Page 7 of Bullets and Dandelions

His team surrounded him.

I blew out a long breath. Pissing him off was a stupid move. Sergeant Stone was an apex predator like my father. Anyone stupid enough to challenge them, seldom survived the encounter.

The narrow, twisty road forced me to slow down. I kept checking the rearview mirror. I knew the Marines would steal a car and follow me.

My phone beeped. I pulled it out and read the message.Taliban roadblock three miles ahead.

Shit! I had only cut ten miles off my hike and how in the hell did Pops know where I was? I had removed the tracker from my phone. Was he using a CIA satellite to locate me? Probably. Stopping the truck, I pulled off the burka, stuffed my pockets with dates and free climbed up the rocky mountainside. The Marines weren’t far behind me, and I wasn’t leaving any more tracks for them to follow.

I pulled myself over the edge of an outcrop and lay there for a moment to catch my breath. That had been a tough climb.

A car engine backfired.

Rolling over, I raised my sniper rifle and sighted in on the roadway. Here came the Marines in a piece-of-crap Toyota truck. For some reason, the Taliban loved Japanese cars. I had to admit Sergeant Stone was an excellent driver. I grinned at his furious expression. He didn’t like losing. He slammed on the brakes behind my stolen truck. Would he notice the message I left him on the windshield? I hoped so. I didn’t want them walking into a Taliban ambush.

With a groan, I got to my feet and headed for the pickup location.

Chapter Four

As soon as the helicopter landed at King Faisal Air Force Base, I headed for Captain Harris’s office. To my surprise, Harris wasn’t waiting for me. He usually insisted on a debrief before I could eat, shower, or sleep.

I secured my weapons in his office armory and grimaced. God, did I stink. My deodorant had quit two days ago, and I desperately needed a shower. Leaving a message on the captain’s desk, I headed to my quarters.

Because I wasspecial, I had my own room. Grabbing clean underwear, a camo tee-shirt and pants out of my locker, I hit the showers. Fifteen minutes later, I braided my wet hair and made a beeline for the mess hall. I was so damn hungry.

Angry voices had me glancing at the military police’s guard post. Huh? What was going on? A tank blocked my view, and I was too hungry to investigate. My eyes widened in horror. Wait a minute. One of the voices sounded awfully familiar. Was it my Marines? Nah, there’s no way they could have found me this fast.

The smell from the mess hall drew me like a magnet. I was having one of everything. Grabbing a tray, I went down the line until there was no more room on my plate.

A soldier eyed my tray in disbelief. “Are you sure you’ve got enough food?”

“Nope, I’m coming back for seconds.” I carried my tray over to an empty table and started eating.

“On your feet soldier,” Sergeant Stone growled.

Well, hell. I plastered a confused look on my face and looked up at him. “Excuse me?”

“Drop the act. You know why I’m here.”

“Sorry, but I don’t.” I went back to eating.

Sergeant Stone studied my face. “Are you the Scorpion?”

I picked up my glass of water and drained it.

“Answer the question.”

“By your stench, you’ve been out in the sun too long. Maybe you should have a medic check you over for heat stroke. It might explain your mental confusion too,” I said pleasantly.

“I could have you arrested for assault,” Sergeant Stone snapped.

I raised my eyebrows. “Got any proof of this brutal assault, sergeant? Like a picture or fingerprints or some kind of hard evidence?”

“Footprints.”

Shit! Shit! Shit! “Call me curious, but who did I assault?”

His lips twisted in self-mockery. “Me.”

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