The Woman Left Behind Page 5

  His gaze raked down her and lingered momentarily on her boots. “The guys are this way. Let’s get started.”

  Fine, no small talk. She was good with that. She didn’t try to keep up with his long-legged stride, first because she wasn’t in any hurry to get started, and second because she’d have to trot to keep up and damn if she would.

  The others were jeering each other over a wall—the wall. All the trainees had seen team members scaling the wall as if they were monkeys, climbing the dangling ropes with legs and arms working in perfect coordination, kind of pinching the rope between their feet. Fearing the wall was in her future, Jina had begun doing some push-ups and chin-ups at home . . . okay, she was up to ten push-ups and two chin-ups, but both were now plural so she’d been happy with her progress, at least until this exact sickening moment when she realized she and the wall were going to meet much sooner than she’d hoped.

  Snake waggled his eyebrows when he saw her. “Babe, you have a little muscle definition in those arms now. Good for you!”

  Muscle definition? Her? Doubtfully she looked at her arms. All she could tell was that she had a tan, though she was diligent about putting on sunscreen every day. And, yeah, her sweatpants were a little loose now, but not much, because she was eating like a horse.

  As far as the guys were concerned, she could definitely tell that they looked leaner and more tan. Wherever they’d been and whatever they’d been doing, they’d been in the sun and hadn’t had enough food to maintain their weight. But they didn’t look tired or lethargic; instead, they were like tightly wound springs, energy contained but ready to explode if needed, their reflexes on hair triggers, their alertness in the hyper zone. Jina had the feeling she shouldn’t make any sudden moves, despite the joviality with which they tackled the wall.

  Levi indicated the wall with a jerk of his head. “Let’s see how far you are from getting up to speed.”

  Damn it, she’d known he was going to throw her at the wall. “A long way,” she assured him. “Miles and miles. I’m nowhere near any speed.”

  He just gave her that implacable look, and she resigned herself to the inevitable. Grumbling under her breath—she hoped far enough under that he couldn’t understand her, because she was calling him some really bad names—she wiped her palms on the seat of her sweatpants and approached one of the dangling ropes. The guys gathered in a loose circle, grinning, ready for some entertainment at her expense. Most of them grinned, anyway; Voodoo scowled, and Levi looked as if his face would crack if he smiled. Screw them, anyway.

  She wasn’t going to impress them, not when she could do a whole two chin-ups; the best she could do was get this out of the way, so she could suffer through something else. Glaring at the rope as if it were her mortal enemy, she picked out the spot as high as she thought she could jump, which wasn’t as high as Levi was tall, but what the hell she had to start somewhere.

  She jumped.

  And missed. The damn rope was like a snake, coiling away from the impact of her hand, and she wasn’t fast enough to catch it.

  The guys were laughing as she got to her feet and brushed the dust off her ass.

  She ignored them and studied the demon rope. Okay, she’d done that wrong. She shouldn’t jump at the rope, she knew that, but she’d screwed up and jumped anyway. On the second try, she gripped the rope in her left hand, jumped, and caught the rope with her right hand while she groped with her feet, trying to imitate the pinching motion she’d seen the guys do.

  She couldn’t catch the wiggling length, her arms gave out, and she dropped to the ground. Thank God she didn’t have far to fall, though she supposed she should feel humiliated that she wasn’t quite a foot off the ground. She didn’t, though, because what fool had thought being good at a computer game would equip her for climbing ropes?

  Her boss, that’s what fool.

  “You have the right idea,” Levi said, “but you’re complicating things. You’re right handed, so let the rope lie against the outside of your right leg, then catch it with your feet as if you’re stepping in a loop.”

  That kind of made sense . . . kind of. And at least he was making the effort to be helpful, instead of just letting her lurch from one screwup to the next.

  Boom moved to stand beside her. Sweat gleamed on his dark skin and stained the once-white bandanna he’d tied around his head as a sweatband. “Like this,” he said, reaching up to grip the rope. He hauled himself off the ground, showing her how to hook the rope using his off-side foot, pulling it up under the instep of his rope-side foot and pinching the rope between them.

  “The loop of rope, not your arms, will support your weight,” Levi said. “Think of the loop as a step you’re using to go higher.”

  “You still need arm strength to reach higher,” Snake added, “but your legs will be holding your weight so this technique isn’t as tiring as others.”

  She growled a little in her throat, annoyed they hadn’t shown her this before she’d busted her ass, but she approached the rope with a determined air. She worked through the motions in her mind, then when she had it set what she needed to do, she gripped, hauled, hooked, pinched . . . and stood in the loop of rope. She was only inches off the ground, but she hadn’t fallen again so that was a big plus.

  “Up,” Levi said.

  Up. Okay. She reached higher, pulled herself up, caught and looped the rope with her feet, and damn if she wasn’t a foot off the ground.

  She did it again, her arms beginning to tremble a little, and this time she reached two feet off the ground. Again. Three feet now, and she repeated the process twice more and found herself a whole six feet off the ground because somehow she’d gained more each of the last two times, even though the rope had wiggled around like a snake and she’d had trouble snagging it. She didn’t think her arms would hold out for another go, though. She was breathing hard and sweating like a pig. Why didn’t they want her to run? She could run for a much longer distance than she’d been able to seventeen days ago. Running wasn’t so bad, at least not as bad as rope climbing.

  “Once more,” Levi said, which she took to mean he’d noticed her arms shaking and while he didn’t want her there, neither did he want her to fall and break her neck on his watch. Her feet were almost level with his head and she briefly fantasized about “accidentally” kicking him in the teeth, except he was smart enough to stand out of reach. Besides, if she freed either foot she’d have no anchor and she’d fall. Falling from six feet was way different from falling at ground level.

  She stood in the loop for a few more seconds, letting her arms rest, then hauled herself up. Wow—seven feet. She was impressed with herself, though the sweat running down her face was stinging her eyes. She scrubbed her face against her shoulder and blew out a breath.

  How in heck was she supposed to get down? The rough rope was already burning her hands, and she didn’t want to slide down it. But she had to get down soon, because her arm muscles were quivering and could give out at any minute.

  “Guys,” she began in alarm, about to ask them how she was supposed to dismount or whatever one did to get off a rope, when her sweaty hands began to slip. She yelped, grabbed, and somehow lost the rope snagged between her feet. She had a split second to make a decision: burn her hands or let go and maybe break a leg, and she was about to opt for the burned hands when her sweaty palms decided for her and down she went—for about a foot, when Levi grabbed her with one steely arm wrapped around her thighs and hauled her away from the rope.

  For one second, just one, he held her tight against him. Her senses spun; the bottom dropped out of her stomach again and every nerve went on danger alert. His body heat seared straight through her, all the way to the bone. Her entire body went rigid, as if she’d been electrified—and he let her drop with a thud, making no move to steady her.

  Once more, she landed flat on her ass—thank God. Nothing was a better distraction than hard contact with Mother Earth.

  Seven men stared silently
down at her.

  “My hands are sweaty,” she muttered in excuse, looking up at them. They surrounded her like vultures, ready to pick her bones.

  Voodoo wore an expression of intense disgust. He put his hands on his hips. “This is a stupid idea,” he spat. “Shit like this can get us killed. She’s worthless.”

  Jina’s lip curled as she focused on the asshole, grateful he’d given her a target that took her attention away from Levi. She was a lot of things, but worthless wasn’t one of them—and neither was timidity. She shot a rigid forefinger at him, glaring over it as if she were aiming a weapon. “Excuse the hell out of me, for not being as good as you after just seventeen days of PT. You know what? You can kiss my ass. And you better watch your manners, because if you make my inner redneck come out, you’ll regret it!”

  Jelly reached down and offered his hand to pull her up. She clasped his forearm and he lifted her with an effortless jerk that stood her on her feet. She didn’t take her eyes off Voodoo the whole time. Being sandwiched between an older brother and a younger one had taught her to take up for herself, because they’d seen her as fair game—she was neither the big sister who had ruled the roost, or the baby sister who was, well, the baby—and she’d had to let them know she wouldn’t take their crap.

  “What does an inner redneck do?” Jelly asked, laughter quivering in his tone.

  “It starts with a cutting,” Jina replied without a hint of humor, “and escalates to a house burning. We don’t want to go there.”

  “Voodoo’s from the South, too.”

  “No, he’s from Louisiana,” Boom interjected. “That’s different.”

  “Both of you cut this shit out,” Levi ordered in a curt tone. “We don’t have time for it. If you want to fight, do it on your own time, but if either of you gets hurt, I’ll kick the other one’s ass. Got that?”

  “Got it,” Voodoo said, because Levi’s tone had said he damn well meant every word he said. Besides, they’d worked together a long time.

  “Got it,” Jina muttered. She hadn’t worked with any of them long enough to either trust or like them, but she tagged along when they all headed off in another direction, as if they’d been doing something else and had just been fooling around with that damn wall, waiting for her to get there so they could have a laugh and see her get dirt all over her—again.

  Mission accomplished.

  “I hate them. I hate them all.”

  That became her mantra over the following weeks. She was so tired the days bled together until sometimes she didn’t know which day of the week it was, which was why she showed up to wait for the van on a Sunday, only to finally look at her phone and realize why she was the only one at the parking lot. She drove back home and fell facedown on the bed, slept until noon, and awakened only when her mom called to scold her for not calling.

  “Mom,” she said groggily. “I posted a private message on your Facebook page, letting you know I was okay.”

  “That was two weeks ago! And I posted one to you three days ago that you haven’t replied to yet.”

  “Oh.” She yawned, tried to sit up, and gave up the effort to flop back down. “Sorry. I’ve been too busy to even look at Facebook. I got up this morning and went to work, and when no one else showed up, I finally realized it’s Sunday. I came home and went back to sleep.”

  Instantly her mom morphed into Mother Mode. “What on earth kind of hours are you working? It isn’t healthy to go without sleep. Are you eating?”

  “I’m eating,” she replied, though truthfully she couldn’t remember what she’d had for supper last night, or if she’d had supper. She must have; she did so many routine things while on autopilot, these days, that she had to take it on faith that she was eating regular meals. She definitely remembered eating breakfast, though.

  “What are you eating?”

  “This morning for breakfast I nuked four miniature spinach and bacon quiches and ate them while I was driving to work. I’m ticked off I didn’t realize it was Sunday, and I could have sat at the table and eaten like a human being, with a fork. I’m ticked off I didn’t realize it was Sunday and could have slept through breakfast.” She was more pissed about the sleep than she was the food. Food wasn’t in short supply.

  “You need a vacation.”

  That was the truth, but—“Can’t happen until training is finished.”

  “We haven’t seen you in over nine months. How long is this training supposed to last?”

  Nine months? That couldn’t be right. She’d gone home for Christmas, and now it was . . . she looked at her phone. September. Damn, how had that happened? She’d started training in June, and now three months were down the drain. “It’s a six-month training program,” she said, “but it can be extended if some new technology or programs come on board.” All that was true, except for the six-month part. She lived for the time she spent on the computer learning more about the drone and honing her skills, not least because that got her out of the physical torture crap that they called PT. The truth was, though, the training period would last as long as it needed to last, because no way would any of them be allowed out in the field until they were ready.

  “Can’t you get some vacation time when Jordan and Emily’s baby is due? We all want you here.”

  “It’s doubtful,” Jina replied, doing some quick math in her head. “It’s due in November, right? I’ll still be in training.”

  “But you’re due some vacation time. Surely you can pick up with the training when you get back.” That was her mom, family came first regardless, and as persistent as a snapping turtle.

  “Surely I can lose my job,” Jina said drily. “There’s no vacation time during training, short of a death in the family, and let’s not go there.”

  “That isn’t right.”

  “I knew the terms when I signed up. Do you want me to be a quitter?” The whole family knew that calling her a quitter was the one thing that would make her dig her heels in deeper.

  “No, but I do want to see you more than once a year. We might plan a trip up there, since you can’t come down here.”

  “That’d be great,” Jina said, though she fought back a surge of panic at the idea of her parents seeing the shape she was in when she dragged herself home at the end of the day. There was no way she could convince them that the sweat, dirt, and bruises were the result of any computer training. “Just remember I get only one day off, and I’m in training at least ten hours a day. You and Daddy would be on your own most of the time, though that would be a great time to explore all the museums and historical buildings.” She’d love to see them, no matter what shape she was in. She’d have to ask some of the married team members how they handled family stuff. There couldn’t be complete secrecy, that would never work, especially when the teams were out in the field for days, weeks at a time.

  “I don’t know,” her mom said doubtfully, which likely meant they weren’t going to show up on her doorstep any time soon. “Are you sure you’ll be happy with a job that takes so much of your time?”

  “It’s really interesting,” Jina said. “It’s intense, but I’m learning a lot. And even if I don’t stay in this job for longer than a few years, the training will stay with me forever.” All that was true, and getting more true by the day. She loved working with the drone—or at least the drone simulator. None of them had seen the real deal yet, but maybe soon. She couldn’t wait. Though she’d have sworn on the first day that being assigned to the GO-Teams was the last thing she wanted, and though she still hated every minute of the physical conditioning . . . she was beginning to feel at home with it all.

  Damn it.

  Five

  They took a water break; chugging water was so important that they stopped even more than she would have thought necessary. Jina dropped to the grass, twisted the top off her water bottle, and chugged half of it at one go. Levi sat down beside her and said, “Hold out your hand.”

  She paused with the water bottle stil
l to her mouth and gave him a narrow, sideways look. “Why?” she asked suspiciously, scowling at him. She’d been through this routine before. Two brothers had taught her to never trust that what they put in her hand would be anything she wanted; it had almost always been something gross, like a dead mouse or fake poop. One memorable time the poop hadn’t been fake. Jordan and Taz had both got in trouble for that. Not only were those memories still sharp, but she figured any time Levi gave her his direct attention something was up, and she never liked it.

  His gaze was cold and exasperated. “Are you going to question every order you’re given?”

  His tone was a warning, loud and clear; she had to trust them, and if she didn’t, that was a big hurdle. Stopping to second-guess team members who actually knew what they were doing could get someone killed.

  “Are you going to put a rat in my hand?” Around her, she heard the other guys start snickering, but she didn’t look at them. Never take your gaze off the enemy, and maybe Levi wasn’t exactly her enemy, but neither was he her friend. The philosophy held good for her.

  Levi didn’t think it was funny. “I don’t waste my time with juvenile stunts.”

  Or anything resembling a sense of humor, either. Warily, ready to jerk her hand back at the least touch of anything furry or icky, she held out her hand. Palm down.

  He made a frustrated growling sound deep in his throat, seized her hand, and turned it over. She had a sharp impression of heat, strength, a calloused palm, then he slapped something metal into her palm and dropped her hand. She blew out a mental sigh of relief. Thank God, it was metal, though she supposed he wasn’t about to waste time with a dead mouse.

  She looked down. The thing was about the size of an M67 grenade, and she was proud of herself for knowing that. She was also astonished at herself, for the same reason. What she was holding was army green and had a clam shell covering. It was a compass. “It’s a compass,” she said, then curled her lip at him. “What do I want with a compass? I have my phone. My phone even has someone inside it who talks to me and tells me when and in what direction to turn. I don’t need no stinkin’ compass.” Computers. She was comfortable with computers. Compasses were . . . kind of rudimentary. Never mind that Columbus and thousands of others had sailed the ocean blue with nothing but a compass, and an astrolabe or two. Hey, she could put that to music: