Page 34 of Perfect Order
“Who? Not sure what you mean, man” is the innocent reply that immediately makes me want to take out this fucker using the moves I spent hours perfecting during years of combat training.
Six minutes later, the elevator opens. Mitch and I go from alert to static when we see Erzulie cradled high in Beckett’s arms. I can’t see her face clearly. But what I can see is Beckett’s laced with utter disgust. “Let’s go. She’s breathing, which is more than I can say for what’s going to happen after I’m through with her,” he bites out.
“Uh, Beckett, you know I can’t let you out the side. Take the front entrance,” the security guard urges.
I hold up a hand and lean partially into the foyer. A million cameras begin flashing. “Yeah, I think not. We’ll stick with our original plan.”
He looms over me. “I really have to insist.”
I drop back and turn my back on him deliberately. “You do?”
Mitch mutters, “Shit,” just as the security guy slams both of his meaty hands on my shoulders. “Yeah. I really fucking do. What the fuck? You’re going to come in here and disrespect my boss by—”
He doesn’t get another word out. I wrap my left arm around his elbows before throwing a few punches just beneath his ribs and strike with my right elbow across his nose. Stepping over his feet, I trip him down before dragging him out of Beckett’s way. Then I growl, “Let’s move.”
“Right.” Mitch has the door open. Beckett is already easing Erzulie through it with me coming up on the rear. In unison, Mitch and I take flank on either side of Beckett, helping him ease her into the back of the SUV. None of us says a word until we’re all safely inside. Gunning the vehicle, I calmly ask Beckett, “Where do you want to take her?”
He frowns down at the woman who has curled in a ball away from him. “Home. She’ll be best sleeping this off.”
“Do you know her address?” Beckett rattles it off, and I wheel us toward Tribeca.
“Kane, nice moves with the security guy,” Mitch pipes up.
“That reminds me, call Sam and tell him to wipe the security footage. We don’t need that asshole selling it,” I remark, even as Beckett curses. “We’ll add that to your bill.”
“And I’ll make her pay for it,” Beckett begins before Erzulie starts calling out her sister’s name in her sleep. But his voice softens when he whispers, “God, is she ever going to recover from this?”
I want to reassure him that yes, she will. But since I haven’t, I can’t make him those promises. So, I just drive.
It’s almost four by the time we make it back, and I manage to write up my notes before crawling back into bed. At that point, all I can do is stare at the ceiling, empathizing with Erzulie.
She had devolved to a confused, slurring mess of tears, asking over and over, “Where’s my Lee? She’s not here. I need to go find her.”
If Beckett hadn’t wrapped her up in the blanket and practically sat on her, I suspect she somehow would have escaped and harmed herself or—worse—someone else in her quest to solve the unsolvable—the open, unexplainable, and tragic case of Leanne Miles being killed when she was mugged. It’s eating away at her heart to the point she’s becoming dangerous.
And it’s a feeling I understand all too well.
It’s been years, and even then, if it wasn’t for the team supporting me at Hudson, I’m still not certain I wouldn’t have found my way back to active duty. I was looking for a way to die—preferably with the honor I felt I’d lost by trusting the wrong person. I have no illusions about the kind of man I am. If it wasn’t for those last-minute changes I let Gene convince me to make…
The deaths of my team weigh so heavily on my conscience. I broke the cardinal rules of spec ops—keep it simple, and follow the plan. Even with the last-minute intel I received, I knew we were supposed to abort if two choppers couldn’t get into the Azerbaijan airspace because we’d only have half the team to secure the perimeter. Instead, Gene convinced our commander we needed to push on because the target we were retrieving was too valuable. This was our only choice, and after listening to his reasoning, I convinced our team to go in.
We were given the green light and pushed on with the mission.
We lined up a new plan. With strength and courage, three men and one woman, not including the flight team, were going to get into the compound. We quickly reviewed the intel we’d trained with inside the kill house and came to the same conclusion. We could still do it.
Who the fuck could have predicted the son of a bitch would disable the chopper so we’d be forced to land away from their target? Even with the intel from an unexpected source, there was no way I could have predicted that. I’ve turned the mission over and over again in my mind.
It was one moment in time that changed the course of my life forever.
As I slowly drift to sleep, I rub my hand over my over my heart, where each of my team still lives. I know since their bodies were recovered, they’re not wasting away in Azerbaijan, but I just wish there was some sign they made it past heaven’s gate. But the reality is there’s just this empty hole that I know can never be filled.
So yeah, I appreciate Kylie Miles is searching for some kind of order in her life. Because even the best-laid plans can blow up in your face. And if half the stories the media reported were true at the time of her death, for Kylie Miles, those plans were as simple as a weekend with your kid sister.
I only hope Beckett doesn’t push her further away by trying to teach her a lesson about her safety.On that last thought, I fall asleep for the few moments of sleep I can manage before the day begins again.
If you can’t take time to enjoy the scenery while you’re dining, well, you’re not opening up all your senses. Even if you are simply reheating leftovers at home, make every meal an experience. Pretend your favorite celebrity is dining with you. Set the table. Interact with one another. Embrace the experience.
— Fab and Delish
