luca had never seen him do before.

  “I’ll look forward to your cooking, then, since the captain speaks so highly of you.” The doc’s smile was melting Biscuit, if his fluttery lashes were any indication. The guy looked like he was going to swoon. Luca stifled irritation and continued.

  “This is Taylor Felds, aka ‘Freckles,’ our engineer. He helps us plan our approaches and keeps everything working and shipshape.”

  “Dr. Kagawa.” Freckles had the pale eyelashes of some redheads, like a rabbit—and his damn nose was practically twitching with pleasure as she shook his hand. “I’ve read your paper on mutating RNA protein strands, Doctor. Impressive.”

  Dr. Published beamed. “Thank you. Don’t know what you did to earn that little slice of boredom, but I’d appreciate hearing sometime.”

  “It would be a delight.”

  It would be a delight? Hell if it didn’t sound like Freckles had gone to college or something. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Couldn’t the guys see the spell she was casting with her sweet ink and That Ass? It was sickening. Only Balam seemed to be resisting, arms crossed on his chest and his Mayan eyes cold.

  Good.

  Leave it to the Jaguar to keep his eyes on the woman’s tricks and not her behind. How was she going to explain the “B12 booster” shot and not make it sound suspicious? That ought to be interesting.

  “And last but certainly not least, Quae Long, our medic. We call
him ‘Doc Love’ or just ‘D. Love,’ if you must shorten it.”

  “Oh, good.” The doc ignored Luca’s jab. “I’ve got an MD, but it was a long time ago. Glad to have you on the team!” She shook D. Love’s hand, staring at the man like she could lap him up.

  Luca had never understood how or why this unassuming young Chinese man had been given such good looks and ridiculous sex appeal. Muscled like a Bruce Lee clone, his glossy shoulder-length hair in a ponytail, Long’s cheekbones could cut crystal and his bedroom eyes lingered on the doc’s face. “I am happy to serve.”

  It sounded downright dirty to the woman, if her rosy cheeks were any indication.

  Balam clapped his hands. “At ease.” The men took a more relaxed stance. “Dr. Kagawa, Captain Luciano gave us the barest bones of information on this assignment. Perhaps you could fill us in.”

  “Absolutely. Let’s head to the SCIF.”

  The team gathered in the large, ill-lit room. The desks had been pulled out and the computer equipment dusted off, but it was still a poor show. Luca hated it—they should be in a real command center. This mission was vital to the safety of the nation and they were stuck back here?

  Dr. Kagawa pushed her hands into her pockets. She paced a little, gathering her thoughts, letting the men see her ass from all angles. “This is a special assignment straight from the Commander in Chief himself—and by that I mean the President of the United States. I answer directly to his cabinet and him by extension, and we’ve been tasked with uncovering the source of the unnaturally rapid spread of the disease known as Scorch Flu.” She stopped, and faced them with her feet planted shoulder-width apart and her hands behind her back.

  Luca remembered her standing over him yesterday in that pose—it had made him want to pull her down onto his face. Today it filled him with a surprising burst of confidence in her. Someone needed to stop this damn thing, and Dr. Sexy might be the one to do it.

  Dr. Sexy definitely worked, but not in public...he’d have to save that one for when they were in bed...and he had every intention of getting her there. His dick twitched at the thought. The damn thing had a life of its own and it was not his friend right now.

  “We have intel that the flu is a bioterror weapon that’s been purposefully spread, and it’s associated with a skinhead group in this area. Tanner Hillish is the man in charge. Anyone heard of him?”

  Luca’s shoulders bunched as anger surged through him—those fucking crazy skinheads! He rubbed at his scar, letting the pain distract him from the thought of Nando, dead already.

  Freckles piped up. “An Aryan spinoff group called Great Nation America. He’s picking up a lot of followers with the flu’s outbreak.”

  “Exactly. Hillish preaches that Scorch Flu is the hand of God, weeding out the undesirables of our nation. But that hand is getting help, and we need to stop it. This is a recon mission primarily. We’re to track the group and investigate, as best we can, what role they have in the flu’s spread. Once we have a positive ID on the source, we’re to call in a strike team for the capture.” Dr. Kagawa smiled, and her gaze rested briefly on each of them. The warm look in her brown eyes as they found Luca’s, way too briefly, held no sexual undertone. Damn it. “With all of you on my team, I think we could take them out ourselves.”

  Luca didn’t want to feel all warm and fuzzy—shit, an infant could see how she was playing them—but there was no doubt she was a master.

  “Now, before we get to work, I have a little gift for you from the medic on Air Force One.” She bent over, and six pairs of eyes landed on That Ass. Luca almost smiled at the group hypnosis, but he couldn’t look away either.

  “The President’s personal physician authorized a ‘super shot’ of a beta-stage immunity booster vitamin blend for this team. Since you’re going into a potential exposure situation with the Scorch Flu, the White House wants you fighting fit.” Dr. Deceitful straightened up, holding the plastic case containing the preloaded syringes. “Who wants to go first?”

  They fell all over themselves lining up, rolling up their sleeves and showing her their favorite tattoos. Bunch of saps.

  “What about you, Captain?” Tug asked, noticing Luca off to the side, arms folded as he tried to keep the weight off his bad leg.

  “Already taken care of.”

  The doc swabbed Quae Long’s arm last. He was the final dose, and Luca was pretty sure it was because the medic wanted more of her time. Hell, they all did.

  “What we need is a vaccine, not a vitamin shot.” Long tried to get her to look at him with a lift of his chin, but the doc kept her gaze down, trained on the man’s muscle as she stuck him.

  “Yes, we do need that. I’m sure they’re working on it as we speak. Sergeant Stolen, can we discuss the supplies? I’m sure the rest of you know what you need to do.”

  The men scattered to their tasks except for Stolen, who stood too close to the doc, showing her his clipboard.

  That easily, Dr. Manipulation had Luca’s men eating out of her hand. He shook his head as he went to pack his gear and pick up Peaches.

  Luca had cleared it with Balam to bring the German Shepherd. She was a great watchdog and would ride in the supply truck out of sight while they were traveling. Unable to locate any healthy helicopter pilots, Dr. Kagawa had pushed for them to drive rather than wait. The latest intel from the local sheriff about Hillish’s compound was that trucks were rolling out.

  They might be closing in on an already abandoned camp.

  Two hours later they got into loaded vehicles. Balam put the soldiers in the Humvee and, with a nasty little smile and an almost-wink, he put Dr. Kagawa and Luca in the cab of the supply truck bringing up the rear.

  Alone.

  Luca suppressed a wince at the pain in his bad leg as he climbed up into the truck. The doc was already sitting on the passenger side of the bench seat. Jaguar knew Luca had a thing for women and bench seats from one too many drunken fireside disclosures. This was so damn unfair. He’d have to rook the Jag out of some dough at cards when they made camp.

  “Want to drive?” Luca asked as a courtesy—she probably couldn’t, a special license was needed for something this big.

  “Later, for sure. I love the rumble of the engine and being so high up...” The doc sighed in a way that Luca wanted to hear again. “I haven’t had occasion to drive something this big in years. I’ll let you drive for now, though. I shouldn’t have all the fun.”

  “How thoughtful of you.”

  She laughed and Luca’s chest tightened. He couldn’t find the words to describe the unique sound; bells were brassier, birdsong was too random—her laugh wasn’t innocent like a child, or jaded like a soldier’s. He’d have to find the right words for Nani’s laugh, or it would bug him as much as her elusive nickname.

  “You strapped?” His voice was gruffer than he intended. “We’re not expecting anything from the hostiles this early, but it’s just the two of us guarding all these supplies.”

  “Say no more. While you were packing, I tricked out the cab a bit with the help of Biscuit. That guy is pretty incredible.” She grinned. “Got our AK’s right here.” She pointed to metal wall brackets mounted behind the seats. His ’n her machine guns hung, loaded and handy. He’d been too busy trying to find the right word to describe her laugh to notice them.

  Get your head in the game, Luciano.

  “Got a couple of sniper rifles here.” She gestured behind the seats. “Two shotguns, plenty of ammo, and I’ve got my personal protection too.” She patted her waist and ankle. “Also picked up some road snacks and drinks.” She gestured to a paper bag on the seat between them. “We’re good to go.”

  The doc—Nani—was enjoying this, sporting a big smile. And she had a dimple, damn her. Why’d she have to have a dimple? “Ready, Captain Lupo?”

  He grunted in reply. Lupo? He kind of liked being called wolf. He slanted a glance at her to see if she was mocking him, but she was eyes front and all business.

  H
e turned the key, welcoming the growl of the truck’s big engine. Dr. Sexy greeted it with another one of those sighs.

  He focused his gaze on the road. They needed to keep it all business.

  Chapter Seven

  Haunani

  Nani took her Baby Desert Eagle out of the plastic gun case where she’d stowed it under the seat earlier. Nicely proportioned with a comfortable grip and great accuracy, the weapon was the perfect weight for her hand. She stripped the gun and gave it a rubdown with a rag.

  She sneaked a glance over at Cocky Lupo. His eyes were hidden behind mirrored aviators tucked beneath the black-billed hat he wore, a twin to hers. His big arms rested along the steering wheel, relaxed and confident. She could have sworn he’d almost smiled when she showed him the bag of road snacks she’d stocked up on at the 7-Eleven.

  Meeting the men had boosted Nani’s confidence in the mission, and she was trying hard to relax. A calm and steady mind was the key to good leadership. And sometimes snacks were the key to a better disposition.

  Nani peeked at Luca’s holster, buttoned shut on the belt at his waist.

  What did he carry for a personal weapon?

  Luciano seemed to read her mind, unsnapping the holster and removing a full-sized Magnum Desert Eagle, a jumbo twin of her own, and set it on the seat between them. “Since you’re in a cleaning mood...”

  “I bet you say that to all the girls. Never met a bachelor who didn’t try to get the women in his life to clean up after him.” The bitter note in her voice was way too revealing, but she couldn’t take it back. Nani picked up the Desert Eagle, hefting the big gun. “I like the Baby better. And you know what they say—men who carry big guns are overcompensating.”

  A smile tightened his full lips. “I carry the Eagle because it works for me—I’ve got a big hand. But it would be fun to test your theory. Perhaps a little field research, Doc, to verify?”