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Trying to ease a breath past the awful constriction in her chest, Karasu rose and straddled him, taking his face between her hands. “Listen to me,” she whispered jaggedly, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears. Slowly he responded to the pressure and turned, his face carved with the kind of anguish that showed how deeply affected he’d been by all this. With infinite tenderness, she smoothed her hand along his jaw, her touch firm and comforting. “He will work this out. He’s a SEAL, he’s strong, and he has all of you to lean on. He’ll remember that.” She kissed him softly. “He will,” she said emphatically.
“Thank you for that,” he whispered roughly as he rolled to his side and held her close against him, burying his face in her neck. “You are what I need.” He hauled in a deep shaky breath, then met her gaze, a tormented look in his eyes as he continued. “Being with you seems to be putting everything into perspective. It’s not weak to ask for help and I’ve tried to do that recently.” He told her about learning to surf, the old man who told him to get laid, and the seven tenets of Hawaiian culture, which he had shared with her before.
“The most important thing you can do for yourself is to forgive yourself and heal from it. Striker has to find his way. Until he does, he’ll be like us, floundering.”
He stared at her a minute, then cuddled her close. “Not so much anymore.”
Karasu felt as if she was falling without a net, then realized Preacher was that net.
How could she betray him?
14
GQand the team stood on the dock surveying the damage of the blast that had obliterated a historical shrine and killed or wounded over five hundred people. He had never felt so useless on a mission in his life while he milled around with his brothers. Rose’s face when she saw the blast area made the rage that it caused only deeper for him. Every time these fuckers tried to prove a point no one understood, she had to re-live the death of her sister all over again.
She was in it for the long haul and so was every man on this team. In the distance, helicopters flew back and forth, depositing victims in the makeshift white tents that had been set up to handle the wounded. Kodiak was there, seeing what he could do to help.
Their job was to track down Deacon Bailey and several other people who had been witnesses to the blast.
Behind them, the flag of flowers floated on the water, a desecration of everything it stood for, evidence to be collected by the FBI team who were busy crawling over the scene to extract every shred of information. If there was any to find, they would discover it.
GQ looked around and nudged Boomer. “I’m going to check for the deacon at the main administration site.”
Boomer nodded. “Ice wants us to patrol around the area for safety reasons. Especially the town. I’ll take Skull and Bones with me.”
GQ nodded, noting that Rose and Ice were talking to the Department of State representative, preoccupied with the plans for the extraction of evidence. GQ started walking away from the jetty toward the devastation.
He kept his eyes peeled looking for suspicious characters or bad behavior, stepping over chunks of white stone, and bits and pieces of terracotta. The main administration area had been set up just to the clear side of the explosion. A white tent shielded the workers from the sun. GQ kept his M4 toward the ground. People walked around, some still looking dazed and horrified. The FBI forensic guys were methodically combing through the rubble of what had once been the center of the basilica. A group of women were off to the side weeping at the loss of their shrine.
He approached the tent and met Ice’s gaze. He could tell his boss was not only acting as team leader here, but as Rose’s rock. It had to be very hard for her and GQ admired her for it. He slipped inside the tent, but the only people inside were FBI. He slipped back out and surveyed the area. It was a habit ingrained in him from being a SEAL. It had saved his ass more than once. At first there was nothing that looked out of place. Devastation on one side and a breathtaking view of the sea on the other. Then he saw a lone figure standing on the plaza. He headed toward the old man, glancing down at the picture HQ had provided them with.
As he approached, the guy didn’t move, just kept staring out to sea. GQ confirmed that the man was the seventy-two-year-old deacon who had just experienced the horrific loss of two of the leaders of his church and twelve of their devoted parishioners.
“Sir, are you Deacon Bailey?”
The man’s chest heaved, and he wiped at his eyes. When he turned to GQ, his face was ravaged. “That I am, and you are?”
“Petty Officer Remington Nash, but people call me GQ.”
“Ah, the infamous call name.” He stared at GQ for a moment. “And, apparently, very fitting, not like a heavy man being called tiny.”
“No, sir. But in some ways, it is a dig.”
“Hmm, camaraderie and all that. I understand.” His chest heaved again, and he broke down, his legs folding. GQ caught him and helped him over to a bench. He bent over, his anguish twisting GQ’s guts into knots. GQ had seen some shit in this job, but this man’s gut-wrenching pain was front and center. As a covert operator, GQ often was in the background not usually handling bereaving victims. But he didn’t hesitate. GQ curled his arm around the man’s shaking shoulders and squeezed, sitting there while he exhausted his grief.
“I’m sorry. It’s all just so hard. They were all just such good people and my friends.”
“No need to apologize, Mr. Bailey. How long did you administer to the parish?”
“Years and years. I started there as a young man, newly married.”
“Is there someone we can contact for you?”
“The State Department has already contacted my daughter and the archdiocese. So, that has been done. My daughter is flying out today along with Archbishop Brandon Conrad. I thank you for your concern.” He wiped at his eyes and swallowed hard. “Who are these people who attack a holy place like this? Innocent, hardworking people.”
“We don’t know yet, sir. We’re working hard to find them and stop them from causing more terror. We’re hoping you can shed some light on the blast. Rose Sinema would very much like to speak with you if you’re up to it?”
He shook his head. “May God have mercy on their souls,” he murmured, but GQ’s only thought was he and his team would have no mercy when they tracked them down. Mercy was indeed God’s purview. “I will speak with her.”
