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That night they’d brought back a body, two wounded soldiers, and managed to undermine the leadership foundation of an organization they’d been sent to stabilize. No, not her finest hour at all.
“You can’t keep blaming yourself.”
That was why she kept it locked away. “I don’t.” They both knew she was lying. “Not every day,” she clarified. “It’s not like it consumes me.” Eva clamped her mouth shut, damming up the justifications and excuses that wanted to keep tumbling out.
Bart’s big hand landed on her shoulder and she barely resisted the urge to lean in and take comfort. She didn’t deserve his comfort, she’d put him in danger—more than necessary—and it would seem he believed someone was determined to retaliate against her now.
“Pull up my email, Eva. Read the whole thing.”
Neither of them pretended she didn’t know how to access his account. Her skills were one reason she’d made the intel side of their Special Forces team.
She shook her head as she logged in with his user name and password. Why Bart—or any of her pals from the past—put up with her was a mystery. A mystery she didn’t dare question or solve for fear of losing a dear friend.
“This should’ve gone to your spam folder,” she said, studying his inbox.
“Lucky for you it didn’t.”
For her? Hesitating, bracing for the worst, she finally clicked on the email. This time she got past her outrage over the article outlining the death of the businessman they’d been trying to support.
Bart was right, the message itself was worse.
“Tell the queen her reign is over.”
How could the sender know her old Special Forces team had called her that? It was an inside joke because the guys had claimed she looked like a princess even in her ACUs and they said she sounded like a royal whenever she switched languages.
“It’s not real. An empty threat.” Her words, whispered from a throat gone dry, lacked any believable bravado. She reached for her water bottle, sipped, and tried again. “Why send it to you? What’s the payoff?”
Bart snorted. “Because you might as well be a ghost online and you know it.” He walked over to the window, but rather than look out over the street as she’d done earlier, he dropped the blinds. “Or maybe it’s because I’m the one who hauled his nephew’s body out of that filthy slice of jungle they called a compound.”
“You think this is from Bakr Morcos?”
“Who else? He’s in a position to hire it done, don’t you think? His brother sure as hell didn’t send the email from beyond the grave.”
“I told you that obituary has to be a hoax,” she insisted.
“Prove it.”
She would, given enough time. Abraham Morcos couldn’t be dead. Not yet. Her mistake couldn’t be turning into a real time disaster already.
“Does Ross know?” According to the information on her screen, Bart hadn’t yet forwarded or replied to the bizarre email message.
“I showed him.”
She frowned. “Showed?” Now, with his spine stiff and his jaw set, Bart looked more like himself. She waved off the question. “Got it. You were with him in Columbia.” Eva double checked the time of the email, realizing Bart must have driven straight from the capital city to Haleswood moments after he’d seen the message on his phone.
“Doesn’t take a genius or a ghost to figure out you were working on something else.” He’d probably been sharing intel on a drug bust or making an identification on some other issue. His truck stop really was a thoroughfare and the authorities frequently called on the unique expertise and observation skills he’d gained in Special Forces.
At least the time stamp proved this wasn’t why Ross insisted on her staying here. Freaky message or not, if Ross planned to act on this supposed threat he wouldn’t leave her out of the loop. “Well you’ve delivered the message. Want to grab a coffee before you hit the road?”
“I’m, ah, not supposed to leave.” Bart shuffled his big feet.
She rolled her eyes, expecting as much. “I don’t need a bodyguard.” Bum shoulder or not, she could take care of herself. “Especially here. After all of Ross’s precautions during Allie’s case, as part of the CS team who saved her, I’m accepted around here now. No one can hassle me without a community of witnesses to intervene.”
“Or a slew of innocent bystanders to abuse on your behalf.”
“That’s a low blow.” True, but low. She shot out of her chair and went to the blinds, yanking on the cord. Sunlight flooded the office as she leaned against the sill. “It’s a small town.”
The emergency scanner went off again announcing a collision with personal injury and naming one of the drivers. “Did you hear that? The 911 dispatcher knows who’s involved in that accident. Strangers stand out here, Bart. I spend most of my time here in the office.” Even though she hated it. “I’m in thecourthouse. No one can get to me.”
