Page 4 of Acting on Instinct
Lynx came back to her seat. “I’d like to ask about Red. I’ve never met Red in person, though we share people and circumstances. Do you mind my asking how she’s doing?”
“Yes, well, we’re unsure at this juncture,” Nomad said. “At the accident site, she gained consciousness first, though, I think I was only out momentarily. She couldn’t feel her legs, and we were concerned that her spine had been severed, and she’d become paraplegic. This was not the case. The accident caused a traumatic disc herniation that pressed on thecauda equina—the horse tail—bundle of nerves. We were fortunate that the CIA got her to Spain quickly, where she received immaculate care. But, of course, given who she is and what she knows, she needed to be back in the USA and under supervision lest her medications loosen her lips, and she reveal State secrets.”
Lynx pressed her lips together into a sympathetic pout.
“Since the accident, Red has regained her ability to walk for short distances, but she’s reliant on a wheelchair for getting around as she has substantial leg weakness and balance issues. It may be years before we know if her nerves will be able to heal or if she has sustained a permanent disability.”
Lynx nodded, then settled her gaze on his hands, followed by the very unexpected, “The injuries you and Red sustained are both very unfortunate and without a doubt what was needed for you to follow your hearts.” She lifted her eyes to meet his. “I’m sorry, that’s what it took. Going forward, I wish you both a full recovery.”
A sizzle went through Nomad’s entire body when she said that.
Could she read minds? Was that possible?
This was a synthesis of a conversation that he and Red had whispered together after Red’s last surgery. They each felt aresponsibility to their teams, to their work—Red with the CIA, he with Delta Force Echo—because so many people relied on them. That reliance meant that unless there was an external catalyst, they would probably follow the same life trajectory.
And yet, they both wanted love.
Without the accident, their opportunity would be dashed. They’d be the proverbial ships that passed in the night. They would say goodbye, and he’d be off on another mission, and Red would be back in the field turning over rocks, seeing if she couldn’t find the people who meant to cause harm to America or her allies.
Red had been in the field long enough. It was going to kill her or destroy her mental health. Nomad had to admit that was true for himself as well. He’d seen a lot and been through a lot in his decades of service.
A patch worn in bright conditions was a small price to pay to have no choice but to follow a new path.
Red was paying dearer. But she, too, took her condition philosophically. Destiny could not be denied, she’d mused; they were meant to live, and they were meant to love each other.
“And now you and Red are in a committed relationship.”
It was a statement, not a question, and Nomad wondered if this was a technique or if Lynx really did know secret things when she spoke. “We plan to be married as soon as she’s recovered from this latest surgery.”
“Congratulations.” Her smile was warm and sincere. “Every happiness to you both. Please convey my best wishes to Red.”
“Yes, thank you.”
White had a shit-eating, told-you-so smile on her face. She’d tried to prepare him. He was not, in fact, sufficiently prepared for a stranger to know more about his plans than his own family.
“I might ask some strange-sounding questions as we go along,” Lynx said. “And they may feel intrusive, perhaps too personal. It’s not my intention to pry. It’s my intention to understand the dynamics and your word choices.”
“I’m a big boy, Lynx. I will be forthright. My only goal here is to prevent further terrorist attacks. I feel responsible for calling the mission complete without asking further about the men who were on the same path that Red and I took.”
“That, and the person you love was attacked and permanently harmed. You’re a human being. I think it’s okay to have that piece in there as well. Moving forward, I’m going to tell you your story as I know it. Just the highlights needed for my work. I’m watching for micro-reactions that tell me that your brain knows more than it’s telling you.”
“Interesting,” Nomad said. “That’s fine.”
“Okay, good,” Lynx pulled an elastic band from her wrist and reached up to gather her hair into a ponytail. “The men you’re looking for, the ones from the videos you sent to me, you need to track them down.”
“That would be perfection.” The ponytail told Nomad they were getting down to business. He read it as Lynx putting on her thinking cap. He flicked a glance toward White.
White licked her lips and popped her brow at him. “Told you,” she said under her breath.
“The story: Your work crossed with Red’s assignment when you were both trying to get your eyes on a ring called the Fire of the Desert. There was a reward of forty million dollars, which Zayd Ali Kamal posted about a year before it was found. Zayd wanted to give this ring to his fiancée, Sireen, on their wedding day. That explains the huge payout from a man with bottomless pockets. I read about it at the time of the wedding and saw pictures of Sireen wearing the ring at the reception. It was quite beautiful.”
“Correct. Zayd and his wife now have the ring,” Nomad said.
“Treasure hunters worldwide researched the ring and speculated on where it could have gone. Most assumed that, once discovered, it was pocketed by someone in the allied forces and taken home as a gift for a loved one. Most wouldn't recognize it as a red diamond, since they’re so rare. They probably thought it was a ruby ring. The ring, which had a significant family history, had been taken by the Nazis in Morocco about eighty years ago and was last seen in a salt mine in Berchtesgaden. But you and Red saw it. A woman named Elena was wearing it, and you were tracking her from Austria to Morocco. And someone there presented the ring to Zayd. But that someone was not Elena because Elena was killed.”
Nomad rolled his lips in and took a slow, deep breath. His heart hammered against his sternum as he remembered that Red had been four steps from death that day. Four steps.
“The next stage of your mission was not outlined for me. I assume you were successful in accomplishing whatever you were tasked with.” She stilled, looked at him, and continued as if she already knew. “Next, you left Marrakesh and headed for Rabat to catch a flight out of Morocco. Along the way, you were hit by a delivery truck, fought, and rescued Red. Is that the series of events in the broadest of strokes?”
