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“Home has always been important to me,” she said, holding his gaze. “I love going home to visit my mom and dad.”
“Is your mom’s house old-fashion-looking too?”
She grinned. “Yeah. We’re a little alike, aren’t we?” She saw him shrug a little. There was warmth and something else in Mace’s eyes now. As if… as if talking about her cabin, her home, meant something special to him. How could it? He had no home, really. Sierra wondered if he was cursed to wander the rest of his life, going from one op to another, never really setting down roots ever again. He’d lost everything. And so had she.
He nodded and reached over, taking the emptied packet from her fingers. “We are a bit alike, but there’s nothing wrong with that. How’re the apples sitting?”
A little amazed, she touched her stomach briefly. “Better, really. I feel a little stronger now.”
“Well, let’s see how they sit for a bit and if they stay down, then let’s move you on to something more substantial?”
“I need to get my energy back,” she agreed.
“Did you ever paint that picket fence around your house?”
Shaken, she blinked. “What? Oh, my fence and gate? Yes, I painted some of them white. Why?”
He slowly unwound and got to his feet. “Thought it might be white. It suits you, Sierra. I can see those flower boxes full of red, pink and white geraniums, too.”
She watched him move to his ruck and tuck her emptied apple packet into a plastic bag and then close it. An ache grew into her throat. Sierra swore she saw longing, real need, in Mace’s gray eyes. He’d mellowed out as she had talked about her cabin in the woods. The more she’d described it, the more the haunted look on his face had intensified, with sadness mixed in with what? Hope? Was it hope? For what? Sierra knew he wouldn’t give her anything permanent. But she was willing to settle for what Mace might give her if it worked out. So many ifs. No promises. Nothing for sure. Just… possibilities.
Mace made the call to his CIA handler in Washington, D.C.
Tad Jorgensen sounded bummed out by the news that Sierra had been wounded, but ecstatic that she’d taken out the HVT. Tad said he would initiate a further call to Jack Driscoll at Shield Security. He went on to say that he would also contact the Night Stalker pilots at Cusco airport and get a helicopter up there for Sierra’s medical condition ASAP. They had no official medevac helos in Peru. The country lacked the funds for such things. At times, Mace chaffed at third world countries, especially when it came to his people being wounded and in need of quick extraction.
He bitched to Jorgensen, leaned on him hard until, finally, the handler he knew as ‘Tad’ said he’d call the Air Force and get a C-130 Hercules transport cut loose to land at Cusco tomorrow by noon.
Well before that time, Sierra should already have been flown out of the Highlands on the upcoming helo and down to the hospital for examination.
The next sat phone call Mace made was to his two men. He filled them in and heard the real worry in their voices. Particularly Nate’s, who insisted he be allowed to fly with Sierra on the Black Hawk, making sure she was taken to the Cusco hospital for a round of tests, including a vital MRI, well before she ever even boarded the C-130 that would be waiting at the airport for her. Nate would then release her to leave Peru.
Mace wanted to be the one who was with Sierra on the flight to Cusco. But he was the leader of the A-team, and he couldn’t just leave his men behind.
By the time he got done with all the calls, the sun was setting over the jungle canopy in the west. He stood outside, near the other exfil point from the cave, the area deep and hidden. Although his informant Sacha had told him Kushnir was leaving the area, he never took anything for granted. Re-entering the cave, he looked forward to sitting down with Sierra once more. He saw that she was leaning against the rock wall, guzzling down water, which was a good sign to his medically trained eyes.
“What did you find out?” she asked, finishing off the water. She reached up as Mace handed her another bottle.
“It’s all set,” he told her. Sitting down on the blanket, leaving a few feet between them, he told her the schedule and pickup times. Her face glowed with hope when he said that Nate would be her big, bad guard dog. That he’d remain at her side at all times during the medical examinations and tests locked in to take place at the Cusco hospital.
“That’s so nice of Nate,” she murmured, touched.
Mace said, “Medics are like that. Fierce guard dogs, but very human. Even emotional at times.”
“Like being emotional is a disease?” she replied with a bit of attitude evident.
He gave her a sour grin. “Sometimes…”
Sierra looked around the cave. “I don’t want to go so soon. Not because of the mission and all that stuff. But because I’ve gotten to know the three of you.”
“We’ll miss you bugging us about playing Scrabble games with you,” he teased, seeing laughter come to her green eyes. Sierra was perking up and Mace drew in an inner breath of relief. He didn’t know if her concussion was serious or deadly. Pavlov had treated it seriously. She was so alive, so full of life that he felt like a beggar taking little bits from her when she wasn’t looking. Mace wished he could give back to Sierra even a portion of what he was receiving from her.
She laughed softly. “Well, I know one thing for sure: I’ll never bet when I play Scrabble with you,” and she met his gaze.
His heart sprung open over the sight of that lush mouth of hers drawing into a full smile, her eyes sparkling. Sierra wore absolutely no makeup. Her natural beauty outshone any possible cosmetics she might use. “If I end up knocking on that cabin door of yours someday, are you going toplay me a game or two of Scrabblewith me, Chastain?”
“No way.”
“Way.”
