Page 45 of Renegade
“It’s my understanding that your husband spent some time with Lieutenant Commander Prescott, and he gave him a necklace and asked him to give it to his sister.”
Connie nods. “After he’d been shot, it was just the two of them for a few minutes in that back room while Steve tried to stop the blood. Lieutenant Commander Prescott tore the necklace off his own neck and gave it to Steve and told him to make sure it got to his sister, so she would know for sure what kind of man he was.”
“Do you know his exact words? Did he tell you? Do you recall?” I shoot the questions off rapid-fire.
“Mr. Kinkaid, the poor woman lost her husband. Stop badgering her.”
I lift an eyebrow at Gemma. “Mr.Kinkaid?”
She looks at me in surprise and then smiles, slow and sexy. “I’m sorry.Sir.”
It takes some serious effort not to laugh out loud. I’d only tried to remind her of my rank to make the reason for our visit believable, but her misunderstanding makes me inordinately pleased. My cock seems to like it too. “It’s Lieutenant, not mister, but sir will work just fine for you, Ms. Ward. In fact, it seems to roll off your tongue naturally.”
Her eyes dance with amusement, and I think again how much I love making Gemma smile. Connie’s voice startles me. Somehow, I’d gotten so wrapped up in that exchange with Gemma, I’d completely forgotten why we were here.
“He did tell me, and I do recall. Steve committed it to memory so he could relay her brother’s exact dying message. He felt like it was the least he could do. Liam Prescott said, ‘I want my sister to know for sure exactly what kind of man I am.’”
“‘Know for sure…’” I echo her words. What did that mean?
Connie continues. “The necklace had a unique design on it. Steve spent considerable time trying to find out what it was when he returned to the States. It’s a symbol for valor, or bravery. I’m sure his sister knew he was a hero without a necklace, but it’s clear he wanted her to have it to remember he died a hero.”
I’m silent, mulling over her words. The easy explanation is he wanted her to know he was brave. But there’s something about Liam’s choice of words…
I shake my head. I’ll have to think this through more later. Right now, I need to know everything Dr. Morris’s widow can tell me that might indicate why someone’s trying to kill McKenzie. And there’s something about her story that’s niggling at the back of my mind.
“Mrs. Morris, why did the CIA want to talk to your husband after he got back home?”
Her eyes dart toward her son nervously. “Standard practice, I assume. Steve told me that the team that rescued him was mostly Navy SEALs, but the rescue had been coordinated by the CIA, and there was a CIA operative there that night.”
I remember him. He was the one who pushed the team to follow the insurgents across the border into Pakistan.
“What did he look like, the guy with the CIA who came to talk to your husband?”
“I don’t remember a lot. He was lean and muscular, and he had short, dark hair and one of those northeastern accents that sounds like he’s holding his nose when he talks.”
The hairs are standing up on the back of my neck, and I know what I’m about to do is risky, but I always trust my gut.
“Mrs. Morris, I was part of the SEAL team that rescued your husband.” Her eyes widen. “Liam Prescott was like a brother to me. He was more than a brother. I promised him I would keep his sister safe if anything ever happened to him. Now someone is trying to kill her, but I don’t know why. I was the SEAL that your husband talked to, right before the explosion that killed Liam. I couldn’t save Liam, but I can still save McKenzie. If there is something you’re not telling me, even if it seems irrelevant, I would be forever indebted to you if you would tell me now.”
Gemma is looking at me wide-eyed, and I give her a wink to reassure her I know what I’m doing.
Connie turns to her son. “John, why don’t you and Candace go to the market and pick up some chicken for dinner? I have a sudden hankering to make some fried chicken.”
“But…”
Connie stops her son with an upheld hand. “John, I appreciate your concern, but I am a grown woman. I know what I’m doing, and I’m asking you to please give me a few moments alone with Lieutenant Kinkaid and Ms. Ward.” Her son and his wife reluctantly leave. As soon as the door closes, she says softly, “Please understand. Steve was very shaken by the whole ordeal. He had trouble sleeping; he had nightmares and flashbacks. It was actually the CIA agent who visited who told us that he was clearly suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder and suggested I take him to see a psychologist. I looked up the symptoms, and there’s no doubt that he was. I want you to know that. The agent told me that it wasn’t uncommon for him to be hazy in his description of what happened during the rescue, or to not remember the events correctly.”
“I understand war, Mrs. Morris.”
“Yes, I suppose you do,” she says quietly. She fixes steady blue eyes on me, and I realize she is tougher than she looks. “Steve said the CIA agent in the hut shot Lieutenant Commander Prescott.”
“Accidentally?” Gemma interjects, her eyes wide.
Mrs. Morris shakes her head. “It was just the three of them in the room. He was adamant that it wasn’t an accident…that the CIA operative shot the SEAL at close range, and then left. Steve stayed and tried to stanch the blood flow, until someone threw an explosive into the room, and Mr. Prescott, or whatever his title is, insisted he leave. Your friend saved my husband’s life. I’ve read the news stories. I know he wasn’t supposed to cross the border into Pakistan, and that the government denies it even happened. I don’t know if it really happened that way or not. I guess we never will.”
“Did your husband tell the CIA agent about this when they came to see him after he returned home?”
“He did. The agent said they would look into it, but he took me aside before he left and told me that Steve was most likely suffering from PTSD. Then Steve was killed in a random car accident, and it became a moot point.”
