He glanced down at Torr’s stony face and smiled falsely. “Enjoy your lunch.”
He and his men walked away.
In the silence that settled over the table after his departure, Jasmine wasn’t sure what to say, so she simply plunged ahead. “Explanation?”
Torr took in the beautiful woman seated across from him. The uncertainty in her gaze made him want to punch something for the false information she’d been given. “He and I met seven or eight years ago in West Africa. He headed up a terrorist group called the Lambs of the True God, and I was a contract soldier.”
She cocked her head as if she hadn’t heard him correctly. “A mercenary.” It was more statement than question.
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“Working for?”
“The Legion.”
He assumed she was familiar with the name because she whispered an appalled-sounding, “Jesus.”
He understood her reaction. Again, he was glad he’d gotten out when he had. “Gabriel and his men were overrunning small villages, looting, forcing children to become soldiers. We were flown in to make them stop.”
“Who’s Gabriel?”
“The man who was just here.”
“He told me his name was Charles Taylor.”
“Back then, he was known as Abraham Gabriel. No idea what his true name is, but we never butchered anyone, Jasmine. Ever. I left the organization a few years ago because their focus was changing to the human rights crimes now being publicized. I started my own group.”
“Still mercenaries?”
“Contract soldiers, yes, but we don’t do wars. We handle diplomatic rescues, medical flights, transport prototypes for big business. Provide security at international conferences. That kind of thing.” He waited to see if the honest admission changed the tense set of her shoulders and the condemnation in her eyes.
“Where’d the butchering story come from?”
“There was a firefight between our forces and his. His men took hostages and used them as shields inside a school. I was sent in to negotiate their freedom and his surrender, but he wouldn’t give up. The fighting continued, and when it was over, some of the hostages were killed by our side and by his, although he blamed us. He escaped but was eventually brought in by UN soldiers. Last I heard, he’d been tried and convicted. I was surprised to see him here. How do you know him?”
The arrival of their food momentarily interrupted the conversation. Once Brian departed, Jasmine answered. “Taylor—or whatever his name is—stopped by my office and asked after Elliot Vernon.”
Torr stilled. “Really?”
“Yes. I told my parents about it, and they were going to reach out to their contacts at the federal level to see what they could find out about him.”
He was confused, and she must have seen it on his face. “I told you they were retired Detroit police officers. Daddy’s from vice and Mama’s from homicide.”
Torr was speechless, because although he knew the first part, he didn’t know the last part. He scanned her for a moment before asking, “Your mom worked homicide?”
“Twenty-five years. That surprises you, I take it.”
“A bit, yes.” He was also impressed and could imagine how fierce her mom must be to have been in a homicide unit.
“Worked her way up from rookie to captain. She does not play. Daddy either.” She paused and seemed to weigh what she planned to say next. “To get back at you, would he really come after me?”
Torr told the truth. “The man I knew in Africa definitely would. And my guess is, if he’s after your Mr. Vernon, he’s probably the one who cut off his partner’s hands.”
She shook her head. “Yes. My parents definitely need to know this.” She paused before asking, “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”
“Other than wanting to spend it with you, nothing.”
“You just hit the lotto. I need to swing by my office and pull the security tapes. Taylor’s on them. My parents need to know his face.”
He was so impressed by her. “Anything else?”
“Yes. The Vernons need to be found.”
Elliot regretted throwing Loretta’s phone out onto the highway. Fear caused the overreaction, but he didn’t know how to explain to her why. The illegalities, including the smuggling he and Otis were party to, had been lucrative enough to pay for the many cruises he and Loretta had taken as a couple, the new fur coat she’d cried happily over two Christmases ago, and the kitchen remodel she’d wanted. None of them would’ve been possible on the little bit of money his business eked out. But had they stayed on the straight and narrow, OB wouldn’t be dead with his hands missing, and he wouldn’t be on the run. He took his eyes off the traffic for a moment to glance her way. She hadn’t spoken to him in hours. He supposed it was what he deserved.
After being lost in Kentucky for over four hours, being detoured in Tennessee, and driving through downpours from a violent thunderstorm, they’d finally crossed the border into Alabama a short while ago, and the Caddy was running low on gas.
“I need to get gas in a few. Do you want something to eat?”
“Whatever,” she replied distantly.
He sighed. “You plan on not talking the entire trip?”
“You said let you drive, so that’s what I’m doing.” She returned to the scenery outside her window.
“Look. I’m sorry about your phone.”
No response.
He left the interstate and found a gas station. After filling the tank, he tucked his credit card back into his wallet, then got into his car and started the engine. “Let’s get something to eat.”
“We have to find a Big Mart.”
“Why?”
“I need female products.”
Confusion claimed him. “Female products?”
“Yes. When a woman turns sixty-five, her period starts again. My birthday was a month ago, remember?”
He nodded. He didn’t claim to know a thing about female biology, so he drove them away from the gas station and hoped they’d find the store quickly because he wanted to put a few more miles on the odometer before stopping for the night. Ten minutes later, his prayers were answered. He pulled into the lot and turned off the engine.
“You don’t need to come in. I’ll be right back.”
Because she was already mad, he swallowed the urge to tell her to get what she needed and come right back.
To her credit, she returned shortly, carrying a small bag. “Okay,” she said, doing up her seat belt. “I’m good now.” She showed him a box of tampons, then stashed the bag in her large black tote.
He started the car and followed the signs back to the highway.
It was dark when they walked into the lobby of the small motel outside Birmingham, and all he wanted was sleep. When he was younger, he’d been able to make the drive to Alabama straight through in under ten hours, not anymore.
The clerk behind the check-in desk asked, “Two beds or one?”
“Two,” Loretta volunteered before he could respond. She still looked upset, so he didn’t contradict her. Frankly, as exhausted as he was, he didn’t care what the sleeping arrangements were as long as he got a bed.