Page 29 of Shane
“Where are you parked?” he asked at the same time he spotted her waving from the sunroof of a shiny red SUV that did not say ‘covert’ at all. “Yeah, I see you. Be right there, hotshot.”
Shane hoofed it across the one-way shuttle and taxi lanes to the passenger pick-up zone. Leaning across the front seat, Everlee opened the passenger door for him. He loaded their bags onto the rear seat and climbed aboard. “Nice car,” he said instead of‘what the hell were you thinking when you chose this flashing neon sign?’
“I like it,” she snapped.
Everlee had that defensive look in her eyes again like she expected a dig and was prepared to fight back. Maybe because that was what her bonehead ex did, criticize and dig at her? Shane had no doubt Butch was behind most of Everlee’s angst. He let it go. “I take it you’ve been to DFW before.”
“Yes. Murphy sent Leisha and me into Mexico last year to rescue Heston Contreras and Asher Downey. Man, those guys were glad to see us, but I think two women saving their asses rubbed Heston the wrong way. All that tough Spanish machismo pride, you know.” A wide-open grin broke out over Everlee’s pretty face. “That was a fun mission,” she purred. “He was so upset he didn’t talk to me for weeks after we got home.”
Shane could’ve sat there and stared at her for hours. Once he’d gotten past her prickly side, Everlee was another woman altogether. She liked her job, the people she worked with, and it showed.
“Plus, the guys in the office won’t let Ash or Hes forget who rescued them. Men.” She shook her head and giggled. “Don’t they know that anything they can do, us women can do better?”
“Most of the time,” Shane agreed. “I don’t believe in role assignment, but women shouldn’t have to do what an able-bodied man can and should do for her.”
Shane now knew that Murphy Finnegan had been chief of the Seattle workforce before Alex consolidated both offices into TEAM HQ in Virginia. Murphy had also hired a more diverse group of agents, fewer Marines. Counting Paige Royal, his secretary, Murphy’s team included several women. Everlee was former Air Force, but Murphy was an Army vet from the Vietnam Conflict era. Asher Downey, Heston Contreras, and Leisha Warner were also former Army.
“Oh, yeah?” Everlee asked. “Like what can’t I do better than you?”
“Knock a man my size out with one punch,” he answered quietly. “Put your fist through rotten wooden walls. Jump from a fifty-foot-tall tree without breaking any bones or spraining your ankles. Walk thirty miles carrying a full ruck, while carrying a wounded buddy, who weighs damned near two hundred pounds. And his gear. In the pouring rain. Shit like that.”
“You’ve done it?”
Shane shrugged. “Had to. Wasn’t leaving him behind.”
“Where? Afghanistan?”
“No, that time we were in the Hengduan Mountains, in the southern region of Myanmar, near China. He got hung up in his chute when we dropped in. Never accomplished our mission because it turned into rescuing him instead. No big deal.”
“Hmmpf,” Everlee breathed through her nose. “You might be right.”
Might? She seemed determined to prove she was every bit as good as a man. Truth was, in a lot of ways, women were hands down better than most men. Any guy worth his salt knew that. But they were still the fairer, lovelier sex, and Shane hated that she might one day be in a position where some asshat knocked her down or bullied her. Or killed her.
“If Heston’s smart, he’ll come around. Just takes a while for some of us guys to admit you girls are damned capable.” Shane tugged his gear bag over the rear seat, then put it on the floor between his feet and unstrapped it.
There wasn’t much room on the floor for the bag and his size thirteen Ariats, but he didn’t go anywhere without his pistols, two Smith and Wesson Bodyguards with True-Touch laser that stayed activated as long as his hands were on the grips. All four magazines were loaded with .380 ACP, the popular self-defense cartridge used by law enforcement.
Shane pulled out one pistol after the other from his bag, unlocked the cables that ran through their open slides, down and out their empty magazine wells, and slapped full mags home. While Mark had made sure Shane had the proper federal licenses to carry aboard aircraft, Shane had made certain his weapons were safe to travel. Life was easier when you were a smart gun owner.
“Are you prejudiced?” Everlee shot him a sharp glance as she pulled onto the busy interstate.
Shane shouldered into the double. “Nothing to be prejudiced about. But I do think we’re all biased one way or another. Each of us only knows what we know, right? And if you’re brought up in a strictly male or female, white or black or brown, or whatever color, household, how can you possibly know how differently other kids and people live or think? Older people tend to be more set in their opinions. That’s not a bad thing, it’s just the way life was for them when they grew up. Why fight it? Women being in combat-related jobs is a fairly new advancement. I see the pros and cons, but you’ve got to remember that most moms still teach their sons to be considerate and polite around women. They’re raising gentlemen, not knuckle dragging heathens. Like it or not, part of that early parental training means most of us guys are gonna look out for our sisters-in-arms.”
She huffed. “I’m no damsel in distress, and it’s an outdated mindset.”
“It might be, but I was still surprised when I faced off with an armed female recruit after I enlisted. She was a helluva lot tougher than I expected any woman would be. And she was quick as lightning with a pugil stick. Knocked me on my ass a few times.”
“I didn’t think male and female recruits mingled at Parris Island.”
“They don’t. This was an off-site competition, and Jessie Krankowski damned near cleaned my plow that night.” Shane smiled, remembering Jess. “You’d like her. Jess is a red-haired dynamo and covered with freckles, least as far as I could see through all her protective gear. But I swear, she’s more driven to succeed than most male recruits I worked with, probably because of her gender and her family background. She’s proud as hell to be following in her father’s, mother’s,andher grandmother’s footsteps. They were all Marines, her grandmother in World War Two. No way could she’d allow herself to fail. And she hasn’t. Last I heard, Corporal Jess is now Lieutenant Krankowski, and she’s graduated from IOC, Infantry Officer Course. That puts her on track to become one of damned few female USMC infantry platoon commanders. I think she’ll do it.”
“You sound proud of her.”
“I am. Wouldn’t mind serving under her, either. She’s a ballbuster, but she’s as honest as the day is long. You should meet her someday. Where to? Are we dropping our gear off at our hotel now or later?”
“Later. I figured we’d drive by the last known location the FBI had for Bremmer. Case the place, you know?”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” Shane loaded the pistols into the leather cups under his arms and slid the extra magazines into his pockets. A six-inch Ka-Bar slipped easily into its boot sheath. The hard knuckle tactical gloves went into the passenger door’s side pocket. No sense carrying them if he wasn’t walking into a brawl.