“She should be better if I can get this medicine into her IV,” Joe said, sitting back.
For the first time he looked strained, his handsome face lined with fatigue.
Mack held out his hand. “What is it?”
Kane put the medication in Mack’s hand. Mack closed his eyes, blocking out all sights, concentrating on the vial held between his palms. He inhaled deeply, scenting the liquid, looking for trace amounts of poison, sensing whether or not it could bring Jaimie harm. It bothered him that she couldn’t read Joe, and that Gideon, who had the eyes of an eagle, hadn’t spotted him easily. He wouldn’t have known Joe was a GhostWalker if he’d passed by him. If Whitney ever realized that both Joe and Gideon weren’t recognizable as GhostWalkers to the others, both men would be in danger. Whitney would move heaven and earth to find out why. Mack handed him the vial and watched him put it into Jaimie’s IV.
“I’m giving her a painkiller as well,” Joe said. “It will make her sleepy. I’d like to stay for a few hours and check on her. She’s not entirely out of danger.”
Mack knew Javier was on the second floor using Jaimie’s equipment to ferret out Joe Spagnola’s secrets. He nodded his head. “Thanks.”
He still hadn’t really looked at Kane. He wasn’t certain he could without punching him right in the face. Kane had asked for the sergeant major to put someone on Jaimie without even coming to him about it. To take manpower from one of the teams, and Joe Spagnola was definitely an elite GhostWalker, Griffen would have asked something in return. Mack knew that somehow Jaimie was going to be part of the price tag.
Joe stood up and stretched.
“I’d be careful moving around,” Mack said.
Joe’s eyebrow shot up. “I spent a good deal of time studying the safety areas of this room from the rooftops and windows. Your sniper doesn’t have a shot.”
“Not if he’s outside,” Mack agreed.
Joe hesitated and then went to the refrigerator and pulled out a Corona, shaking his head, clearly uncertain whether or not to believe Mack. “I see someone’s been enjoying my beer.”
“I thought it was Jaimie’s beer,” Kane said.
“She doesn’t drink,” Joe said and took a long, slow swallow.
Mack frowned. “You seem to know a lot about Jaimie.”
“I know she has nightmares. Bad ones.”
Mack couldn’t think for a moment; the roaring in his head was so loud it drowned out his ability to reason. He got up abruptly and paced across the floor to stare out the window.
“You going to tell your sniper to stand down anytime soon?” Joe asked.
“I was.” Mack whirled around to face him. “I changed my mind. How the hell would you know Jaimie has nightmares?”
Joe shrugged. “A couple of weeks ago, she found a murder victim just a few feet from her door. It was pretty messy. A woman knifed just outside her doorway. She’d been stabbed multiple times. Jaimie hadn’t been home and coming home to that really messed her up.”
Mack kept his back to Joe, his gaze meeting Kane’s. “How many times?”
“What do you mean?”
“How many times was the woman stabbed?”
“Sixteen.”
Mack drew his breath in through burning lungs. “How old was she?”
Joe lowered the beer, aware of the rising tension. “The vic was thirty-one. Lisa Carlston. She taught at . . .”
“An elementary school,” Mack finished. “Third grade.”
There was silence in the room. Mack sank into a chair and put his head in his hands. “Ethan, stand down,” he ordered.
“You really did have a gun on me the entire time,” Joe said. “I never spotted him.”
“Ethan’s like that,” Kane said.
Joe looked around the room, into the shadows, and he still didn’t see the hidden GhostWalker. “You knew I would come.”
“If you were sent to kill her, you would have killed her,” Mack said. “Anyone who can make the shot you did would have gotten her a long time ago.”
“So all this was . . .”
“I don’t take chances with Jaimie’s life,” Mack said.
Joe handed him an opened beer. “What’s going on? How did you know the victim was an elementary teacher?”
“With dark hair,” Mack said, his voice heavy with a sigh.
“Dark curly hair,” Kane added.
“Like Jaimie,” Joe said and put down the bottle of beer.
“Like Jaimie,” Mack agreed. “Like her mother.”
Joe swore. “Who was an elementary school teacher.”
Mack nodded. “Jaimie found her just outside the door of their home stabbed sixteen times. It was Jaimie’s sixteenth birthday. She came home late from work, and there was her mother lying dead on her doorstep.” His voice shook. The memory still had the ability to shake him.
“No wonder she had nightmares,” Joe said. “I had been following her, so I was with her when the cops came. She held it together, but when we came up here, she went to pieces. I got her to sleep and I stayed because I was worried. There didn’t seem to be a connection and she didn’t say anything, not to the cops and not to me. Of course at the time, we didn’t know who the dead woman was or anything about her.”
Mack exchanged a long look with Kane. “Jaimie would have known the significance of sixteen stab wounds. She’s brilliant. Things don’t get past her.” Yet she hadn’t called him. Hadn’t turned to him.
“I don’t understand,” Joe said. “What the hell are we dealing with? I was asked to keep foreign governments off of her. Someone made a try for her a week ago, but he was no foreign government; he was one of ours. At least he appeared to be.”
Mack nodded. “One of my boys took a couple of them down the other day.
Former Marines. They were both reported dead over three years ago. Neither had been in the GhostWalker program but they’d both seen plenty of combat.”
“Same with the one I took out. I did it quietly and Jaimie never knew,” Joe said.
He sighed. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Black Ops,” Mack said. “This is no foreign government after her. It’s our own.”
Kane leaned forward to look into Joe’s face. “Our two were set up for torture and interrogation, not kidnapping. They were going to kill her.”